#really happy to finally share this with the world

[melodyofmbaku]

What You Spit, I Swallowed (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Ya'll gon' feel some things.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N - I realized I could only edit this for so long and I actually had to post it 🤪 I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘

My Masterlist ___

Smoke watched from the living room as Annie bustled around the house making sure everything was just right. The kitchen. The powder room. The cellar which nobody would see. Everything needed to be just right. 

The roast was in the oven. Table set. Wine poured. Annie stood at the counter, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron, then across the napkins again, though they didn’t need fixing.

“Can y’all just be civil? Please?” she said without turning. “For me. I just want to have  a nice dinner tonight. As a family.”

She used that word a lot. Family. Said it like a prayer, a promise. Like saying it out loud might turn it true.

The boys knew better.

Stack was leaning against the archway, a little too relaxed, wine already heavy in his hand.

“I’m always civil,” he grinned. “I’m a delight.”

Smoke didn’t say anything at first. Just sat back at the table, stiff as iron, nursing a glass of whisky like medicine. He’d need it tonight. They both would.

“I ain’t lying to nobody,” he muttered, low.

Annie sighed. Not because she disagreed — but because she understood.

They weren’t happy about this. Never had been. Melody had a way of turning Annie into someone else — smaller, unsure. And the boys hated that. Hated watching the bold, beautiful woman they loved contort herself to keep the peace. To keep her peace.

So when Annie told them that Melody was gonna be in town and wanted to visit, the news wasn’t met with enthusiasm.  When they protested she had shut them down, said that special word — family — and the boys knew they didn’t have a chance at dissuading her. 

She laid down the final plate and crossed the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel that didn’t need cleaning. Her shoulders were tight. Her smile too practiced.

Melody was Annie’s half-sister. Same father, different everything else. Product of an affair that tore Annie’s whole world sideways and maybe even took her mother to the grave.

She was pretty, and soft-spoken when it served her. But she had a way of reaching back into Annie’s life like she had a claim to it. Like their shared blood gave her a right to rewrite things. Rewrite her.

Melody said things like they’d grown up hand-in-hand. Like Annie hadn’t spent her real childhood alone, and Melody hadn’t moved in only after her world fell apart. 

She touched too casually. Said too much. Knew too little.

And yet… Annie kept trying. Trying to stitch something together out of all the scraps they’d been handed. Trying to make a family out of splinters.

There was a knock at the door.

The roast was carved. Greens passed. Biscuits buttered and cooling fast.

On the surface, everything looked like a proper supper. But Smoke hadn’t touched much of his food, and Stack had started drinking like the only way through the night was to float on top of it.

Melody leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass like she had something wise to say. Her gaze landed on the cornbread.

“Reminds me of when Mama used to burn the bottoms,” she said with a giggle. “She’d scrape off the black parts with a knife and pretend it was on purpose. Said it ‘kept you humble.’”

Annie’s fork paused mid-air.

Stack didn’t look up, but his mouth twitched.

“You remember that, don’t you?” Melody added, too quick. “That little yellow-handled knife she used for everything?”

Annie swallowed. Set her fork down quiet.

“She wasn’t my mama.”

Melody blinked, like she hadn’t expected that to sting.

“Well—no, obviously,” she said, waving a hand like it was silly to be so exact. “I just meant… your most recent mama. I mean, she was in the house.”

“She was in the house,” Annie said evenly. 

Melody laughed, high and a little breathless, like she could laugh her way out of what just happened.

“Well,” she said, putting her glass down, “family’s funny like that, huh?” She added before placing a hand on Annie’s forearm.

Smoke’s eyes followed the movement with precision.

“So,” Melody said brightly, trying to start a conversation “y’all ever thought about kids?”

The question hung there, syrupy sweet with expectation.

Annie blinked. “We— We’ll know when we’re ready.”

Melody’s husband Frank leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.

The man chuckled, low and grating. “Ain’t it about time though? Clock don’t wait forever. ‘Specially for women.”

Smoke’s knuckles tightened around his fork.

“I gotta admit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest, “I didn’t know what to expect, comin’ out here. Lotta stories floatin’ ‘round town.”

Stack’s eyes flicked up from his plate. Smoke didn’t move.

“Oh yeah?” Annie said, keeping her voice polite. “And what kinda stories are those?”

The man shrugged, like he was being reasonable.

“Just… folks wondering how something like this works. Three people under one roof. Two men sharin’ a woman —brothers at that. Sounds more like trouble than a marriage.”

Smoke still didn’t look up. But Annie could feel the shift. Like pressure building under floorboards.

“I mean, hell. Where I’m from, we call that a love triangle, not a household.”

Annie opened her mouth, but Stack beat her to it — voice easy, even playful.

“Well lucky for us, you ain’t from here.”

Melody gave her husband a look — the kind that meant you’re doin’ too much — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I just think kids need structure,” he said, “Two fathers under one roof? That’s confusion, not discipline.”

Now Smoke looked up. Real slow.

“You do a lot of childrearing yourself?” he asked.

The man blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“You talkin’ like you got a full house somewhere. How many you got?” the man had a menacing smile plastered on his face.

“…None yet.”

“Then hush.”

The man frowned. Then Frank reached across the table — not for the biscuits, not for the salt. For the gravy boat.

But instead of asking, he leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder as he reached.

His thumb brushed against the strap of her dress.

Too familiar. Too firm.

“’Scuse me, darlin’,” he said, casual like he did it all the time.

It wasn’t the touch — it was the way he didn’t rush to remove it.

Smoke saw it. So did Stack.

And Annie flinched — just slightly — but enough to be noticed.

That should’ve been enough. But Melody’s hand went out — again — brushing Annie’s arm like they were girls sharing secrets instead of strangers dressed in matching last names.

"Mama used to say, ‘Ain’t no shame in wantin’ a real man.’ Guess you took that to heart, huh, sis? You went and got yourself two!"

Annie winced once more. It was soft, but Smoke saw it. And that was the last straw.

Smoke set his glass down. Quiet. Too quiet.

“You need to stop touchin’ her so casually.” he said pointing at the woman.

Melody’s hand stilled against Annie’s arm. Her smile wavered.

“Excuse me?”

“Smoke,” Annie said quickly, trying to smile, trying to control the room. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t blink. “It ain’t.”

Stack leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed but not joking anymore. “He’s right. You don’t know her like that. You ain’t earned the right.”

Melody’s brows arched, scandalized.

Annie stepped in faster this time, voice low but firm.

“Enough.”

She turned toward Smoke, hand light on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid beneath her palm.

“She’s family,” she said softly. “Let’s not do this right now.”

Stack leaned back, sucked his teeth, clearly biting something back. Smoke didn’t move at all.

“She ain’t family to me,” Smoke muttered.

“She is to me,” Annie snapped. “And that should be enough.”

That silenced the table — just long enough for Melody’s husband to break it again.

“Well,” he said, with a smirk, “nice to see someone wearing the pants in this house.”

Stack’s jaw tightened.

“Stack,” Annie warned, before he could speak.

He didn’t. But the damage was done.

Melody giggled, smoothing her napkin on her lap like nothing had happened.

Annie went to gather the plates.

“Dinner’s done,” she said. “Why don’t we move to the sitting room? I’ll bring coffee.”

She didn’t look at Smoke. Didn’t look at Stack either. She just carried the dishes to the kitchen, heart pounding, wishing it all felt less like a lie.

_

The front door clicked shut.

Silence.

Not the quiet kind, but the loaded kind. The kind that rattled inside your chest and made your ears ring.

Annie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like she was bracing for impact.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack didn’t move.

For a beat, nobody breathed.

Annie exhaled, hard. “Don’t start.”

“I ain’t startin’. I’m finishin’. The hell was that?” Smoke’s voice cut through the kitchen.

She turned, dish towel clenched tight in her hands. “What was what, Smoke?”

“You told me to stand down. You just about told Stack to shut up. While they sat at our table, runnin’ they mouths and touchin’ you like they know you.”

“They’re family.”

“No,” he snapped. “They’re not. That man disrespected you. And her? She touched you like she’s the one that tucks you in at night.”

“Stop it.”

Stack stepped in carefully, voice low. “She made you flinch, baby. We saw it. You don’t flinch with us.”

Annie bit her lip. Hard.

“I just wanted one peaceful night. I didn’t want a scene.”

“You wanted peace—so you offered us up like sacrificial lambs,” Smoke said, voice growing sharp.

“That ain’t fair.”

“No? You let her talk like y’all shared a childhood. Let that man spit on our marriage with a smile. Then told me to hush?”

“You think I don’t know who she is?” Annie’s voice cracked “I lived with her. She slept in my mama’s bed two weeks after she was buried. She was Daddy’s second chance and my reminder that I’d already lost.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry.

“I was just trying to keep the damn evening from fallin’ apart. You think I liked it? You think I didn’t hear every little dig, every look, every word?”

“Then why the hell ain’t you say somethin’?” Stack asked. 

“Because I’m tired!” she shouted. “Tired of everything bein’ a fight. Tired of defendin’ my choices, my house, my men. I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

Smoke’s voice dropped cold. “Then don’t invite people who only show up to remind you that you alone.”

Annie’s shoulders pulled back like he’d struck her. 

“Alone?”

“You got us. But when they’re here, you act like you don’t.”

The room felt smaller. Angrier. Like the walls were listening.

“I ain’t the one you should be mad at, Annie,” Smoke said.

“No. You’re just the one who wants to be mad for me.” Annie didn’t look at him.

He leaned back. Only slightly. But Stack caught it. Smoke prided himself on taking care of his family. He’d be the bad guy if it meant that they were ok. So for Annie to throw that in his face? It was low. 

Annie turned on him. “What? Go on then. Call me out my name. You been waitin’ all night.”

“I been waitin’ for you to stop pretendin’ you owe that woman somethin’. Stop shrinkin’ yourself so she can feel taller.”

“And I been waitin’ for you to realize the world don’t revolve around your damn temper!”

“Y’all—” Stack tried.

“Elias, stay out of it.” She pointed at him.

That did it. Stack’s hands dropped. He stepped back, mouth flat.

Smoke’s voice turned dangerously soft. “You tellin’ him to stay out, but you let them strangers walk right in and put hands on what’s mine?”

Annie’s nostrils flared. She stepped in close.

“Don’t talk to me about ownership. I’m not some bitch you can pull by the leash when I embarrass you.”

Stacks head whipped around. Shock coloured his face. 

“Annie. Don’t,” Stack warned softly — they didn’t talk like this to each other. 

Smoke’s voice dropped low and clipped. “You gon’ wanna be real careful with me right now, woman.”

“Or what?” Annie challenged. “You gon’ bark louder? Show me why everybody outside scared of you?”

He stepped forward. Stack moved fast, blocking him.

“Enough.” Stack said. “We don’t do this shit. This ain’t us.”

“No,” Annie said. “This is exactly who we are. Pretendin’ this ain’t built on shaky ground.”

Looked like Frank’s words had planted a seed. 

Stack moved like she’d slapped him.

“You think it’s shaky?” Smoke’s voice shook. “You think we ain’t holdin’ you up every day? Lovin’ you, buildin’ you back from the goddamn inside?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

“I would burn this house down to protect you,” he said, softer now. “And you out here handin’ matches to people who never cared whether you froze.”

“She disrespected you, Annie,” Stack said, voice stiff. “Right to your face. And you smiled through it. Made us smile through it too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Annie laughed bitterly. “Was I supposed to let y’all growl and swing your dicks like dogs markin’ a tree?”

“Watch your mouth,” Smoke said slowly.

“No—you watch yours. I let you bark, posture. The minute I asked you to sit like a man, you sulked like a whipped boy.”

There it was. The heat. The disrespect.

“Annie…” Stack said, quiet, alarmed. 

“I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

“Elijah—they’re family.” she tried to plead.

“So you gotta put up with disrespect?”

Annie threw her hands up, all syrup and sass. “The Moores got morals tonight!”

Stack cursed under his breath. Smoke went still as death.

“Fix them lips to say somethin’ crazy again, Annie,” Smoke warned. “See if I don’t remind you why you call me daddy.”

She tilted her head. “You sassin’?”

“C’mon now y’all…” Stack said half-terrified.

Smoke stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous. “It’s gon’ be real hard to take you serious if you got my seed drippin’ from your hole. Test me.”

Annie’s throat bobbed. She was gonna take that bait.

“Do not,” Stack said, sharp and urgent.

Too late.

“Annie’s sorry — ain’t ya, baby?” he tried, reaching for a lifeline.

“The hell I am,” she snapped.

“Don’t be a hero,” Stack warned, tension threading through his voice. “He gon’ turn you out, and I’ma join him.”

Annie looked at him, eyes glittering. Daring them both.

Smoke started up once more, “We’ll paint your insides white just how you like it. Remind you you the property of the Moores — no one else’s.”

“Property? That’s what I am to you?” she shot back. “A place to plant your damn flag?”

He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I ain’t land. You don’t own me.”

“You act like disrespectin’ us is rent you pay,” he shot back, voice cold. 

That line came from somewhere deep — deeper than Smoke usually let show.

“If I’m so damn disrespectful,” Annie stepped in close, venom curling her words, “why you still crawlin’ back to this disrespectful pussy every night?”

Stack looked away. Smoke didn’t blink.

“That’s right,” she pressed. “You talk all this mine mine mine shit, but you only feel like a man when I’m on my knees, beggin’ for it.”

“Fix them lips, woman,” he said, low and mean.

“What? You don’t like it when I talk back? Only like me with your dick down my throat?”

“It make a fine picture.” Stack muttered from the side. 

“I like it when you remember who’s keepin’ you safe. Lovin’ you every goddamn day while you spit in our faces.” Smoke reasoned.

“I’m done talking to you.” she spoke lowly. 

“C’mon now,” Smoke said, voice soft and twisted. “Say somethin’ real filthy. You good at that when your jaw’s slack and your legs spread.”

“Smoke,” Stack snapped. “You know what you doin’. Stop provokin’ her.”

“Nah,” Smoke said without even looking at him. “She a big girl. She can take whatever daddy dish out, right?”

Stack stepped in. “It ain’t fair, Smoke. You know it ain’t fair.”

Smoke paused. Just a second. There were two of them. One of her. It was unbalanced. Always would be.

He sighed, started to lift a hand — maybe to apologize.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Annie spat in his face.

It hit his cheek and stuck.

For one sharp breath, nobody moved.

Annie stood perfectly still, chest rising hard. Her jaw clenched, eyes shining—not with tears, but with fury. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

Then Smoke cracked.

Stack caught him hard at the chest, shoving him back.

“Don’t.”

Smoke went still.

The spit clung to his cheek, hot and humiliating. He didn’t wipe it. Just stared — right at her.

Annie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her spine was stiff, posture defiant. But there was something flickering in her eyes now. 

“I wanna fuck that disrespect right outta her,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

He stepped toward her — not to strike, but to claim, to punish her with the only kind of control he knew wouldn’t break her.

Annie’s breath caught. Just barely.

Stack stepped in fast — arm out, body angled between them.

“And we don’t do things that way,” he snapped, sharp and firm.

Their eyes locked. For a long, brittle second, it felt like something might break.

“You want her like that? Broken?” Stack asked his brother. 

The picture he painted with that statement stung. 

He didn’t want her like that. Giving in because she didn’t have a choice. Because he “bested” her. 

He wanted it offered to him, because she felt like he deserved it. He didn’t wanna take it. 

“You keep pushin’, you gon’ scare her,” Stack said, quieter now. “And she don’t deserve that from you.”

That stopped him.

