#with like 5 blankets and so many pillows

[jestroer]

Was watching Beef’s season 7 pov lately and when Beef and Wels were discussing how fluffy Wels’ bed was i had a very clear image of Wels all snuggled up in there. Knight’s well deserved rest

Also thought it would be fitting to plug Wels’ patreon as his family is having financial problems rn and it would be nice of you to help if you are able!

[revasserium]

beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

beloved

tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki

summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see

a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u

01.

in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.

“kei… what’re you doing?”

“don’t go… i was warm.”

there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.

“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”

“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.

he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —

“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.

“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.

02.

out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.

you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.

“what do you think? does it look good?”

tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“’s all the same to me.”

“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.

“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”

and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.

03.

over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.

“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.

you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”

at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.

“mm! it’s good!”

“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”

tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.

slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.

later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.

04.

after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.

“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.

“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”

“break… in?”

“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”

your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.

“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.

“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”

tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.

“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”

you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.

“quit it.”

you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.

“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”

you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.

“i — ts-tsukki —!”

“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”

you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.

“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”

05.

before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.

“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.

tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”

you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.

“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.

“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”

he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.

“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.

“well then, what are we waiting for?”

06.

after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.

his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.

“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.

tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.

“what’re you crying for?”

you sniffle, shooting him a glare.

“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”

he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.

tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”

“wh-what — i wasn’t —”

his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.

“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”

your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.

this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 2

GIF von asgardswinter

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, implicaded age gap, horror elements, description of blood and violence

wordcount: 3.8k words

I am overwhelmed by all your positve feedback :,)

So I wrote Act 2 over the weekend. Depending on feedback I might expand this story to a full 5 Act piece. Tell me what you think of that :) Enjoy Act 2!

When Logan woke up, he noticed everything was quiet around him, except for that annoying pigeon always perched up next to his window. He remembered how one year it tried to build a nest right next to the window and they had asked Kitty to transport just outside of the wall to get rid of it. She accidentally cracked one of the eggs during that job and cried about it for half a week. Logan huffed in amusement thinking about it.

The next sensation that returned to him was touch. And he suddenly felt too hot. There were one too many pillows around his head and he felt how his body started to heat up again after his night's sleep. The same can be said for the double blanket that weighed him down and the hot breeze that hit his neck in a steady rhythm.

Wait.

He frowned.

A hot breeze?

“I thought we were sleeping in…” A mumble came from right next to him. The voice was still raspy from sleep but it took Logan less than a second to realize what had happened.

Fuck.

He swore to himself that he would keep his hands off her till he figured things out between him and Jean. His body stiffened. How to get out of this mess?

Y/N moved closer to him, her head resting on the pillow then placed onto his chest. She hummed contently at the warmth of his body.

Last night's end-of-semester party had ended on a positive note for her when Logan pulled her away from the drink, snacks and conversations to finally kiss her. She was pinned against the ornate oakwood wall coverings in the hallway and it was more beautiful and sensual than she had imagined.

Then they inevitably ended up in Logan's room where they spent the night having sex till they fell asleep. She had waited for him to finally make the move after a constant back and forth between them.

Logan sighed, moving into a sitting position and moving her with him. “We are sleeping in.”, he responded, smoothing his hand along her exposed shoulder and arm. “ I just need to sit up for a minute, bub. You know how my back is.”

She hummed in response, looking up at him with a content, sleepy smile. Why did she have to make this worse?

“I really like you, Logan. This… us, you know?” She asked, her hand moving to massage his shoulder. Why can’t she stop?

He let his head rest against the wooden bed frame. “ Yeah”, closing his eyes and thinking of a way to set things straight again.

“It's not the right time to talk about this but...I told you about my plan to teach at another school for the next few years. See something new, learn and better my teaching.” She moved closer, from her leaning position into a half-upright one. One leg was thrown over his hips.

Yes, please go.

“Yeah, you told me,” Logan answered, trying to keep his voice neutral. Her departure would give him time to sort himself out and or makeup with Jean. He did feel bad for letting Y/n on but she seemed so happy about it.

“I’m not so sure about it now. With you and me… I wanna give this a try.” She leaned forward to give him a soft kiss. Logan turned his head just in time for her lips to partially miss and land in his scruffy beard. He concealed it by hugging her into his chest.

He paused before answering. Feeling her weight against his chest, the soft skin of her back against his arms.  This was nice, he admitted. But there still resigned a little dark seed in him that pushed him towards Jean. To try again, keep chasing and not give up. Y/n would be there. She always was but Jean was moving fast, unreachable and glowing.

“Go on” He spoke.

“I’m going to ask the other school to push my visit for another year. Spend more time with you ” She gently moved her hands along his back, caressing it. No, leave. You need to leave!

“Sounds like a good idea, bub.” He sighed softly, letting go of her and leaning back against the bed frame. Y/n had moved into his lap, legs resting over his hips and he felt himself stirring again at the close contact.

She grinned happily at him. Chasing him for another kiss. “Great! Another summer together can’t hurt.” She kissed again, “right?”

Logan shook his head slightly as a high-pitched ringing started to sound around him.

Her hands started racking through his hair, pulling him closer.

If only she had known…

“Oh, I do!” She laughed, kissing along his neck, her hands scratching along his back.

Logan tensed “What?”

If she had known that you would leave her alone to die. She wouldn’t have wanted to stay. She would be fine now. One fucking summer with him cost her all.

“It was a good time though.” She sighed against his pulse, nibbling the soft skin there. Her free hand had moved along his body down under the blankets.

30 days she had with you.

Then you killed her.

She would be fine if you had told her and let her go.

“Why wait that long?” She let go of his neck staring right at him. “We can do it now!”

“What is happening?” Logan tried to push her off but to no avail. He was getting hot, skin prickling with sweat that wanted to squeeze through his pores.

“And this time you are right here. Why not do it yourself?” She smiled softly, both hands caressing his cheeks.

The ringing got louder and louder, drowning out all sounds except for her voice which got more distorted. It scratched against his eardrum painfully.

“On the count of three,” She giggled, moving to position herself steady on his hips.

Logan couldn’t move.

“One!”

He felt trapped, watching her take his hands from behind her back.

“Two”

Serves you right asshole!

She placed his knuckles right under her breastbone. He felt the warm skin underneath his shaking hands.

“Aaaand Three!”

Everything went silent.

His claws pierced through her chest with a disgusting wet sound. He could feel the dense material of her skin and flesh against his claws. The warmth of her body shifted into the metal coating. His shaking hands caused the blades to scratch against her bones and it made him shudder.

She gasped, holding herself upright against his shoulders.

“Oh wow…” She laughed, weakly. A trail of blood leaked from her mouth, dripping onto his hands and running down onto the white sheets. Red droplets spread in the cotton, dying it red.

“That actually really hurts!” She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. Her body was starting to tremble.

“Y/n…” Logan whispered in horror. Looking at the woman impaled.

“See, Logan, that’s what happens-“ she took his hands and rammed them further into her body. ”Fuck! Ha- When you let me get close”

She leaned forward, moving his arms with her. His elbows knocked against the cool wood behind him.

A soft, bloody kiss was placed on his cheek.

Logan only whimpered, trying to close his eyes but he still couldn’t move.

“Now… Do better.” She whispered in his ear. Slowly she got back into her seated position. She smiled at him with a bloodied smile, teeth stained and dripping red. She lifted her arm and smacked him across the cheek with an inhuman force.

Logan scrambled to get up. A crusty carpet under his fingers, the stench of garlic in his nose and the bright sunlight blinding him.

Coffee.

He could smell coffee.

He was sweating, feeling the little crumbs and bits of dust sticking to his exposed skin. They prick him as he shifts into a sitting position. Logan's back was flush against the cool leather of the sofa he must have slept on, falling onto the dirty carpet.

A dream.

A memory.

A nightmare.

“Whoa! Peanut, you up?" Wade called from the kitchen. He strolled into the living room in his red and white morning robe coffee mug in hand. He eyed Logan cautiously. Noticing the older man's heavy breathing and disoriented look. All jokes aside: Wade felt bad for seeing him in pain. They had more in common than either wanted to admit.

“Fell right off the couch huh?” Wade crouched down in front of Logan. He watched silently as the other came back to his senses, brushing off the dirt on his exposed arms. Wade blew away the steam of his hot coffee.

“Must have been a tumble.” Wade suggestively lifted his nonexistent brows. “A sexy tumble?” He slurped his coffee loudly.

“Get the fuck away from me.” Logan brushed a hand over his sweaty brow and into his hair.

“An unpleasant tumble then? Well, don’t feel bad, buddy. Happens to the best of us” Wade patted Logan's head, getting away fast enough to not get sliced again.  He moved back to the counter, pouring Logan a cup in his newly acquired “ hottest DILF in the MCU” cup. And two sugars. Logan would never ask for them out loud but Wade knew that he liked sweet things.

“That’s a bit on the nose, no?” Wade chuckled, bringing the mug over to Logan who had managed to get seated on the couch. The mismatched blanket and pillow pushed off onto the side.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, I didn’t talk to you.”

Logan huffed, taking a sip. “ Fucking maniac” The sweet burning liquid soothed his fried nerves.

Wade grabbed a chair, seating himself at the kitchen counter. Logan needed some space if he was to give some answers.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, each nursing their drink.

It was Logan that broke the silence: “How did I get back here?” He sighed, staring at Wade.

The other man had been staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

“Oh yeah. Well after you made a run for it, stabbed me on the street, destroyed my brand new light cotton shirt-“

“Get to the point.”

Wade gasped dramatically ” Catty, are we?” He clicked his tongue and continued “After that the party was basically over. And after most of the guests were gone, me and the tag team, went looking for you and picked you up from a piss-drenched alley before you went on to cause more trouble. Please and thank you.”

Logan sighed, upset and embarrassed. He had not only upset Wade and the girl but also wrecked the party for the rest of him. They called him the worst Wolverine for a reason.

Wade turned towards to fridge to scavenge for some breakfast. “Your tab has also been covered.”

Logan almost choked on his drink: “By who?”

“Ohh the X-men… academy? I don’t know.” Wade shrugged, biting into a piece of leftover puff pastry. “Piotr said something about thanking you for stabilizing the timeline. I didn’t really understand and neither did he. But hey! You got your sins paid for with government money. Isn’t that sweet?”

He grabbed a muffin from the fridge and threw it at Logan, who luckily caught it.

“And after all that fucking trouble, you at least owe me an explanation.” Wade's sudden shift from playful to serious sobered Logan.

He stayed silent for a moment, feeling how his jaw tensed. That fucking dream had been like a punch in the gut, his subconscious fucking him up even further.

He sniffed, setting the mug down.

“I knew a Y/n in my timeline.”

“No shit!” Wade exclaimed, his frustration blending into the mocking tone of his voice.

Logan grunted in annoyance. “We were both at the school. Working there. Fighting together. I met her quite early on.” One of his hands rubbed over the rough material of his jeans. “She and I were close; always had my back. And I took that for granted.” He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “She died, with the others.”

Silence hung in the room, making the air feel thick.

“And?” Wade, asked.

“And what?” Logan was agitated.

“Well yeah, she died. Like the others. But you had no panic attack when you met Colossus, or Ellie, Yukio-“

“She wanted to leave the school for a year abroad. Teach somewhere else but she stayed because of me." His chest was getting heavy again. “She stayed because I let her on, okay? I kept her close in case things with Jean didn’t work out. I knew she loved me-”

“That’s cookie jarring!” Wade exclaimed, excitedly “My Gen Z’s told me about that!”

“The fuck are you talking about?! I am telling you something important and you-“

“It’s when you keep a second option in case love interest numero uno doesn’t like you back. Keeping a sweet backup treat to not end up without a price.”

“I guess so. But never use that term again. I swear-“ Could you have one serious conversation with this ass clown?

Logan sighed, collecting his thoughts. “She felt more for me than I did for her at the time. I mean I did love her but I was a bastard and couldn’t stop chasing after something that wasn’t mine to begin with.”

The picture of his nightmare came back to him. Y/n, impaled, bleeding out by cause of his hand.

“She wouldn’t have been there if you had told her the truth? When the attack happened?” Wade concluded.

“I reciprocated her feelings. Gave her what she wanted for a night after I got frustrated with Jean. I made Y/n think that I was over her.” He scratched his beard, still feeling her lips linger there “I didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth and I was too much of a bastard to stop; couldn’t see that she was the one... She haunts me the most.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“you really are an asshole. A surprisingly reflected asshole.” Wade nodded, lifting his mug in a mocking salute.

Logan just scoffed.

“Great, now that’s out of the way. I have a confession to make.” Wade fumbled with his pocket and pulled out a beat-up notebook.

“What did you do?” The older one said wearily.

“I…” Wade flipped through the pages in a dramatic fashion, mumbling while he pulled out several loose sheets. “… went on a little universe hopping trip while you were having your beauty sleep. And met with the other Wolvies that I had met during the search for you, pumpkin.”

He scattered the pages and some pictures on the counter. “At least the ones that didn’t want to kill me right away or the ones that stopped after they got their steam off.”

“Get to the fucking point. This is worse than the babbling on the home shopping-“ Logan had gotten up from the couch to inspect the pages.

“In every timeline that I visited, there was a Y/n. That was connected and or married to you, big boy.” Wade proudly took a sip of his now cold coffee while Logan rummaged through the material present.

“That can’t be. It’s coincident.”

“Na uh! Not if it’s constant in a bunch of universes and we are talking about a bunch, I mean, a BUNCH of universes. Do we want to say it together?”

“What?”

“Okay, 1,2,3-“

“No.”

“SOULMATES!” Wade cheered.

“No. There are no soulmates and even if there were. That-“ He pointed at the scribbled notes. “Is not how it works.”

“Aw c’mon! There are no rules to soulmates. You can do it in all kinds of ways. Matching tattoos, first words spoken to another, only getting colour vision after meeting the one-“ He gasped “You do see in colour, right?” 

“This proved nothing. And you need to stop getting into my fucking business.” Logan crumpled up the note in his hand and dropped it to the ground. “I don’t care what you think. This is bullshit and a waste of time. I-“

He was interrupted by a yelp, coming from the the hallway.

The fucking dog. Logan sighed. It was a mistake to get to this universe.

“Shhh-“ Another voice, hushed the puppy.

Oh no, oh please no.

“She is here?!” Logan spit angrily. He felt betrayed. Why was she here? Why didn’t Wade tell him? And why didn’t he sense it before? She heard everything. The fucking drinking problem and his fucking age were catching up to him.

“What-? She came all the way here. Late and the party ended right after, thanks to someone who can’t keep his shitty trauma at bay!” Wade bickered. “Y/n is my friend too, you know!”

The door to Deadpool’s room opened slowly. There was no reason to keep hiding in there. The pup had blown her cover. “Poppy, no, stay…” She sighed in annoyance as the dog rushed off to her owner. Wade picked her up quickly, kissing her on the tuff of fur on her otherwise naked body.

“She is not my friend-“ Logan pointed at Wade accusingly. His eyes shifted to the hallway where he saw the door open slowly. Wade’s door. He saw red.

“She slept in your room?!” The pointing finger quickly turned into a fistful of adamantium claws, the tips nicking Wade’s chin. “You have a death wish you little fuck?!”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Y/n rushed out of the room to de-escalate the unfolding situation. She hoped to make a quiet escape, sneak out through the fire escape, wait it out or call Piotr to stage a plan to get her out of there. But thanks to the puppy and these two hot heads it was going to be the awkward confrontation kind of exit.

She had tried to play it cool last night and not show her disappointment. She had been curious about the new character that Wade brought back from his multidimensional trip. Y/n wanted to find out what he was like, and how this world differed from his. She even asked the older X-team members about their Logan. What he was like, what he liked, and what topics interested him.

And he had made a run for it the second he saw her. Of course, she was hurt. Trying to push the tears down as the others tried to comfort her. She didn’t feel like crying but the sudden attention had made her feel like she should.

“Relax, okay?” She lifted her hands in surrender. “And you, drop the puppy. She isn’t involved in your…” She plucked the puppy from Wade’s arm and set her down. “Whatever this is.”

Logan watched her, looking for little details in her movements, and her behaviour. With regret, he came to the conclusion that she was a carbon copy of the woman he lost. His eyes got glassy as the images of his nightmare played behind his eyes. He shook his head swiftly, eyes set on the wooden counter to calm before he had another outburst.

Y/n watched him and sighed “I slept in his room because the sofa was occupied.” She said calmly, moving past Wade to get to the sink where her carrier sat. It was dirtied with cream and crumbs, a rinse was in order but that had to wait. “And sleeping in your room felt intrusive,  I assumed you would agree.” She clicked the container shut.

Wade watched her carefully, his brain working quickly to think of a joke, or a jest… anything to dissolve the situation. He felt like a child, trapped in their parent's divorce. Humour was his sharpest weapon. So he aimed. “yeah!” He leaned onto the counter, closing in on the spot that Logan seemed to be so focused on. “We switched. Some good old game of Ringelpiez. And I gotta say, your sheets smell sweet like honey, badger.” He winked at Logan, knowing fully well that he might end up with his brain skewered.

But the older one simply groaned, annoyed at his antiques.

Y/n softly touched Wade's shoulder “It’s alright. I’m just going to leave” She carefully turned to Logan. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Truly.” His eyes shifted to her for a second and it was Y/n that looked away quickly. His gaze was too heavy, holding emotions that she couldn’t decipher or handle.

“What? Pudding, no” Wade whined “What about girlfriend brunch?” He placed his hands on his hips in dramatic fashion. “You promised”

“Wade- don’t.” She warned him. “Next week, okay?” Logan still avoided her. The Wolverine, a feared and powerful mutant, cowering in a corner over unresolved feelings. One might pity him.

Y/n shouldered her bag and said goodbye to the dog that watched the interaction with native happiness.

She opened the door and quickly stepped into the hallway. The muffled sounds of arguing resumed only a second after the lock clicked into place but she continued on. The elevator was only a few steps away, she almost managed to get out when the door opened behind her.

“Wait.”

Y/n stopped, looking over her shoulder cautiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw dark hair…

“I’m sorry alright…”He stopped looking for the right words. He didn’t think when he ran to the door, leaving Wade standing there mid-sentence. It was like a pull that called him to follow. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” He sighed, frustrated at his mumbling. He was the Wolverine for god's sake.

“I shouldn’t have…. I-“

“apology accept.” She interrupted him, turning around and facing him.

Logan froze.

“But we have to set one thing straight.” She set her shoulders back, unconsciously making herself look bigger. “ I am sorry for your loss. I truly am. But I am not her.” Y/n shook her head softly. “And you are not my Logan-“ She noticed the odd phrasing when his eyes widened ever so little “Not that he was-you get what I mean.” She huffed embarrassed.

“Yeah.” Logan chuckled softly as the tension ebbed away. Was she also feeling that tingle in her chest?

“Anyway,let's do this properly. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

A simple, friendly and professional handshake. Surely he could manage that, no?

He looked at her hand for a moment, surprised by the gesture. Then his large hand took hers. He was pleasantly surprised at the firmness with which she squeezed his fingers. There was no fear. No uncertainty.

It felt warm and familiar. Like home

“Logan.” He stated.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala @myu3ki @stinastar @zortlort @zeeader @lolurk @eddiesguitarskills @elianamarie-blog @byhuenii @sunfairyy @weallhaveadestiny @catiwinky

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

Do comment here for feedback and spreading some love ❤️

[irndad]

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections. 

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 2~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello, everybody! And welcome to part 2 of Snake in the Garden! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I can't wait to see what you guys think. There will be a couple more parts after this one, so be on the lookout! At the end I will have a taglist of people. If you would like to be added, don't hesitate to comment. Again, I'm sorry if Lucifer is OOC. I tried my best. As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2877

Warnings: Swearing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Companionship, Possessive Tendencies, Ignoring One's Wishes

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I sighed as I shifted in the large King sized bed. It was quite comfortable with red silk sheets, fuzzy blankets and so many pillows one could almost make an igloo. While the mattress was quite huge, I wasn’t given much room to move. Currently His Majesty had his inky black arms wrapped around my waist and his legs tangled with mine. The heat of his breath and body felt hotter than the fires of Hell. I tried to shift again but he just cuddled closer. “Just five more minutes, darling.”

“Please, Lucifer-”

“I love it when you say my name,” he purred.

“I really need to go to the bathroom. I promise I’ll come right back.”

He hummed and I shuddered as his claws lightly tapped at my hip. “I suppose I can allow it. But do be quick, I’ll miss you.”

His grip loosened and I was quick to sit up. Fast walking to the bathroom, I shut and locked the door behind me. While there was no doubt in my mind he could use some magic to open the door if he wanted to, the lock soothed some sense of protection in me. A sigh of relief escaped me as I sat on the toilet and let my hands run down my face. I didn’t really need to use the bathroom, it was just a lame excuse to get away for a few minutes. After all, it had only been a few hours since I found out my little Red was actually the Devil himself and I was being ushered into the role of Queen of Hell. I shook my head as I tried to get rid of the look of adoration he held in his eyes throughout the night. It was frightening. Silently, I played with the hem of my favorite color nightgown as I tried to think of a way out of this. 

It’s not like I could kill him. He seemed pretty agile on his feet and with magic on his side he’d be able to stop a fatal blow.

Leaving wasn’t an option either. There was palace staff everywhere, little demons with suits waiting for their master’s beck and call. The property was guarded by David and Goliath as well. Besides, I didn’t really know the layout of the castle and would just be going in blind, despite the elaborate tour I had gotten.

The final thought was to play into his game, make him believe I was in love with him. I mentally gagged. Not only did I think I wouldn’t be able to handle pretending to be a fan of his courtship, I feel he would be able to sniff out my intentions right away. He was an ancient being of many eons after all and he had a previous wife.

I looked up from my thoughts and gazed at the Victorian stained glass window in front of me. The window was able to be pulled apart in the middle as there was a latch on either side. Hold on a minute.

I got up and stalked over, undoing the golden latch quietly. Looking down, I gulped at how high up we were. The dead grass seemed miles away. Perhaps if I got a rope of some sort I’d be able to climb out? 

“Darling, are you almost done in there? It’s getting quite lonely out here.”

“C-coming!”

I quickly closed the window, flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink. Can’t have him believing I was a liar already. A few seconds later I shut off the sink and unlocked the door. Opening it, I could see Lucifer’s gaze shift towards me and a smile peeled at his lips. He patted the empty side of the bed so I slowly walked over. I peeled back the thin black curtain that surrounded the four poster bed and sat. His claws slid across the blankets and planted themselves on my thigh, his thumb rubbing the flesh tenderly. “I’ve canceled all my meetings for the day to help try and get you more situated, dear. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“I suppose.”

I turned my head to glance at the blankets, my fingers drawing patterns being more entertaining. Suddenly a knock at the door had us both looking towards it. “Sire, breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you. We’ll be down in a few.”

“Of course, Sire.”

I heard little footsteps scurry away. “I guess that’s our cue to get up.”

He pulled back the blankets and I blushed upon seeing him shirtless and with boxers that had apples all over. I had forgotten that’s how he went to bed. He slipped past me and headed to a dark oak wardrobe across from the bed and opened it. Lucifer shifted through the various clothes before deciding on something. He brought out two hangers and laid them on the bed. One was the white suit that he wore yesterday and the other was a lacy white blouse, velvety green skirt and black boots. “I’ll admit I don’t have many options for you to wear as of right now. We’ll have to go shopping together sometime soon. I hope this will suffice for now.”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

I slid off the bed, grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom. I locked the door and began to strip. It took me a few minutes to do up the buttons on the blouse but once I was done I walked back into the bedroom. Lucifer was just putting on his boots while I draped my nightgown over the back of a chair. “Well don’t you just look enchanting, my dear.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you?” “I’m just stating the truth.”

He leaned over and gave my cheek a kiss. I just huffed. “Shall we go?”

I nodded. Interlocking our arms together, Lucifer led the way to the dining room. It was quite the grand room with a chandelier hanging above the large table. The blonde pulled out my chair for me and scooted it in once I had sat. He placed himself across from me and as soon as we were situated a few castle staff came out. They placed a mug in front of each of us, a dark roast coffee smell emitting from it. Plates were put on the table as well. A couple of eggs, sausage and bacon were put in the form of a happy face, something I’m sure Lucifer had a hand in. Breakfast was quiet as the King looked over his newspaper and I poked at my food. From what I ate it was quite good, just uncomfortable with those red eyes gazing at me every once in a while. 

When the table was cleared, the two of us walked towards the Devil’s workshop. Lucifer gently pushed me into a black high backed chair as he sat on a stool on a podium. I looked at all the rubber ducks that filled the various containers spread throughout the room wondering why. Why rubber ducks? Why so many?

“I hope you don’t mind me working on my latest creation, dearest.”

“Not at all. But, um, what am I supposed to do?”

“Ah, how foolish of me! Here you are.”

A book materialized on the table in front of me and I realized it was one of my favorites. “I hope that is alright.”

I nodded and flipped it open. For a few hours our time was spent like this: him working on his latest invention and I reading. A little bit in I became a bit restless. I placed my book down and gazed around the small room. Besides the rubber ducks and table I sat at, there were other various knick knacks on bookshelves, tools hanging on the walls and some framed photos. The photos had the same three people in them: Lucifer, a beautiful blonde woman and a young blonde girl. Could that be his wife and daughter he mentioned before? “And, done!”

Lucifer spun on his stool to face me and proudly held out his creation. It was a yellow rubber duck with red music notes painted all over it. “How…interesting.”

He stood and placed the duck in my hands. “I know it may look normal, but this is no ordinary duck. Here,” he squeezed the wings and suddenly music came spilling from its beak. 

It was a romantic tune, one I didn’t recognize but sounded familiar. It sounded like a song I’d hear play from the church I’d walk past every day. “It’s music from my birth place. The tune was often played at our festivities and it just reminded me of you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

I sat the duck down on the table and sighed. There he goes with the romantic gestures again. “Is it not to your liking, my love?”

“No, it's just…nevermind.”

I could feel his hands wrap around my shoulders and I tensed. “What’s wrong, Y/n? You’ve been off all day.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!”

“I want to go home. My actual home on Earth. I, I don’t belong here, Lucifer.”

I could feel tears in my eyes as I gazed down at my hands in my lap. The hands on my shoulders squoze. “You know I can’t do that, sweetie. Your place is by my side here in Hell.”

I clenched my hands and bit my lip. Anger started to slowly rise within me. I stood fast, Lucifer’s hands flying off my shoulders. “How can you decide where I belong? You’re not my father nor are you my husband. Can’t you see how much I hate it here? How much I hate you?!”

His eyes widened and I rushed out of the room. I heard him call for me but I just ignored it. Tears fell down my cheeks as I let my legs carry me throughout the palace till I reached the outside. I fell to the ground near a hand carved stone bench and let my feelings out. I truly didn’t want to be courted by the Devil and no way did I want to remain in my own personal hell. Why couldn’t things be back to normal where I could tend to my garden and have Red join me? Red, that damn snake. Why did he have to come into my life? If only I hadn’t let my kind nature tend to him, then perhaps I’d still be home. “Damn him! DAMN HIM!”

I slammed my hands on the bench and continued to cry. It felt like an eternity till all my crying had ceased and I took the time to look around. That’s when I noticed something in the overgrowth surrounding the fence on the property. I stood and made my way over, pulling at the wiry, thorny brush. My eyes widened as I saw a hole in the fence. Could this be a sign from God? Was he giving me a way out? I looked back at the palace and then back to the fence. As much as I wanted to leave now I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. Lucifer was no doubt looking for me and leaving would only heighten his upset emotions. I’ll just have to keep this in mind.

I moved the brush back to how it was originally and stepped away, just in time too. One of the servants came out from the glass doors and headed towards me. “Miss Y/n, His Majesty has been looking all over for you! He’s been worried sick!”

I didn’t say anything as he gently grabbed my hand, dragging me inside. “Come along. He’ll be glad to see you in one piece.”

The next few days Lucifer and I spent walking on eggshells around each other. There was an awkward air about us as we went about our days. I suppose my outburst was the cause of it. Even with our hesitation, the demon did his best to court me. Meals were spent in each other’s presence at close proximity, gifts of flowers, rubber ducks and long walks around the property were fairly common, and intimacy was at an all time high. Lucifer had to have his hands on me at all times and kisses on the cheeks and forehead happened at every turn. It was about a week later that His Majesty decided it was time we went out into the city. One of the servants drove us in and the ride over I was given some guidelines. “You are to stay by my side at all times. Pentagram City is quite the dangerous place. If somebody gets too close, I will deal with it personally. Anybody that talks to you will go through me and please dear, don’t hesitate to have fun.”

I’ll try with the short leash you have on me.

The car stopped and Lucifer and I got out. He stooped to the window and whispered something to the driver before coming to my side. Interlocking our arms, we began our walk. “I thought some fresh air away from home would do us both some good, my darling. Besides, this will give us a chance to look for some clothes for you.”

I nodded. As we walked down the sidewalk I could feel a dozen stares pointed in our direction, whispers about our presence floating amongst the civilians. Lucifer didn’t seem to mind but with all the gawking I felt a bit shy. As we passed by an ornate window display, he stopped suddenly. “This seems right up your alley, sweetie.”

He pulled us inside the store. We stood at the entryway and I couldn’t help but gaze at the various clothes. It seemed this shop was more on the posh end, with skirts, dresses and fancy blouses decorating the mannequins. The store itself was a bit busy as customers wandered, but as soon as we entered all eyes were on us. I did my best to shrink into myself while Lucifer puffed out his chest in pride. “Your Majesty, welcome! How grand of you to grace us with your presence! How can we help you today,” asked a female imp in black clothes. 

“My darling here is lacking a wardrobe at home, so I thought it fit to come and look around.”

The woman looked me up and down and smiled. “I’m sure we can find something for your sweetheart. If you’d like to follow me please we can start looking at some pieces.”

I looked to the short man beside me and he just nodded in her direction. “Don’t be shy, dear.”

The two of us followed along as the imp pointed out some options, Lucifer stating his opinion on each one. When we had grown quite the collection, we were led to the fitting rooms in the back. The King perched himself on a plush bench as I stepped into one of the smaller rooms. As I was getting dressed, I heard a phone going off. The circus ringtone rang throughout the store until it stopped when the person picked up. “Charlie, sweetie, how are you?”

I stopped upon hearing Lucifer’s voice. “That’s great to hear. You and Maggie had a good date the other night? Wonderful. How have things at the hotel been? Any recent sinners looking to be redeemed?”

Redeemed? I scooted closer to the curtain to listen in. “I see. Heaven is giving you a hard time, eh?”

Heaven? “What am I up to? Oh your old man is just taking a stroll through town. Listen Charlie, I am quite busy at the moment. How about I give you a call later, okay? Alright sounds good. Buh bye. How’s it going in there, Y/n?”

I stepped out and a smirk rested itself on his face. “My, my. Don’t you look lovely. You know, if we were back at home I don’t think I could hold myself back from ravishing you.”

I felt a shudder go up my spine. Gross!

“I like that blouse on you. It brings out your eyes very nicely. How about trying some more on for dear ole Luci?”

“O-okay.”

I slammed the curtain shut and let myself gag at what he had said earlier. How very forward of him. Now about this hotel…maybe this could be my ticket out of here. 

“Lucifer?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Oh, that was my daughter Charlie!”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a great relationship with her?”

“I don’t, but we’re working on it. I’m helping her with her little passion project.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Gotcha.

“The Hazbin Hotel. She believes she can solve Hell’s population problem by getting sinners redeemed into Heaven. I honestly don’t see the point, but if helping brings us closer together then I’ll be there for her.”

“I see.” Perhaps if I went the Princess of Hell could get me back to Earth!

After I had tried everything on, we went to the checkout counter and bought a few pieces. I carried the bags back to the car and the whole time I brewed up a plan on how to escape.

~~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs

[emilys-bangs]

I have a request but I’d understand if you’re getting too many and you don’t want to do this one. I wanted to request a super soft fic like you wake up Emily in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and you keep asking silly questions like “would you still love me if I was a worm?” And she is super sleepy but tries to comfort you into falling asleep again and answering you as you want

This is the cutest thing ever I giggled

----

midnight whispers | e.p

Tags: established relationship, reader being kinda annoying, fluff, endlessly sweet fluff u guys, no use of yn, use of petnames

Word count: 1.2k

It’s 3:47.

You know because it’s been less than two minutes since you’d last looked at the clock before closing your eyes, fruitfully hoping for the sweet relief of sleep. 

Shockingly, it doesn’t come.

Which doesn’t make sense, really, because you can feel the exhaustion in your bones and pressing down on your eyes. You’d been tossing and turning ever since you’d climbed into bed with Emily, your girlfriend falling fast asleep after she gave you a chaste kiss goodnight. You can hear her deep breathing right next to you and you’re slightly envious.

The room is dark, only a sliver of moonlight creeping in through the curtain providing sparse illumination. It’s reasonably cold, a light chill that has you covered beneath the blanket, and the air is still with the silence of midnight hours—all optimal conditions for you to comfortably fall asleep in, but it still evades you. Emily’s sleeping body provides warmth, too; her head is halfway onto your pillow, her slow breaths fanning across your neck.

Your eyes slide to her and you bite your lip. Should you wake her? You’re tired of wallowing in this misery for over—3:48 now—5 hours on your own, even if your sluggish brain struggles to justify how she could help. 

Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, her lashes dark and resting gently on her cheeks. She needs the sleep, you know she does, and some part of your heart resists waking her for your own selfish reasons.

But company is nice, even sleepy company, so you push aside the guilt and shake her gently.

“Emily,” you whisper.

Her brows furrow.

It takes a few more shakes and whispers of her name before her eyes crack open. Deep brown irises stare into yours, tired and hazy with sleep. 

“What?” She mumbles. Her hand clumsily reaches for yours; it’s cold. “You ’kay?”

Is it wrong that the rough warmth of her voice already makes your muscles relax? You bring her hand up to your lips, pressing an apology to the ridges of her knuckles.

“I’m okay.” You say, kind of feeling like the worst person in the world right now. “Just can’t sleep.”

Emily frowns deeper. “Nightmare?” She whispers, her eyes growing more alert.

“No, no,” you’re quick to reassure. The concern above her brow loosens, and her lashes flutter closed again. “Couldn’t sleep to begin with.” With her hand in yours, your lips find her temple.

“Drank too much coffee?” The rasp of her voice is muffled into your neck as you trail a few kisses to her cheekbone. You’re probably being insufferable, but she doesn’t pull away—though you begin to think that’s from the sluggishness of sleep more than anything.

“Just as much as you.”

Two cups, hers with an insulting amount of Splenda and yours with decidedly less.

Emily doesn’t reply. You lean back against your pillow and find her eyes closed again. The large t-shirt she’s wearing slips down her shoulder, exposes her pale skin that looks moonlit, smooth as ivory.

Your heart thumps softly against your ribs as you smile. “Hey Emily?”

She hums sleepily.

“Do you love me?”

The corner of her mouth curls upward. “You’re sleepin’ in my bed, amor.” The combination of her sleepy voice and the Spanish makes you melt into the mattress, a stupid heat in your cheeks.

You tuck your joint hands beneath your jaw. “But that could mean nothing.”

“Means everythin’.” She whispers. Her eyes are still closed, her mouth barely moving. You should leave her alone now, but you just want to talk to her when she’s like this; sleepy and lovely, her body warm in some places and cold in others, the hushed timbre of her voice calming your restless mind.

“So you do love me?”

“Mmhmm.” Emily hums. Bless her patience. Her fingers flex between yours and you lift them from their hiding place under your jaw, bringing her hand to your lips instead. Emily exhales through her nose, the sound lazy and content as she digs her face further into your pillow.

She’s drifting again, and you’re still wide awake. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You blurt, squeezing her fingers.

Emily’s eyes crack open. “You’d be a cute worm,” she slurs, the small indent of a dimple digging into her cheek. You grin and she shuffles closer, her shoulder touching yours, your heads softly knocking together, “You’d be a cute anythin’.”

Again, she avoids the question. “But would you love me?” You persist. Leaning further into her, you nuzzle your nose against hers, a stupid smile forming on your lips when she scrunches her face adorably, her eyes fluttering open again.

“I’d be head over heels for you.” Emily states, now leaning into you to nuzzle her nose into yours. “Our romance would be no less epic,” her words drift into a mumble as exhaustion takes her again, forcing her eyes shut.

Even half asleep, she’s a charmer. You stare a moment at her relaxed face, letting the warmth of it rush through your whole body. Her slow breaths fall against your upper lip, warm and rhythmic. 

“Do you think we’re in love in every universe?” You whisper. What is it with all these questions about love? “If I was a barista maybe, and you’d be enchanted by the color of my eyes as I gave you your coffee?” You muse, playing with her limp fingers. “Or if we’re both butterflies taking naps in the same flower—”

“Baby, please go to sleep,” Emily mumbles, her words slurring together adorably. She never calls you baby; your grin stretches wide. She untangles her fingers from yours and wraps her arm messily around your neck, bringing you into her chest. “I’ll hold ya, jus’ please sleep.” The words are lost in your hair.

You smile into her warm neck. “Oh, well, if you’ll hold me.” You tease softly, but there really is something so magical about feeling Emily’s chest rise and fall beneath yours. Hearing her steady pulse, her slow breaths, feeling her cold hand sleepily tangle in your hair. It’s easy, closing your eyes, and as she starts to drift, you feel yourself drift with her.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask softly.

Emily nuzzles her lips into your forehead.

She’s so much softer like this, when she’s half awake. Emily is never harsh with you, but like this she’s completely unfiltered, stripped bare of her walls and her inhibitions, and you’re drunk on it, on her, on the fact that you get to see her like this.

Your eyes finally begin to grow heavy. Lashes fluttering shut, you breathe in Emily’s scent—the expensive lotion she’d rubbed into her skin before bed.

“Emily?” You whisper.

Silence rings in your ears. You try again.

“’Mily?” 

A breath comes out of her, exhale or sigh you don’t know. “Yeah, hon.” She mumbles.

You bury your face deeper into her neck, until you feel her slow pulse. “I’m so in love with you.” You admit to the softness of her skin. Think it might kill me one day.

“Mmm, ditto.”

It’s disgustingly cliche, but in her arms, her lips still against your forehead, it takes no time at all for sleep to finally steal you away. 4:00 comes and you’re both fast asleep, your body curled around Emily’s, her hand still in your hair.

Taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 5

(It took me way too long and saving every 5 min, but I got my laptop to run my drawing software long enough to get Leona drawn! Not overly thrilled with the pose and his legs gave me way too much trouble, but at least that is one more down!)

Warnings; Monster AU, yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, Romantic Yanderes, Platonic Yanderes, adult themes present, communal grooming behavior seen in most of my AU species, nesting behavior, social disconnect, attempted bullying, cooking breakfast, untrusting yet soft hearted reader, Cater unintentionally causes problems, Vampire Bats, Gnolls, Satyrs, Fauns, Kelpies, Water Nymphs, mention of Unicorns, Sphinx,

~~~~~~~~

"What... the actual hell are you doing?"

Lilia paused for just a moment, regarding you with wide and curious eyes that almost tricked you into thinking he was harmless. Almost. He took a moment with his pink tongue sticking out slightly as he blinked one eye after the other.

You were finally able to wind down for the night after what had been a long ordeal and a frightening several hours. Lilia spent the short span of time by your side, only giving you space when you bathed and even then he waited outside your door. He had proved to be a wise choice of protector given how many already tried their luck. Trein's idea had been a good one as the odd Bat already had to chase off several curious students, most just seeking to get a sniff or glance in your direction. In some ways you understood that you were an anomaly in their world and that made others curious, but at the same time you felt it was overboard for so many to be so keen to approach you.

Now you sat in the monstrously sized nest- courtesy of the Dragon that fixed up most of your current abode- with your errant guardian for the evening. Grim was curled up and fast asleep on one of the many pillows that littered the valleys and hills of blankets within the nest. You were just starting to doze off as well when you felt a warm and wet muscle trail over your skin. Naturally, you wanted to know just what on earth the strange Bat was doing and judging from the way he looked, he had actually just licked your cheek.

"Grooming you?"

"Why?"

"To help you sleep. Usually a quick bit of grooming makes Malleus and Sebek drift right off with no problem, Silver never needs much help in regards to sleep. Do Humans not groom one another?"

"... Not really. I mean, I guess they can but I don't think I've had someone literally lick me in order to clean me up."

"That wasn't a lick, that was grooming."

"You literally just licked my face."

"But I'm just grooming you?"

You stared at Lilia for a long moment, thinking back to the regular bats of your own world. Bats did often groom one another as a communal pastime, so it could be very possible he was simply doing the same for you. Though you figured these Human-like monsters would behave like Humans, there was still a high possibility that what was socially acceptable to these creatures was far beyond the realm of accepted for Humans. On top of the social disconnect you also realized that though Lilia had spoken of Humans before, he didn't really get all the aspects of Humanity or what you found acceptable.

Lilia seemed genuinely confused and hesitant. There was a strong part of him that still wanted to continue his nightly habits of lulling his nest companions to sleep before trying to rest himself. Still, he was not going to continue his semi-self-soothing communal grooming if you were angry with him over it. Not even getting his scent on you was worth making you genuinely displeased with him.

"Do you not want me to groom you?"

"... Does it help you sleep?"

"What?"

"You said it helps others sleep when you groom them, does it help you sleep too?"

"To groom or be groomed?"

"Both."

The Bat took a long moment to think as if he were honestly considering his own feelings on the matter. He didn't have to think about it for very long before he was nodding to your question.

"Yes. Both help me sleep. I am naturally nocturnal, so becoming diurnal for classes has been difficult on me. Getting my nestmates to sleep first usually helps me sleep. I wouldn't mind a bit of grooming for myself, but usually I'm the one putting others to sleep."

"... If it helps you sleep, then okay. Just... Don't get too excited, okay?"

"... Do you find grooming exciting?"

"No. Going to sleep now."

Lilia laughed softly at your curt response as you tried to close your eyes and drift off. It wasn't long into your attempt that the relaxed and wet strokes picked back up across your cheek. Perhaps he lied to you and only said it was normal. Perhaps it truly was normal for these monster men to participate in communal grooming.

You certainly didn't know and you weren't going to be awake long enough for it to matter. Maybe the Bat was right in that it helped soothe others to sleep as you were unconscious within a few moments of him starting back up.

~~~~~~~~

You woke to Grim batting at your nose with his paws. His bright blue eyes shining at you in the small light of the morning. The sun was not even above the horizon at that point and you vaguely wondered what it was the little feline-beast wanted.

"I'm hungry."

His voice was soft and a quick glance over your shoulder told you he was trying to avoid waking Lilia. The Bat was wrapped in his own wings and snuggled beneath a blanket, face completely smooth in deep rest. You similarly wanted to avoid waking your guard- both for time to yourself and because he seemed so peaceful- so you slipped out of the nest with Grim.

The halls were quiet as you made your way to the main level of the building, hoping the kitchen would be located there. Luck seemed to be on your side and you were thrilled to see both the kitchen and the food available to you. Apparently they were quite keen to keep you content and that meant giving you enough food as well.

The kitchen itself was more of an industrial type kitchen, a large sink for dishes, several ovens, large stovetop, multiple cabinets and one large fridge. Most of the pots and pans were present but seemed to have been unused for quite some time. Though the outside got fixed up, the kitchen recieved far less love. Still, you found the pans needed to get an idea of what you wanted to make. There were a handful of spices in old containers but it was slim pickings.

Despite the odd lacking of premade sauces and other such items, you knew enough to throw together a decent breakfast. It was early in the cooking process when Grim let out a sudden yowl and hiss towards the far side of the kitchen behind you. A door that led outside rattled open and you turned to see a frightening creature.

It looked like a Hyena that had been stretched and deformed into a Human shape, walking on hind legs that resembled that of a canine. The beast had shaggy fur that was a sandy blond color, darker browns spotting the pelt and highlighting the ridge of the Hyena's back. One of the most stunning and unsettling features of the creature was the bright blue eyes that looked far too Human.

As the creature's mouth opened a voice you didn't expect came from it. A light tenor that almost seemed to be accompanied by the cackle of a Hyena at the end of their sentences.

"Lookie here! Seems I found the new Human! Campus is abuzz about you crashing orientation yesterday and Leona wouldn't stop mentioning you."

You didn't know if the Hyena man was one you could trust or not and his oddly jerking motions unsettled you.

"But forget all that for now. What's that you're making? You wouldn't mind sharing some with your fellow student," a long tongue licked over his chops, "would you?"

"What were you doing out here so early?"

"Don't go being so suspicious of me, I'm a stand-up guy, shishishi. I was out gathering up some dandelions for my breakfast."

"... Dandelions?"

"What? Food's expensive here. Besides, guess I can call myself lucky coming across you like this."

The way the beast said this unsettled you and you felt more than a little cornered. Grim was quick to get between the two of you even though he was clearly untrusting of the Hyena as well.

"And what's that supposed ta mean?"

"Just saying whatever you're cooking smells good! It wouldn't be too much to add some more for me to have, right? You got all this food here, you may as well share it. Sides, Leona made it clear to all of Savanaclaw that we aren't supposed to put a single paw or claw on you."

You were partially tempted to call out for Lilia to get this monster away when you heard a heart-breaking sound. A long whining grumble came from the Hyena's stomach and he almost seemed to wince in response to the noise. It was the Hyena's stomach loudly rumbling for some food. After a moment of staring at the beast you noticed a bag at his side, leaves and bright yellow flowers sticking out of it and it was stuffed with more of the plants. Hyenas wouldn't eat just plants unless they had no other choice.

With a sigh you added more food to your pan, noticing the way the short tail of the Hyena man wagged excitedly. Grim crossed his short arms and continued to watch the newcomer with untrusting eyes, refusing to move from in between the two of you.

It was when your breakfast was almost done cooking that the Hyena suddenly changed in behavior. His ears flattened and his head bowed low, tail quickly tucking between his legs as he stared at the inside entrance to the kitchen. You glanced over to see the bright pink eyes of Lilia staring from the doorway with an almost threatening grin towards your uninvited guest. The momentary quiet made you quickly step in Lilia's path, trying to defend the odd Hyena from the Bat that was tasked with your safety.

"Wait, he was just hungry and he could smell my cooking."

"(Y/n), you have already been warned about those from Savanaclaw. Most of them were of the species that ate Humans. Gnolls like Ruggie over there were especially vicious to Humans."

"But he hasn't tried any of that today. I get that not everyone is safe, but he hasn't even tried to attack me. He just wants some breakfast. Lilia, please."

The Bat frowned slightly and gave a final glare at the blond furred beast- Ruggie the Gnoll, according to Lilia- before he relented to your pleas. Despite no longer threatening the Hyena, he made a clear show of moving himself to sit on a counter that allowed him to somewhat be inbetween you and Ruggie. It seemed Grim and Lilia both had the same idea in mind as they continued to stare the outsider down.

They only willingly broke eye contact with the hunched beast as you served four separate plates. Apparently even Lilia was keenly interested in your cooking and you could see the way the three set aside their distrust and happily dug in as you passed out the servings. Ruggie didn't even bother with cutlery as he gulped down the meal like a famished animal that hadn't eaten for days, lazily licking the plate when he was finished. Grim was similar and just shoveled food into his mouth with his little paws, his pronged tail waving excitedly. Lilia took the time to grab a fork, occasionally sending a mistrustful glare towards the Gnoll as he ate.

You felt comfortable enough to dig in as well, content that you managed to somewhat avoid conflict. It was becoming oddly normal to see the unusual beast men that lived in abundance around you, and you felt somewhat gratified to feed the clearly hungry Ruggie. The clear dandelions in his pouch told you that he didn't lie to you about gathering them up and you knew they were edible plants that even Humans could eat.

"Wow, Hooman, is this what you eat all the time?"

"It's a little bland actually, I was hoping there would be more spices and herbs in the cabinets, but there isn't even half as much as I was expecting. Some jellies and jams, but no bullion, no parsley, nothing like that."

It was then Lilia spoke up, talking in between bites as he was still working on his portion.

"Humans were the main cooks and culinary types before they died out. Most of us 'monster-men' as you call us don't need to cook our foods first and eating things raw is fairly normal. It is a treat to actually have a cooked meal in a lot of places, though some places Like the Queendom of Roses have grandfathered in pastries and other confections because of how much the Queendom loved Human cooking. Lots of us don't bother cooking because we don't have to, but I guarantee a cooked meal like this would bring a good portion of others to their knees."

You made a quick mental note of Lilia's comment and figured you could try using your cooking to sway others in your favor. Ruggie certainly seemed pleased as he made an attempt to swipe what remained of Lilia's food, earning him a quick swat from the Bat's wing. Maybe those from Savanaclaw weren't that bad, if Ruggie was anything to go off of.

~~~~~~~~

The bell rang as you tried to get to your first class, upset with yourself that you turned down Lilia's offer to show you to your classes for the day. Grim was no help since he was just as lost as you but he did seem to be enough to discourage most students from getting too close. No one really tried to talk to you and all just seemed curious in your scent or reaching out as if to touch you. A quick flame from Grim was enough to dissuade them so far but the ever curious eyes continued to follow you.

When you finally reached the door to what seemed to be the right class, a figure stepped in your way and blocked you. Standing between you and the door was a Goat man with orange hair and twisting horns atop his head. On his left eye was a red heart.

"So you're the Human everyone is losing their minds over. Don't look like much to me. You don't even have magic to defend yourself if I decided to hurt you right now."

He laughed a sinister sound as he grinned hatefully at you. Grim was clearly trying to make himself seem bigger than he was, even spreading his tattered wings out to somewhat shield you despite how little they covered. The blue fire that always seemed to burn on Grim's ears burned brighter as the grey cat-beast prepared himself to fight this goat man who seemed keen to stop you from entering the classroom.

"Ace, Housewarden Riddle told us to leave the Human alone."

It was then another Goat man approached from behind the first, looking distinctly different from the orange-haired short-horned Goat that tried to block you. This second one had large Ram horns that spiraled from the top of his head down to the sides of his chin, his dark blue hair complementing his bright blue eyes. Over his right eye was the card suit of spades. His lower half was the same as the first and seemed to be goat legs with a tail flicking behind him. You could just barely see the little white spots along the top of his tail as he pushed the first Goat forward with a glare on his face.

"And who the hell are you to enforce that rule, Deuce? You're just a first-year like me."

"And we were told to not heckle the Human."

"Don't tell me you think this Human is worth being upset over?"

"I didn't say that. I'm saying you need to leave her alone."

"Why don't you make me?"

Both seemed to be ready to have a go at one another, heads slightly tilted forward so their horns were pointed at the other. It almost looked like they were going to headbutt each other until one of them relented. It was during this argument that another voice cut in, making both Goats straighten up quickly.

"Why aren't you freshmen in class already?"

The voice belonged to what looked like a centaur man with green hair, his lower half was that of a white stallion. He wore thick black rimmed glasses and had the card suit of clubs beneath his left eye. His eyes were a golden brown that seemed almost yellow when compared to his unusual green hair.

As he trotted over the two Goats quickly seemed to break up their fight, refusing to look the man in the eye even as he looked down at the four of you with his arms crossed. The man seemed to get a good look at your little group before his gaze came to a halt on you, quickly looking you up and down in surprise. He seemed to recognize you rather quickly as he uncrossed his arms, that small displeased frown disappearing from his face.

"Oh, you're the- right. Riddle did say you would be attending classes. Doesn't make much sense to me to throw you into classes with this lot, but I guess it does make it easier for the professors to keep an eye on you."

His smile dropped ever so slightly into a glare as he looked over at the two Goats. That glare then seemed to change into a wicked grin as if he just got an idea.

"How helpful of the two of you to volunteer to show the Human to her classes today."

"Wha- I didn't volunteer for that-!"

"If you don't want to sleep outside with one of Riddle's collars on, I would suggest you both step up and stop fighting."

"Of course out of every upperclassmen we run into, it has to be Trey..."

"So good of you two first-year boys to step up like this. I will be checking in at lunch and if there is a single scratch anywhere on her I'm having Riddle collar the both of you."

The one with orange hair- Ace- stomped his hoof in anger at the much larger male, seeming aghast that he was given an assignment. Deuce seemed less displeased but had a clear frown on his face. Grim was already on board with staying by you given the fact you were his ticket to a comfortable bed and good food.

"If you're so worried, do it yourself!"

"I could tell both Riddle and Professor Trein right now that you two knuckleheads were trying to stop her from getting to class and trying to bully her. I'm sure that would look great on your school records, and you'll certainly have fun not being able to use any magic with Riddle's collars on."

This seemed to unnerve Ace more than the prior threat had as his eyes widened and he took a quick step back. Both Goats had to weigh the potential risks and rewards of the situation but quickly came to the conclusion that it was best to do what the Horse man told them to. You didn't know anything about this supposed collaring business, but you did recognize the name Riddle as the Unicorn that had yelled at Grim the night before.

"Hey, hey, why is everyone standing out here? Thought classes already started, so is everyone just late?"

Another new voice interrupted and Grim's ears flicked in clear frustration at all of the new faces that seemed so keen to heckle the two of you. He was quick to turn to you now that the threat was gone and use his little claws to climb up the leg of your pants and into your arms. For such a sassy little creature, Grim certainly was keen to have you carry him around when there wasn't any threat of danger.

Approaching the now growing group of students standing outside of the classroom was a red-haired man with bright green eyes. He almost seemed to saunter over to the group as he held up his phone, the sound of a camera coming from it multiple times before before he came to a halt.

"Hold on, just need to post this to Magicam and add the right tags... #froshes #latebuddies #skipday... And post!"

"Wait, Cater, don't- please tell me you didn't post a picture of us just now."

"Of course I did! Gotta keep my followers up to date on the haps at school."

"At least tell me you blurred the Human out of the photo?"

"Oh, she's here? Wait, don't tell me," the man now known as Cater was quick to get uncomfortably close to you, making Grim's ears flatten back on his head, "you're the new Human on campus! Gotta absolutely get a selfie with you and post it for Magicam, none of my non-NRC followers believe that a Human crashed our orientation! Pics so I can prove it happened! Smile!"

You tried to pull away from the overly enthusiastic man as he held up his phone and snapped two pictures before you managed to wriggle away from his grasp. He didn't seem to be put off by your behavior at all as he quickly tapped away at his phone with a smile. Trey, however, slapped the phone out of Cater's hands quickly.

"Are you crazy, Cater?"

"Woah, Trey? What's the big deal? You're usually never this riled up."

"Tell me you didn't post that selfie already."

"Just pressed post when you hit my phone outta my hands. Not cool, Trey. Totes being so unkind to Cay-cay."

"Cater!"

"What?"

"Why would you post a picture of an extinct species to the internet? Riddle told us to try and keep others from taking pictures of her and you just go right ahead and post it?"

"What's the big deal? It's not like it's illegal or something."

Trey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking several deep breaths to try and calm himself. You were able to tell why Trey was mad but it seemed like Ace, Deuce, and Cater had no idea what the big deal was when he just took a picture with you. Meanwhile you were wondering if you should tell a Professor what happened and hope the older magic users could do more to help you than the students.

"Seems you all have plenty of time to talk instead of get to your classes, so how about a few extra assignments for you lot?"

The interrupting voice was a thankfully familiar one to you as you saw the limping gait of a familiar flying-cat man approaching. His steeley eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he drew closer, in his arms lay a black and white cat that seemed more than content to be carried around. You were surprised to see a normal cat in this strange world of monsters, but you figured there had to be some normal animals if these guys found eating one another as appalling as eating Humans seemed to be.

"Professor Trein."

You greeted the man quickly and the scowl disappeared from his face as he realized you were the one talking to him.

"Ah, (Y/n), I saw you would be in my class this morning. Are these students showing you around? I thought Lilia was your chosen guide."

"I told Lilia I didn't need help finding my classes, but I was wrong."

"Hm, then hopefully these boys have been aiding you thus far? You are at my classroom after all."

"Well, about that..."

"What happened?"

Trey interrupted the conversation then, seeming less upset and more exasperated than anything. Ace had been trying to sneak away, but the Horse man caught the back of his shirt and kept him from running off. He didn't even need to look at Ace to grab him and instead kept his attention on Trein.

"Cater posted a picture of (Y/n) to Magicam."

"... He what?"

Cater picked up his phone, pouting at the crack in the screen and whining loudly about it. He turned the phone to Trey as if to show the damage but Professor Trein snatched it from his hands, frustratedly tapping the dark screen as his cat climbed up to his shoulders to free up his hands. He didn't seem to get very far before turning it back to Cater in frustration.

"Unlock your phone, Mr. Diamond."

"What's the big deal? I just wanted to show off the Human."

"That is the 'big deal'! Why would you post a picture of an extinct species for anyone to see?"

"It's not like people are gonna show up just to see a Human-"

"Cater, I am now assigning you an essay due by tomorrow on the history of Humans since you clearly haven't paid attention to your course work from last year. You will also be deleting that picture and any others you make have taken of (Y/n)."

Another noise of complaint left the redhead as if he were about to start complaining but Trein silenced him with a glare.

"Fine, fine. Not like anyone is gonna do anything because of it- no way! This is the most likes any of my pics have gotten right after posting! That was no time at all-"

"Delete it!"

"I can delete the photos from my account, but its already been downloaded at least fifty times. Deleting it now won't do much-"

"Enough. Cater, to the Headmage's office, now. The rest of you get to your classes. I will be in to teach shortly, but first I need to notify the Headmage about this."

Trey herded you and the other two students into the room, closing the door behind you rather loudly. You could still hear Trein scolding Cater from behind the door and you all quickly took your seats. To your surprise, the only open seat was between the two Goats and they didn't seem all too upset by this fact. Though they seemed angry at being volunteered to be your guides, they weren't about to complain about it now with an angry professor right outside of the classroom.

You had no idea what Magicam was, but from the sounds of it, it must have been some kind of photo sharing application like Instagram from your world. If that was the case, the rest of this messed up world was about to realize that there was a Human sheltering at Night Raven College, and you were terrified at the idea of what that would mean for you.

[paigebueckersloverr]

Paige Bueckers HEADCANONS:

Anniversary Ver.

Hello, so I know I've been pretty MIA, and I'm sorry. But life isn't gonna stop for anyone, especially not me. But im back, so that's what matters. im gonna go ahead and answer a few questions.

Yes. Three's A Crowd. Is returning for the final installment. Aka the smut, so many people have mesaged me for.

No. I don't write for Emily, I thought about it, and then she signed with an Israeli team. So that's a firm NO.

Yes. This is very corny, and I projected just a little. With a sprinkle of all over the place but with the drama arising in the paige Hashtags. I thought we could use a cleanse and something light-hearted.

1. Surprise Anniversary Trip ♡

Paige would spend weeks planning a surprise weekend getaway to a cozy cabin in the mountains. She would make sure to secretly pack your favorite clothes, snacks, and a few sentimental items. As you guys drove along the scenic route, Paige would keep the destination a secret, enjoying the look of curiosity and excitement on your face. When you guys finally arrived, the cabin was perfect—nestled among tall trees with a breathtaking view of the valley below. Paige would arrange for a private chef to prepare a romantic dinner for you on the first night, complete with candles, soft music, and a crackling fireplace.

2. Custom Jewelry ♡

On the morning of your anniversary, Paige would present you with a small, beautifully wrapped box. Inside would be a delicate silver bracelet with your anniversary date engraved on the inside. The bracelet would also feature a small charm shaped like a basketball, symbolizing the sport that she loves and a small lockette as a symbol of you guys being together forever. Paige would spend hours choosing the design, wanting it to be something you could wear every day, close to your heart.

3. Personalized Love Letters ♡

Paige handed you a beautifully wrapped box tied with a satin ribbon. Inside were twelve letters, one for each month you guys had been together. Each envelope was decorated with little doodles and stickers, and the letters themselves were filled with Paige’s heartfelt thoughts and memories. She recounted you guy's first date, the moment she realized she was in love, and all the little moments that made their relationship special. