#was able to finish it without ever dying

[mochela]

finished deltarune ch 3

[srirachafilledbees]

I think I really missed the gravity of a world without the existence of children the first time I read 17776. It’s so unfathomable.

[doctahchang]

would like to know the lore of my own oc that i have had for like ten years

edit: found an old sketch of her... i basically drew her for the first time eons ago and haven't changed her design ever since (sad that i won't be able to find those drawing again)

[franeridan]

ace's death might be the biggest thing fans regularly retcon in op fanworks and that's probably because ace is one of the most loved characters in the whole series but i was thinking that a huge part of why people can't just accept that it was a necessary evil and move on is that ace died without ever knowing sabo was alive and sabo got his memories back only after it was too late to do anything about them re: ace. by people I mean me. I find that unacceptable.

[rexhya]

note — i accidentally posted the hcs before i was done! >~<, more anul content :>

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who drives himself mad over every interaction you have with another male, it's an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to look you in the eyes because the clingy bastard has a careful and constant eye watching over you

anul hardly ever lets you out of his sight, he goes, you go, you go, he goes. it's law.

so on the rare cases where he does have to leave your side, safe to say he's more than just a little grumpy. ( he slit the throat of his personal advisor because he was talking to loud )

your just doing you job, the job you were meant to do, cleaning and preparing for a party held for nobles in his upcoming inauguration. anul is obviously dreading this party, his father is being picky about evey little thing and said he'd banish you if he tries to bring you along. (he doesn't actually care he just is waiting patiently for the day he becomes king and his fathers word will mean nothing)

whats worse is theres this insect on his arm, buzzing nosily to him about nothing, the only good thing that actually came from it's mouth was when she asked about you.

"Oh you mean [Name], she's perfect isn't she?" He doesn't wait for a response, Anetha is dying listening to him go on and on and on about you, and she hardly gets it anyway! Your a maid, born from slum and you're hardly that pretty anyway, what did the Prince of Salttion see in you.

She makes a horrible mistake and tries to find out herself.

"Hello m'lady how may I he—" you don't get to finish your sentence before Anethea's gaurds are stomping you into the ground. It's not like you havent been in a situation like this before, but it's the fear of not knowing if you'd be able to escape let alone survive that makes you sob tears into your blood.

You're shoved into a closet before your found, Anul had tore every room apart looking for you ( literally, the door came flying off it's hinges as you fell to the ground unconscious. ) and sees pure, blood raging red when he cradleds your head in his lap. not even his father tries to reprimand him for his attentiveness to you, who ever had done this would pay in blood.

He can't control his breathing as they cart you away, he's right there with you of course, Anetha watching pleasantly, he catches the look and saves it for later.

When you finally wake up you feel sore, definitely brtter then when you were bloody and hurting in the dank closet but sore nonetheless. Anul is right besides you, his long violet hair wafting on your bed, his face planted into the cushions of the mattress breathing softly. How long had you been out? How long had the prince been here? He certainly didn't look like himself, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

You hesitated for a moment, reaching out to stroke his soft wavy hair, then without warning his jumped up and statched at your wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, (had he been crying, did something else happen while you were out?) and the hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

"A-Anul, you're hurting me." he lets go in an instant and immediately sits up to hold you in his arms.

"Oh god, I thought you—" he choked and let go to place a kiss on your lips. they were chapped, but warm.

you only blinked, he didn't care that you hadn't kissed him back. "I am going to gut that pig alive you hear me?" he said squeezing your cheeks.

"I am going to peel her insides till they look like confetti alright?" he said desperately, "I failed to protect you, and look what happened. Oh my baby, my poor baby." he cried, kissing your cheeks lettinf his tears fall freely on his face.

"And you [Name], are to never leave my side again, I've already made arrangements for you to sleep with me so it won't be a problem." you flinched at the finality in his words but Anul couldn't tell.

All he could see waa the bruising of your face and a lot of bodies he'd have to dispose of, because he wasn't just going after that noble who'd set you up.

For generations he declared then and there anyone involved (directly or indirectly) in the attempted murder of his wife, would die a shameful and slow death.

[lixiaolang]

Reconnection

Pairing: Go Hyuntak x fem!reader

Summary: Having known of Hyuntak from his training days of Tae Kwon Do, you never thought you'd run into him again. What started as admiration from afar quickly turned into the beginning of something more.

Word count: 1.7K

Warning: Slight trigger warning of SA if you squint, but other than that, none.

A/N: Wrote this for me. My first fanfic in years, and God, it felt good to write again. I'm happy with it.

Go Hyuntak was someone you've never imagined crossing paths with again. Attending different schools. Having different friend groups. Only ever catching glimpses of him from the window when you would walk past Hu-min's father's chicken restaurant across the street on the way home. Sometimes, it was hard not to notice the bruises and wounds he and his friends bore. You began to wonder if he's still as skilled in Tae Kwon Do as you remember. Of course he is. You shook your head. He was the best.

Rumor had it he hurt his knee and couldn't compete anymore. When you heard, you felt devastated. Someone as talented and hardworking as him, only for his dream to be taken away. It wasn't fair. You could only imagine how he felt. Did he suffer through the pain alone? Does he still think about what could have been? To be the best Tae Kwon Do athlete and have it all?

You'll never know. But from where you stood, the injury doesn't stop him from fighting. From protecting his friends. The five young men laughed at a joke Baku made and then dug in at the feast placed before them. Hyuntak's smile still dazzled you, even from a distance. As you start to worry whether he is taking care of his injuries properly, you hear your name being called.

"y/n!"

You turned and quickly rejoined your friends who had walked further ahead.

"Staring at Gotak again?" One of them teased, using his well-known nickname. Your face instantly blushed, and you looked away, unable to deny it.

"Hey, leave her alone. I think it's cute," your best friend piped up, putting an arm over your shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with a little yearning every now and then."

That made you laugh, "Shut up." You both giggled and continued going about your way.

After you said goodbye to your friends, you decided to stop by a convenience store before finishing your walk home. You were thirsty and wanted your favorite cold drink: a strawberry and banana smoothie. It was probably the best part of your routine. You grabbed your favorite bread to go along with it and headed for the register.

You thanked the cashier and just stabbed your straw into the drink when a rowdy group of boys walked in. They were a noisy bunch, and their uniforms told you they also attended Eunjang High, the same school as Hyuntak and his friends. Your eyes scanned the store, looking for a way to exit without having to go through them. Luckily, the aisle that was next over was free, and you kept your head down, making your way to the door. Due to your short stature, you didn't have to crouch much, being 5'2 and all.

You stand straight and head for the door, pushing it open when you feel someone pull you back from the strap of your backpack, hard. Somehow, you were able to maintain your balance and look up at the face who deprived you of your freedom. Hair dyed blonde and a scar across his left eye. He sneered.

"What do we have here?" His friends behind him snicker as he pressed forward, making you bump against some of the merchandise.

"Is that for me?" The blonde placed his hands over his heart as he feigned gratitude, noticing your drink and pastry. As he stepped closer, you looked away and felt him take your bag with the bread. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, smearing the delicious treat on the floor with his foot.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep, shaky breath. Never imagining yourself in this position before, you decided not to go down without a fight, no matter what their intentions were. You held your breath as he took one more step closer, and that's when you jammed your right knee against his crotch with all the strength you could muster. It was enough to distract him for a moment, and you ran out, throwing your drink at him, focusing only on getting out of there.

As you heard him and his group start to run after you, you heard a voice. Not just anyone's voice. His voice.

"Hey!"

You stopped in your tracks and turned back around. Being a good distance away, you noticed Hyuntak and his friends a few feet apart from the entrance of the convenience store where the blonde and his group were also stopped in confusion. The blonde looked pissed, whether from being hit in the nuts or stopped from chasing after you, you couldn't be sure.

"This has nothing to do with you!" He screamed in rage.

All the while, Hyuntak remained calm. His eyes scanned the area, first seeming to count how many of the goons there were, and then to the blonde covered in your drink. Hands in the pockets of his pants, he glanced over at you, and you both locked eyes. Your heavy breathing from the adrenaline and run began to slow down, and you felt a sense of peace take over you.

He turned back to the blonde. "It does now."

The next word was said at the same time. You in your head and the blonde aloud, "What?"

Before you had time to think it over, Hyuntak's fist connected with the blonde's face, knocking him to the ground. You gasped, stuck in freeze or flight mode. The decision was made for you when one of the goons charged after you. The last thing you saw before running away was three of Hyuntak's friends joining in on the fight, including Baku.

You ran as fast as you could, not daring to look back. You knew the area pretty well and figured you would be able to hide somewhere once the coast was clear when you felt a pair of hands slam you against a wall. Your face and body were pushed into it, holding you in place.

"We weren't done with you yet." Said an unfamiliar voice, his hot breath fanned against your ear, and you struggled to get away.

Before you could scream for help, someone threw the boy off of you. You turned around, back towards the wall, as you watched Hyuntak beat the guy to a pulp. With his back towards you, you badly wanted to tell him to stop, but you couldn't find your voice. It wasn't until Baku walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Enough, Gotak."

Hyuntak stopped fist midair and let go of the boy, his limp body making a thud as he hit the ground. He was breathing heavily, and yet there didn't seem to be a scratch on him. Baku looked untouched as well. As if he read your mind, he turned to you and smiled.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded, still a bit in shock and unsure of how to thank them. Hyuntak took a breath and finally turned to face you. His eyes looked into yours again, and this time, you felt your heart start to race for a different reason.

"I need to hear you say it," his voice was soft, yet stern, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay." You managed to get out.

His eyes softened, and he looked at Baku. With a nod of his head, he turned and walked back from the way we came. Hyuntak looked at you and simply said, "Let's go."

The walk back to his friends was silent. You tried to fix your school uniform and composure as discreetly as possible. With no idea of how your hair looked, you figured it was what it was. You peeked at Hyuntak, and he looked lost in thought. Up ahead, two of his friends were waiting, and it appeared that the blonde and his goons had run off. You wondered where his other friend went. The one with the glasses.

"Nice job, Sieun! Suho!" Baku threw his arms over their shoulders with a wide smile. "Where's Juntae?

As if on cue, the one named Juntae comes out of the convenience store with what looked like your drink and a pastry bag. He smiled shyly and handed you the items. "We hope you're alright. I wasn't sure of the pastry, so I just got one I recommend."

The day's toll hit you instantly, and tears welled up in your eyes. You quickly wiped them and looked at the five boys who rescued you. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The boys all smiled, apart from Hyuntak. He cleared his throat, adjusted his blue hoodie, and faced his friends, "I'll walk her home. See you guys later."

They waved goodbye to you, and you waved back with a smile. You then noticed Hyuntak staring at you with curiosity. You blushed and turned to the general area of your home. "It's this way."

Even though the distance was short, they say time lasts longer being with someone you like. The sun was beginning to set, and the breeze felt nice against your skin. It was a comfortable silence until you heard Hyuntak say, "Drink."

You stopped walking and looked up at him confused, "What?"

He sighed, "You must be dehydrated. Drink." He gestured to the strawberry banana smoothie.

Oh. You hadn't even realized how thirsty you were until he mentioned it. Your lips covered the straw, and you drank. The cold drink felt good traveling down your throat. You eagerly drank some more, and that's when you heard Hyuntak chuckle. You watched his smile, and up close, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You blinked and took in your surroundings, and saw that your home was just a few houses down.

"I'm fine here. Thank you for walking me home. And thank you for helping me today."

"You can thank me by letting me walk you home for a while." He said.

Shaking your head, you began to protest. "There's really no need. You don't-"

With what looked like slow motion, Hyuntak leaned over. He maintained eye contact until his lips touched the straw of your drink. You held still, letting him finish it and at the same time not believing this was happening. When he stood up, he smiled at your reaction. You couldn't tell if it was his smile that blinded you or the sun setting behind him.

He walked past you and said over his shoulder, "See you tomorrow, y/n."

A/N: may or may not continue this. Gif is made by me. Feedback is appreciated :)

Update: Part 2 is posted! ♡

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 6: OVERSTIMULATION

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, overstimulation (receiving), unprotected piv, handholding omg officer this fic right here /j

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: When you simp so hard...it actually gets you were you want?

ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 2.4k

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: doneeee with my pending kinktober posts omgggg i thought i could use the whole week to procrastinate my days only playing infinity nikki and but then some stuff came up and ive barely been at home T_T but i really wanted to check this off my list before i lost the inspiration ueueueueue

. . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

“Ace—“

“Oh, boy. I know where this is going.”

“Did you see Malleus’s—”

“I did, and I don’t want to hear you gush about it.”

“His radiance is unfair, but I’m not even mad about it. And that ponytail? He should wear his hair like that more often, he looks so—”

Fed up with your yapping, Ace forced a spoonful of his lunch into your mouth. “Thank the great seven that the cafeteria's so noisy no one heard anything. I would’ve run away and pretended I didn’t know you.”

You didn’t even bother chewing before you swallowed the lump of food down your throat to continue. “Don’t even let me get started on what I would do if I got my hands in his ponytail.”

Ace groaned in annoyance and opened his mouth to cut you off before you got started, but his face paled when his eyes landed on someone behind you that heard you talk about his liege like that.

“Human! Such unbecoming thoughts…!” was none other than Sebek. Had he not gripped his lunch tray hard enough, it would’ve clattered to the floor. Curse the fae part of his blood that gave him better hearing.

If Sebek was around, then Malleus too…

Was this the end of the renowned Ramshackle prefect? Was this the way your journey into this unknown wonderland would finish? If you were lucky enough, dying was the way to return home…

“Sebek, it’s not polite to interrupt someone’s conversation,” Malleus reprimanded him. “Let’s continue in our way. We’re in the middle of the entrance.”

“Yes, my liege.” Sebek’s infuriated expression calmed down, and he followed him.

“I thought you were a goner!” Ace couldn’t help but laugh, his hands on his tummy.

“Do you think he heard? I don’t think I’ll be able to speak to him ever again.” meanwhile, you hid your face behind your palms.

“That’s what you get for subjecting me to your lovesick babble.” Ace poked your side. “If it serves to console you, he didn’t seem angry. Then again, who knows what a prince is thinking.”

“Maybe I should go apologize.”

“Errh, it’s best not to bring up the topic again, in case he didn’t hear you. Maybe he was thinking of something else and didn’t notice it.” He shrugged and went back to eating his lunch before it got cold. “Do whatever will allow you to sleep better tonight.”

After this, sleeping tonight wasn’t something you were going to be doing much, that’s for certain.

You found yourself at the door of his club before you could decide whether confronting it was a good idea or not. You were just going to say hi and probe his reactions to decipher if he was mad or not. If there was any crackling of lightning happening, you knew that was your cue to run away…

“Prefect.”

Your hand stopped just before you could knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Your hand sweated while you turned the knob and stepped in with caution. You expected a rapid flash of lightning to strike you down the moment you stepped into the empty classroom; instead, Malleus had his hands occupied with stone sculpting tools. His movements ceased when his eyes found yours.

“Come closer. You won’t be able to hear me at that distance.”

You made it inside without being turned into a pile of ash. That was a good start.

“I doubt I’ll have any more visitors other than you this afternoon,” he surveyed you for a second. “You appear to be uneasy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you were quick to deflect. “Uh, you said something about having visitors now?”

“Well, of course. I placed an announcement about a gargoyle tour for today, but, as usual, there’s a lack of invitees. Other than you, that is.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t come here for that—besides, the tour could be interesting. You weren’t against the idea of dipping your toes into the history of gargoyles.

He must’ve noticed your contemplative expression, as he continued with a: “Or did you show up with other intentions?”

“I came here for the tour!” you blurted out. “I’ve always wondered what your club was like, and since you’re knowledgeable about gargoyles, I would like to listen more about them.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. Well then, let us begin.”

By the time the tour ended, your worries had gone to the back of your mind, as you were immersed in the eloquent manner Malleus carried his words and shared his vast knowledge in gargoyles.

“I didn’t know there was a difference between a gargoyle and a grotesque. Being honest, they looked pretty much the same to me.”

“Correct, don’t confound the two. Gargoyles are a lot more than mere decoration. Good to know the tour has served as a new acquisition of knowledge for you.”

“I don’t get why people don’t visit your club more often. You’re great at explaining stuff, and I didn’t know gargoyles had this much history behind them. If it were Trein trying to explain this to me in the slow voice he uses during lectures, I wouldn’t have retained half of what I just learned.”

“I agree. The world should appreciate gargoyles more. Now, I’ll hold a pop quiz for you.”

“Oh—”

“It’s in your interest to say the correct answer, or this will be the last time you see me in this hairstyle.”

“Huh?!”

As your thoughts reeled into the implications of his declaration, Malleus threw the first question.

“What does this particular gargoyle represent?”

“A-Ah, that one! The power of metamorphosis, right? The ability to transcend beyond mortal limitations to higher realms of consciousness...something like that.” You were 99% sure that was what Malleus said earlier.

“Why are gargoyle’s expressions, which are commonly regarded as terrifying, like that?”

That was an easier one. “To ward off evil spirits and protect the people.”

“Right answer, although too simple. It also serves as a reminder that actions have consequences,” the way his lips curved with a taunting smile made you think that he did hear you in the cafeteria after all. “Last question: Why do some gargoyles have wings while others don’t?”

This one took longer for you to come up with an answer. You had a faint memory of him explaining it, but it was brief.

“Was it because they’re located in higher to protect places like towers?”

“Interesting observation. They don’t always represent ubication, however. Wings could represent divinity. A lack of wings meant terrestrial creatures.”

“…Did I fail the pop quiz?”

“Even though you could’ve done better, your score is acceptable,” the corners of his mouth quirked up with a barely held back amused smile. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“I’m sorry for what happened during lunch.”

“Humans are skillful when it comes to deflecting from the truth, even when one’s inquiries are direct. I must admit, I welcome your honest opinion about my hairstyle today. Even if delivered in such an immodest fashion.”

“Did Lilia suggest the change in hairstyle?”

“He did.”

“He’s got a keen eye for this, then,” you nodded. “I… think it suits you. It’s a fresh look on you, which doesn’t take away your princely charms.”

“Princely charms…?” he placed a hand on his chin, in thought.

“I—”

“You sure know how to get in someone’s good graces.” He chuckled. “You’re welcome to thread your fingers into my hair. Just do not dishevel it too much, or I can’t promise what could happen to you if you do.”

Despite his ominous threat, Malleus leaned down to allow you better access to his head. With how close he was, a rush of ardor made you giddy, but you remained calm. You stretched your arm to caress the lush locks, your fingers threading into them. Cautious. His hair was well taken care of, the brush of the strands like silk against your skin.

“Last time anyone dared to caress my head that way was Lilia when I was still a child,” Malleus reminisced in a hushed tone. “Back then, I thought it was patronizing, to an extent. I don’t feel it that way now, however. How peculiar.

Malleus could be rather elusive at times, and, depending on what he would say, you weren’t sure you had understood him right. Yet, on this occasion, he wasn’t against your touches. That’s what you understood.

While in your thoughts, your fingers wandered close to an uncharted zone: the base of his horns.

By the time you noticed, it was late. Malleus raised his head to look at you, the change in his eyes evident.

If not for the pinkish flush taking hold of his cheeks, you would’ve thought you did something you shouldn’t have.

“You may proceed. I don’t…dislike the feeling,” he said, not moving away. If anything, he tilted his head closer to your hand. His throat emitted a low vibration, which you soon discovered was similar to a purr. Dragon fae could do that?

Your hands pressed against his chest when you felt him inch you towards a nearby desk, tools for carving forgotten near its edge.

“It appears that you aren’t aware of it, but my kind doesn’t lower their head to allow just anyone to touch their horns. They’re personal,” His slit pupils stared into yours, unwavering. “Why did you stop your hand? Do you not accept my advancements?”

You felt your mouth go dry with his towering presence. How he caged you in with his bigger figure, looming over you. “I do accept them!” you blurted out.

After you spoke, Malleus’s thumb caressed your lower lip, and his attention shifted there. Mere seconds after, his eyes closed as he leaned in, the message of what was about to happen clear enough. With your quickened heart, you reciprocated the oncoming affection.

It was unfair. Silky hair and soft lips unlike anything you’ve touched before. Typical of a dragon, Malleus soon grew impatient and greedy. Regardless of inexperience, the fervor in his heart made up for it. His fangs were in the way, numerous times threatening to break through your skin despite his efforts to keep the kiss prudent. You were addicted to the feeling of them creating subtle punctures, however.

His hand slithered behind your back to keep you upright; the space between your bodies became none. There was an obvious hardness concealed behind his pants that pushed and grinded against your body. The friction ignited pleasure. You lacked the constraint to avoid grinding against it, the pleasure straight to your clit.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, out of breath.

Malleus grabbed your legs and placed them around his hips; the push of his body into yours was stronger now. He moved in tandem with your grinding, the surge in pleasure hooking you to a nonstop movement. Your arms shot to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. His lips and teeth sought your neck to litter it with his own marks. The noise of the desk’s leg creaking against the floor faded to the background; you were close to coming.

His lips engulfed yours, your moan of his name swallowed by him.

In the meantime, you caught your breath and undid the purple belt around his body.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He watched you struggle to undress him, the waves of your orgasm still fresh.

“I need you,” you admitted, finally pushing the coat off his shoulders.

“Glad to oblige.”

He finished the work and nudged your legs open to stand in between them. Thick and long—specially long—his dick was erect with a hefty amount of precum on its head. The size might be a little intimidating, but given how wet you were, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Malleus enclosed you, keeping his arms rigid to prop himself on top of your torso; his ponytail cascaded down his shoulder. You were tempted to reach out and brush your fingers in it. Maybe on another occasion.

A hand went to yours to hold it, which caused you to dart a glance at him, in question. His hand engulfed yours to near completion; if the difference in size wasn’t evident enough from height, this consolidated it. Meanwhile you marveled, Malleus jutted until it was inside of you, pushing your walls to accommodate him. It was no laughing matter—his cock prodded into the deepest part of your cunt, and yet, a couple of inches remained outside.

Malleus squeezed your hand with reassurance, taking note of your breathless state.

Backing down wasn’t an option for you. You needed him. Even if the stretch tiptoed close to pain, this—you wanted it. Even if the buzz from your previous orgasm still thrummed in your body and your clit was tender, you hugged his frame with your legs and offered the final push that remained to take him in until the base. At your encouragement, Malleus huffed from the surge in pleasure, eyes closed to embrace the feeling.

You canted your hips upwards to meet his thrusts; the creaking of the desk’s leg restarted its noise. Malleus gripped your hand with more fervor, lost in pleasure and forgetting about it. In turn, you gave his a firm squeeze. His chest heaved with deep breaths, a low groan making its way out every couple of seconds. He lowered until your chests were squeezed together, the hand that held your hip snaking to the back and grasping your shoulder to impel you harder. The rhythmic onslaught kindled your libido. One step away from the climax.

You came undone beneath him a second time; he didn’t stand a chance with how your pussy clamped down around him. His lips parted with a silent gasp as he came too, viscous cum pumped inside and coating your walls.

“Mal—” Your voice came at a higher pitch than you’re used to. He already came, but his thrusts haven’t stopped. They were slow and deliberate, not allowing a single drop to slip away from your cunt.

He dipped his head to kiss you, his lips encased yours. Albeit less frenetic, it wasn’t any less loving.  Just now, you remember your intertwined hands.

“I’m sorry,” you had dug your nails quite fervently. “I didn’t notice.”

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” 

“Ah…”

“Next time, when you harbor thoughts of such forward nature, I’d appreciate it more if you cofessed them to me only.”

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[heartyluv]

I luv luv how you write your stories. Idk if you watched the kdrama when life gives you tangerines cuz I just finished it and it made me bawl my eyes out of every episode. There was this one scene in there that husband said to his wife that when they get old he hopes that she dies first and she teases him saying why is it so you could be with another woman. He responds to her saying he wants to send her off with a beautiful and proper burial that she deserves and would eventually join her. That scene made me so sad. It got me thinking what if you said something similar to the LADS men instead of saying they die first you hope that you would die first cuz you couldn’t live without them and wouldn’t know what to do without them by your side. Specifically Zayne and Sylus cuz they are my favs. I’d believe they’d be a bit upset and they would tell you they don’t want to hear that nonsense cuz they can’t imagine when that time comes they have to be without you that’s how much they love you. Sorry if it’s a bit much and you don’t want to write it. Thank you for your time though.😭💗

Note: I think this is the cutest and saddest thing ever. I haven’t watched a drama is so long, but I’ve heard a lot of good things about this one! The last one I saw was Happiness and it’s was 1000/10, sooo good. Also, I only did Sylus and Zayne since you said they were your favs, but if you’d like the rest of the guys, just let me know! I hope you enjoy, luvly!

Creds to @/enchanthings for the dividers!

Warning: Mentions of dying

Zayne

It’s one of those rare days where your boyfriend is actually free for lunch. When he called you an hour ago to let you know that you could come by if you’d like, you instantly got ready and went out to buy some food from one his favorite places.

You always missed him, especially on days where you were off and he wasn’t. You’d take as much time with him as you could.

As you converse with him while indulging in your meals, you start to tell him about a show you’ve been watching. You even tell him you’re willing to rewatch it with him if he’s interested in checking it out. The more you talk, the more you delve into the story and tell him about a certain part that stuck with you. You found yourself wondering how could I ever do life without Zayne? It was in that moment that you realized you couldn’t, and you shared that with him.

“Whenever we die, it has to be me to go first,” you say nonchalantly as you cover your mouth after taking a bite of your sandwich.

Zayne was multitasking, completing some things on his computer while he ate his own. He froze mid type at your words. “Why would you say such a thing?”

You frown, shrugging your shoulders. “I just couldn’t live without you. I know a lot of people wouldn’t be able to go without their partners, but I really mean it. Like, I can’t even imagine a life without you in it.”

Removing his hands from the keyboard, he turns his body so that he’s facing you head on, all his attention now yours. “And you think I could? Live without you?”

“Not necessarily live without me,” you sip your water, feeling the shift in conversation turn from simple to seemingly serious. “I do think you’re stronger than me and that you could handle my absence better.”

He studies you, making you dart your eyes left and right because you don’t know what to say.

“You’re wrong,” he says simply. “I’m stronger for you. You should know that without you, there is nothing left for me to continue to be strong for.”

“Zayne, babe…” you frown. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he cuts you off. You listen, standing from your chair. He pulls away from his desk as you round it, letting you stand between his spread legs. His hands caress the back of your thighs as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to hear you talk like that anymore. I know you were just sharing your feelings, and I never want you to hesitate to tell me about them. I also know that death is an inevitable thing for all of us, but it’s never something I want to ruminate on when it comes to you. Do you understand?”

“I won’t say anything like that again,” you nod, moving a black strand of his hair from his forehead. “I promise.”

“Good. Live in the moment with me.” He presses a gentle kiss to your stomach that’s covered by your dress. “Besides, I love you too much to let you leave me, no matter how you’d try.”

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss his lips. He doesn’t let you pull away so soon, deepening it as his hand holds you firm by the back of your neck.

“I love you too,” you breathe against his mouth when he finally gives you a moment to breathe.

“Good,” he stares at your lips before looking back into your eyes. He pulls his glasses off, resting them on the desk. “Why don’t you go lock the door so you can show me how much?”

Sylus

You and Sylus lay in your shared bed, talking about a whole bunch of things. It’s usually how the night ends for you two.

He tells you about work, the twins, plans he has for you, even down to what he plans on making you both for breakfast tomorrow. You tell him about your progression in your hobbies, books, shows, and what you’d like to get around to doing with him soon. Sometimes when you talk, you and him will randomly start getting into deeper topics like kids, marriage, and just life in general.

You mention to Sylus how you don’t even remember what life was like for you before you met him and how now, you don’t see a future where he isn’t there.

“Living without you is not an option for me. When it’s time to go, I have to be the one to go first. I just couldn’t deal.” You shiver at the thought.

He looks over at you, his eyes narrowing. The gentle light of the lamp casts a shadow against his handsome face as it sits on the nightstand behind him. You’re resting your cheek on your knuckles, pursing your lips at his sudden silence.

“What?” you smile as he continues to stare.

“Not only are you saying nonsense, but I’m curious as to why you think there’s any instance where I’d remain here without you by my side, kitten. In the event that you’re gone because neither of us had a choice in you staying, there would be no purpose for me.” His voice rumbles and he speaks so simply, like if you were to die right now, you should expect him to be right behind you.

“But the twins—”

“I care for, yes. But you?” His hand comes up to your face, gently holding your jaw like you’re so fragile. “If I ever lost you, I’d lose myself. There is no me without you, I’m sure I’ve told you that. You are the reason I have meaning.”

Your eyes water at that. “There was a you before me though, Sy.” You place your hand on top of his.

“Unfortunately,” he smiles. “But there will never be anything after. It’s either I go first or we go together, sweetie.”

“I don’t like this conversation,” you push out a laugh, trying to suppress the emotions in your chest.

“Neither do I,” he admits, moving closer to you and wrapping you tightly in his arms. “I’d prefer if we don’t have it again. There will never be a world where one of us will have to survive without the other, not if I can help it. Besides, kittens have nine lives, don’t they? You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You bask in his strength, feeling grounded by the weight of him. You press a kiss to his pec, then his jaw until you reach the corner of his lips. “Oh babe, you know that was sooo corny!”

He releases that rich laugh that has dollar signs all around it, making you laugh too. “I’d reshape universes if I could ensure I’d find you in every one,” he says gently, kissing your forehead. “Nothing is too much for you.”

“You’re so sappy.” Your cheeks subtly ache from smiling so hard.

“And in love. You have yourself to thank for giving me such an experience.”

“You’re more than welcome,” you tease, knowing that he understands the sentiment is mutual.

He presses a firm kiss to the top of your head. “We have forever for me to show you how grateful I am.”

“I really love you, Sy,” you whisper.

“And I really, really, love you,” he adds. “More than you’ll ever understand.”

[artstennisracket]

request: please I’m begging you write more parts to the Patrick Zweig Coach fucking his much younger client I’m dying that was too good

tennis coach!Patrick x fem reader, part 1

cw: nsfw (18+), d/s overtones tbh, dom!patrick, dirty talk, minimal use of daddy kink (reader says it once), not proofread

You were sore for that next week of practice. Getting fucked by a tennis racket handle wasn’t on your bucket list but you’re not particularly mad at it either.

You thought the dynamic would change between you and your coach but it’s like he went right back to ignoring you.

It wasn’t until Wednesday’s practice when you were preparing for a tournament you had this weekend.

You were genuinely out of it. You were going to be versing Anna Mueller and she’s currently ranked number 4 for women’s juniors. Sometimes you got in your head about things even if you knew how good you were.

During your serve drills Patrick could tell you were off. By the time you got to scrimmaging you weren’t giving it your all to beat him like you usually would.

On your next rally Patrick catches the ball instead of returning your serve. He walks to middle meeting you at the net, “You’re not fucking with me right? What’s going on?”

You sigh, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the cardigan tied around your shoulders, “No I’m not I just- I keep thinking about the tournament this weekend.”

He gives you a tight lipped smile, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, “There’s nothing for you to worry about. Anna Mueller is all show, no real skill. And she’s a racist bitch, you’ll beat her into the ground without even trying.”

You let out a chuckle at that statement, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me feel better or light a fire under my ass,” I mean who doesn’t want to beat their opponents, especially the racist ones.

He smirks, “Why can’t it be both?,” He takes a step closer, the net still in between you two. You instinctively take a step closer just to be in his personal space. He bites his lip quickly, you can tell he’s thinking. He leans over to whisper in your ear, “And I said if you were good this weekend, I’d give you what you want.”

The smell of cigarettes fills your senses. A smell you usually hate but for some reason it just works for him. You let your eyes slip close momentarily to imagine what your first time with Patrick would be like because jesus fuck—

“We don’t have all day L/N, let’s go,” He calls out from his place on the other side of the court. Shit, how long were you standing there with your eyes closed?

You half jog back to your side of the court and take your cardigan off. When did it get so hot?

You turn quickly to look at him again, only to see him quickly push his sunglasses back down and clear his throat. Oh he was totally staring.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Ready Zweig?” You call out right before you serve an ace.

…

The tournament had just finished and you absolutely crushed Anna Mueller. You tanked in the first set but came back and won the last two by a good margin. You were so zoned in you didn’t even notice when Patrick had moved his tennis bag to his lap to cover up his problem.

You were so hyped at the end, you felt like it was the best tennis you’ve ever played. Not to mention the points you’d win from this to boost your own rank.

You looked around the stands for Patrick but he was nowhere to be found. You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion but you’re sure you’ll see him later. Your parents had covered two hotel rooms for you both for the weekend.

You made your way back to the hotel so you could take a shower and change. Once you finished there was a knock on your door.

You opened it to find Patrick leaning against the door frame with a CVS bag in his hand. You took a second to take him in. Curls damp, like he just took a shower. You were able to actually look in his eyes for longer than a millisecond (since he’s always wearing sunglasses) and they were beautiful. A mashup of light hazel and green. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans that stretched over his long legs. And he was only wearing socks? No shoes.

“You gonna let me in or you wanna keep checking me out?” He smirks. You move to the side so he can walk inside.

You close the door as he takes a seat on the bed after placing the CVS bag on the night stand.

“Where’d you go? After my match.” You ask sitting next to him so your thighs are touching.

He shifts so he can face you, “Had to get some stuff, take a shower,” He gestures to the bag on the nightstand.

“You didn’t even see if I won or not, and what did you just have to get from CVS?” You ask. To be honest you’re not even really paying attention, just enjoying being this close in his personal space. Maintaining eye contact so you can fully drink in this dreamlike experience.

“Just condoms,” He’s says so causally like it’s toothpaste or something.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, “Don’t they sell that at the little hotel store downstairs?”

He smirks again, “And how would you know that?”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, “I just wanted to check I guess. And you never answered my questions.”

He shrugs, “I already knew you were gonna win and downstairs they didn’t have magnum.” He says so casually AGAIN. Fuck.

He sees the “oh fuck” realization on your face so he has to ask, “You’re not a virgin right?”

You shake your head no. Quite the opposite actually but he just made you nervous for some reason.

He moves his hand to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb resting just above your ear, “What happened to the confident little brat who made me fuck her with a racket huh?”

Fuck. You move forward to crash your lips together, you’ve been waiting for this for too long to get nervous now.

He kisses you back and it’s almost bruising. Tongue, lips, and exchanging spit. It’s filthy. He pulls you back before he says, “On your knees.”

You followed that command quicker than the speed of your serves. He chuckles softly and you look up at him, hoping this time you’d get what you want and not a tennis racket.

He stands up so your face to face with his clothed bulge. You can feel your mouth start to water subconsciously. He unzips his jeans, pulling them down until they fall at his ankles. Now he was just stood in front of you in his boxer briefs and a much more prominent bulge.

You felt some need to prove to yourself so you start to mouth at his bulge through his underwear.

“Fuck, woah slow down. Did I say you could do that?” He groans while grabbing your hair and pulling you off.

“No but I just—“

“I thought you said you were gonna be good? You were good this whole week, don't mess it up now.”

“Okay I’m sorr—“

“First rule is you only speak if I say so okay? Or if I ask you a question. Got it?”

You nod before you realize he just asked you a question. You rush out, “Yes yep got it.”

He smiles, “You’ve always been a pretty quick learner.” He moves his hand from your hair back to his own underwear. He pulls them down slowly, letting his hard length spring free and fuck. You knew he was big but this was a lot.

He continues, “Now, I’m gonna let you suck my cock but don’t try to be too ambitious. If I want you to take more, you’ll know. And if you need me to stop for any reason just pinch me.”

You nod staying in your place on your knees. He grips the base of his cock, rubbing his tip along your lips. You want so badly to open your mouth, lick the tip with your tongue. But you can’t, not yet.

“You can open.”

Before he even finishes that statement your mouth is open and you’re sucking on the tip. Little kitten licks in between. You refrain from trying to swallow him down because you haven’t been instructed to yet.

He moves his hand back to your hair, pushing you further down. You choke a little, but try to keep calm so your gag reflex doesn’t act up.

He lets out a low groan as he keeps pushing in, “Fuck,” and then he pulls out almost all the way before he presses back in.

This time you try to suck to the best of ur ability. Making a mess, spit building up in your mouth, covering his cock, drooling out of the sides of your mouth. You still haven’t taken it all but you bob your head up and down, covering the expanse of his cock that he’s allowed you to take.

The wet sounds of you choking, gasping, and breathing hard around his dick filling the room. Soon he pulls all the way out letting out an exasperated, “Fuck babe, gotta prep you now. Get up.”

You stand up, knees feeling sore from the roughness of the hotel carpet.

“Take off your clothes and lay down on your back.” He says, stroking his cock aimlessly, waiting for you to lay down.

This is the fastest you’ve ever taken your clothes off, record speed. You get into position, laying down on your back. A few pillows behind you so your back is elevated. He lays down on his stomach between your legs, his long legs hanging off the side of the bed.

He lets his finger run down the middle of your folds, gently grazing your clit, before he pushes into your hole.

“You’re so wet already, maybe I didn’t have to prep you,” He says before adding a second finger, pumping in and out of your slick hole.

He picks up the pace and you are a moaning mess. Moaning, whining, and whimpering just from his fingers as he keeps pressing against the right spot.

“Does that feel good baby?” He asks before he inserts a third, curling his fingers inside you now.

You nod before you remember that you have to answer verbally, “Yes please more, feels so good.”

He speeds up his pace, assaulting the soft spongy spot inside of you until you feel something build up in your stomach. He keeps eye contact with you, biting his lip as he watches the pleasure take over your face.

“Ah, ah, ah—Patrick wait I- fuck” You say in a high pitched whine as a rush of liquid gushes out of you, squirting all over his fingers.

Patrick pulls his fingers out, “Knew you had it in you,” he smirks moving up on the bed to capture your lips in another kiss.

This kiss is slow, like he’s taking his time to explore your mouth with his tongue. He bites your lip as he pulls away from the kiss, “Good?”

You nod definitely a little out of it. “Yeah,” you reply, your volume barely above a whisper.

“Still wanna keep going?” He asks, pushing your hair back behind your ear.

You nod, biting your lip as you smile, “Duh. Didn’t get what I want yet.”

He scoffs playfully, “I could argue that you did.” He grabs the CVS bag and opens the box of condoms, taking one out. “Would you like to do the honors?”

You nod again, sitting up on your knees and opening the wrapper. He strokes himself a few times to get himself back to full hardness before you roll on the condom.

He moves you to lay down on the other (dry) side of the bed and lines up with your entrance. He drags his tip along the center of your folds, teasing your hole, “Sure this is what you really want?”

You let out a huff, “Yes Patrick, how many times do I have to tell—shit“ Your cut off as he pushes inside of you.

He looks up at you as he bottoms out, “You still good?” He grunts out.

“Stop treating me like a baby, I can take it,” You gasp out. It really is a lot. You feel ridiculously full. Almost comparable to the tennis racket. “You literally fucked me with tennis racket.”

“Ungrateful as always,” He shakes his head before he pulls out. You whine at the loss before he flips you over so your face down ass up.

“You were good all week, now you wanna be an ungrateful slut,” he tsks before slamming into you without warning.

“Oh fuck,” You basically scream out at the abrupt intrusion. He grabs both your wrists, holding them behind your back, before he really starts fucking into you.

He grunts out, “I was trying to be nice but you keep testing me, fuck you feel so good.”

He continues holding both your wrists in one of his massive hands while the other hand grabs your hair. Pulling you up so he can whisper in your ear, “So you’re gonna take whatever I decide to fucking give you, got it?”

You let out a whimper from how overwhelmed with pleasure you feel, “Yes fuck I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He smirks, “Too late for that.” He lets go of your hair letting you fall back into position. He grips your hips and starts pounding into you. Each thrust more bruising than the last. Hard and fast. It feels like you’re gonna break.

You go from leaning into the thrusts pushing yourself back against him, to almost trying to pull away. Not because you weren’t enjoying it but because your g-spot was starting to get overstimulated, it was starting to feel too good.

“Fuck baby, can’t run away now. This is what you asked for right? What you’ve been drooling over for the past two years huh? Bet you used to touch yourself thinking about this right?”

You can’t even think straight enough to realize he’s asking a question. It’s not until he comes to a halt to say, “I asked you a fucking question.”

Now that he’s still inside you, your brain finally processes what he said. “Yes fuck, Patrick I— yes, I did, I did. Please don’t stop please,” You whine.

He picks up his pace again as tears start to fall down your face. He can hear your sniffling mixed in with your moans, “Aw baby, are you crying? Does it feel too good?”

You nod. Your face smushed against the pillow that’s catching your fallen tears. You let out a weak, “Yes daddy,” and you don’t even realize what you just said, too fucked out to register.

“Shit why would you— fuck,” His hips stutter, “Christ you’re so fucking—fuck baby you’re gonna be the end of me.”

“Please please, so close,” You whimper. You can feel yourself on the edge until-

“Cum for me baby, want you to finish all over my cock, this what you’ve wanted for two years right? Show me how much you needed it.”

And that’s all it takes. You feel that sudden rush again before you squirt all over Patrick’s dick. He curses under his breath pulling all the way out in between thrusts to fully see it. That image is enough to have him spilling inside the condom, his thrusts stilling.

He pulls out slowly, taking the condom off and throwing it away. He grabs a small hand towel from the bathroom and comes back to you on the bed half asleep.

“I figured you’d be too tired to shower but are you sure you wanna sleep here? My room’s right next to yours and my bed isn’t…yeah.”

You nod sleepily, “‘Mkay, there’s a connecting door I think?” You lazily gesture to the door in the middle of the wall.

“Oh that’s…convenient.” He pulls on his jeans haphazardly, taking out his key card. He leaves your room, leaving the deadbolt on to hold the door cracked open, and you hear some shuffling outside. You assume he’s unlocked the connecting door on his side.

He comes back to your room, unlocking the door on your side, revealing direct access to Patrick’s room. He picks you up with ease, probably from all those years of tennis, and sets you down in the middle of his bed.

It’s chillier in his room. Probably has the AC blasting, so you curl in on yourself trying to get comfortable enough to sleep again.

He makes his way over to the thermostat to turn up the temperature a little. Then he takes a beat before he decides to cover you with the comforter, tucking you in.

“Better?” He asks as he lays next to you, on top of the comforter because he’s still hot.

“Better,” You mumble back before you fall asleep

[daenysx]

Maybe some James potter smut since it’s his birthday? (Idk if it’s still his bday where you are but whatever)

happy birthday to the loveliest boy ever ♡

-send me drabble requests!

james potter x fem!reader, smut

James tells you he's proud of you all the time.

Every time he does it, his words leave a gentle rush of waves in your stomach. Something crawling slowly, like he's gonna ruin you. He looks at you with widened eyes, a small smile curled up on his lips, and you are dying to kiss him.

He whispers it, the first time in three days, and your fingers on the keyboard slow down. His voice sends shivers down your spine and it's a delicious feeling how he can make your mind go blank with only a few words. You press your cheek on your shoulder, a lazy attempt to get back to your senses. James takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck.

"Jamie," you murmur. He knows what he's doing, never clueless when it comes to you. "I have to finish this."

"You've got an entire night ahead of you, angel," he mumbles. "Can I maybe have some of your attention?"

Fuck him for being so sweet. He plays his part well to distract you, craving your attention like he's been starved for it all day.

"I can help you with your work later," he offers when you stay silent. "If you take a break with me."

James has a pair of convincing eyes and when he watches you like he needs you, you can't keep doing your work properly. You turn your face to him, recognize the vulnerable look in his face.

"Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods.

"Just tired," he replies. "I, um, kinda had an argument with Tom today."

Tom is one of his closest friends on the team, a person who makes his long training sessions more bearable. They don't really argue, this might even be the first time. Your brows get together with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," you say, standing up and leaving your laptop.

"That's okay, we'll probably fix things tomorrow," he says. Sunshine personified, your favorite person in this world. "I just don't want to think about it now."

You take his hand, lead him to bed. It's messy with the blankets thrown over four different colored pillows. A silent practice, how you get your body tangled with his. He lifts his leg to settle it down between your thighs and you press yourself without being embarrassed at all. No need for that, he keeps telling you.

"What were you whispering?" you decide to distract him with a lazy tease. "Before you took me away from my stuff?"

"I'd say you willingly left, but the details are not important, huh?"

He gets on top of you with half of his body, looks at you with hazy eyes. Gorgeous boy.

"And I was just talking about how good you are at what you're doing," he whispers and kisses your cheek. "With that frown on your face when you're upset with it. Or with you biting your lip in pride when you got something right."

"You were watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

You kiss him and he closes his eyes. It's been a long day. He got through it somehow, but being able to relax after a day like this is not easy. Even James Potter needs to be taken care of sometimes.

His fingers are wanting, stroking your waist eagerly. The kiss lasts for a few minutes, whispers of affection lingering in the air between you. Your hands play with his hair, big waves falling in your palms as you move.

You take off your shirt. Nothing happens too fast and it's a good thing. How could he rush this when he got it after wanting so much? Desire pooling in his belly, legs shaking and James swears he could moan when you rub yourself on his thigh.

His shirt's on the floor, too. Every piece of clothing on both of you gets lost and James kisses your inner thigh.

"Get under the blankets," James tells you. "It's cold in here."

You do as he says with his help, pulling his naked body under the soft fabric with you. "I'm feeling really warm," you tell him with a sneaky smile that usually belong to his part of teasing.

"Yeah?" he asks against your collarbones. "Can you show me where?"

You take his hand and drag it slowly to your belly. He does the rest of the job and moves his fingers to your wetness. Sticky sweet under his touch, lazy and wanting. You close your eyes and let him play with you.

James has long fingers and they are thick, but he makes sure they are warm enough every time he touches you. His thumb spends a few second with your clit and he uses others to spread the wetness all over you. You lift your hips when he presses just right, his eyes are glowing with something both exhausted and excited.

"Pretty," he whispers, his fingers find a nice rhytm. It's lazy and slow, a gentle touch on your body and he feels like he belongs here. Right here on the bed, under blankets and his hand never stops touching you. He keeps moving until he has you shaking with a tender wave of shiver.

"It's not gonna end," he murmurs on the side of your neck, his lips not kissing and letting you go mad. "I promise I'll keep going."

He sounds so in love, but so tired. You don't even try to stop yourself from accepting the rush his fingers bring, it's strong and you arch your back. Pleasure has you trembling, it's delicious, and you let out a songlike breath. You want to beg him to kiss your neck, he understands your shaky breaths and finally parts his lips against your pulse point.

His fingers keep moving the way you like. You can't see his face as he's kissing your neck, sucking a little bruise there, you hold the back of his head gently to look at him. A pair of lovesick eyes, his lips are swollen and cheeks warm with desire. You can almost feel him rubbing himself on the sheets, the thought of it is enough to let go.

"James," you whisper, desperate to touch him with your free hand. He stays still. "Don't do it yourself, I wanna help. Please, oh-"

He doesn't listen. He can't. His hands are busy and he can't breathe, he needs to come undone. Adjusting his hips, he gets some stimulation from the sheets, enough to make him moan. "I'm so tired, I need to come with you. I can't- can't wait, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Let me touch," you say in a demanding but soft voice. "Let me help."

James listens to you this time, he knows you'll do a better job. He comes up a bit higher in bed for you to reach him, you eagerly extend your hand to feel. It's not difficult to get him right there with you, the moment before the peak. He closes his eyes and puts his head on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple to ground himself. He's moving his hips against your hand, a big breath ready on his chest.

You come with a moan. James thinks it's the prettiest sound ever. With the rush of the moment, you move your hand faster and he follows you. Your mind goes blank, the world gets blurry. James stays on your chest, his body feels heavier now that he's relaxed. You love seeing him like this, without the anxiety his day left behind.

"Need to clean us up," he mumbles. He's half asleep. "It's uncomfy."

You smile softly. He doesn't even have the energy to blink. "Stay for a while," you tell him, your hand in his hair to fix his waves. "We can do it later."

It's tempting and James is easily convinced. Your chest is the perfect pillow, his head moves as you take calm breaths. Rubbing the tired muscle between his shoulder and neck, you urge him to fall asleep. He forgets everything other than your touch.

[divinepoints]

save our souls

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: With the Book of Vishanti destroyed and your soul slowly but surely tearing itself apart, Stephen Strange searches for a way to stitch it back together. As it turns out, there’s a distinct chance that answer is Bob Reynolds.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: vague violence and gore and i think that's it other than emotional distress

a/n: bob reynolds soulmate au <333

heavy liberties taken w the void encounter from the movie

reader has both witchy type powers and also trained in the mystic arts. it’s probably a cliche but this is a soulmate au so clearly you can pry cliches from my cold, dead hands.

also i finished and am posting this at literally 4 in the morning so it has not been edited/beta'd so there are probably errors but shit happens man. ending is a little goofy but idk guys i just like to have fun.

Though it was not a truly physical thing, you now knew where the human soul resided. You had never truly wondered, but were now sure it slotted itself somewhere between stomach and lungs. You knew this because yours was being slowly shredded and you could feel dull, throbbing ache of it every minute of every day.

What bothered you most was not the physical pain, but the way you could feel everything you cared about slipping through your fingers like water. Nothing pleased you much, anymore. You used to smile when America made progress with her own sorcery, under the watchful eyes of you and Strange, but now it barely made your lips twitch upward. You were not yet a full shell of your former self, but you could feel it creeping in. Eventually, you would be empty.

It had happened through no fault of your own, truly. Really it had been no one’s fault at all, but Stephen was taking it on as his own and you did not have enough in you to fight it. He was running himself ragged trying to both mentor America and find a cure for you all at the same time. Flatly, you had commanded him to stop, but he had only looked at you with sharp eyes that told you he was going to do whatever it took. It almost seemed to be tearing him apart more than you, but you supposed that came with the territory of being able to feel without inhibition.

Emotion was a double-edged sword. When you did feel it, which was rarely now, it only served to pain you further, like you were being torn apart faster as punishment for humanity. So, mostly, you avoided it. You avoided people you knew you cared about, or had cared about, just to escape the small chance you might feel a twinge of anything at all. 

Stephen was a problem about it. He sought you out almost daily, spellbooks in hand and his mind full of theories on how to piece you back together. Once, he had suggested an ancient binding ceremony that would tie you to him for the rest of your lives. You’d felt a knife-like presence in your chest and heat behind your eyes and that had been the day you decided you could no longer stay at Kamar-Taj, lest he suggest or try something far more radical than he already had. He cared too much, and you knew it would only kill you faster.

That being said, you weren’t sure if you were truly dying or just emptying. It was a far more ancient magic than either Stephen or Wong had ever encountered that had afflicted you, and neither knew exactly what the end would be. The two most likely options were that one day you would die, or one day you would be a shell of yourself wandering the Earth until your physical body gave way. You could not be certain which would be worse.

Wong caved and allowed you to call New York Sanctum home for whatever remaining balance of time you had. Though it was still Stephen’s domain, even he swore he would only make an appearance if strictly necessary. Still, it was hard to be there all alone with no powers or Mystic Arts to call upon. It appeared along with your soul, all of your abilities both inherent and learned were leaving you too. Thus, you spent much of your time wandering the streets of New York where it wasn’t so hard to be soulless. Almost everyone else was too, in a way.

Perhaps that was why, on one cool, breezy day when the darkness took you, you were not scared or surprised. At least, not until pure shadow turned into an unfamiliar cold, steely, and sterile lab that you had never seen before. Abandoned workstations, collections of half-broken beakers and rusted metal components. Shadow distilled down into marks on the walls and a man with pinprick white eyes looking through you.

His head cocked each way several times as the pure white bored into you. Cold creeped down your through like ice, but nothing more. He was somehow nothing and everything as he took you in silently, as though deliberating. You were not sure if he was truly a person or not, or if this was your adventure into some kind of afterlife and he was the Grim Reaper come to collect.

Time was uncertain and unfamiliar wherever you were, but he spoke after some measure of it. “You’re empty.”

You decided then that he must have been trying to collect a soul you did not have. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He continued as though you had not spoken at all. Circled you like a shark. Assessing. “I don’t know what to do with you. Where to put you.”

Had your tongue not frozen to ice in your mouth, you might have offered a few suggestions simply for the sake of speeding things along. You did not enjoy lingering in your strange Limbo with your odd man of pure shadow who behaved like he had never encountered someone in your condition. You wished he had a face for you to analyze as he was yours. Wished he was more than a black hole of nothing while all you had left was laid bare. If this was how you were dying, you would have liked to see your ferryman. 

The room before you flickered so briefly you might have thought you hallucinated it if he’d not let loose a hum that sounded like a wicked smile. For a moment, you saw Titan. Stephen at your side dusting and leaving you behind. Someone begging, pleading that he didn’t want to go. Tony Stark’s haunted face. It was gone the next instant. The cold in your chest turned to fire and ache. Your throat closed around the memory you never wanted to relive.

Your ferryman’s frustration returned as it vanished. “Let me help you. You’re almost there.”

So, that’s what it was. He wasn’t here to gather your soul, he wanted to ruin what was left of it. It was almost a comfort. The end was here. No more avoiding, no more slowly wasting away. If he wanted to break you, you were going to let him. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and waited. A hand closed around your wrist. You expected to be sucked away from everything and into nothing at all, but it only remained there heavy, freezing, and with a softer grasp than you’d have anticipated.

You wanted it, but you would not beg. You would not ask to die, you could still feel enough pride for that. Ice snaked through your blood and seeped into your bones but still you remained. He wasn’t draining you, but freezing you. You wondered if this was the true end of your curse, not dead and not fully empty but half-alive and frozen until the end of time, your only company a man of pure shadow. If you had it in you to cry you might have, but you were also sure the tears would freeze before falling.

What you assumed was his forehead pressed against the side of your face. “Why do I know you?”

His confusion in turn confused you. Until now, you had assumed this was employment or cosmic purpose for him. Now you wondered if he was just as frozen in limbo as you were. Maybe to him, you were shadow too. Your eyes and mouth opened simultaneously, but a great many things happened in quick succession. Before you could manage words, you were no longer alone together. He froze behind you, entirely unmoving.

An unfamiliar woman uttered, “I’ve been here before.”

You recognized the voice of the next man who spoke because the very same one had just been whispering in your ear. “This is where it all started.”

You were beyond confused now, and turned to look at the group that had invaded your purgatory. You recognized none of them except for Bucky Barnes. It took him a moment to put your puzzle pieces together. You looked different now, sunken in and void of light after your months of being put through the mystical garbage disposal. He surged forward as though intent on grabbing you, but the room expanded almost exponentially right in front of your eyes. Shadows held you firm. 

The same voice spoke to you from two places, one muttering in your ear that you belonged here, that he was trying to help you. The other came from across the room, apologizing, nearly begging, telling you he had only wanted to do better, be better. Someone else asked who you were, Bucky responded so low you couldn’t hear him. You were sure whatever explanation he was offering was wrong.

“I know her,” the simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar one muttered. He looked at you then, muted blue eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. “I— I know you from somewhere.” He moved on from your eyes to his counterpart. “Let her go.”

“No.”

The room gave a great shudder as metal ripped and wound itself around everyone in the room except for you, the shadow man, and the very real flesh-and-blood version of him. Adrenaline coursed through you, but you were held fast by an impossibly strong arm wound around your middle. Breath became a near-impossibility but you had grown used to pain. 

The blonde woman who had spoken before said urgently, “Bob.”

The sweater-clad man in front of you looked back at her for a moment. Bob. An unassuming name for who you once might have figured to be an unassuming man. You were learning differently, though. He drug his eyes away from her and spoke more firmly to the man holding you. “Let them go.”

You heard the shriek of metal as it wound tighter.

“You think they care about you?” spoke the shadow.

His hold on you released but you still stood firmly rooted to the spot. You knew deep down you should have tried something. Anything. But what could you do? What would sparks to do an entity who had crushed, at the very least, a known super-solider with metal beams and had held you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe? You were functionally useless, just an audience for the chaos in front of you.

“You don’t matter to anyone.”

“That’s not true—”

She, the most vocal of them all, was nearly garroted in the next instant. A violent energy seemed to pulse through the room. You could feel it rattle your bones. Bucky called your name, and he met the same fate.

“Stop,” you said, uselessly, fatally. You would have assumed your plea fell on deaf ears if they had not both looked at you.

It seemed for a moment they had simultaneously decided you were the most interesting thing in the room. You had no clue where to look, but you settled for the antagonist of the situation. You began to see the similarities even when one was pure silhouette. A negative of the same man commanding for his friends to be left alone.

“He’s you,” you said, barely a breath. It was almost astounding. You’d have assumed some sort of astral form if not for the feeling of his hands on you. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob said. Real, physical Bob. Not the shadow-self you had been first introduced to. “I’m stronger than him, I’m—”

“We’ll see about that,” his other-self nearly demanded.

Flesh, blood, and bone was on the echo of himself in the next moment. The violence thrummed not just inside the room but inside you. Dread settled deep in your gut. You were feeling, without pain, more deeply than you had in months. It was a great wonder and horror all at once. There was a part of you who wished you could spend the rest of your life here if only just to feel real. The part of you that had made some semblance of a hero before knew you wouldn’t. Your fingers sparked, feeling deeply unfamiliar after months of absence.

The room expanded impossibly once more, distancing you from the war waged only in selves. Metal groaned your way and your hands flew up, stopping it in its tracks. It burned away with some effort, oddly stenchless, but you supposed natural rules did not apply in such a space. Nothing more flew your way, so you set off running. Perpendicular to you, the seemingly very nimble woman was dodging flying desks with the same intent. 

Darkness was crawling up the very real Bob’s body. He was destroying himself. Spitting mad and throwing punches wherever they could land, not realizing he was only satisfying the embodied emptiness. He was still being taunted, but you couldn’t tell if he was really hearing at all.

You reached them—him—first. Your hand slammed into his shoulder, something that should have shoved his astral form out of his body, but nothing happened. He rocked briefly backwards at it, but continued to shred his own knuckles trying to harm himself. It seemed even with your powers you were useless here.

“You have to stop,” you commanded, trying to be firm, trying to not sound like you were begging. But you were, and you knew it. Because he was going to kill himself and trap them all in eternity. 

She joined you then, eyes flickering only briefly to yours before she was trying to physically pull at him. She muttered something so quietly you could not hear, right in his ear. He ignored that too, just like he had you.

“Please,” you said, joining the effort to remove him from himself with force. “You’re tearing yourself apart.” You pushed while she pulled, but it seemed all for naught. “He’s part of you. Your soul. You have to stop.”

Everyone else had pulled free of their restraints too, rushing to Bob’s aid. You still talked incessantly, not thinking of most of your words. You knew what it was to be torn apart from the inside out, even if you had not watched it in front of your eyes. You were a lost cause, unable to stop what was happening in you, but Bob was not. Bob was not yet consumed into whole darkness, still had light and, it seemed, very real friends to fight for.

“Just let go,” you told him, still pushing at his shoulders with all your might, wrists aching every time he drew back to bully on himself again. “You’ll be okay. You can stop this.”

You looked into impossibly wild blue eyes once more and then you were falling. Tumbling. Forward and forward. Right into a mouthful of New York City concrete.

⊛

Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep five days later. Since your last meeting, he had been branded a New Avenger, and you’d begun to have nightmares. A particularly impressive feat given you’d not dreamt at all, happily or otherwise, since the day you’d been cursed.

“Bob keeps asking about you,” he said, without preamble. You both appreciated and cringed at his directness. You had been trying to ignore and forget about the entire debacle. “Everyone keeps nagging me because I’m the only one that knows you.”

Except you don’t really, you wanted to point out. You’d spent a grand total of maybe two hours together, in battle and out. Thanos for the second time. Tony’s funeral. You chose not to include what you had ambiguously dubbed The Incident.

You stood silent, gripping onto the door. You weren’t sure if you were going to invite him in or slam the door in his face. He looked different than you had known him to, both from before and from his incredibly brief stint as a politician. And, given what he’d walked into at your last meeting, you weren’t sure you much cared to know what he and his rag-tag group of mostly-not-superheros were up to.

“Five minutes,” he bargained quickly. “All I need.”

A little busy, you wanted to say. It was mostly true. Before he’d begun to knock incessantly at the door, you’d been trying to coax Stephen away from tomes and scrolls and into at least a nap. You’d accidentally sent him into a spiral when you revealed you were having nightmares and you were certain he’d not slept in three days. Unfortunately, your valiant efforts to interrupt his intense research were mostly met with him locking you out with magic you were currently incapable of undoing.

“I can wait here all day,” Bucky pointed out.

He meant it, and you knew it was true regardless. You had witnessed him tireless in battle, so you had to imagine he could handle a doorstep for more than a few hours. He entered as soon as you pushed the door aside, slipping through just as you’d withdrawn your arm.

“Don’t waste my time,” you chided as he admired the architecture. “You’re on a clock. Five minutes.”

Bucky turned back to you, looking almost amused. Like he knew you had both an unlimited amount of time but also none at all. It, in turn, did not amuse you. It would likely not have amused you even with a full breadth of emotion available to you. You didn’t often like people invading your personal space and time without notification or reason.

“Bob’s been asking about you,” he repeated. He was trying to whittle at you, that much was clear. He intended to goad you into asking why, into perhaps revealing some secret card he must have expected you were carefully hiding in some secret pocket. You offered him nothing, mostly because you had nothing but also because you did not appreciate games.

“So you said,” you acknowledged. “Would you like to waste your five minutes on repetition?”

His eyes narrowed at you. Challenging, but also curious.

“He doesn’t remember it,” he continued cautiously. “The Void.”

So, that was what they were calling it. An apt descriptor for the complete nothingness of Bob’s other self and the hell-like dimension he’d taken you to.

“Has no clue what went on in there, but remembers you clear as day. Enough to ask who you are. How I know you.”

It might have been smarter to deflect. It might have been wiser to make a smart comment about being memorable, or saying you had that affect on people. Instead you remained in steely silence, letting it sink in. He’d called you familiar. Said he knew you. Now you were the only thing he remembered from what should have been a particularly harrowing experience that should have left you only a minor detail.

Bucky continued after you met him with silence, “Coming from someone whose brain’s been in a blender, I can tell you it takes quite the person to break through all of that.”

“What is this?” you asked finally. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“I don’t know much about your mojo,” he admitted. “I’m just wondering if you might’ve done something in there. Something that can keep helping him.”

Ah. So that was it. He thought you’d left a mark on Bob magically or mystically. Perhaps something that could prevent him from going full Void again. It teetered on amusing. He’d witnessed how utterly useless you had been even with your magic, you wondered what he’d think when he found out you were without it.

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help,” you explained. “I’m somewhat… indisposed, at the moment.”

You were expecting disappointment and instead met with suspicion. You couldn’t blame him. Something about the Void had shifted things, made you more useful than in the real world. It had breathed power right back into you for your short stint. In response to his raised eyebrow, you offered him the barest of sparks from your fingers. They fizzled sadly into nothing before even falling to the floor.

“I’m not being obstinate. I truly have nothing to offer you.”

“That’s not,” Bucky began, choosing his words very carefully. “It’s not the only reason I’m here.” You nodded, urging him to continue. “He wants to meet you. Bob. He says… he says he’s been dreaming about you.”

Well. That was certainly interesting. You opened your mouth to respond, but Stephen appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He looked haggard. Harried. Frantic. He ushered Bucky away through a hastily conjured portal that slammed closed in your face the second you tried to follow. You were left alone and vaguely frustrated.

You didn’t have it in you to seethe, so you made yourself too much coffee just to feel something and waited semi-patiently for them to return. The ticking of the clock was almost soothing. Metronomic as you sipped your hot beverage and allowed it to burn at your palms. Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty. 

At minute twenty-eight a portal reappeared in front of you and Stephen reappeared with Bucky and two additional guests. Bob, looking absolutely awe-struck at what was happening in front of him, and, glued to his side, the woman you recognized from the Void. 

“Hello,” you said, mostly pleasantly. You weren’t thrilled at having Bucky whisked away mid-conversation only to be further intruded upon thereafter, but you allowed Stephen his reasons. After all, he was practically killing himself trying to save your soul.

Bob stepped forward first, directly between Bucky and Stephen like they hardly mattered. The portal closed as soon as his companion followed. He was looking at you, drawing closer and closer like he was going to reach out just to make sure you were real. You retreated as far into your plush chair as you could. You watched the realization of his mistake flicker in his eyes. Literally. The blue that seemed suddenly so familiar flickered into hot gold and then back again.

“Hi,” he said, straightening. His companion watched him worryingly. “I’m—”

“Bob,” you interrupted. “I know.” Your gaze flickered to the woman at his side. “You, I don’t.”

“Yelena,” she offered simply, not divulging further. You didn’t blame her. She seemed about as uncertain about this entire situation as you did.

Stephen looked at you pointedly. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

Not really. Sure, you might not have divulged that you ran into the former Captain America’s best friend in a seemingly alternate dimension controlled by a deeply unstable shadow-self, but you’d given him the barest details. The relevant details. The rest of it seemed unnecessary. It wasn’t like you could take him back to the scene of the crime, so to say. After all, when you’d come to with a broken nose and a mouthful of blood there were no New Avengers to be seen.

“Hardly,” you responded. He was not amused.

But he gave you a look that suggested it was your best bet not to argue, so you didn’t. He took the opportunity to explain that he and Bucky had talked it out. (Yelena seemed to sour at that, but also did not open her mouth to plead any case.) Apparently, it was for everyone’s best interests that you return to Kamar-Taj to see why your ailment had suddenly seemed to improve. (You wanted to argue that it certainly had not, but admitted that a nightmare was a dream even if an unpleasant one.) Furthermore, he thought it was for the best that Bob come along for the ride, lest he turn New York to shadow again.

You were with him only mostly against your will until that last part. Something thudded through you. A knife in the middle of your chest. You were not risking bringing a volatile, half-shadow to the mostly-stable home that America finally had. It spilled out of you like fire and blood both. Cutting through your ribcage and twisting your stomach into deeply unpleasant knots.

“No,” you said. You meant it with crying rage, but pain had stolen air from your lungs and it came out wholly flat.

Stephen looked unamused. “I’m not asking you for permission.”

You opened your mouth to argue again. Bob beat you to speech. “It’s not normally like… that. They told me what happened. In there. But normally it’s all…” He tapped a finger against the side of his head. “All in here. Unless I touch someone.”

Really, you weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

“We’ve kind of figured out it was different for you,” Bucky added. “Somehow.”

They explained to you the interconnected shame rooms that had plagued them all. Or, explained the concept. Neither of them seemed keen on going into detail, and you couldn’t blame them. But still, it slotted together some things in your mind. The flash of Titan, Bob’s other-self declaring eerily that he wasn’t sure where to put you. The shame had been shredded right out of you, leaving you only him.

None of it was any comfort. You still didn’t like the idea of taking him there, especially not in the aftermath of Wanda’s attack. Not with America there. But you had never been in charge, and even if you had been you certainly weren’t now. 

“I still think this is a very bad decision.”

Your protests fell on deaf ears.

⊛

Bob was consistently fascinated by your humanness. You were a novelty surrounded by those who could still wield power and, to your great surprise, a man who apparently held the force of a thousand exploding suns. Everyone had really buried the lede there. You often found his eyes on you when they ought not to have been, but he seemed to take the hint that you weren’t interested in him. Not really.

It wasn’t fear. You’d have thrown yourself to his metaphorical wolves in an instant probably just to finally end your own emptiness. In fact, the great pit in your center seemed to sometimes call for him. Sometimes, you swore you heard the call of the Void in your own mind. What bothered you was the constant, searing, knifing-pain in your chest from the last dregs of worry you could scrounge up. It was the reason you didn’t outright tell him off.

There were two final hanger-on emotions inside you. Worry for America, worry for Bob. Entirely against your own will, you sometimes watched him back and wondered what it was like to live always teetering on the edge of great power and destruction. While Wong worked with America at your request, Stephen had taken up the Herculean task of trying to teach Bob to control abilities no one understood. As anyone could imagine, it was not going swimmingly.

Darkness always seemed to surge forward within him whenever he tried to use any power of the Sentry. Hesitance would turn to overconfidence, then to self-loathing whenever he failed to harness abilities at all or failed to control them. Luckily, it seemed to have proven impossible to truly turn the mirror dimension into any version of the Void. Of course, that was not to say it didn’t weigh on Stephen. 

It must have become clear to Bob too, because you found him one night packing with the intent to flee like a bad one night stand. Part of you screamed to let him. The other, quieter, most still-human part of you knew he was going to flee not to his friends in New York, but straight into isolation. You could practically see it on him, the heaviness.

“You’re not a prisoner, you know,” you told him, leaning on the frame of his open door. “You do not need to flee in the dead of night.”

Caught red-handed, he dropped the clothing he had been holding. All Bob seemed to own fit in a duffle bag, and most of it you recognized seemed to be from his time at Kamar-Taj anyway. But really, you should have expected that. You knew only the vaguest details of his life, but you knew that he had given himself over for medical experimentation for a reason. Though you weren’t necessarily a betting woman, you were fairly certain a happy, stable life was not what led someone to such things.

“I thought it might be easier this way.”

That was the other thing. Bob seemed incapable of lying to you. You were sure that it was not a literal affliction of his, but moreso a complete mental block that seemed to occur whenever you did deign to speak to him.

“Easier for who?” you asked. He didn’t respond. “I’m going to level with you Bob.” You heard him mutter please, so you stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind you. “It’s obvious you’re not planning on going to New York, which is the only other place in the world you should be.”

He shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t be there. Not after— You were there. You saw what he— what I did.”

A twinge. A knife. The hurt of it sawed at your ribs. “It might have been you, but it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for your darkest days to be given superpowers.”

His lips twitched. “Didn’t I?”

Stephen would have parroted something about informed consent, but you had long ago coaxed him into getting adequate sleep instead of wasting more of his time on the lost cause you had become. Still, it would have been a good point to make. Bob had not signed the dotted line on a paper that indicated he might end up with the ability to plunge people into their own personal hells just by a brush of skin.

“I don’t think so. Sounded like you just wanted to be… better. I know what that’s like. I just had the better luck of landing here.”

You had been a child, had just discovered you had abilities beyond your wildest imagination, and you’d been running from SHIELD. The Ancient One had found you, whether by fate or pure coincidence, and had become the mentor you needed to control not just what you were born with, but what she had wielded herself.

He was squinting then, searching in the depths of his own mind. “That was the… the bald one, right? She found you.” Bob looked at your face, took in something that must have read clear as day. You’d never told him about that, and she was long dead before he’d even stepped foot on the continent. “Sorry, I—”

“When Bucky said,” you began, then trailed off. It was hard to summon your thoughts. He’s been dreaming about you. You had thought it all memory of his own, the part you played with Void repeating over and over in his head on loop. You’d not anticipated he was seeing your past. “I didn’t think he meant like that. He said you were dreaming about me but I…”

Bob grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” you said heavily, “we should have guessed you might be able to see into people like that.”

He shook his head at that. “Not people. Just you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Impossible to break. Impossible to breathe through. Just you. Somehow, Bob was combing through just your memories in his dreams. Whether he was watching a supercut of your worst moments, of which there were many, or if he was seeing all the good too, it struck you as odd. Borderline scary. You wondered exactly how much of you was laid bare for him to see.

“Sorry,” he apologized again. A habit you were beginning to tire of. One that had been hard broken in yourself years ago. “I know it’s weird, but I don’t know how to stop it.”

Your mouth felt try, tongue heavy, throat swollen around nothing, lungs in a vice. The emotion itself hurt. The punishment for feeling it was only double. You forced speech past aching vocal cords. “Did you tell Stephen?” Bob shook his head again. You tried to scramble back to the absence of emotion. “You should… we should. First thing in the morning.”

Your only goal in the moment became a mad dash to exit his room. He was apologizing again, reaching out to try and cling, to make you listen. You didn’t have it in you to soothe his anxiety when your own was fighting out of you and turning your insides to ribbons. But his grip was stronger than you figured he intended it to be when it landed on your shoulder. It practically burned through your shirt, not just from the pressure but from his body heat. You had expected ice like before, but he was all fire now.

“It’s okay,” you managed, though it was not. You placed your own palm on his hand both in the hopes he might take the hint to withdraw and to try and make your words seem that much truer. “It’s fine. First thing, okay?”

Bob just nodded again.

You would likely have been ashamed to admit that you slept outside his room that night just to make sure he stayed, but there was no admission needed. The wake-up call you received was Stephen shaking you awake and looking at you as though you’d lost your mind. You offered him no explanation. Instead, you’d surged up with sudden energy and knocked a little too loud on Bob’s door. He opened it so quickly you nearly knocked directly on his chest next.

Much to his chagrin, Stephen was not allotted any time for such blasé things as morning coffee or breakfast. You, jittery with anxiety though suspiciously knifeless feeling, moderated a particularly intense discussion between him and Bob about what exactly such dreams might have meant. To your great frustration, Stephen seemed to make a point to keep a strict poker face the entire time. You could not have told anyone who asked if he was horrified, mesmerized, or somewhere in between. Even when Bob finished his explanation with great hesitation and a not-insignificant degree of mortification that had him blushing from the base of his neck all the way up to his forehead, Stephen said nothing of note.

I’ll look into it.

I’ll look into it.

And then he left like it was nothing of concern. You stared open-mouthed at the place he’d previously taken up. You could not have felt more frustrated if you tried. Bob was apologetic once more, taking your silence as opportunity to plead your forgiveness at the great invasion of privacy that neither of you had asked for. You just slumped, forehead to table, and found to your immense astonishment that you were nearly experiencing frustrated tears, all without the added pain from the inside out.

You shot out of your seat and left Bob with no explanation, chasing Stephen down the hall. He was walking at a leisurely pace. Waiting for you. He was a rat bastard and you were going to kill him. Another emotion you were experiencing without blinding pain in your chest. You grasped at him, stopping him in his tracks as you looked at him furiously. Still, somehow, you felt lighter than you had in months.

Not a question, but a fact. “You knew.”

“I had my suspicions,” he stated. “Needed you both here to know for sure.”

“Well,” you began, tears welling once more. You had seemingly become ill-equipped to handle any emotion at all in your months without much of it availed to you. Still, you feared there would come a rip through center mass, severing all of your organs as punishment for feeling anything at all. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

It had been the very first, most ancient suggestion of them all. The first answer anyone had found that seemed it would cure you completely. You still remembered it, clear as day. The earliest days where you could still feel mostly like real people did, when it only hurt a little to laugh or to cry. When it was no more than a prickle in the very center of your being. This one says you just need to find your soulmate, Stephen had said to you. You had cackled in his face and responded, What am I, a Disney princess? 

Back then, neither of you had taken your affliction too seriously, assuming that with time you would find a more suitable answer. He’d brought it up again when you got worse, a more serious suggestion this time. There were ways you could try. He suggested that America might punch him into several hundred universes until he found someone you seemed to consistently fall for. When you shot that down, he’d suggested a dream journal where you meticulously recorded every man you came across, looking for a statistical likelihood, and you’d broken the news you weren’t dreaming at all anymore. Even then, he’d moved onto more serious ideas. Now he was telling you he really thought that was what would put you back together. The real-life, flesh and blood counterpart of a near-demonic shadow you’d met shortly before eating concrete on fifteenth avenue. 

Still, you were horrified. It was not the suggestion of a soulmate. It was not even the suggestion of Bob being yours. Instead, it was the suggestion that you’d be asking a man who’d been through so much to stitch your soul whole.

“I can’t,” you said. “I can’t do that to him.”

Stephen sighed frustratedly at that. “So self-sacrificial.” He looked you straight in the eyes, hands braced on the sides of your arms. “It all seems to be proximity. He only needs to be nearby, as far as I can tell. There’s no saying it needs to be anything more than what it already is.”

Wasn’t there? The implications of soulmates were clear. Under normal circumstances, it might not have meant making you truly whole, but all the myths were clear: his soul would call for yours, and yours his. Like calls to like, you’d heard before. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same. All rooted in hundreds and thousands of years of myth, legend, and folklore. All implying that Bob might not just repair what was broken in you, literally, but that he also might be the love of your life.

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Stephen insisted. Ironic from the man who you’d watched utter the words I love you in every universe. “But between you and I, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you to be loved the way you deserve.”

Things were not so simple. If you had once avoided Bob in general, you now avoided him like the plague. You weren’t sure how to look a man in the face and explain that you were afflicted by an ancient curse and he was seemingly the only cure. It was impossible to swallow the idea that you were destined to love someone who you’d hardly even felt a twinge of friendship for. In another, better version of events, you might have found yourself accidentally cured long after you’d already fallen for him. Instead, you seemed to perhaps do things in reverse order, even for how much Stephen insisted it did not need to be that way.

Unfortunately, word had reached both America and Wong via the way of Stephen’s loose lips, and they both had begun to interfere. Portals appeared out of nowhere, sending you crashing straight into him, leaving you floundering for an explanation after the third or fourth time it happened. To his credit, he was taking it like a real champ. He cracked a confused smile most of the time, not questioning why you were suddenly unable to form any meaningful sentence. Still, it was impossible to miss the vague air of disappointment that settled every time you found a new excuse to head in the opposite direction.

He smiled tightly through it until the seventh time you’d found yourselves transported to each other. You had been in the library, manually combing through to find any books that even seemed to mention the vague notion of soulmates when you took one wrong step and ended up smashing into him, sending volumes tumbling to the floor. He looked at them curiously, which would have likely been fine if one particularly recent book was not simply titled Soulmates in the Modern Era. You heated from head to toe and wondered if he could feel it.

“Research,” you chirped quickly, reaching to take it. He jerked back before you could even brush the spine, reading the cover and then flipping it open one-handed.

He skimmed the table of contents with great interest, then looked at you. “Interesting research.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, hoping he would just hand it over. “I have this… thing.”

You waved it away like it was nothing, like you weren’t actively trying to sever your connection to spare him from having to fix you. From being stuck with you. Maybe then he wouldn’t be plagued with your memories as dreams, and you could quietly slip back into the abyss you had grown so accustomed to.

“Doctor Strange said you were sick, is this…?”

Though you cringed at both at the revelation and the way Bob referred to Stephen, you nodded. “It’s related research, yes.”

He looked at you like he was trying to read into your very bones and you were not entirely assured he wasn’t. Still, you staunchly resolved that you were not going to elaborate. It appeared Stephen had already been loose-lipped enough for the both of you. It was meant to be a push, you bet. You were sure the cogs had turned in that insufferable brain of his, and he had determined that if Bob learned the truth he would resign to it. Which, of course, was the complete opposite of what you wanted.

Bob still had a firm grasp on the book, though it was now tucked safely behind his back. It would take a tank or some magic for you to get it back. Unfortunately, you had no access to the former and had only just begun refamiliarizing yourself with the latter. He didn’t seem to be playing keep away to frustrate you, but you certainly thought it was a ploy of some sort, you just weren’t sure what.

“Is it infectious?” he asked, quietly. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because I can’t get sick, I think. Not anymore.”

If that didn’t crack you in two, you weren’t sure what would. It wasn’t like you had assumed he hadn’t noticed, but you didn’t know it had been whittling at him so badly he had resorted to hypothesizing. 

“No,” you said quickly. “No, it’s not that.” The speed with which you had responded seemed to cut equal to the answer. “I’m just— I’m really busy with all the research.”

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “For a cure?”

You tried your best to fake a very convincing smile. “Something like that.”

“Sorry,” he said, retreating to apology again. “I’m being… I feel like I know you, even though I don’t. All the dreams.”

It wasn’t that you had forgotten about them. You knew he’d had them, you knew he was still having them. But you hadn’t considered the fact that someone viewing your life while sleeping might get to feeling like you were a friend. A piece of them, even. You hadn’t considered that, especially for someone who seemed to be destined for you, it might be a version of waking hell to wake up and feel like the meant nothing at all. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said, sharper than intended. He almost winced at it. You softened immediately. “I just— you’re right. You’ve been forced to know me, and I know almost nothing at all about you. I forget, sometimes.”

You watched him almost apologize again, but he seemed to catch himself.

“I think maybe I would like to get to know you,” you added. “Once my research sorts itself out.”

Bob smiled. You thought you might drown in it.

⊛

You stopped avoiding him far earlier than anticipated, both intentionally and unintentionally. Your research had stalled out. There was nothing you could find that even suggested a way to severe that type of connection. You needed more time, which meant you needed Bob. Proximity, and all. It felt dirty to use him in that way, made you feel sick to your stomach because his mere presence allowed you to feel at all. Unintentionally, you found he was a very good cure to boredom and a truly fascinating individual, even pre-Sentry project.

It hurt getting to know him, knowing what your intentions were. It hurt to learn his every expression, hurt to watch him strain with every fibre of his being to try and coax his abilities into being helpful instead of harmful. The irony of feeling so deeply only at his allowance was not lost on you. If he pulled away, decided he was done with your constant push-and-shove, it would be the most fatal double-edged sword you ever encountered.

Weeks had passed since your last manufactured collision, after which you’d promptly chewed both America and Wong out so bad they’d ceased immediately. You had buried yourself in your research after, only to stall out after mere days. Since, then you had been nearly glued to Bob’s side entirely of your own volition. Horribly, he seemed to enjoy it, which made everything all the more crushing. 

There was a strange comfort in failing together, though. Bob had still made essentially no progress with his abilities since arriving, and you were no closer to your own answer than when you’d begun. Just a couple of abject failures wandering around the most mystical place on the planet, learning together everything except what they should have.

Stephen had nearly lost interest in Bob, now that he’d solved the real problem he’d been gunning at. Really, you should have expected it. He was fascinated with what he was fascinated with, cared about what he cared about, and could not be bothered for much else. If Bob became a real threat, he might bring himself to actually be concerned, but for the moment he seemed unamused. He held on for your sake, because of the sharp look you gave him whenever he became exasperated, but you knew that Bob was catching on too.

He admitted it to you finally after a particularly grueling three hours trapped in the mirror dimension. Stephen had stalked off like the toddler he so frequently behaved, Bob had found you reading under a large tree and you immediately recognized the look on his face. It was the same one you had seen the first night you truly talked to him, when he thought he’d escape to anywhere but here or New York. Resignation. A bone-deep tired. He laid down next to you and stared straight up at the sun, a habit you would have chastised him for if it had actually mattered.

“Jealous,” you muttered, nudging his foot with yours. “We lesser beings can’t do that.”

“Not much to see,” he said. “Just habit.” Then, after a deep breath. “You sure there’s not a spell for that, anyway?”

If there was, it was the furthest thing from your mind. “Maybe. Might be my next project.”

But you knew there would be no other projects, and you sensed that he was coming around on that fact too. He nudged the cover of the book you were reading, only to be met with some long-dead language he couldn’t hope to understand.

“How’s this one?”

“Hopeless,” you admitted, slamming it closed and tossing it to the side. A less bitter you might have been worried about how such an old book would fare on the grass, but you were feeling particularly spiteful. Powerfully spiteful, thanks to extended and close-quartered exposure to your deeply affectionate medication. “No closer than I was when I started.”

It seemed to surprise him. “You seem better, though.”

That was one particular thing you didn’t know how to truly explain, so you simply said, “You know, magic.”

He reached over you for the book despite all concepts of it being lost on him. All he really knew was that you were buried in the same subject you always were. Soulmates. You never told him why, never told him that it was the opposite of a cure you were looking for. He was fascinated all the same, despite how in the dark you kept him. Usually, it was enough to placate him when you just declared you were getting nowhere, but as of late he’d been getting more and more interested.

“What is it with soulmates anyway?” he asked, flipping through the book as though it was a question he was only asking casually. Certainly a hard thing to do when you knew damn well he had no clue what he was looking at. 

“What do you mean?”

“All of the research,” he said. “How does it help you? Are you just trying to find them before you…”

Bob had been concerned about you dying, as of late. You guessed that Stephen was dropping more and more hints in the hopes of escaping the vague mentor-mentee thing they had going on. If that taught you anything, it was that you needed to get Bob back into the hands of the New Avengers quickly if you ever did succeed in finding a way to cut your fated thread. You shuddered to think what might happen if you succumbed and Bob was still at Kamar-Taj. Stephen would reveal everything you had been intent on hiding, whether from rage that Bob had not worked it out himself, or out of spite at you. And Bob… you were beginning to think something like that might really cause another New York level incident. 

“No,” you said, fighting to keep your tone light and breath even. “No, I— It’s more complicated than that.”

It ultimately became clear he had been pushing you even when he already knew the answer. Your blood ran cold at the phrase I had a dream. Something surged in your ears and you missed much of his next sentence. He only caught on that you either were not listening or could not listen when you looked at him with an anxiety-ridden expression and said nothing. But then you were also beginning to think it must not have been the memory you were worried about, because he was not looking at you like a bomb had been dropped on his head.

“You were laughing,” he said, once you had sat up. He followed suit. “So I wasn’t sure if it was really a suggestion, but if you’re doing all this research it must be real, right?”

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” you said quietly, pulling up blades of grass. Bob didn’t say anything, only urged you to continue with eyes alone. “It’s not supposed to be a thing that fixes you. It’s not— that’s not how it works, for most people.”

“So you don’t think,” Bob began, then cut himself off. He looked pointedly at his shoes. “You don’t think something like that would fix me?”

The very breath was punched out of your chest. You wanted to reach out for him but that hurt you too. It always did. It was not the Void that scared you away from any brush of skin with Bob, it was the very idea that one day you would never want to stop. You ached for him in a way that you were beginning to think extended far beyond the simple repair of your actual soul. Some days, you thought your blood, bones, and every nerve ending sang for it. Each day, you denied them. But it was different when now it seemed like it was for him, like he was the one who needed it.

Heat and static radiated though your fingertips and down your arms when you guided his face to just look at you. “I don’t think you need fixing.” You recognized a yearning in his face that you had seen mirrored in yours before. “And it’s not— it’s an awful feeling to want someone, even in part, just because you know it might fix something in you.”

“But wouldn’t they want to?” he asked. “Isn’t that the whole point? Someone who wants you, all put together or not?”

You didn’t have an answer for that, and you had the very sobering thought that you were getting far too close for comfort. So, you let your hand fall away from his face and began to plan a very heart-wrenching escape route from the grave you’d dug too deep. 

At your lack of an answer he said, “Is there any other way for you? I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”

The problem was that this echoed a very similar conversation with Stephen that you had adamantly refused to take any further. The problem was that your heart wanted to stutter to a stop and give out entirely at the thought that Bob was telling you he would do anything, and you were spending all your time trying to find a way to make sure he couldn’t.

“Please don’t,” you all but gasped out, pushing yourself up and out his reach. “Please don’t say things like that. Please.”

It was foolish to think you could move faster than him. He was grasping at you. Not hard, but firm. Rooting you in place. A furnace against you, tears glistening in his eyes. “I can’t lose you, don’t you get that? I want to be what you need, so tell me there’s some magic way to make it happen.” From his mouth, your name sounded more like an invocation than anything. It took everything you had not to fall apart right there. “You’re all I dream about. You’re all I want to dream about.”

“Bob, I—”

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “Can’t that be enough?”

He was searing against you and you lost all capability for human language. His forehead against yours, eyes shut, holding you like he thought he could keep you tethered to life just with his own force. But it was as far as he allowed himself to go, even with the so-obvious ache you could see on his face. The smallest twitch of his lips from the effort of keeping himself from pressing them against yours. You damned yourself for it, but you did the work for him. You felt the full body warmth of him. It felt all at once like there was not a centimeter of your body he wasn’t touching. You were surrounded by him entirely.

“It feels right,” he said, still so close you could feel his lips move to form the words. “Why isn’t it?”

“It is,” you promised. “Of course it is. I’m sorry.”

He was on you again, all heat. It clicked inside your chest full and heavy, just like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

⊛

“To recap,” John Walker said, looking simultaneously fascinated and annoyed, “you were literally wasting away, killing yourself trying to destroy the one thing you needed to keep living, all because you didn’t want to be a burden?”

You nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He rounded on Bob. “And you, you were ready to do, and I quote, whatever it took, to save her and you didn’t stop to think for one second that you were actually soulmates?”

“Also yes,” Bob admitted.

John slumped back on the couch like he’d just taken a beating. “I think I hate you both. And I mean that genuinely.”

“I think it’s downright adorable,” Ava remarked, but you were fairly certain that was just to piss John off.

Yelena was digesting the information and unnecessary commentary, stroking her pet guinea pig the entire time. Bucky, several minutes ago, had thrown his hands up in exasperation and decided he was done listening to the story of the two of you hopelessly pining like idiots. Alexei, to his credit, was enraptured and taking nonsensical notes the entire time.

“So, basically,” Yelena began, and you nearly groaned at what you assumed was going to be another unnecessary recap, “you are mystically married now?”

It was not the question you had been expecting.

“Oh,” Bob said. “Yeah, that too.”

“It’s a binding ceremony, actually,” you added. “A little more involved. Quite literally tying our life forces together. But sure, I guess you could call it that.”

“Outstanding,” Alexei remarked. “Would make fascinating rom-com.”

Frustrated still, John exclaimed, “Did you even learn anything about your actual superpowers?”

Bob shook his head. “No. Still can’t be the Sentry without the other guy.”

“My god,” John dramatized, “I think you’re giving me a stroke. I’m a super-soldier and I think you’re giving me a stroke.”

Everyone else ganged up on him, from threatening to actually call 911 just to make a fool of him or actually somehow inducing a very real stroke. You leaned back into Bob, muttering lowly, “I love you, but are you sure you don’t want to go back to Kamar-Taj?”

“I like them, unfortunately.”

[callmemonster68]

help me | enhypen

He asks you to help him with his "little problem" in the middle of training. You guys date.

paring: enhypen x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

warnings: slight smut

HEESEUNG

💬 "I swear to you that I've never needed something so much in my life."

Heeseung was exhausted, but the desire was much greater than the fatigue. As soon as he saw you, all he wanted was to feel you.

He discreetly pulled you into a closet, locking you both inside.

Y/N: Hey, what's going on?

He pressed his forehead against hers and held her hand, sliding it down to the waistband of her pants.

Heeseung: I've been hard since I saw you walk into the gym.

Her breath failed.

Y/N: I-I…

He bit his lip and looked into her eyes.

Heeseung: Help me, baby. I need you now.

SUNOO

💬 "Baby, if you really love me, help me now."

Sunoo seemed to be in another world after the practice. He could barely breathe properly, his eyes downcast, his jaw clenched. As soon as you got close, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a closet, locking you inside.

Y/N: Sunoo! What happened?

He held her waist and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

Sunoo: I'm desperate, Y/N. I can't hold on any longer.

Her entire body shivered at his voice, so needy.

Y/N: What do you want?

He lifted his face and held her chin, his eyes shining.

Sunoo: You know what I want.

He guided his hand to his pants and moaned against his skin.

Sunoo: Help me, please…

NI-KI

💬 "If you don't do this now, I swear I'm going to go crazy."

Niki was restless on the bench, his muscles tense after the workout. As soon as he saw you standing in the doorway, your loose shirt and that innocent look, he completely lost control.

Before you could react, he had already pulled you into an empty closet, locking the door behind him.

Y/N: What are you doing? (asked, breathless)

He bit his lip and pressed his forehead against hers.

Ni-Ki: I need you, Y/N. Right now.

Her cheeks burned.

Y/N: For what?

He took her hand and pressed it against his pants, his eyes pleading.

Ni-Ki: I won't be able to finish this workout if you don't help me.

JAY

💬 "You made me lose my mind before... now it's my turn."

Jay had tense muscles, a sweaty body, and a gaze full of desire. As soon as he saw you standing there, something in him simply gave in.

He grabbed your hand and took you to a closet at the back of the court.

Y/N: Jay?

He closed the door, his dark eyes.

Jay: You know what you're doing to me, right?

You swallowed hard as you felt his bulk pressing against you.

Y/N: What do you want me to do...?

He took her hand and placed it against his pants.

Jay: I want to feel your mouth. Now.

JAKE

💬 "If you keep looking at me like that, I won't be able to control myself."

Jake was trying to focus on the workout, but every time his eyes met hers, the desire only grew stronger. He couldn't take it anymore.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a closet, pressing your body against the wall.

Y/N: Jake?!

He took a deep breath, his forehead pressed against hers.

Jake: Baby, I need you. Now.

Her legs went weak.

Y/N: H-here?

He held her hand and pressed it against his volume.

Jake: I don't care where. I just know that I need you now.

JUNGWON

💬 "Please, baby... just a little bit. I need you now."

Jungwon was sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead after the intense workout. As soon as he saw you enter the gym, something in him broke. He quickly pulled you by the wrist to a locker at the back and closed the door behind you.

Y/N: What happened? (surprised by the hurry)

He pushed you against the wall, his gaze desperate.

Jungwon: I'm dying here. (he slid his fingers across her face) Have you ever felt such a strong desire for someone that it feels like you're going to explode?

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat in his gaze.

Y/N: Jungwon...

He guided his hand to the bulge in his sweatpants and moaned softly at the touch.

Jungwon: I need you, Y/N. Now.

SUNGHOON

💬 "It's not working anymore, Y/N. I need this. I need you"

Sunghoon was sweaty, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He couldn't hold it any longer.

Without thinking twice, he took your hand and pulled you into a closet, closing the door with a click.

Y/N: Sunghoon?!

He held her face with both hands, his eyes filled with desire.

Sunghoon: I can't wait any longer.

His heart raced.

Y/N: Wh-what...?

He took her hand and placed it against his bulge, breathing deeply.

Sunghoon: You're going to help me, right?

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[spideyjimin]

Adieu mon amour | jjk

⤷ adieu mon amour, french for goodbye my love

—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: angst 

—  summary: jungkook released two days ago a song about saying goodbye to a loved one.

—  words: 894

—  warnings: crying, mention of dead, heartbreak, and grief

—  author’s note: sooo this extremely sad drabble was written a while ago, but i never felt confident to post it. but a french artist released a song called “adieu mon amour”, and somehow, i felt like i could post this. i lost two dear people not a long time ago and writing this helped me putting into words my grief. this is not perfect and might contain mistakes, but i don’t want this to be perfect because pain isn’t.

MASTERLIST

The crowd fills the concert hall with the soft glow of their phone lights. Jungkook sits at the piano, his fingers resting on the keys as he performs the song he just released. It’s a heartbreaking ballad. A ballad that tells the story of two people that never got their happy ending. A ballad that tells his story with you.

A week ago, he found out that you passed away. The pain he felt that moment was something he never felt before. It’s the kind of pain that eats you alive. His heart aches so much and sometimes he feels like he’d be able to rip it out from his chest. This pain is simply overwhelming.

Three days ago, he assisted to your funeral with an aching heart, shaky legs, swollen eyes, and tears streaming down his face. He never imagined saying goodbye to his first love. He never imagined you’d no longer be a part of his life at 27. He never imagined a life without you.

His sweet voice sings the first notes of the song, his mind brought back to the many memories he cherishes. He closes his eyes and let your smile irritate his world one more time. A smile he’ll never see again. Without realizing it, tears run down his face, but he doesn’t hold them back.

After your funeral, he received a letter. A letter you wrote right before dying. A letter he never imagined receiving. It’s a love letter you wrote months ago, one where you told him just how much you love him. In the entire page, you kept telling him how lucky you felt to have him by your side all these years. And you also kept mentioning how proud you were of him.

He never leaves without the letter. He carries it with him everywhere. It’s all he has left of you. Your final words, the love you left behind, something to hold onto in a world without you. It’s a symbolic way to carry you with him as you are no longer here. The mere thought that you won’t be home when he finishes his show breaks his heart in ways he can even express.

His voice breaks. Then he hears you. ‘I love you.’ The words cut through him. His heart bleeds, and he doesn’t know if he can finish the song. His manager told him earlier that he didn’t need to sing the song if it was too hard for him, but Jungkook wanted it. Jungkook wanted to do it for you. For the only woman he ever loved.

Even though there’s a knot in his throat, he keeps singing. He wants to finish the song for you. For the love of his life. For the only person that ever made his heart truly beat. It seems like it’s the only thing he can do right now. For you, he can find the strength to finish this song.

He never imagined himself writing and singing this type of song. He never imagined writing a song about losing someone, and that’s the most heartbreaking thing. But music is the one of the few things that keeps him going. If he stops for a second, he just falls apart. He could have taken a break, put this world tour on hold, but for his own sanity, he can’t. And he knows that the second the show ends, he’ll just cry his heart out.

‘How is he supposed to live without you?’ is the question that constantly echoes in his mind. Time seems to move so slow without you by his side, and he doesn’t know if he can bear all of this any longer. There’s only been a week, and he still has a lifetime to live.

But there’s the little Arya. Your daughter. She’s the reason why Jungkook keeps going. She’s the reason why he bears this pain. She’s only four and doesn’t deserve to lose her mother. She doesn’t deserve any of this, just like Jungkook.

Jungkook opens his eyes and finally looks at the crowd. The view is breathtaking. This is so beautiful. On top of it, he’s surprised to notice that some fans already know the lyrics to the song he released two days ago.

The other heartbreaking thing is the fact that nobody knows what and who this song refers to. Nobody knows it’s about losing a loved one. Nobody will ever know Jungkook just lost you and how much he loved you. People don’t even know about Arya because he always protected you and will forever do it.

“I hear your laughter everywhere,” he sings. “In my souvenirs of you.”

From wherever you are, he hopes you can hear his words and see this crowd, his fans. If you were still here, you would most probably shed a tear. Whenever there was a sad song, the beauty of the moment would made you cry. It was something he loved about you.

The last harmonies of the song echo in the room. Jungkook is already sad to finish this song. He doesn’t want it. He wants this song to last forever, but he knows he can’t. He engraves in his soul this painfully beautiful moment, and he knows he’ll hold it dearly in his heart.

And he finally says the last words of the song.

“Goodbye my love.”

[meadowfics]

physical affection

park gyeong-seok / player 246 x f!reader

all you needed was yourself, and the man who saved your life

warnings: no smut but there is a lot of physical touch and making out. consensual age gap, since reader is intended to be 21 while gyeong seok is 40 years old.

you never asked for this life.

you're only 21, you should be finishing school, figuring out your future, maybe even enjoying your youth.

instead, you're trapped under two hundred thousand dollars (USD) of debt left behind by parents who never thought about what they were leaving you with before they passed.

you had no way out.

no safety net, no backup plan.

the loan sharks didn’t care that you were young.

they didn’t care that it wasn’t your fault.

they wanted their money, and they made sure you knew that.

every single day.

when the squid game invitation found its way to you, it felt like the only option.

the debt wasn’t going anywhere, and no matter how many jobs you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, you’d never make enough in this lifetime to pay it back.

so you went. knowing full well that this was a death trap or something mentally pricey, but also knowing you had no choice.

inside the game, you struggled to make allies.

you weren’t completely alone...you had hyun-ju, young-mi, and the mother and son duo.

they were good people.

however, you weren’t part of a real alliance.

you still felt out of place, like a stray in a pack.

since the first game, there was one person you always noticed.

player 246.

he was older, maybe ten or fifteen years older than you.

you had no clue.

he carried himself differently from the others.

calm, focused, not trying to stand out like thanos.

he always looked at you.

not in a predatory way like some of the other men, but like he saw you.

he was just as aware of you as you were of him.

still, you never had the courage to approach him.

you didn’t know if he was dangerous, if he already had an alliance, if he even cared that you were here.

then the mingle game started.

you never realized how much you relied on young-mi’s presence until she was gone.

you had distanced yourself from your allies after that unfortunate round.

now it was too late to go back.

the sound played.

the platform spun.

another round, the last round, was about to start, and you knew you had to move fast.

the second the platform stopped, you ran.

you sprinted toward the closest door, desperate to find safety before the round ended.

however, two men shoved you aside, sending you sliding across the floor as they slammed the purple door shut behind them.

panic filled your chest.

you scrambled to get up, but the seconds were slipping away.

if you didn’t get into a room now, you were dead.

before you could react, strong arms grabbed you.

you barely had time to process what was happening before you were pulled through another door.

the lock clicked.

the game was over.

you were safe.

you looked up, heart racing, and saw him. player 246.

relief crashed over you, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him.

“thank you,”

"thank you,"

"thank you,"

you choked out, barely able to hold back your tears.

surprisingly, he didn’t push you away.

instead, he held you, steady and firm, like he understood just how close you had been to dying.

he needed this hug more than you realized.

when you pulled back, your hands lingered on his shoulders, and his stayed on your waist.

it was the closest you had ever been to anybody.

suddenly, you couldn’t ignore the tension anymore.

"its no problem. I needed someone too."

he says.

“how can i repay you?”

you whispered, looking up at him.

you would do anything for him since he saved your life.

he shook his head.

“you don’t have to.”

you wanted to.

the way he looked at you, the way he had saved you without hesitation,

it meant something.

without hesitation, it meant something.

your eyes flickered to his lips. you didn’t think, didn’t overanalyze it.

you just leaned in and kissed him in the locked room.

he kissed you back, slow and deep, like he had been waiting for this just as much as you had.

the man's lips were soft, chapped, but soft.

you closed your eyes, letting yourself feel a temporary moment of peace.

when you finally pulled away, you asked him why he was here.

why he needed the money.

“for my daughter,”

he said simply.

your heart clenched. you weren’t expecting that.

“you have a daughter?”

he nodded.

“yes. she's sick. her mother died. if i don’t make it out, she has no one.”

you felt your stomach twist.

so he wasn’t just fighting for himself, no stupid debt.

he was fighting for his kid.

“this is the most selfless thing you could do for her,”

you murmured.

“i hope you make it out.”

he gave a small nod.

“i have to.”

gyeong-seok's voice was quiet but firm, and you could see the stress weighing on him.

the exhaustion, the desperation to survive.

without thinking, you reached out and took his hands in yours.

they were rough, but warm.

“do you want me to stick with you?”

you asked.

he looked at you, really looked at you, before nodding.

“yes.”

you squeezed his hands.

“then we’ll get through this together.”

from that moment on, you weren’t alone anymore.

neither was he.

after settling back into the sleeping area, you and gyeong-seok stayed close under a shared blanket in the top corner of the room.

your backs were against the cold wall, knees bent, legs touching.

the air around you was tense.

its lights out.

your breathing was steady, but your mind wasn’t.

your body wasn’t.

neither was his.

you could feel the heat radiating off of him, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, whether intentional or not.

neither of you spoke.

not for a while. it wasn’t necessary.

the game had forced silence upon you both after you guys walked out of the room.

its a forced understanding that didn’t need words.

however, the way he looked at you in the dim lighting, the way his fingers barely brushed over your hand resting on your knee..

it sent a slow, burning heat through your veins.

you turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

he didn’t move right away, just stared, searching your expression.

your lips parted slightly, and that was all it took.

he shifted closer, just enough to ghost his lips over yours, waiting, letting you be the one to close the distance.

you did.

your lips pressed against his, hesitant at first, testing, but once he kissed you back, there was no holding back.

gyeong-seok's hand found its way to your jaw, fingers curling gently, keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss.

the man's lips were warm, slow but firm, like he wanted to take his time despite the circumstances around you both.

your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you tilted your head to let him kiss you deeper.

gyeong-seok's other hand slid down to your waist, his palm pressing lightly against your side.

it was nothing more than a touch, but it sent a shiver through your spine.

the blanket shielded you both from prying eyes, but it didn’t matter.

the world outside of it didn’t exist.

you shifted slightly, pulling yourself closer, slotting your legs against his.

gyeong-seok's lips moved to the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, trailing slowly before coming back up to kiss you again.

your breath hitched, and he swallowed it, his lips parting against yours.

you pulled him even closer, desperate, aching for something you couldn’t quite put into words.

246's hand pressed more firmly against your waist, his thumb stroking absentmindedly along your ribs, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

the room around you was restless...players whispering, people shifting in their sleep, others watching for danger

none of that mattered to you.

the man's lips were soft, but the way he kissed you was anything but.

it was slow, deep, controlled, like he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, earning a quiet exhale from him.

his breath was warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

neither of you spoke.

the man's hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you there like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

you stayed like that, your noses brushing, lips barely touching, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

right now, it only is you and him.

three days later, somehow, against all odds, you and gyeong-seok made it out alive.

the games were over.

the nightmare was behind you.

you had both seen too much, lost too much, but you survived.

that had to mean something.

the prize money was split between the remaining five people who survived.

even after the split, it was more than enough.

you could finally pay off your debt.

you could breathe.

for the first time in your life, the weight that had been crushing you for years was finally gone.

gyeong-seok wasted no time.

the second you were out, he used his share to pay off every last hospital bill for his daughter.

he still had enough money left to give his daughter a comfortable life.

na-yeon had been his reason for fighting, his reason for enduring.

now, she would get the care she deserved.

before anything else, he took you to the hospital.

you had been through hell..your body bore the evidence of it, bruises and wounds that would take time to heal.

you insisted you were fine, that he should be with his daughter

instead, but he refused to leave you alone.

after you were cleared to leave, you guys stayed in the hospital.

you realized that you were walking to the pediatric unit with him..

“come with me,”

he said.

“i want you to meet her.”

you hesitated.

this was personal.

this was his daughter.

despite everything, you and gyeong-seok were still figuring out what you were to each other outside of the games.

“are you sure?”

you asked quietly.

“i don’t want to intrude.”

he took your hands in his, warm and steady.

“na-yeon is the sweetest girl in the world,”

he reassured you.

“she’ll love you.”

so you went.

when you stepped into na-yeon’s hospital room, you weren’t sure what to expect.

the second her small eyes landed on her father, her whole face lit up.

“daddy!”

the toddler's voice was soft but filled with excitement.

gyeong-seok immediately went to her side, cupping her tiny face in his hands, pressing the gentlest kiss to her forehead.

then, her gaze landed on you.

curious, but not afraid.

“who’s that?”

she asked.

gyeong-seok turned to you, his expression soft.

“this is y/n,”

he told her.

“she’s my friend.”

you guys were more than friends, partners actually, but that might be too much to explain to na-yeon right now.

you stepped closer, smiling carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“hi, na-yeon. it’s really nice to meet you.”

she studied you for a moment before offering the smallest, sweetest smile.

then, without hesitation, she reached for your hand.

your heart clenched.

slowly, you took it, squeezing ever so lightly.

na-yeon's smile widened.

gyeong-seok watched the moment unfold, something stirring deep in his chest.

he had entered those death games with one goal: to make it out for na-yeon.

somewhere along the way, he found another reason to keep going.

another reason to fight in his everyday life.

you.

as he watched na-yeon hold onto you so easily, so trustingly, he realized it fully.

he had found the love of his life in the most unexpected place.

in those cruel, merciless games, you were the one who stood by him when no one else did.

you were the one who reached for his hand in the dark.

now, you were here.

with him. with his daughter.

you decided that you were gonna stay with him, and na-yeon too.

especially in a world that finally, finally, felt like it was giving you both a chance.

masterlist

[madelinemccoolname]

Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.