Smoke’s jaw ticked hard, and he deflated. 

Behind Stack, Annie was still frozen in place—arms locked at her sides, as if afraid any movement might shatter the silence.

“Take a walk,” Stack added. “Right now. Before you say somethin’ you can’t unsay.”

Smoke didn’t move.

“I got her,” Stack said, gentler now. “You… go cool off.”

Finally, Smoke blinked. Swallowed. His eyes never left Annie.

“You make sure she’s okay,” he said, hoarse.

“I got her.”

Then he turned and walked out — quiet, controlled, like a storm bottled in a man.

Annie stood frozen.

Then sat — slow and stiff — like someone letting herself fall without a net.

Stack stayed standing, chest heaving like he’d just run a race.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer.

He dropped to a knee beside her.

“He lost his temper. He shouldn’t’ve. You know that.”

She nodded — barely.

“I made him,” she said.

“No,” Stack replied. “You matched him. That’s different.”

A beat passed. He reached for her hand.

“You still ours,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ shifted in that.”

She squeezed once. 

“He didn’t even flinch,” she whispered. “But his eyes… they changed.”

Stack squeezed her hand. “He was mad. That don’t mean he stopped carin’.”

“He’s scared. Same as you,” Stack said. “That’s what it is—fear dressed up as fire.”

She exhaled hard, like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You meant it,” he cut in gently but firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

That shut her up. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You meant it,” Stack said again, softer this time, “and that’s what’s eatin’ him up.”

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Thick with things they couldn’t take back.

She looked toward the door, then back at Stack.

“You mad at me too?”

He sighed. “Don’t matter what I’m feelin’. You’re my wife. My family. I stand with you—even when I don’t like how it went down.”

“I’m sorry, Stack,” she whispered.

He gave a small shrug. “Don’t be sorry. Be sure.”

Then he stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

“I'm gon’ fix my plate again,” he murmured. “If I don’t eat, I get mean.”

That earned him the smallest laugh. But it was what he needed to hear. Enough to know she was still with him.

“I set aside your favourite,” she murmured, voice rough but soft. “Kept it warm in the oven… in that little dish with the blue trim. Knew you’d want a snack later.”

He paused, and his eyes flicked to hers — just for a second. That did something to him.

“Always lookin’ out,” he said, almost to himself.

Then, quieter: “Love you, baby.”

One more kiss to her head. Then he turned for the kitchen, shoulders squared a little taller than before.

__

The door creaked open.

Smoke stood in the threshold like he wasn’t sure he had the right to come back in. Smoke looked different. Not unraveled — not quite. But quieted. Like whatever storm had rolled through him had lost its bite, leaving behind a man instead of a tempest.

Annie didn’t turn. She sat curled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, her hand still in Stack’s. The fire had burned low, its glow casting soft shadows across the room. Silence pressed in like fog.

Smoke stepped inside, slow and cautious, like a man testing floorboards for landmines. His eyes found her first. She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t look up, either.

“I scared you,” he said, voice low.

No one answered.

He stood there a beat longer, hat in hand, shoulders heavy.

“I talked about ownin’ you. Fuckin’ the disrespect outta you,” he went on, his voice thick. “That ain’t love talk. That’s not somethin’ you say to the woman you love.”

Annie shifted slightly. Stack’s thumb moved gently over her knuckles.

“I ain’t proud of it,” Smoke murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Still, neither of them spoke.

Smoke let out a breath through his nose, rough around the edges.

“I was mad you shut us down,” he said. “Mad you didn’t let us defend you. But I didn’t come at you like a husband. I came at you like a man who forgot what kind of woman he had.”

That made her look up.

Her eyes were still red, but she met his gaze steady.

“You did scare me,” she said softly.

Stack’s jaw ticked, but Annie gave his hand a squeeze—like she was okay.

“And I hurt y’all too,” she added. “Shut you down in your own home. Made you feel unheard. That wasn’t right.”

She stood, slow and deliberate. Smoke didn’t move.

“You and Stack… you’re my peace,” she said. “My anchor. And tonight I treated you like a storm. All ‘cause I let my past talk louder than the two men who actually built something with me.”

She stepped toward Smoke now, close enough her chest brushed his.

“I’m sorry I spit,” she said, quieter still. “That was… uncalled for. And beneath me.”

Smoke’s brow furrowed, something soft and pained flickering in his eyes. His hand came up, cradling her jaw.

“You still ours?” he asked.

She nodded once.

“Yours. Always.”

Behind them, Stack smiled to himself. 

Then Annie turned to Stack.

The man looked caught off guard—his brows lifted, lips parting like he wasn’t expecting the spotlight.

“I’m sorry I made you feel secondary today, baby,” she said. “Like your opinion didn’t matter. Like you were less than.”

“Whoa, now—I ain’t say all that,” Stack replied, lifting a hand.

“You didn’t have to,” she murmured. “I see now what I was doing. And it was wrong. You’re every bit a part of this, and I treated you like a bystander. I’m sorry, Elias. Truly.”

Stack blinked. For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Smoke chimed in, voice low. “And thank you.”

Stack looked over.

“I was losin’ my head in here,” Smoke said. “And you got me right. You always do.”

“Well,” Stack drawled, clearing his throat and smoothing down his collar. “Now that y’all mention it… you right. I am the star of today’s show. Glad that’s been properly acknowledged.”

That earned him a chuckle from both Annie and Smoke.

He folded his arms and leaned back, cocky as ever. He thrusted his chin at Annie “You can show me your gratitude in peach cobbler.”

Annie arched a brow. “Peach cobbler?”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t cheap out it either. I need hella peaches in there.” he said dead serious. 

“And you—” he looked at Smoke, “you can take stock at the juke for the next week.”

“Three days,” Smoke countered.

“Five.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, solemn as preachers. 

Annie laughed—quiet, but real—and turned to glance over her shoulder.

“Well,” Stack said, breaking the lingering tension with a dry drawl, “now that everyone’s sorry… can we go back to actin’ like Melody’s husband don’t eat with his damn mouth open and ask questions like ‘what y’all do for money’ like he ain’t got food crumbs in his mustache?”

Annie barked a laugh. Smoke cracked a grin despite himself.

“Mm,” Annie said, eyes dancing, “maybe I’ll go spit on him next time.”

Smoke raised a brow. “You better not. I’m the only one gettin’ that kind of disrespect.”

She smirked. “So… the ‘fuckin’ the disrespect outta me’ thing… that still on the table, or?”

Stack groaned, loud and dramatic, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m leavin’ the room.”

“No, no,” Annie said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Her voice softened. “I want all my boys,” she murmured. “My family. With me tonight.”

Stack froze.

Smoke looked up at her—really looked.

Smoke’s lips brushed her temple. Stack kissed her shoulder.

The house, so loud just an hour ago, fell to hush.

Just heartbeats.

Just them.

And the slow, quiet burn of still belonging to one another.

__

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll a variation of some angst for the trio but I'd actually end it off so I don't leave you in perpetual pain like I did in Touch of a Woman 🤪 For those curious about what fic in this AU would come after this... you'd enjoy Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash 💰

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

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My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

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[memephi]

Capture my heart and frame it, won't you?

Context: I had to reinstall the LADS app because I got the glitch that wouldn't let me log in. I completely borked the app trying to do file repairs and getting impatient about it. I lost most of my in-game photos. I'm not too bummed out about it but i am just really sad that it had to happen on the one year Sylus anniversary 😔

ANYWAY SO I WROTE MY OWN COMFORT FIC SO THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY AAKSJSJDKKSL

To Sylus, the only thing worse than you being upset, was not knowing why you were upset in the first place.

It started a few days ago. You showed up at his base, tired and battle-worn after a shift of non-stop Wanderer encounters. He’d tried calling you at some point, to which you showed him exactly why you couldn’t answer back.

Your phone, chopped clean in half, by a Wanderer that managed to catch your side unguarded.

He had a routine for cheering you up. After assessing you for injuries, he’d carry you to the bath and pamper you with gently scented soaps in hopes of easing both your mind and body. On most days, it worked, and he’d carry you off to bed soon after.

You'd be smiling up at him with warmth and appreciation; leaving him wondering how to make it so that that look never had to leave your precious lips.

No matter, he’d thought to himself. Getting you a new phone was as easy as breathing. He’d already placed an order for a new one, and it arrived the next morning as soon as you woke up.

Burying your face into his chest and holding onto him like were you trying to disappear from the world was not a welcome break from that routine.

“Thank you, Sy.”

You thank him and go on with your day, but Sylus was not a fool. He could see the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way you’d have this longing expression as you used your new phone, with a sadness he couldn’t ignore.

“Can you get the data back?”

His first thought was that the phone itself held sentimental value. He’d tell you that he’d take the remnants of it and see if he could repair it. He was confident that he could, at the very least, use what remained of the parts to restore it to working order.

“Everything that was uploaded into cloud storage will be restored, no issues.”

“...what about the stuff that wasn’t?”

You tell him not to bother, that you appreciate the offer but that you were happy with the new phone he’d given you.

He didn’t have a good answer.

He’d bite his tongue, fighting against the urge to disagree; to say that you weren’t happy at all.

The last straw was when he stepped into his base and found you in his office, staring misty eyed at the photo he had on his desk. It was a picture of the two of you in the valley of flowers, smiling up at each other with the phone on the ground; long forgotten but capturing what would’ve been your favorite photo from that day. The photo on Sylus’s desk was a gift from you, of which the only other copy would’ve been–

You finally tell him that you had an album full of photos of the two of you together. You had grown paranoid due to recent online data breaches. The album wasn’t uploaded to cloud storage because you were worried about anyone finding the photos and using them to hurt Sylus; whether it was his reputation or weaponizing your relationship against him.

Ah. There it is.

You had been meaning to create a back up, you’d tell him, but it had slipped your mind repeatedly the last few weeks. Now, you’re succumbing to the regret, thinking about the months and months memories, the special moments you’d shared with Sylus now just completely erased from existence.

You didn’t cry. You’d tell him that, even if it hurt to think about all the photos you’d lost, dealing with it became easier when they were together. That, no matter how many photos you’d lost, the person who shared those memories with was still right there beside you.

He didn’t promise to get the photos back. He would never promise you something he couldn’t actually retrieve for you. He didn’t ask you to recreate the photos with him. He felt it would hurt you more to have to revisit those precious memories one by one, only to be left with a cheap imitation of the love you shared that day.

And Sylus? His heart ached– burned, charred and painful.

No. Instead, he’d hold you close. Whether you’d eventually crack and weep in his arm or not, it was irrelevant to the fact that he was with you now.

And then, hours or days later, you would find a new album in your phone gallery. In it, there was a single photo you’d never seen before.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t have a favorite photo, in all honestly, but any photo that captures your unrestrained, unapologetic happiness? Every single one is, and will always be precious to me.”

You and Sylus, as he held you like a princess on one of his newly maintained motorcycles. You remember giggling and blushing up a storm as Sylus held you in place, peppering you with kisses all over your cheeks. The angle left no doubt in your heart that this photo was taken from Mephisto’s retinal video feed. When you ask Sylus about it later, he’d smile that cheeky, smug and oh so affectionate smile for you and you alone.

AGAIN, I'm not too upset or hurting about the photos. My wall of photos on the in-game desk are still there and I have local saved files of all of my absolute favorites (especially the Sylus ones) so i am gucci : D

[rubylane]

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS (2025) ⊱ rp prompt

change pronouns and adjust as needed.

you will be so much more than that.

demons have always haunted our world.

that duty falls to you.

that victory is within your reach.

that's not even a real number.

there's no water in these.

how can you be late?

i didn't even get to finish my ramyeon!

why do they always interrupt our snacking?

they will face my wrath!

now you gotta die.

ugh, you came at a bad time.

you just crossed the line.

i understand you are weak.

and you dare to mock me with it?

i'm not here to mock you.

i'm here to help you.

it's time for a new strategy.

what makes you think that could work?

you've never done a single thing that didn't serve yourself.

that was weird.

we already have plans.

i can't wait to eat kimbap and stare at the ceiling.

sounds super boring. i'm so down.

we literally just sat down.

i can handle this. i'm not having a nervous breakdown.

you always say no.

you sound exactly like her.

no. we gotta hide and fix it.

earthy and herby. smells legit to me.

hurry, before someone sees us.

in order to heal a part, we must understand the whole.

you have a lot of walls up.

watch yourself.

they're not even that cute.

i'm gonna throw up.

no, it's too public.

don't eat that!

let's go kill these guys.

hard to say goodbye when we're having fun.

make it stop.

wow. did you really follow us here?

we're not here to fight.

whoa! mind the face.

surprisingly, your plan is working.

it's a lot more serious than i thought.

is that bird wearing a tiny hat?

wow, i wasn't expecting a hug, but ...

i thought the mannequin was gonna be a fun icebreaker. but i see i was wrong.

hey! i just wanna talk.

but first, i wanna talk about those pants.

you were supposed to be dead.

i could've told your friends what you are.

that's none of your business.

i know what it feels like to have them.

is that what you think?

you're not good enough for them.

you know you can tell me. i'll understand.

i'm nothing like you.

denial. i get it.

i'll be here when you're done pretending.

there won't be a next time.

are you a prisoner too?

thanks for having my back.

we keep meeting like this.

i didn't think you liked sharing.

should i tell them?

i'm gonna tell them. eventually.

are you whispering?

your secret's safe with me.

i'm helping myself.

i'm pretty good at reading people. actually, i'm kind of an expert at it.

i just can't shake this feeling that you're keeping something from me.

i'm not keeping anything rom you.

sorry, i sound nuts.

yeah. eternal suffering. sounds fun.

you made me come all the way out here so you could jumpscare me?

i'm glad you'er finally ready to talk.

you could've picked somewhere nicer for a date.

you're so old.

this is strictly a business meeting.

i am a mistake. have been since the moment i was born.

excuse me? i'm everyone's type.

i see why you're single.

see? we'd never work.

go find yourself a better boy.

this one's hopeless.

that's the funny thing about hope. nobody else gets to decide if you feel it. that choice belongs to you.

for what it's worth, i don't think you're a mistake.

i just want you to know i'm here for literally anything you need.

seriously, what is your problem?

not everything is about your insecurities, [name]!

what's with the long faces?

you killed your family.

don't forget about our deal, [name].

i'm kind of a difficult person.

something's wrong.

i knew it was too good to be true.

don't leave!

say you didn't do this. how could you do this?

it was all a lie.

it was real! what we had was real. i know it was.

i just needed you to trust me. that's all.

that's right, i lied to you.

i thought i could fix it all.

thi sis what i am.

why can't you look at me?

why couldn't you love me?

you come here like this?

you can't even fix yourself.

i'm sorry for everything.

i wanted to set you free.

you gave me my soul back.

this feels amazing.

see what you've been missing?

i'm so happy you didn't, like, die.

wow, [name], way to be super literal.

i definitely feel recharged.

[raven-dor]

illicit affairs

in which you distance yourself from bucky barnes, and he won’t rest until he knows why

PAIRING: congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, morning sickness, pregnancy, miscommunication (but ig it's more like refusing to communicate), given last name! (Clark), arguing, ANGSTY ANGSTY ANGST, more arguing, kissing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

🎶 : illicit affairs - taylor swift

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - this is like my favorite angsty fic of all time, like it's up there with me and my husband (gwayne hightower) EEEK HAPPY READING!! also i might write a part two where the use the house she bought if that's something you guys would be interested in

The sun shone through the curtains, yellow and bright. You stared at the man dead asleep beside you, a contented smile creeping on your lips. He looked so peaceful, not at all like how he looked awake, always stressed, always worrying over something. If it wasn’t Congress or the team, it was you. Worry was Bucky’s main emotion, you would say when you teased him. He worried over your safety the most, often trying to convince you to stop working in the office, practically begging you to work from home. 

You glared at him every time. 

You could never bring yourself to stay angry, though. He was caring, more than most had ever been with you. You were fragile, something he cherished. 

It made you feel valuable; your cheeks warmed just thinking about it. 

He grumbled, burying his face further into your torso. His arm was lazily wrapped around your waist, and he smiled in his sleep, pulling you closer. You hadn’t wanted to wake him, but he had a meeting in forty-five minutes, and he still needed his routine cup of coffee. “Buck. You have to get up.” 

“Five more minutes.” 

“Bucky…” You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll be late.” 

“I could run there in five minutes.” You knew from the look on his face that he was considering it. Thanks to his super soldier serum, he really could run around the entirety of Washington D.C. in less than an hour. 

“You could, but your hair would be a mess.” You frowned, reaching down to run your fingers through the sleep-tangled tresses. “A lot like it is now. Besides, think about the people who voted for you, who elected you to this office. They wouldn’t exactly enjoy learning that their congressman was late to a meeting.” 

“I hate when you’re right.” He groaned, rolling over and walking toward the bathroom, leaving the door open as he fixed his appearance. “Have I told you how lovely you look this morning?”

“No.”  You playfully glared. “And if you did, you’d be a liar.”

He scoffed. “You’re timeless, Doll. Would’ve took my breath away even in the ’40s.” Your heart fluttered from his compliment. “Are you coming into work with me?” 

You shrugged, biting your lip as you admired his back muscles. “Dunno. I think I’ll take a half day. Probably go on a walk, find a nice cafe to get some work done in.” 

He frowned. “What am I going to do without you?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be just fine. The world will turn without me running the office while you’re gone.” 

“I don’t know.” He was rather dramatic in the morning. “My executive assistant is important-” 

“We can’t go to work together.” You hissed. “You know that. The press would have a field day-” 

“I don’t care.” He sat on the edge of your shared bed. “Don’t you think it’s time the office knows?”

“Bucky. Think of your career, your position. It would look like an abuse of power, I would have to stop working-” 

“Perfect.” He looked terribly pleased with your last statement. “I’ve been trying to get you to stop working in the office for months.” 

“I like working.” You glared. “And I thought we’d finally gotten past that.” 

“We have.” He smiled, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “I just want you to be-” 

“I know.” You sighed. “But I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours. “Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” 

Your eyes welled up, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You love me too much.”

He shook his head, eyes darting to your lips. “Not such thing as too much, Doll.”

You leaped up, pulling him down to you, his eyes wide as you kissed him senseless. “God, I love you.” You murmured against his lips. 

He grinned, kissing down your neck. “I love you more.” 

He’d been late to work. You had to peel yourself away from his touch and practically push him out the door, waving goodbye until his car had vanished from your sight. 

His townhouse was perfect, warm and inviting. When you first started dating, it was empty, with only the bare necessities. You’d laughed when you’d entered, insisting that he let you take him shopping. He’d agreed, and you would later find out he would agree to anything you asked simply because he loved the way your eyes lit up when you were determined.

 Your stomach lurched, and you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut to try and quell the nausea. Finding your way into the kitchen, you grabbed your favorite mug, one that Bucky had bought with you in mind, and made yourself a cup of peppermint tea. Another wave of nausea, stronger than the last, hit you as the steam hit your nostrils. You realized that this was not something you could solve with a couple of deep breaths and a cup of tea; your stomach once again grumbled as you rushed toward the bathroom. 

Denial. 

That was the first stage, right? 

You stared at the tests on the bathroom counter, too shocked to cry. There was no possible way this was real. You’d been safe, you’d taken extra precautions. The science behind the super soldier serum coursing through his veins was something neither of you understood, and so you decided you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

Apparently, you thought as you stared wide-eyed at the positive pregnancy tests in front of you, your extra precautions had been for nothing. This was horrible timing, plain and simple. He’d finally made a name for himself other than the ‘Winter Soldier’. He was finally coming into his own, and you’d ruined it. 

You had to resign. You had to leave before the press found out. 

No, you reasoned with yourself. No one knew you were dating; if you simply pretended that you were pregnant by some random man, the office would believe you. 

There was one major flaw in that plan. What would Bucky think? What would he think if his girlfriend of almost two years suddenly broke up with him and showed up to work a week later, visibly pregnant? 

You decided to stick with your original plan, resigning from the office and fleeing DC. You ran up the stairs, shoving everything you’d accumulated into the two bags you kept here. Your drawer would be empty by the time he came home.

He would eventually understand that you were saving his job, saving what you’d both worked so hard for him to achieve. Besides, who knew if he even wanted that with you, a child, a domestic life? This was James Barnes, the World War II veteran, Avenger, and congressman. He had no time for trivial things like that. 

Anger. 

Your life was exactly what you’d wanted, perfect in every way that counted. Your relationship with Bucky was perfect.

At least, until now.

He had been the first man to truly love you, to care about you. You weren’t some object, some underling. You were his equal, his great love, his partner. 

You’d finally achieved your dream. You came to DC to head an office, to become a political weapon. You’d done that, you’d seen the potential in Bucky, and you had gotten him into office.

This wasn’t fair. 

You loved him, you loved him so much that it hurt. He was a gentleman. He held the door open, he respected you, he was- Angry hot tears ran down your cheeks as you lugged the bags over your shoulders, locking the front door behind you, leaving your key underneath the mat. 

This really sucked.

You hailed a taxi, smiling gratefully when the driver helped you with your bags. “Where to, Miss?” 

“Doll?” Bucky called out, shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t show up to work! Something wrong?” 

No response. You were probably upstairs, too tired to call back out to him. He set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his sports coat. “I brought Indian food from your favorite place down on 8th street.” 

By this point, you were typically barreling down the hallway, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses over his face. He frowned, the house much too silent for his liking. “Baby? Are you home?” 

The hallway was dark, too dark for his liking. You were known for leaving the lights on, too scared to walk around his house in the dark. He laughed when you’d told him, but he’d never judged. If it made you feel safer, then he was all for it. 

He’d checked every room, every possible place you could be, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you’d never even existed. His mind began to cloud, dark and poisonous. 

His first thought was that someone had taken you. That they, whoever they were, had followed the pair of you home one day, found out where he lived, and taken you as collateral. He began to dial Sam’s number when he pushed your shared bedroom door open, frowning at the sight before him. 

Your drawer was open, empty of all the things you’d brought over. He shut the door behind him, pushing the bathroom door open to find that even your products in the mirror above the sink and the shower had disappeared. His heart stopped, hands shaking as he deleted Sam’s number to make way for yours. It had rung two times before you picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Thank god.” His voice was quiet. “Came home and you weren’t here. Thought something had happened.” 

“I um…” You felt horrible, horrible that he had thought you’d been taken. You almost gave in, almost told him the truth. He loved you, and you knew he would be excited. “I-” No, you shook your head, you had to do this for him, for his future. He loved you, and you loved him, which is precisely why you had to do this. “I think we should stop seeing each other.” 

This was his nightmare; this was infinitely worse than someone taking you. That he could fight, he could win; this was uncharted territory. His heart clenched, on the verge of breaking clean in half. “What?” 

“This has been on my mind for some time now.” Lie. “It would be best, for both of us, for your career-” You willed yourself not to cry, not to break from the sound of his voice, more anxious than you’d ever heard him. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Where is this coming from, Doll?” He sounded desperate, broken. A tear ran down your cheek. “Did something happen? Did I-” 

“Bucky.” You cried, the tears you’d tried so hard to hold back breaking free. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “I am going to make this harder than it has to be, because I love you."

Bargaining. 

His voice broke, desperate for an explanation. “Just tell me what happened, baby.” 

“I’d like to take the rest of this week off, please.” He would be better off without you, without this whole mess. This was for the best, you tried to convince yourself. “I’ll be back to work next week.” 

“Where are you?” If he could just see you, he would know. He was sure of it; he could read you like an open book. It was for that very reason that you did not want to tell him where you were. 

“I’m-” It was only a matter of time before he found where you were. Hell, he’d had your location in his phone since before you started dating, for safety purposes, of course. You’d laughed when he'd asked, giving him yours in return. It had been sweet, the way he nervously bit his lip. You remembered your cheeks flushing, stomach fluttering at the action.

Now it made you want to cry.

“I’m at my apartment.” 

“Your apartment?” He felt like he was dying, his heart clenching so tightly he thought he was having a heart attack. Maybe he was. You hadn’t been to your apartment in months, spending virtually every waking moment at his place. He’d even persuaded you to move in last week. “Thought you were moving in with me-” 

“Things change, okay?” You snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to snap like that.” You wiped your face clean of tears. “We were never going to last forever.” Lie number two. “Please, just let me do this.” 

“No.” He shook his head as if you could see him. “I can fix this, we can-” 

“I’ll see you in a week, Congressman.”

True to your word, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week. The radio silence made him jittery, and he began to lose focus in meetings, his peers growing more and more annoyed by his apparent lack of care regarding the nation’s interest. 

He wished he could tell them that his life turned upside down on a random Tuesday, that the love of his life had left him out of nowhere, but he knew better. 

They wouldn’t care. 

He’d been counting down the days, staring at his door for some form of life, for your familiar frame. 

Your desk was right outside his office, and he often found himself watching you through the glass wall. Now he just stared at nothing, at the empty desk that turned his mood sour. He frowned, dropping his face into his hands, wallowing in misery.

“Congressman?” 

His heart skipped, head whipping up. “Ms. Clark.”

You hadn’t wanted to go back to work, but you couldn’t just quit over the phone. 

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could have, probably should have, but your heart craved him, your eyes had to see him once more. 

Then you could hand in your resignation letter. 

You waved hello to the office as you walked toward your desk, almost laughing to yourself at the sight before you. There sat Bucky Barnes, in all his glory, with his head in his hands. If this were normal circumstances, if you hadn’t just broken up with him and were planning on moving across the country, you would have laughed. 

You draped your coat over the back of your chair, pulling your resignation letter out of your bag. “Congressman?” You cleared your throat, heart thumping hard against your chest.

“Ms. Clark.” His head whipped up, eyes wide as he stared at you. “You’re back.” 

“I am.” You reminded yourself that you were in the office and thus had to behave professionally. Placing the letter in front of him, you mustered up the weakest smile known to man. “Here is my resignation letter.” 

“Resignation letter?” Bucky rubbed his eyes, like you weren’t real, a figment of his imagination. “Ms. Clark-” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, not having the strength to look at him any longer. “For understanding.” 

“Wait just a second-” He stood up, practically racing toward the door to shut it before you could leave. “Don’t thank me for understanding.” His cologne threatened to overpower your senses. “Don’t thank me because I don’t understand.” He looked miserable, hands twitching like he was forcing himself not to touch you. “You haven’t given me any real reason.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was like a warning, a plea not to escalate things.

He didn’t happen to care, because he couldn’t let you go. Not without a fight, or at the very least, a reason for your sudden end of an otherwise happy relationship. 

He whispered your name so faintly you could have sworn he’d never said it. “I can’t let you go.” 

“This is highly inappropriate. We are at work, anyone could walk in at-” 

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “I love you? Do you know how much I love you?” 

“Of course I do.” You whispered, scared of someone overhearing. “And I- I loved-” 

“Bullshit.” He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “We were happy. You were happy. You told me you loved me that morning. What happened in nine hours?” 

“If there’s nothing else you need…” You straightened your posture. “I’ll be just outside.” 

“I need you.” He said it like it was a fact, like it was certain, etched in stone since the beginning of time. “You might not need me, but I need you.” 

Oh, how you wanted to correct him. You needed him like air, like the very oxygen that filled your lungs. You’d been in love with him for so long that you’d forgotten what it had been like before him. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hear you reject him one more time. Not when he knew that you still loved him. He knew it, even if you didn’t. “That will be all.” 

“Fine.” You nodded, turning on your heels like you hadn’t just broken his heart. Like you hadn’t just broken your own heart.

Depression.

You were actively fighting through it, fighting against crumbling into ash and letting the Earth swallow you whole. You’d been to a total of two doctors’ appointments, and even that had done nothing to improve your mood. 

If anything, it made it worse, knowing that Bucky would never be there, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He would never see her first steps, her playing in the front yard, her first dance recital. 

And that was fine, because he would be doing great things, he would be changing the world. 

You didn’t even know if it was a girl or a boy. You had a feeling that it was a girl; your feeling was more of a wish than intuition. You’d always known you’d have a girl; it was something that had been part of you for as long as you’d loved playing with dolls. 

Your hand fell to your stomach, caressing it gently as you whispered. “Hello, my darling.” It was too early to tell if it was a boy or a girl, too early for kicking, too early for most things. 

You felt crazy when you talked to your baby; it wasn’t like she (or he) could hear you or show you that it could. “You’re going to be so loved, so deeply loved.” 

The bed in your apartment was comfortable, but you missed your bed, the one you’d been sleeping in for almost a year. Bucky’s bed. You missed his smell, his warmth. You slept in the one shirt he’d left over here every night, pretending as if nothing had gone wrong, that you hadn’t broken the one thing that kept you sane. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered again, eyes tearing up as you thought of him. “I miss your father.” 

Only two more days until you leave DC. 

Technically, one and a half. 

It felt surreal. You’d come here with such big dreams, and now, here you were, leaving with your tail tucked between your legs.

It was fine, not everyone was made for this life. 

You thought you had been. 

You’d already put a down payment on a modest house in a small town somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was pale blue, with three bedrooms, two stories, and it took everything in your savings. 

The front yard was perfect for playing in, for growing up. The large oak tree that shaded the house was perfect for climbing, even a tire swing. 

Maybe this was it, acceptance. 

It felt like it, in some horribly strange way. You’d finally reached the last stage of grief, of mourning your past life.

Mourning your great love. 

The office was relatively quiet, a nice reprieve from a normally chaotic environment. You’d decided to make the most of your last two days to finally organize the file system, hopefully enough so that his next executive assistant had an easier time finding things than you had. 

You wondered as you flipped through a folder labeled ‘The Superhero Support Act’ if he and his next assistant would fall in love, if she would make him forget about the pain you’d caused. 

You hoped she did; he deserved happiness.

By noon, you’d already organized all the digital files, your desk, and Bucky’s office. It was time for the white whale - the file closet.

It was dingy in here, the one hanging light doing nothing to brighten the space. You groaned, knowing that this would take longer than you thought. The files were dusty; they had obviously been neglected since the invention of the computer. Deciding to organize the files chronologically, you began your last mission.

 “Thought I’d find you here.” 

You cursed at the sky, wishing that Bucky would just leave before either of you said something you’d regret. You continued to face away from him, still sorting through the files as diligently as before. “Just doing my job.” 

“Mhm.” You imagined he was leaning against the doorway, looking as handsome as always, his jacket unbuttoned. “I see that.” He didn’t speak for a while, simply watching you organize. You wished he would leave once more. 

Wishes, apparently, are not granted on Capitol Hill. 

“I love you.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned. “C’mon, Doll-” 

“Don’t.” You stood up, finally facing him. “We are at work.” He raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut. Your eyes widened, and you stepped forward, trying to open it. “If someone finds us in here-” 

“What will they do?” Bucky laughed. “You're leaving, as you love to remind me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” 

“Funny.” He took in your face, trying to memorize it before you left. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whispered.

“Like what?” He whispered back.

“Like you still love me.” 

“Of course I still love you.” He scoffed, following after you as you walked backwards, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “I’ll always love you.” 

Your eyes welled. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Stop telling me what I mean.” 

Your back hit the file shelf, gasping. “I-” 

He was barely a breath away from you, eyes darting toward your lips. “When will you understand that I love you? That I’m here, and I’m not leaving. That I’ve loved you since you walked into my campaign office, all frazzled, barking out orders?” His hand came up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen against your will. “That I wake up in the middle of the night, and the first thing I do is look over to make sure you’re still there, that you’re breathing, that you're real?”

“Bucky-” You were sobbing, fighting every instinct that screamed to let him in, to tell him the truth. “Stop.” Every time he spoke, it softened your resolve, made you want to tell him what you’d been carrying by yourself. 

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not going to leave you alone. I know you love me, I know-” 

You place one hand over his mouth, the other on his chest. “It’s for the best, trust me. You said you love me, so just let me do this. Let me do this for you.” 

He raised an eyebrow, delicately peeling your hand away from his mouth. “Do what? What’s going on, baby?” He grew more and more worried every second you sobbed, every second you refused to open up to him. “Did someone-” 

“No.” You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bucky, I love you so much-” 

He grinned, a glimmer of hope breaking through his otherwise melancholy face. “I love you too-” 

“But this is for your own good.” Both of your hands were on his chest, pushing him away like he was temptation itself. “You’re meant to do great things, and you can do those, but I can’t be the person who slows you down.” 

“Is that why you broke up with me?” He laughed. “I appreciate you looking out for me, really I do, but you can’t make that decision for me.” 

“Too late.” You cried, his shirt wrinkling under your hold. “It’s too late.” 

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head, his hands holding your face like it was precious. If you had asked him, it was. “You’re scaring me, baby. What’s got you so upset? Talk to me.” 

“I- I can’t-” 

“You can-” 

“You don’t get it-” You sobbed. “I-” 

“C’mon, Doll.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m right here.”

“I’m pregnant, alright?” You sobbed. “There you go, there it is.” He staggered back, staring at you in disbelief. You felt jittery, manic with fear from his reaction, or lack of reaction. “I’m sorry, I just-” You hugged yourself, rambling as you tried to explain the reasoning behind your decision.

“I found out after you left for work, and I-I couldn’t live with myself if I slowed you down. You’re amazing, you’re really making a change for these people. And I’m so proud of you, so so proud. You’re my finest achievement, and I-I couldn’t see it all go to waste. I knew if I told you, you’d drop everything, and I couldn’t have that. Because you care too much, and it scares me. It’s horrifying how much you love me. I’m not used to it. You’re supposed to be more selfish, you have to be more selfish, especially in this-” 

You tilted your head, glaring at the man in front of you. “Are you even listening?” He had that same glazed-over look in his eye, still staring in disbelief. “Are you serious? I know I messed up, but the least you could do is say something.” Bucky slowly walked back toward you, like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m sorry, I really am. Just please, say something, say anything-” You gasped when his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you carefully into his hold. “Bucky-”

His lips dove to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. He grinned, your teeth momentarily clashing, neither of you wanting to let up. Your knees weakened, glad that he had an arm around your waist, holding you up with ease. “We can’t-” 

“Are you sure?” He pulled back, breath heaving as he spoke. “Are you sure that you’re pregnant?” 

You nodded, smiling timidly. “Eight weeks yesterday.” 

“Eight weeks?” His eyes welled with tears as he stared at your stomach. “Oh, baby…” 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to-” 

“I love you.” He grinned, peppering kisses all over your face, your laughter bubbling in waves as you squirmed under his attack of affection. “I love you so much, and I-” He fidgeted with something in his pocket. “This is horrible timing, I know that.” 

“What?” Your heart dropped as he lowered himself onto one knee. “Bucky-” 

“Before you say anything, just let me get this out, and then you can scold me or kiss me, whatever you want.” He smiled, pulling out a small velvet box. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, and now seems as good a time as any.” The ring inside was old, simple, but elegant all the same. “This is my mother’s ring. Rebecca still had it.”

“Bucky-” 

“I want to marry you. So badly it hurts. Marry me, and I swear you’ll be happy as long as you live.”  

“You know my answer is yes.” You cried, leaning down to kiss him. “A million times, yes.” 

He smiled, placing the ring on your finger. “Thank god. If you tried to leave again i was just going to blurt it out, and I didn’t think that-” 

“This is perfect. You’re perfect.” You grinned, staring at the ring as he stood up. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, Doll.” He kissed the back of your hand, smiling when he saw his mother’s ring. “I do have one request.” 

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

“Next time you’re pregnant…” Your heart skipped at the way he so casually said ‘next time,’ like it was inevitable. “Tell me before you do anything rash.” 

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sounds reasonable enough.”

taglist: @milesdrift @eddiemunsons-lover @maryjaneeeee

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!!

[borathae]

Boyfriends? | JJK x MYG

“Yoongi doesn’t do labels, while Jungkook loves labels. So one night, he asks Yoongi ‘what are we?’, hoping that the last four years together weren’t just casual for him.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Vampire!Jungkook

Genre: established relationship!AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, slight suggestive themes

Warnings: just some anxious thoughts, this is a post sex cuddles scene, Koo being a little brat, Yoongi being a fond brat tamer, he tickles him hehe, snuggles & kisses, also! mention of blood drinking as part of his training to become a good vampire <3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on an alternative fictional universe and does not correlate with any real life people. I do not support the shipping of the actual members.

Wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: i love sanguis!yoonkook so much :( omfg this hurt me because i just love them so much and my heart exploded :( istfg this break was so good for me, i have so many new ideas already heheh i can't wait to bring a very lore-y multi chaptered fic very soon hoohoh <3 but for now enjoy this lil yoonkoo fluff <3 also! whenever i write something for them just know that i am channeling hyyh!yoonkook 💔

Yoongi doesn’t define his sexuality. Neither his romantic attraction. He thinks that it is a rather stupid thing to do. He never truly understood the appeal of it nor felt it necessary to do.

“Why should I put a label on myself just so other people are satisfied?”

Because that is what it is for him. Satisfaction of other people. He should put himself into a box just so they can sleep better at night. Well, fuck them. Yoongi is way too old to live for strangers. He knows what he likes and other people can get fucked. They’ll find out who he likes when he allows it.

Jungkook defines his sexuality. And his romantic attraction. For most of his life, he felt like he didn’t belong. Into society, into groups, into life. So learning control and finally being able to be part of something again, Jungkook also feels it important to define who he is.

“I can finally be part of a group. I’m so happy.”

Because that’s what he is these days. Happy. A very happy bisexual man who doesn’t care about the gender of his lovers and who falls for personality.

And so it happens that “I hate labels”-Yoongi and “I love my label”-Jungkook are dating. At least Jungkook thinks that they are. They never really defined it – put a label on it so to speak.

But it must be that they are dating. After all, they are sharing a blanket as they are relaxing in front of the fireplace. They each only wear boxers and a tanktop which in itself is such an intimate look to share. The rug under their bodies is soft and heaps of pillows surround them.

Yoongi is using a few of them to keep himself propped up as he writes anecdotes in the book he is reading. Jungkook is lying on his tummy, watching the flames dance. Music is playing. Lofi hip-hop. Sometimes, he feels Yoongi’s fingertips dance down his back. It makes him shiver every time it happens. Jungkook feels exhausted, but he can’t fall asleep.

He flips his head to the other side, looking up at Yoongi.

The latter notices and gives him a glance. He runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, making him shudder in a good way.

“How is your head doing?” he asks.

“Heavy.”

“But no pain?”

He shakes it, “no, just so heavy. Hyung, it’s so heavy a-and I’m so tired.”

“Relax, bub. That’s normal.”

Yoongi is Jungkook’s mentor. Before Yoongi, Jungkook was unable to exist within the human world because he would have ripped through anything that breathed. With Yoongi’s help, he learned how to be normal again and because the road to perfection wasn’t finished yet, they used tonight to train.

“You are ready for the next step in mastering your urges”, Yoongi told him and then monitored Jungkook as he drank from a blood bag filled with human blood.

Up until this point, they merely trained with animal blood. At first Jungkook was very confused, “but I thought that I shouldn’t drink human blood? At all. Never.”

To which Yoongi assured him, “completely staying away from it, will only do the opposite. You need to learn how to handle it, so that if you accidentally drink it, you don’t become violent.”

With Yoongi’s reassurance, Jungkook choked down the blood deliciously and if it wasn’t for the older vampire, he would have lost control.

But he didn’t. Yoongi took his mind off of it in the typical, amazing way Yoongi often takes Jungkook’s mind off the bloodlust. And Jungkook wanted it. It felt so good. Quite frankly, he didn’t want it to stop.

Yoongi pulls his hand back and continues to scribble in his book. Jungkook is thinking. Yoongi calls him bub and bun and Kookie, but does it mean anything? Yoongi allows him to cuddle into him, but does he want the same? Yoongi fucks him, but does the sex even mean anything to him?

It has been two years since the world became peaceful and four years since they met and not once has this relationship been defined. Yoongi doesn’t call Jungkook his boyfriend. He calls him “my boy” or “my Kookie.” But never my boyfriend. What is he is just a good friend to him? What if Yoongi doesn’t want to put a label on them?

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Are we dating?”

Yoongi lowers the book, “what do you mean?”

“Am I your boyfriend?”

Yoongi widens his eyes, blinking them in confusion.

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“Just feeling anxious.”

“Jungkookie, hey”, Yoongi softens his voice, “just relax. You’re okay, everything will be okay.”

“Please don’t avoid my question”, Jungkook insists anxiously. Is this it? Four years of intimacy, of building trust and bonding and it never meant the same to Yoongi?

“Of course you’re my boyfriend.”

Jungkook’s chest instantly stops tightening. His body tingles.

“You silly boy, do you seriously think I’m like this with someone I’m not dating?”

“You’re a really kind person.”

Yoongi chuckles, eyes soft in adoration. He pinches Jungkook’s cheek.

“You little bun, that’s not the same.”

“We never made it official.”

“I didn’t think it necessary. I thought it was pretty clear that we are dating once this”, he gestures between them, “became regular.”

“I guess, but I was thinking. About labels and how you hate them and yeah. I got scared that we aren’t official for you.”

“We are.” Yoongi pushes the pillows aside and lies down to face Jungkook. He tugs a strand of hair behind his ear. “If I’m not showing it enough for you, you have to tell me. I’m not good with reading signs or getting hidden messages. You gotta tell me directly what you want.”

“I know.”

“So? Do you want me to show it more?”

“No, you’re showing me that you love me. I think I just needed to hear it tonight.”

“I understand. You can tell me if you need that. You know me, I’m not gonna recite love poems to you on my own.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I know you, hyung. I think it’s cute.”

Yoongi grimaces. “If you say so.”

“I do. You are so cute.”

Yoongi chuckles, “you’re aware that I rearranged your insides just moments prior?”

“I know.” Jungkook closes his eyes and settles into the pillow. “Only cute people can do that.”

Yoongi laughs, “okay, okay you’re being an idiot. I get it”, he says, leaning in to kiss the shell of Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook relaxes his muscles, enjoying the soft tingles rising all over his skin as Yoongi kisses every inch of his upper back. His face next. Jungkook rolls to his back so Yoongi can reach it better. Their eyes meet. Yoongi cups his cheek and kisses him. Jungkook seriously thinks that it feels so much better now that he knows it’s official. Every second, every moment, every touch exists to strengthen their relationship as boyfriends. Seriously, if Jungkook’s heart was still beating, it would race like crazy.

He giggles. Yoongi smiles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m happy.”

Yoongi kisses him with a smile before he begins littering his face with kisses.

“I’m happy too, bub.”

“Oh, Yoongi”, Jungkook lets out and unable to control the surge of happiness, he shoots up to take Yoongi into the tightest hug human- and vampirekind has ever seen.

“Okay. This is happening”, Yoongi chuckles, letting it happen without hugging him back. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, but simply because Jungkook is squeezing his arms against his sides.

“I love you so much”, Jungkook giggles, shaking Yoongi from left and right.

“I love you too, but please stop that”, Yoongi laughs, head thrown back and bouncing around.

“No. You’re my stim toy”, Jungkook says and squeezes him tighter, making a cute sound for it.

“Whatever that is”, Yoongi laughs, taking the squeezing until it starts hurting. Then he begins to fight back. Softly of course, finally using his strength to shove Jungkook’s arms open.

“How are you doing that?” Jungkook gasps, trying with all his might to bear hug Yoongi again, but it is useless.

“I’m the strongest, remember?”

Jungkook’s back hits the rug, his wrists get pinned by one hand. Yoongi looks at him as if he wanted to take him to euphoria and back. Just for a second because then pure mischief burns in his eyes. Jungkook feels said mischief very soon as Yoongi begins tickling his sensitive side.

“No! Stop! Hyung please stop”, Jungkook squeals, laughing so loudly it bounces off the walls. He tries to fight his wrists free, kicking his feet helplessly. But it is useless. Yoongi is stronger and he is hellbent on getting Jungkook back for always being a little brat.

“Hyung I’m sorry”, Jungkook laughs, crying tears.

“Not enough”, Yoongi coos, changing sides.

“Ah! Please I’m gonna pee myself, stop! Please”, Jungkook squeals, laughing oh so much that his mouth truly cannot open any further.

“Mhm, alright”, Yoongi rasps and stops. He lets go of his wrists, sliding his hands to the smallest part of his waist to hold him. Somehow in their tickle match, Yoongi slid between Jungkook’s legs. They are thrown over his lap, resting their weight on him.

Jungkook recovers with little gasps and gulps. The first thing he does is wipe the tears from his blushy cheeks then he pouts at Yoongi.

“This was totally not necessary and very mean.”

Yoongi chuckles, “for all the bratting you did this week? It’s a mild punishment.”

Jungkook pouts harder, “I can’t help it. Besides, you’re too sensitive. I’m not even bratting.”

“Careful”, Yoongi squeezes Jungkook’s waist. The latter squeals and writhes.

“Sorry.”

“Better.” Yoongi smiles, bending down. His hands run along Jungkook’s torso until he has to rest them on each side of his head. “You’re so fucking pliable.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook sighs, melting into a puddle.

Like this. Underneath Yoongi and with his head foggy in feel good emotions, Jungkook gets kissed. He wraps his limbs around Yoongi and deepens the kiss. This might be one of the best nights of his life. He is his boyfriend. And now he is making out with him. This is the best night ever.

[wrappedinpinklace]

Out of Bounds, Chapter Twelve.

(author’s note!! hii everyone, i kinda have the ending of the fic planned out in my head, and i don’t think we are much further from it, dw it’s a happy ending im not that mean </3, xoxo angel!!)

Your dorm was quiet.

Your roommate had gone off with her boyfriend for the night, again. “Don’t wait up!” she’d said, followed by a wink that made you roll your eyes—and you were left alone with nothing but a Transfiguration textbook, a flickering candle, and your own traitorous thoughts.

You were doing great. Amazing, actually. Your grades were top of the year, Professor Nygma had even praised your last essay, and the whispers that once followed you like a second shadow had finally died down. You had healed.

…Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But still—still—you thought of him.

Jason Todd.

You hated how easily his name still formed in your mind. You hated how your body remembered him even when you were trying so hard to forget. The way his hands felt on your skin, the way his breath tickled your neck when he murmured things he’d never say in the daylight. The way his voice rasped when he said your name like it was the only word that mattered.

You hated how much you missed him.

And Merlin help you, you hated how much you wanted him.

It started with a thought. Just a thought. A flash of him shirtless at practice, sweat glistening on his chest. His hair tousled, his smirk dangerous.

Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts before you could even talk yourself out of it.

This is stupid, you thought. Don’t do this. You’re fine. You don’t need him. You don’t—

But then your fingers moved and your back arched, and for one wild moment you imagined it was his hand instead of yours. His voice whispering dirty praise into your ear. His body over yours.

And all thoughts of guilt drowned beneath the sound of your own ragged breath.

⸻

Meanwhile, Jason?

Jason hadn’t slept properly in days.

He was tired, pissed off, and obsessed—utterly, pathetically obsessed—with you. Everything reminded him of you. Your perfume in the hallway. Your handwriting in the margins of a shared textbook. The stupid way your laugh echoed in his mind like a curse.

He needed to see you.

He needed to try.

It wasn’t like you gave him the chance. You avoided him like he was cursed. Wouldn’t look at him in class, wouldn’t speak to him in passing, wouldn’t even so much as glance his way unless Dick or Steph was around to intercept.

But tonight? Tonight the castle was quiet. Your roommate was gone—he saw her himself—and Jason had always been good at breaking rules.

He slipped through the dark like it was second nature, silent, a shadow. He murmured the password Steph always used (he knew it, of course he did), climbed the staircase with practiced ease, and stopped in front of your dorm door.

His heart beat louder than it had in weeks. He knocked once—soft, hesitant. No answer. He turned the knob. Unlocked. Jason stepped inside.

And what he saw—

What he saw made the world stop spinning.

You. In bed. Skin flushed, eyes closed, legs spread, hand between your thighs, head tilted back, mouth parted in a breathy moan of his name you didn’t even realize you said.

“…Jason.”

He froze.

His brain said leave. Turn around. Pretend you never saw this.

But his body—his traitorous, desperate, aching body—stayed rooted in place, watching you fall apart under your own touch like a prayer whispered in the dark.

You gasped, sitting up, eyes flying open. And when you saw him—really saw him—you nearly screamed.

“W-What—Jason?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

He should have left. He really should’ve.

But instead, he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a soft click, locking it this time. And even though you were still flushed and panting, your eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Get out.”

Jason didn’t move.

“You said my name,” he said, voice low, somewhere between awe and agony. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you but—you said my name.”

“Old habit,” you snapped, pulling your blanket up, heart thundering. “Don’t let it go to your overinflated head.”

But you couldn’t ignore how dark his eyes had gone. How his chest rose and fell as he tried to keep himself together. How the room suddenly felt much too small for the two of you.

He took a step closer.

And you didn’t stop him.

Not yet.

You didn’t remember climbing into his lap.

You didn’t remember pulling his shirt over his head or kissing your way down his chest, but there you were—thighs wrapped around his waist, back against the pillows, skin pressed against skin like you’d die if there was even an inch between you.

“Still mad at me?” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours, hips rolling slow against yours. Torturously slow.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Furious.”

“Good,” he said, voice a low growl as he thrust forward—deep, hard, and deliberate. “You always fuck me better when you’re angry.”

You moaned—loud, uninhibited—as your fingers clawed at his back, grounding yourself in the only thing that made sense anymore: him.

Jason didn’t stop.

Couldn’t.

Your name left his lips like a prayer, over and over again, half-muttered between kisses, between curses, between moans that escaped despite himself. You were everywhere—wrapped around him, clinging to him, seared into his skin like a spell he couldn’t shake.

You dragged your lips along his jaw, biting lightly at the corner of his mouth, “This doesn’t change anything.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” he rasped, hand sliding beneath your thigh, lifting you to meet each thrust, “Just need to feel you again. That’s all I’ve wanted.”

You were soaking—slick, warm, tight—and every movement drew a new sound from the both of you. The room was thick with it, the slap of skin, the creak of the bed, the stifled moans you tried and failed to bite back.

“Jason,” you gasped as he hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

His grip on your hips tightened.

“I know, baby. I know.” He leaned in and kissed your temple, something softer layered beneath the hunger. “I’ve got you.”

You came hard, fingers digging into his back, mouth falling open as you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew. He didn’t stop, not until he was right behind you, shuddering through his own climax with a broken groan against your neck.

And for a second—just a second—the world was quiet.

No heartbreak. No rumors. No betrayal.

Just two people in a messy bed, hearts still racing, bodies tangled together, unwilling to let go.

⸻

Jason stayed longer than he should have.

His breathing had finally evened out, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something—something real. But instead, he just sat there at the edge of your bed, head bowed, fingers twitching slightly like he was debating reaching for you again. You didn’t speak, and neither did he. It was quieter that way, safer.

Eventually, he stood.

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, hesitating. Like he was waiting for you to ask him to stay—or to scream at him to go. You did neither.

“G’night,” he murmured, voice hoarse and low as he pulled on his shirt.

You just nodded, your face unreadable, your body still bare beneath the sheets. And when he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click, you stared at it for a long moment.

The second it latched shut, the silence hit.

You sank back into your pillows, limbs heavy and sated, every nerve still humming. Your body was still warm from him—your thighs sticky, your lips swollen, your skin littered with the ghost of his touch. He lingered in the air like cologne and trouble.

And god, it had been good. So good.

You hated how good it had been.

Your fingers grazed over your neck, over the little bruise blooming there from where he’d sucked too hard, and you couldn’t help the soft breath that left your lips—half frustration, half satisfaction. You hated him. You hated him for lying. For breaking you. For making you miss him. But mostly, you hated that your body still ached for him, even now.

There was no way this was a one-time thing.

You weren’t delusional enough to believe that. Not with the way you moved together like a match to a flame. There was something brewing now—something inevitable. Dangerous.

A situationship. That was the word for it, wasn’t it?

Not love. Not yet.

But not hate either. Not anymore.

And that? That was the most dangerous part of all.

⸻

You were doing so well at hiding it.

You’d avoided the common rooms, skipped breakfast in the Great Hall, even wore a scarf indoors like an idiot to cover your neck. But of course, Stephanie Brown was many things—and oblivious was not one of them.

It started with the scarf. “Okay, what is this? Fashion from the Ministry of Silly Walks?” she teased, tugging on the edge of the fabric.

You tried to deflect. “I was cold.”

“In ninety degree weather?” she deadpanned. And then she yanked the scarf down.

There was a pause.

Then, “Oh my god.”

Your heart dropped. “Stephanie, I swear—”

“You swore you were done with him.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but no words came out. What could you even say? It wasn’t supposed to happen? I was horny and lonely and he has really nice hands?

Stephanie’s eyes widened even more as it fully sank in. “Wait—was this last night? Oh my god. You had sex with Jason Todd. Again?!”

You dragged a hand down your face and sank onto the edge of your bed. “Please lower your voice.”

Stephanie slammed your door shut and leaned against it dramatically. “Girl. Why?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. It just… happened.”

She crossed her arms. “People don’t just accidentally fall onto Jason Todd’s—”

“Stephanie.”

“I’m just saying!” She threw her hands up. “I mean, part of me is mad at you because hello, heartbreak and betrayal, but also… I’m impressed. Proud, even. He’s hot. I get it. I do.”

You gave her a look, but your cheeks warmed anyway.

Stephanie softened a bit, dropping onto the bed beside you. “Okay, okay, real talk. Do you… still want him?”

You didn’t answer right away. You stared at the floor, fingers twisting in the hem of your jumper. “I don’t know. I mean—yes. But also no. I don’t trust him. I shouldn’t even like him. But my brain and my body are apparently no longer on speaking terms.”

Stephanie nodded slowly, tapping her fingers against her leg. “That’s fair. But… just promise me you’re not going to let this turn into a thing unless he earns it. Like, actually proves he’s not an emotionally constipated disaster.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you muttered. “It was just one night.”

Stephanie raised a brow.

You winced. “…Okay maybe not just one night.”

“Y/N.”

“I know! I know. I’m doomed.”

Stephanie sighed, bumping her shoulder into yours. “Maybe. But at least you’re doomed with good taste.”

You both laughed softly. The kind of laugh that came with too much history and not enough wisdom. But there was comfort in that.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

⸻

You hadn’t even been in the library for five minutes before the peace was disturbed.

Of course it was him.

Nathan.

You were halfway through annotating a Defense essay, quill tucked behind your ear, head down, when his voice slid into your space like an oil spill.

“Well, well,” he drawled, casually leaning on the edge of your table, “I didn’t expect to find you here alone. No bodyguard boyfriend shadowing your every move today?”

You didn’t even look up. “I’m trying to study.”

“And I’m trying to have a conversation. I’d say we’re both failing.” He smirked, eyes trailing lazily over your parchment. “Didn’t expect you to bounce back so quickly. Maybe heartbreak’s just a phase for you.”

You clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around your quill. “Walk away, Nathan.”

He grinned. “You know, since you’re available again, I might—”

“Try finishing that sentence,” came a familiar voice from behind him, “and I’ll make sure you don’t have enough teeth left to say another one.

Nathan turned slowly. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

Jason stood with his arms crossed, still damp from Quidditch practice, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes hard as stone. You hated how good he looked angry.

Jason stepped forward, crowding Nathan slightly. “Don’t you have some Ravenclaw strategy meeting to be at? Or is losing all the time finally catching up to you?”

Nathan scoffed, standing his ground. “We’ll see who’s losing after the match next week.”

Jason smirked darkly. “Right. Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw. Maybe you’ll win this time.” His tone was all sarcasm, sharp and lethal.

Nathan straightened his collar and gave you one last look before sauntering off. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

Jason watched him go with murder in his eyes before turning to you. “You okay?”

You sighed and closed your book. “Yes. I was fine. I am fine. I don’t need saving.”

Jason tilted his head. “Didn’t look like you were enjoying the conversation.”

“I wasn’t. But I could’ve handled it.”

“I know.” He said it gently. “But I still wasn’t gonna let him talk to you like that.”

You looked at him, trying not to soften. Trying not to be grateful.

But you were.

You turned back to your parchment, pretending not to notice the way your heart was still hammering.

You watched Nathan disappear between the tall shelves, and only then did you finally exhale.

Jason lingered nearby, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform trousers, but you didn’t look at him. Not right away. You were still trying to catch your breath, still trying to ignore the stupid way your heart raced at the sight of him.

“Look,” you said after a moment, keeping your eyes on the parchment in front of you even though the words swam uselessly now, “you don’t have to do that.”

Jason tilted his head. “Do what?”

“Defend me. Show up. Intervene. We’re not…” You paused, tongue heavy with words you didn’t want to say. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. So it’s none of your concern.”

There was a beat of silence before he finally said, “Right.”

You glanced up—and regretted it instantly.

He looked… disappointed. But not surprised.

You sighed. “But… thank you. For what you said. Even if you didn’t need to say it.”

That pulled the corner of his mouth into the beginnings of a smirk. “Yeah, well. He’s a prat.”

You huffed a soft laugh, eyes flicking back to your work, trying to pretend the tension wasn’t still thick between you.

Jason lingered a second longer, shifting his weight. Then, as if trying to change the subject—or maybe just change the moment—he cleared his throat.

“So… hypothetically, if someone was completely failing Arithmancy,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “and maybe hypothetically had no idea how to interpret magical probability equations no matter how many times it was explained to him…”

You raised a brow. “Is this hypothetical person you?”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “Might be.”

“Didn’t you used to have a tutor?”

He gave you a look. “I did. She was brilliant, actually. Charming. Cute, too. Shame she quit.”

You stared at him flatly. “Jason.”

He grinned. “What? I’m just saying. I’ve been thinking maybe I need her back. You know, for academic purposes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling despite yourself. “This is your idea of asking for help?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, “this is my idea of trying to spend time with you without pushing my luck.”

His voice had dipped lower now, the cocky edge softening just enough to leave you unsteady again. You hated that he still knew how to do that—how to knock the air out of you with a simple sentence.

You didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no either.

And Jason… well, he took your silence as a maybe.

And maybe was enough.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Previous weeks Masterlist

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Another busy week! Handed in my assignment - nothing like the last minute, right?! Posted TWO new chapters of Strategic Interests and a spicy one-shot - I'll Do That Thing based on a gif I couldn't stop watching (you can blame @sunday-bug for that one!) which completely blew up. Fun! I'm currently working on Strategic Interests chapter 7, For Your Consideration - January Part 2 AND another spicy one-shot. Apparently it's a new thing where I write sex acts I've never written before. Why not, it's good to try new things! 🤭

I also read some amazing stuff this week, and thanks to @azriona, I discovered how to properly use the queue so I can stop clogging up ya dash when I'm on a reblogging spree!

Bucky Barnes

It's been a Bucky week.

The Celibacy Challenge by @sunday-bug was so much fun, I too would have to nope out of every room and I would cave SO fast 😅

I'm SURE I'm behind on reblogs for Declassified but Chapter 12 landed just as I needed something to read before bed last night and it was AMAZINGGGG!!! My love for Kelsey is only challenged by my need to shake her right now, @dreamwritesimagines!

Sergent's magic mouth by @buckyseternaldoll. Please. Anything. I'll give anything. Also by Elle,

I love it when @societyfolklore blesses us with a short and sweet bit of filth. So good to us 🙌

@navybrat817 said the words 'Bucky is hot and fucks like a God' and we all nodded with our entire bodies - Back It Up

@buckysleftbicep wrote a dad's best friend Bucky fic and... good god, it's so hot - daddy's best friend. As was little black dress, clearly I am feral this week. I feel like I'm gonna look back on these lists and go, whooooh yeah that was a horny week, y'know?

In fact, I'm sticking with Lily here, I realised I accidentally reblogged a reblog - so sorry, love. Swipe Right was so, so quietly beautiful 😭

@whitedarkmoonflower gave us the gorgeous Good morning and I would like to incorporate that and also Sweet Surrender into my morning routine please and thank you.

Saturdays with Bucky would be a dream. ngl. Loved this @buckybarnes82!

The Desperate to Devoted series by @buckets-and-trees was amazing!!

I will always rescue you by @firelilyfox was super sweet and lovely!

Happy Father's Day by @wildflowersandvibranium - this was the most adorable Father's Day everrrrr!!! Bucky is SUCH a girl dad, you cannot convince me otherwise!

The Suit Problem by @salty-tang - this was so hot and yessss, I can definitely see him ripping through those suits!! I've added the masterpost to my reading list AND it's so good to see another Congresswoman fic! 🙌

She Looks Nothing Like Me @writing-for-marvel - as a curvy girlie, I really felt this one! So, so lovely 🥹🥹

@buckybarnesfic BBF wrote their first fic!! About a stuffed dick!! Go read it, you will NOT be disappointed!!

A smutty talk you through it by @crowsofdarkness - no notes, just me begging, actually.

Ok, I've been neglecting my longreads - the 8/9/10/11k(+) fics that are all sitting in my drafts begging to be read. I've also just rescued a bunch of fics out of my likes so I can get to those for next week!

Phew! LFG!

[kazutteoks]

GO FOR IT! 𝜗𝜚 ; 26. three times i really noticed you before i realized (3.9k)

the one were heeseung and you have been rivals since you started hogwarts, and only takes one event that will turn your world upside down to realize what heeseung's presence in your life truly means for you. you have to do something! you just have to go for it!

pairing: ravenclaw prefect!lee heeseung x ravenclaw prefect f!reader

a/n: taglist open, lmk if you want to be added^^

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ °. ₊˚⊹

ℱirst time you were kicked out of the library you considered it the worst of your shames, a horrible consequence of your irrational way of acting whenever you felt threatened by heeseung's presence.

spending hours sitting near the black lake, remembering how the librarian had yelled at the two of you to leave the library because you didn't know how to behave, made you reflect on your father's words he always repeats.

“head of the family always acts with intelligence, elegance, and rationality. always keep that in mind.”

and after realizing you've never acted like that in front of heeseung, full of embarrassment and frustrated with yourself, you finally decided the most appropriate thing was to talk to him and reach a truce.

wasn't easy of course, knowing you had to "give in" in your rivalry with him first didn't make you precisely happy. but wonyoung knocking some sense into you by talking about the newts exams and your internship at the ministry quickly made you want to actually talk to him.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ - read more undercut! ˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ₊

as you prepare to approach him after yeosang dismisses everyone from the classroom where the meeting was held, yunah's words echo in your head.

we're not asking you to be the best friends, just learn to listen to eachother and work together.

just listen and work together. easy, right?

“hey, y/n. can i talk to you?” you leave your mind the second you hear a voice speaking behind you. and the moment you turn around to face that person, your stomach turns cold and churns, guilt and shame instantly taking over your system.

but you notice it.

you notice how he was the one who approached first.

“...sure.” you whisper, still not facing him directly. “we can go to another classroom if that's okay with you.” you say, staring at the tips of your shoes as if they were the most interesting thing you've ever seen.

heeseung nods and whispers “mkay” letting you lead the way. both of you leave the classroom, ignoring the looks of your respective friends (as in jay, jungwon, riki, gyuvin and soobin) who were still there waiting to see how your talk would develop.

we're not asking you to be the best friends, just learn to listen to eachother and work together.

again, just listen and work together.

listen and work together.

but you can't help it when suddenly you two return to the starting point that brought you there in the first place.

clumsy apologies are given, a few traumas are shared, and misinterpreted comments come out of both mouths without thinking.

all started with an “i appreciate despite being quite stubborn, you decided to apologize”

“stubborn? but you're the one who always needs to be right to feel good about yourself.”

“you didn't just fucking say that.”

a harsh comment here, another one there, you don't even remember getting so close to heeseung when you poked his chest with your finger while accusing him of never closing his big mouth.

and you also don't remember why when heeseung said “you should just shut my mouth if it bothers you so much!” you decided pulling him by the neck of his shirt and smashing your lips with his was the best way of doing it.

maybe was the look he gave you when he finished closing the distance between you two, a look full of expectation, inviting even, almost as if he expected you to do what you did. maybe was also the soft, alluring scent that emanated from him, that fucking chocolate and parchment that was engraved in you after spending at least 30 minutes trapped in the arms of the bearer of said scent.

you don't remember.

or maybe you do but didn't want to admit every detail of that night was recorded like a video in your head.

the only thing you know is after separating from his strong grip on your waist you just said with a weak whisper “ok... we're good” and he, as stunned as you, just mumbled “y-yeah... wanna start our homework now?”

and as if nothing had happened, you went to the library and returned to the common room, making a silent agreement to never tell anyone how you two solved your problems.

that was the first time.

the first time you noticed how frustrated and hurt he was about you thinking he's a bad person. the first time you really saw the kind, intelligent and serious heeseung and not the mocking, narcissistic and annoying heeseung you had convinced yourself he was.

that was the first time.

and the first (accidental) kiss.

you were fucking depressed.

you felt like a total dramatic slytherin taking the black lake as your get-away-spot. but you needed it after the horrible way professor seonghwa had yelled at you.

a week had passed after that incident and even though headmaster doyoung assured you that you did the right thing and you wouldn't be punished for it, you still felt the need to think about your actions, away from everyone.

you even begged yeosang and aeri to let you switch patrols and do it alone so you wouldn't have to see anyone and both of them were understanding and let you do it. yeosang didn't even scold you for missing the last ravenclaw prefect meetings and you were so grateful for that.

but you knew there was a limit to everything, and while you were eating your eighth chocolate frog, you ended up venting your frustrations with heeseung over text after he told you a muggle fact you didn't even know you needed.

you didn't expect it to be so easy to talk about your feelings with him, but you were grateful, cause when you put your phone down for a second to admire the view of the enormous lake again, you sighed and felt calmer, more relaxed.

that's why, without thinking, you picked up your phone again, urgently wanting to tell him to go to the lake with you, to accompany you. with the poor excuse of having too many snacks for yourself because, again, you still weren't ready to admit you started liking his company after the first time you studied together.

in the same way you still didn't want to admit to yourself you hadn't bought those frogs for keeho back in winter break.

not even ten minutes passed when you saw his silhouette in the distance and you smiled involuntarily, feeling for the first time in the week you could be comfortable in someone's company.

“hey” heeseung says, sitting next to you on the huge flat rock you used as a seat, you already offering him something from your bag full of snacks.

“...hey” your voice comes out a little hoarse due to the little use you gave it that week, but you can feel how just that was enough for the boy next to you to smile.

as if he was relieved to hear you again.

“feeling really better now?”

“yeah... thank u hee, i really needed to talk.”

for a few minutes, all you two did was eat your sweets while looking at the lake with a calm, comfortable, safe atmosphere surrounding you.

“if you don't want to worry your friends with your feelings, you can always relay on me to talk, you know?”

the silence was cut abruptly by heeseung's words, so abruptly you didn't realize he was talking to you until a few seconds later.

“i... i don't want to bother you.”

“you could never bother me.” his response is almost instantaneous “i mean it, seriously. you can trust me.”

“...i'll try.” you whisper, letting the wind carry your words away.

“but i have one condition.” you snort almost gracefully.

“nothing in this world is free for real uh?” you laughed, looking from the lake to his eyes, waiting to see him laugh too, but his gaze was determined, expectant, something that almost hit you like a slap. “...what condition?” you ended up asking after noticing he was being serious.

“promise me you'll never push me away when you're feeling down... no matter the situation, let me be there for you.” you held the air in your lungs so much you felt your chest hurt, you were already sensitive and that promise he asked you to make was one more drop in your glass that was about to spill. you used all the willpower left in your body to contain the lump in your throat formed from all the emotions that heeseung made you feel in the last hour, and you swallowed it, not wanting to let the boy see you burst into tears. “just... promise you won't shut me out like this again, please?”

he whispers almost hurt at the end, looking away from you, his words feeling heavy in the air.

again.

that was the second time you noticed.

you noticed how genuinely he cared for you, to the point where it hurt him he couldn't help you because you wouldn't let him. you noticed the look in his eyes, begging you to let him enter your space, space that held all your fears and insecurities just so he could take care of you and protect you from them.

why? why do you care so much?

you wanted to ask so badly, but you weren't sure you wanted the answer right there.

so you just leaned gently on his shoulder for the first time and whispered in a way not even the wind and water could be part of the moment, just both of you.

“i promise to let you in, but in return you have to promise you won't leave.”

“i will never. i promise.”

and you swear you could hear the racing sound of his heart, as if his own heart was also seriously promising you.

a couple of months after that significant day at the black lake, the hardest challenge for you as a team in your potions class arrived.

make one of the advanced potions you studied all year.

“i know! i knooow you guys will hate me, i can see it coming, but i also hope you understand you were the ones who decided to be unhappy passing your potions owl exam to be in this class, so it's your fault.” professor yunho's kind and playful voice fills the classroom, lightening the depressed mood of his students, just a little. “i'm going to assign to you the potion i want you to make and you'll work on it for the next two weeks.”

all the students in the class were a total of 9 teams, but for some reason it felt almost intentional the way yunho left you two at the end. you swear for a second you saw him smirk almost maliciously when he said your names.

“aaaand y/n and heeseung, you'll be doing... amortentia! and that's all for today, see you at tomorrow's class, byebye~!”

your self-control almost flew out the window when you were about to yell at him if he was being deadass serious.

almost.

“what was the point of making us write a bunch of essays about damn veritaserum if our final project was going to be amortentia?” heeseung murmurs next to you.

“i swear he did it on purpose, look at that devilish smile” you can see yunho walking up the stairs to his office with the biggest, most hateful smile of all your years here. “we have no choice, guess we'll be doing amortentia.”

“yup.”

actually, preparing amortentia was not something the two of you considered difficult, the truly difficult part came every time you had to smell it to know if it worked.

bcause how the hell were you supposed to know if the potion would work when the last thing on your mind all those years was love? the closest you'd felt to that was your slight crush on yeosang for the past two years, but you don't even remember what he smelled like or if there was any scent that reminded you of him.

but you trusted heeseung even though you couldn't tell what you smelled cause every time he smelled the potion he would stare at you and assured you millions of times it was more than perfect and usable.

that's why was a surprise when yunho asked you to smell the potion the day you two finished it and the first thing that came out of your mouth was “parchment” almost instantaneous.

the smell was strong and almost like a memory slipping through your fingers when you were about to see it, and then it mixed with another smell that you recognized so easily after so many years. “books and ink”

you were confused and almost laughed when the thought came to you, maybe your true love was studying or some romanticized stuff like that. you almost felt like the potion you and heeseung created was a complete failure and you were ready to apologize to yunho and ask him to give you a few more days to improve it or do another one.

but it hit you like a tornado.

last smell you perceived came so suddenly when you were about to move away from the cauldron, and it was the answer to your confusion.

the memory of that first kiss in the ancient runes classroom seeping into your memory so clearly.

“...chocolate.”

you whispered stating it to you first before anyone else, so quietly no one heard you, no one but heeseung who was next to you, and yunho, on the other side of the cauldron.

heeseung looked at you with his big brown eyes full of surprise and something softer that you didn't dare to name.

and you?

you were fucking terrified.

but before your worst fears and weaknesses filled your head yunho's loud applause snaps you both out of your shock, breaking the moment and giving you a chance to focus again. you look in the direction of the professor and all you see is the huge smile on his face.

“there's no doubt my favorite students would make one of the best potions without difficulty.” you both awkwardly thanked the professor and after he placed an “𝑬” on your parchment you returned to your seats in complete silence.

for a brief moment neither of you dared to say anything. you didn't even know if there was anything to say.

“well... we passed with an extraordinary.” that's all the boy next to you says and you can only nod.

the rest of the class passed in a blur.

you don't remember anything else.

but that was the third time you noticed.

the third time you noticed him.

how close you had become with him, all the time you've spent together, the secrets whispered in the library, your laughter, the closeness, the subtle touches, the silent brushes of your hands, the night patrols, the hugs, that first kiss.

you really noticed and knew you could no longer continue avoiding the fact that your line between friendship and something more had been blurred a long time ago.

but you were fucking scared, because less than a year ago you still thought of him as a detestable person that you complained about with your friends, someone you saw as a threat. deep down you knew saying it out loud would make it real.

and you also knew all of this wouldn't be unrequited cause god, heeseung didn't hide his feelings at all.

that wasn't the problem, your real fear was yourself.

do i really deserve to feel this happiness? am i worthy of these feelings?

and those questions were the ones that made you avoid the first kiss, the lake deep talk and the amortentia situation a little bit more.

but it was stupid.

you had been avoiding heeseung, your friends and fucking everyone for almost a whole month.

however, when yeosang texted you, you couldn't help but reply after five hours when you felt like the worst person in the world for ignoring him.

and for you was complete stupidity to let yourself be carried away by what he told you.

you knew was a provocation, telling you some friend of heeseung discovered shit and he was about to do something big, just to casually brush it off as if was nothing when clearly was something.

of course curiosity was going to get the better of you, of course you wouldn't be able to sleep thinking about the kind of trouble that boy was about to get into, of course you would end up looking for heeseung all over the castle to talk to him.

of course you would, and yeosang knew you would, that's why it's stupid.

you felt your legs numb from going up and down all the stairs in the castle in your unsuccessful search.

you swear you saw peeves hanging around the castle and bothering students more times today than you would've liked. but no trace of heeseung.

you were about to give up and return to your common room when you turned into another hallway near the hufflepuff tower. and saw him.

you almost sighed in relief and prepared to call out his name. but a second later, you realized he wasn't alone, and you froze.

he was with her, talking.

your first instinct was to hide behind the corner of the hallway wishing they hadn't seen you already, the echo of the corridor helping you hear what they were talking about.

it's not that you wanted to snoop, but you didn't feel capable of leaving just like that.

“i don't like you” that was the first thing you heard coming out of heeseung's mouth and your heart almost jumped in joy “not as a classmate, not as a friend, not as an equal... so why would you think you have a chance with me romantically?”

“but heeseung, we are the heads of this castle! we need to-” you close your eyes in boredom as you hear the high-pitched, squeaky voice that has been driving you so crazy these past few months.

“we don't need shit. this isn't a cheap american movie where the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team are together for popularity.” your head nods in approval of the boy's words and without realizing you smiled with satisfaction. “you think cause you have the badge hanging from your uniform everyone will automatically be at your feet, but you have no idea, right? for that to happen, you had to earn it, and that wasn't the case.”

atmosphere change as soon as heeseung finishes his sentence, silence fills the hallway but it's not a peaceful silence.

it's a tense, heavy... threatening silence.

“...badge's mine, i did what i had to do to have it, so you should be scared of me.” a chill runs down your spine when you stop hearing that childish voice, now replaced by a hoarse angry one. you slowly directed your hand to the wand at your waist, afraid that girl might hurt heeseung.

“scared of you?” heeseung mocks, letting out a sighed laugh. “can't believe you've been in this castle for seven years and still don't know shit. really, who chose you for this role?” you never thought you'd hear him so angry, so mean. almost like the heeseung you'd painted in your head when you didn't know him well yet.

and you enjoyed it for two reasons: one, he wasn't talking to you like that. two, he was talking to her like that.

“let me be real and tell you the three things you should be scared for” you hear slow but determined footsteps “one, a furious principal. two, azkaban. three and most of all...” the footsteps stop and heeseung's voice sounds lower but no less threatening.

“...a man in love when you're the cause of his girl's sadness.”

it's almost a whisper but you hear him so perfectly, his boldness makes your heart race and the air gets stuck in your throat, you put a hand to your heart, internally begging it not dare to escape from your chest.

you can't even imagine the face heeseung made when he said that but your cheeks started to heat up so much just by the tone of his voice.

“and i hope you understand now that i'm a taken man, and i don't fucking play with that.”

so angry, so upset, so willing to destroy everything she has done that has hurt you, to fix the world to your liking, to worship the ground you walk on.

do i really deserve him? can i really have him?

“i'm not afraid of you. you're just a child who thinks he knows what the world is made of.” you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear her voice and the way she talks to heeseung.

i swear to rowena i'm gonna beat the shit out of this wannabe as a graduation gift.

“i'm gonna get rid of you. won't be difficult, you know? just see who's wearing this badge and who's the depressed bitch that's been avoiding you since we got back to the castle. i can do it worse for you.” your hands clench into fists so fucking tight you feel your nails digging into your palms. you don't know what upsets you more, the tone she uses or her admitting she did something against you.

no, definitely pisses you off a lot more that she called you a depressed bitch.

you didn't just fucking call me like that.

“i want you to try it, fucking try. i just want to remind you whatever you've done, i'm going to find out... so you should watch your back. does that sound familiar to you?” that deja vu his phrase caused you makes you nervous, you don't remember having told him or anyone about the first time you met this weirdo when she threatened you. “let's see who's faster. just keep in mind i like to always be one step ahead”

you don't hear a response, but you hear footsteps moving away down the hallway like a storm. you don't dare to move or even breathe until seconds later, when you hear other footsteps moving away as well.

what the fuck was all of that just now!?

that's your first thought after you've calmed down enough to walk back to your dorm.

but the more you analyzed it, the more you realized.

heeseung was really about to do something to make you come back. something probably risky since that girl was threatening him so casually.

he is so in love with you, he just called you his girl, he called himself someone taken. as a fact, a statement.

and he is mad furious, just because you are sad.

and probably because you ghosted him and broke your promise, but oh well that's more your fault than anything else.

but more than anything you realized all this time you were in love with him too, too scared and insecure to admit it.

now wasn't that enough for you to accept it?

not yet, you still had to prove you deserved not only a place at his side as a lover, but also as what you always deserved to be.

and you weren't going to sit and watch him do it all for you, not anymore.

i'm so gonna make that weirdo regret stealing something that was mine and calling me a depressed bitch.

prev | masterlist | next

a/n: long ass chapter but was necessary for u to understand how snowy's feelings developed so far aaand cuz i love keeping the down bad heeseung agenda hehehehhohoho^^

© kazutteoks 2025

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ °. ₊˚⊹

ꢾ꣒ ; taglist open!

@vixialuvs , @jvngw0nlvr , @kukkurookkoo , @bambi-lia , @firstclassjaylee , @mimimovv , @kiwicup , @nijisanjigenshin , @starfallia , @jungwonbropls , @letwiiparkjay , @goldenmellow , @yuuuraaa , @tokkisluv , @skzolover , @minhosprettywife , @starniras , @skzfangirl143 , @xiaoquanquans , @seokjinthescientist , @hollxe1 , @zoe1love , @wonuziex , @thatsnotaddy ,

[phantomamour]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞)

senator!coriolanus snow x personal assistant fem!reader - previous parts

cw// self-doubt/consciousness, panic attack, confessions - finally finished this and i'm so so happy about it. i have a few ideas for little spin-off fics (admittedly some smut in there too...) but no clue when they will happen so i'm very happy to have the main story completed. it's one of my babies <3

President Ravinstill was stepping down at the end of the year. The announcement took the Capital by storm; every politician worth anything was scrambling to put their foot in the door of the upcoming presidential election in the late spring. Coriolanus’ schedule was meticulously filled to the brim with meetings between himself and several potential campaign managers, thanks to you, and every day felt like a step closer to the end goal you knew he had envisioned for himself so long ago. You didn’t doubt that he could do it for a second, watching each potential manager walk out of his office with their head held high, assuming they’d be working with the future president by the end of the month. It wasn’t until one afternoon, as you overheard chatter from the small group awaiting the elevator, that you questioned your future role in Coriolanus’ presidency.

“His assistant would have to be replaced, certainly.”

“Of course, we’ll hire someone else immediately. Someone more competent, perhaps.” A seed of doubt had been planted under your skin with their harsh words. You never backed down from the challenges that being a senator’s assistant had provided you. You were sure you lost more sleep working for Coriolanus than during university, but you also thrived under his employment. Almost two years had passed since you started at your small desk outside his office, and you wouldn’t trade a second of it for the world. 

Days passed as you continued to spiral about the notion of your termination. You watched every potential manager closely, looking for any hint of their doubt in your abilities. But most of all, you wanted to watch Coriolanus. You certainly thought you had proved yourself, and now you feared he could share that same doubt with the others. 

Your desk started to feel like a place of shame with every person who walked by. Did they know something you did not? Were you failing without even realizing it? Surely you’d be gone by the end of the month. Perhaps even the end of the week. That train of thought brought you into Coriolanus’ office without an idea of what consequences might come from your following words. Coriolanus’ head snapped up to the sound of the door shutting, eyes widening at the sight of you standing before him. 

“I think it’s quite unfair that you’d fire me when I’ve worked unbelievably hard for you. Not once have I faltered in my position, even when you and everyone else have challenged me. I know how you like your calendar and coffee and what dry cleaner you prefer. All of these details that another assistant would completely overlook, but that I know by heart.” Coriolanus couldn’t move. He just watched as you ran a hand through your hair, clearly more and more frazzled by the moment. He had no idea what you were talking about. Firing you? He wouldn’t do it even with a gun to his head, truthfully. Yet once you opened the floodgates to the emotions that had grown deep roots in your chest over the last few days, you couldn’t stop what else poured out with it.

“But if that hard work hasn’t meant what I thought it did, then I think it’s only fair to get it off my chest before you fire me, that I think I love you.” He wasn’t breathing. Surely he misheard you, but you continued, “All your stupid mannerisms and likes and dislikes and habits that I have memorized, and they-they aren’t really stupid because they’re you! And I really like you… And your cat that you won’t tell me about! Because I think you like keeping me on the edge of my seat, trying to figure out more of these little personal details about your life that no one else knows. Which fine! Maybe I love it too because loving you is…” Your voice started to falter, realizing what you were confessing, “Loving you is like… a present that I keep getting to unwrap and… and love more and… more.” Your voice trailed off as the anxious feeling in your chest replaced itself with a deep dread.

If you weren’t fired before, you had to be now. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending completely fried as you watched him stare at you from his desk. He could see you starting to shake, the air in the room escaping you as it dawned on you the full severity of your confession. You wanted to defend yourself, defend your role, but you only gave him more reason to fire you. The group by the elevator called you incompetent, and now you swore you could hear them questioning your professionalism in your head as you opened your mouth to speak, and a broken whisper was all that came out.

“Oh god… I’m… I’m sorry.” You turned to leave, but Coriolanus was rushing up from behind his desk to stop you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the door. Your hand–no, your whole arm–was trembling in his hold. The fear in your eyes was something he’d never seen before; you thought your entire life was imploding right in front of your eyes, and to Coriolanus, he thought it might only be the beginning.

“Who made you think I’d ever fire you? Give me a name.” You could barely breathe, tears pooling in your eyes as you shook your head.

“That’s what you’re focusing on from that?” You sounded so breathless, voice breaking as you fought back the tears that were blurring your vision. Even through the fog of tears, you could see the soft smile Coriolanus offered you, moving a hand up to cup your jaw. The feeling of his skin against yours eased some of the tightness of your chest as you gasped for breath, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

“Of course not. But I will need a name, and you need to take a deep breath, sweetheart.” He’d never seen you so worked up, so overwhelmed by your own emotions and the thoughts that had made it nearly impossible to sleep. You were having a panic attack; he could see it in the glassy look of your eyes, and he waited patiently for you to take a deeper breath to reassure you, “I love you, too.” 

The force of your next breath nearly made your knees buckle as he pulled you into his chest and smoothed out your hair. He whispered a soft count for you to follow. One, two, three, four… four, three, two, one. Again. It seemed muffled in his hold, but he brought his lips down to your ear to speak more clearly, “Breathe, darling,” while he guided you to the small leather couch in the corner of his office. 

“C-coryo-” you tried to speak as he sat you down with him, letting you press yourself flush to his side before he shushed you softly. 

“I’m here. It’s okay. Try to relax. That was a lot, darling. You’re okay. Just breathe with me,” he whispered, rubbing gently up and down your back to ground you. You were still trembling down to your bones as if caught in the pouring rain in the coldest parts of winter when he pressed his lips to your hair. He couldn’t help his smile when you started to melt into him more, your breaths evening out to match his own. The tension in the room began to dissipate, a new kind of unfamiliar comfort taking its place. Even though you had wanted it for much longer than you’d let yourself admit, it was strange to know he shared the same feelings as you in any capacity. You didn’t get to mull it over long, however, before he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“I don’t tell you about my cat because you asking me questions about her gives me an excuse to ask more about you in return for my vague answers.” Oh. All this time, you thought he was keeping you at an arm's length, and truthfully, he had been trying to bring you in closer.

“You don’t need an excuse to ask me things you want to know. I’ll tell you anything.” A small smile graced Coriolanus’ face again, the room brightening around you two as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. A comfortable silence ensued, the two of you looking at each other, taking in the details of his face. The sharp edge of his jaw, the soft curve of his cheekbone, his full lips. 

“Her name is Juliet… my cat. I’ve had her for three years. Perhaps you were right about the aloof detail but she’s more aloof than me,” he whispered softly. The corners of your mouth tugged up in response; he was letting you learn more about him and it brought a warmth to your chest you weren’t sure you’d ever quite experienced before. 

“That’s sweet. I knew you were a cat person.” He laughed in response.

“You know more about me than anyone.” You felt the room grow smaller around you two as his gaze travelled down to your lips, all the air in your lungs being sucked out under the weight of his stare. Would his lips be as soft as you thought they were? There were an alarming amount of nights, even daydreamed afternoons, that you had considered the thought. What would it be like to kiss Coriolanus Snow? It kept you up at night and distracted you on the weekends. You were hopelessly head over heels for the man and now could believe he might feel the same way in return. 

He caught your eyes on his lips and lost any hesitance he could have had before leaning down to kiss you finally. He smelled like the bottle of bourbon he kept in his office. He tasted like the coffee you had brought him that morning still. You couldn’t help melting into him, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel him against you. All he could think about was the way you leaned into him as he pulled you from his side into his lap. Your thighs caged his as you straddled him, your fingers carding through his hair and loosening his curls. His hands slipped under the fabric of your shirt around your back to press you flush to his chest as you sighed so sweetly against his lips. He could kiss you for the rest of the time. He was sure of that. Now that he’d had a taste, he’d never be able to let you go. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, sweetheart.”

“I was really hoping you were going to kiss me after the Christmas gala,” you whispered in reply.

“I should have. I really should have. You looked so breathtaking that night.” He melted underneath you, remembering the sight of your red dress and the tipsy giggles you had let out around him that night. You smiled against his lips and he swore it was the most addicting feeling in the world. He could hoard you in his penthouse like the most beautiful jewel in the Capital. He’d dress you in the finest things and spoil you beyond belief. But he couldn’t imagine being Senator, let alone President, without you there to assist him either.  

He pulled your head back just so he could look at you again, taking in the sight of your swollen red lips and the blissful look in your eyes that matched his own. He could feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss on his lips and he didn’t think he could let you go. Not that night in his office and surely, never in the future. You were his and he was yours. 

The two of you left the office late that evening, having spent an alarming amount of time just lazily making out, relishing in the loving touch of the other. You woke up that morning in a blissed-out daze, getting dressed and smiling like a fool as you stopped into the cafe for Coriolanus’ coffee. To your surprise, he had beaten you to the office. 

“Good morning,” he smiled as you set down his cup. If you hadn’t already been smiling, you think the pure force of his own would have overwhelmed you. You had seen Coriolanus through many emotions, but this happiness, this joy, was new. You aimed to only increase it as you handed him the reports you had grabbed from your desk.

“Your meetings today are on the lighter side. Another potential manager and a call with the Minister of Defense,” you gave him a moment to look over the papers before adding, “You have a dinner to attend tonight as well.” You smiled as he looked back up to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He couldn’t remember there being a dinner on his schedule for the week. 

“Which diplomat wants to speak to me now? Or is a manager trying to woo me?” You felt giddy getting to tell him what you had done. 

“Well, I’m not a politician and I don’t think I need to woo you. But I would like you to take me to dinner tonight. It’s on your calendar. I got us a reservation already.” If he wasn’t charmed by you already, you had shot him like Cupid in that moment, his stomach fluttering against his will. He couldn’t help loving the way you took charge, how you ordered him around as if he wasn’t a Senator, soon to be President. Yet, even as you did, you were never once cruel. He didn’t think you could have a cruel bone in your body. 

“I see. I look forward to it. I still need that manager’s number you told me about yesterday.” 

“What for?” you tried not to sound as dreadful as the pit in your stomach felt at the mention of the people who doubted you so openly. 

“I need to tell them they aren’t getting the job,” he smirked, “You can listen if you'd like. I’m not entertaining anyone’s offers if they have anything negative to say about you.” The butterflies in Coriolanus’ stomach now matched the ones in your whole body. You had known he was protective. You had seen glimpses of the glares he shot the other senators at galas when their glances at you lingered too long. But to hear him voice it, to hear him defend you out loud, was something else entirely as you tried not to smile too wide. 

“Of course, sir. I’ll have it for you soon,” you spoke softly before turning to leave. Just like yesterday, he was standing and rushing around his desk to grab you, pulling you back to him after a quick glance at the closed door and pressing his lips to yours. You were quickly learning just how touch starved he must have been as he gripped your hips to press you closer while you melted into him. Kissing him was intoxicating. You swore you were lightheaded and tipsy as he pulled back to give you air. 

“Wear something red tonight,” he whispered.

“Don’t I always for you?” you smiled back. There was the confirmation he had needed for the last two years. The final piece of the puzzle that made up your partnership; you wore something red every single day since your first week. Today it happened to be your skirt, blood red as his jacket and the pride that shone through him as he toyed with the fabric on your hips was worth having to invest in far more red than you had ever owned before all those months ago. 

“Wear a tie tonight, Coryo,” you whispered back, playing with his collar, smoothing out the fabric against his neck. Hearing you call him the soft nickname nearly made him shiver. If it weren’t for the previous night, the confession you two shared, he was certain he’d be disgusted by the warmth in his chest looking at you. But now he nudges his nose against yours lovingly. 

“Why a tie?”

“You look very handsome with a tie,” you whispered. Coriolanus was all too endeared by the giddy undertone of your voice, matching the smile tugging at your lips as you added, “and I like the idea of tugging on it and dragging you around with me.” That got him to smile in a way he didn’t think he had in years. He could picture it now. Your intoxicating tipsy laugh as you tugged on his tie to kiss him. Your excited eyes as you would watch him give in to you. Him on his knees as you used his tie to drag his face closer-

“You don’t have to drag me. I’ll follow,” he interrupted his own thoughts before pulling you in for another kiss. It took everything in you not to mess up his gelled hair for your own enjoyment of his curls. You wanted to see him as he was and little by little, you were unwrapping him. You only hoped that spending more time with him alone would finish tearing off the precious composed wrapping paper he so proudly displayed to the Capital. You wanted to burrow into his skin and never let go. Perhaps you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. 

He reluctantly let you go, hands trailing after your hips once you stepped out of his hold. You were unraveling him and he was relishing in the feeling of it. He hadn’t felt so vulnerable in years and yet, there was a comfort in it with you. A knowledge that you had the right interests in your heart. Not the purest perhaps—you were set on him winning the presidency still—but the ones that mattered to him most of all. That was a trust he valued so deeply with you. 

“I like the frame by the way,” you smirked, pointing to his desk as you stepped toward the door, “ I always wondered what you did with all of my little notes when I didn’t see them in the trash.” His gaze followed your direction to the small frame made of dark wood and glass, with a single piece of paper inside. He had come in early to dig it out from deep in his drawer; he didn’t need to hide it anymore. His smile didn’t falter even once you had left the room and he sat back down behind his desk. 

The little yellow piece of framed paper stared at him; the start of something he didn’t know would be so valuable at the time. He was extremely grateful for whatever little voice nagged in his head to hold onto it all that time ago. He could have lost it to the trash forever. But instead, it sat proudly on his desk. A reminder of what shockingly seemed to matter the most to him.

Good morning, Senator Snow. I look forward to working with you. 

[warriorheart13-blog]

One Piece Hongo x Reader: Counting Stars

This is a really long one. A bit of a tw: Abuse, dark thoughts. I went a little overboard but eh

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

Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep

Dreaming about the things that we could be

But, baby, I've been, I've been praying hard

Said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars

Yeah, we'll be counting stars

You were always the light of the Red-Hair Pirates. Especially to Hongo. Your smile brightened his day no matter what. He had to admit, he was going soft because of you.

You were also an incredibly skilled fighter. Fast, precise, and powerful. Your weapon of the halberd was intricate and fit your form well. Hongo would secretly watch if he was around when you trained.

However, he noticed something was off about you one day. You weren't yourself. And everyone else noticed this, too. They had arrived in port a few days ago.

I see this life like a swinging vine

Swing my heart across the line

And in my face is flashing signs

Seek it out and ye shall find

Old but I'm not that old

Young but I'm not that bold

And I don't think the world is sold

On just doing what we're told

You hadn't told anyone what had happened. You couldn't. Especially not Hongo. What you had witnessed and endured was something you had been trying to push out. Those men...those disgusting filthy men. You had tried to save that girl from the slave traders. But they decided to kill her instead of handing her over. And that shattered something in you when you saw her panicked eyes. Why?

Because you were once that girl too. And the scars you had, no one knew. Not even the ships Doctor. You didn't want someone like him to know what disgusting filth you were. You dreamed of the day you would be able to share your feelings of love and adoration for the doctor.

Why why why were you so weak? If you were a bit stronger, maybe you could have saved her.

You felt like a shell of yourself, and now they were noticing. So you started to hide. Staying longer on land and returning when most of them would be asleep. You didn't need to burden them.

I feel something so right doing the wrong thing

And I feel something so wrong doing the right thing

I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie

Everything that kills me makes me feel alive

Everyone decided to go drinking. And you were forced to come along. You just nodded. No words came out. You realized you were falling back into old behaviors. So when the men got drunk enough, you excused yourself to the restroom and left the bar. You noticed a field of flowers on the way back to shift. You went over and just laid back against the soft flowers and grass.

The sky was clear and full of stars. You always liked looking at them. They sorta grounded you a bit. And it reminded you of your mother.

"Mom...im not sure if i can keep trying to follow your last wish anymore... He's here. The one that killed Father and took me... and then eventually killed you, " you said softly to yourself. "The damn slave trader...why is he here when i finally found happiness again..."

You started crying... softly at first, then grew to loud, pain-wracking sobs. Then you felt something drape over you gently.

Hongo...

I feel your love, and I feel it burn

Down this river every turn

Hope is our four-letter word

Make that money, watch it burn

He remained sober throughout the night. Hongo was worried about you. He watched you, looking for anything out of place. Then he watched you lie to get out of the bar. He silently followed.

He watched as you laid down in the grass and flowers, and he heard the words you spoke.... and it shot an arrow through his heart.

He had no idea you were suffering under a heavy, heavy weight. Then, when he heard your painful sobs, he decided he had to go to you. He took off the jacket he had, leaving him bare chested. The breeze made him shiver a little. But this was nothing compared to you.

He draped it over you gently. When you looked up to meet his eyes, he felt his heart sink. You looked so broken and torn. He sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug. Your head laid over his chest, and you heard the heartbeat. It was quick. And somehow... this grounded you enough to calm down.

Hongo waited patiently. He wasn't going to ask about it. He would let you tell him on your own terms. And you did, finally tired of carrying this with you by yourself.

"My mother, she was part of a now extinct race. My father was part human and part Lunarian. So my blood was very much sought after... and one day, my mother and i came home to find people and my father. They were slave traders. We aren't sure how they found out about me, but when my father tried to stop them... they... t-they.." Your words got stuck in your throat. Hongo gave a slight squeeze. You and him were lying back down on the grass. He had his arms around you close.

"They murdered him. And they overpowered my mom and i. We spent so long in separate cells. But my mom... she always told me the stars were born from peoples deepest wishes. And that when a person in need calls for help, a star will come down and save them. So every night we would count stars..."

Hongo smiled. But said no words yet. He was afraid that if he did, you'd lose the courage to get everything off your chest. He wanted you to be able to share the load with him so you could heal from your past.

"Then, one day, i refused to obey them. So they...whipped me. So many times, the skin never healed right. My mom went crazy and attacked the one hurting me. And then the same man who killed my father, he killed my mother too...but then everyone was in a panic. It was Garp who set us free. And so i wandered... then met Shanks. He could see i was broken and offered me a place on the ship. And well you know the rest..."

You searched his eyes for signs of disgust or ill will. Instead, you found sorrow and pain. He pulled you closer, trembling a bit.

"Im so sorry you had to carry that weight alone... you must be exhausted..." His words carried such weight that your body just reacted before you could. It went slack, tired from everything. The sleepless nights, the dark dreams that made you fear the people you cared for. The emotional toll especially.

And I feel something so wrong doing the right thing

I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie

Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly

"I am... and im tired of not being honest with you Hongo...im in love with you. I find the way you keep your room and office neat and tidy adorable. And the way you make Shanks take showers because he's dirty is comforting. And the way your eyes look at me... they're soft and beautiful.."

The confession took his breath away. He never felt so loved in a way that made him wonder if this was a dream? He sighed and put his head on your chin.

"That's a relief... because i love you too. The way you move with your halberd is like watching an angel fly. And your fearless and headstrong nature...it makes me unbelievably weak for you. Your strength makes me wonder if you're a goddess in secret..."

"Hongo..."

He looked at you. "Yes?"

You smiled at him. A true smile. The spirits in your eyes alive and well. "I think my mom was right about stars. You're the star who came down to save me..."

"I will always be there to save you... and dont worry about that slave trader... I have a feeling he won't hurt anyone again..."

You looked at him confused when you finally noticed the rest of the red hair pirates... and they weren't drunk.

Hongo and the crew planned this in case you decided to finally decide to open up. They heard everything and took care of things. They gathered around you and Hongo and hugged you.

You laughed at their antics. Happy that you knew they had your back and would never think less of you.

Back on the ship, you laid in bed. Hongo asleep and holding you from behind. You looked out the window and said softly

"Mom, the wish i made on a star...it came true...i can live freely now... and now i have a family who can protect people who were like me..."

Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep

Dreaming about the things that we could be

But, baby, I've been, I've been praying hard

Said no more counting dollars, we'll be, we'll be counting stars

Take that money, watch it burn

Sink in the river the lessons I've learned

Take that money, watch it burn

Sink in the river the lessons I've learned

Take that money ,watch it burn

Sink in the river the lessons I've learned

Take that money, watch it burn

Sink in the river the lessons I've learned

[epitomereally]

@hd-wireless 2023 fic claim: LA, Who Am I to Love You? for @sitp-recs

AO3 // FIC PLAYLIST

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Liv, there's nothing I can say that everyone hasn't said before: you're such a lovely, kind, supportive part of our fandom and I can't think you enough for everything you do (especially sticking up for my fic while it was still on anon!). I was so so so excited when I saw your prompt — thank you for letting me rhapsodize about magical Los Angeles and also for letting me be horny in your ask box 💕💗💞

This fic took a village & is immeasurably better for all of their feedback: @thehoneybeet, whose essays about how some key scenes should change led to more clarity and kindness in the fic (and who let me steal their words VERBATIM); aulophobia, who tamed my run-on sentences (or at least half of them — blame me for the rest) and britpicked the hell out of this American fic (any Americanisms remaining are my own); @theonetruenim for their enthusiasm and wonderful LA vibes check; and @chaoticbindery for talking with me about Chicano magical traditions and a sensitivity read.

I'm feeling really sappy about this story. I truly love LA and I hope everyone else can see something to love about this illogical and metastatic city in the fic, whether it's the interminable sun and traffic, bougainvillea cascading over a fence, or the smog making the sunsets violent and gorgeous. Thank you to everyone who read it (especially @sitp-recs & @romaine2424 for your recs) — it means the world.

A brief snippet for the * ~ LA V I B E S ~ *

Luna and Neville spend a magical week in LA. Neville works during the day, developing a new strain with Blaise, but Luna is stupendously free. She accompanies Harry to yoga, where she compliments the teacher on her lack of Wrackspurts. Harry’s teacher accepts the compliment graciously and completely seriously. Despite being a Muggle, she is apparently senses when her aura is being declared clear, despite the incomprehensible words Luna uses.

They go to Harry’s favourite juice bar and Luna delights in ordering the oddest-coloured drinks she can: black (charcoal), royal blue (spirulina), hot pink (pitaya), and then green, green, and more green.

He and Luna spend hours outside. They lay on the beach—the first time Harry’s taken his shirt off in front of anyone who’s not a Healer since the bite—and Luna spends hours tracing it gently, completely intent, her nose almost pressed into Harry’s side. Harry dozes, waking up every time she hits somewhere sensitive. Despite applying extensive sunscreen, he somehow acquires a bit of a glow about him. He loves it. Harry, who was always tan in England, had felt positively pale before now in LA. He had been technically darker than Malfoy and Pansy, but his skin didn’t have a healthy flush of recent sun exposure; it looked almost green, olive tones coming out against the gold of Malfoy’s and amber of Pansy’s. Somehow, all the Slytherins have freckles. They no longer look sickly and afraid like at Hogwarts; instead, like they had ripened and melted in the LA sun. When they arrive back at Malfoy’s, Harry likes how Malfoy laughs at both of them, not unkindly, when they immediately demand Sun-Healing Potion.

They walk along the canals of Venice and the tiny alleys, where Luna stops to marvel at pomelos the size of Harry’s head, or brush her fingers through mulberries which stain her hands wine-dark for the rest of the day, or weave a crown of fig leaves.

They wile away the time in Draco’s garden. Butterflies flit around them—Harry’s not sure if they’re even real, given the mild explosions from Draco’s garage, where he’s madly inventing effects. Luna takes time to tell Harry about every plant in the garden, what’s in season, and what Draco has enchanted to bloom despite the heat and the sun: bougainvillea and wisteria and jacaranda and Birds of Paradise and one English tea rose. It’s odd how at-home Harry feels in Malfoy’s back garden—they’ve only just barely become friends—but he does and Malfoy seems to like him there, anyways.

On Thursday evening, after 48 hours of mad plant alchemy between Neville and Blaise, they come home. Neville’s only got one long scratch down his cheek, which is apparently a rousing success for trying to cross marijuana, Gillyweed, and a Venomous Tentacula. The poison is apparently a mild empathogen in small doses, the Gillyweed makes Harry feel as if he’s floating and unexpectedly makes him blow bubbles, and they all lie in the backyard, laughing and dozing and chatting. Bubbles float above them, trapped by the jacaranda: purple and pink and iridescent, shifting in front of Harry’s eyes. Somehow, butterflies are still flitting about the garden; the fairy lights glow above them in the dim of the twilight. A giant purple blossom from the jacaranda drifts down to the top of Malfoy’s head, and Harry can’t stop staring, entranced by how lovely he is, how golden and beautiful. He falls asleep on the cushioned wicker sofa out back that night, Luna curled around Pansy in a chair, and Neville snoring away. Harry wakes up feeling better than he has in a long time.

Luna and Harry go for hikes in the Hollywood Hills: Runyon Canyon, and Cahuenga Peak to the Hollywood Sign, where Harry feels like a tourist for the first time in LA. They even even drive west up into the Santa Monica Mountains, where Harry roasts to a crisp, exposed among the shrub, with the ocean vast and glittering to his left. Luna’s a calming presence in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, humming along in a scattershot, off-key melody to songs she’s never heard before. While they hike, Luna points out a peppercorn tree, crushes the pink berries between her hands and puts them into Harry’s nostrils; he sneezes. She marvels at the wild mustard, coating the hills with yellow sprays of flowers. She stands in front of an agave, blue-green spikes taller than her, with what appeared to be a giant asparagus rising from its center. It must have been thirty feet tall, covered in yellow and red anemones. Luna loves it instantly. She loves the prickly pear too, with their bloody metastatic fruit sprouting off the paddles—Harry finds them frankly unnerving. She finds wild rosemary off the trail, soft and plush; it’s so intensely savory that Harry feels like he’s being punched in the face with a focaccia when he smells it.

Harry had just tolerated LA—it was a means to an end, a long shot to get rid of the wolf. It almost feels like cheating to see it now through Luna’s eyes, just after Parkinson tempts him with a Quidditch offer. Harry feels as if he hasn’t made a real choice in his entire life: his path laid out by Voldemort and Dumbledore from his first birthday; his apathy during Auror training; and finally the bite. He didn’t think he had a real choice in front of him here, either, but now, in the unexpected beauty of LA through Luna’s eyes and generosity of Pansy Parkinson, he does.

[chalkrub]

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waow 2024 is almost dead!!! gone too soon. feels like it’s been a big year for me art-wise for many reasons, BUT. i’m making 2025 bigger.... hopefully....i’ve made some art goals for next year which i won’t explain in detail but they boil down to 1) do more studies 2) tackle my weaknesses (backgrounds, dynamic poses/angles, uhhh lots of stuff i am a one trick pony right now) 3) get into drawing comics, all of which are in preparation for 4) take my story ideas more seriously and get started on one of the many graphic novels living in my head. i have one in mind i HAVE to complete in my lifetime or i will die, but firstly i’m gonna mess around with some little standalone svanhildr comics perhaps. goat fans rejoice. 

anyway i wasn’t meant to ramble so i’ll just say THANK YOU for the support as always!!! i’m very flattered all of these have more than 1000 notes.....crazy. thank you. muah

[hawkinslibrary]

Stranger Things 4 Chapter Nine: The Piggyback | 4.09

[lyssala]

Everything is New & Everything is You

The man snorted. “Hey, didn’t you take a vow to be compassionate and gentle to all living creatures?”

“A vow? What am I, Wriothesley? A nun?”

It was like an electric shock went through Clorinde’s body. That name…it brought memories long forgotten of sneaking to the roof of the school, of laughter, of patching cuts and bruises just…like…

Clorinde’s head turned to look at the man on the ground. She still couldn't really see him; the woman was blocking him, but that name. No one had that name.

Wriothesley.

She didn’t realize she said it aloud until the woman turned her head towards Clorinde. She quickly looked away so she wouldn’t get caught staring.

If it was him, she doubted he remembered her, anyway.

The woman made some sort of noise of recognition. “Hey, Wrio, that girl kind of looks that picture of yours.” She said it so loudly that Clorinde instinctively turned back around just in time to see the man hit his head against the wall as he apparently moved too fast to look at her.

A modern AU where two old friends meet again, getting the chance to have what they couldn’t back then and more than they thought possible.

Chapter 1: I've Just Seen a Face

Featuring: Clorinde a lawyer who is roommates with her best friend Navia, their friends from college Chiori and Kirara (only two of this group likes karaoke take a while guess who), a man (who got kicked out of said karaoke bar) turning out to be Wriothesley a friend Clorinde hasn't seen since he graduated high school, and his friend Sigewinne (who seems to like to tease more than even Navia does).

[flowering-darkness]

I have woken up this morning with emotions about Meteion. That is my baby sister and I care about her so so much.

I have a fair bit of lore for how she fits in to my version of the FFXIV plot, but not a lot of illustrative images. Suffice it to say.. my self-insert Linaria (yes, same name as my DQIX one) was an inspiration for Meteion’s appearance before she was created by Hermes, and shares a few traits with her, leading to Meteion (and thus all the Meteia) seeing her as a big sister after meeting her.

Even 12,000 years later - when Linaria has been sundered into Lorenza and the universe faces an end to all new life driven by the Meteia’s collective song - they all still see her as the same being she was before upon encountering her when the party reach their nest, and they never forgot the kindness she showed them all.. even if Lorenza isn’t actually that same kind person anymore. This ends up nearly killing her, but she’s thankfully rescued in time by Clio and the others - and after everything is over and the universe is saved, it’s Lorenza who then brings a Meteion back to the world she first took flight from, to live amongst life and determine her own answer.

It’s a bit complicated, but it does all work out in the end. Sort of tragic siblings.

[amelikos]

Promotional stuff for HZ099 (pics, more pics).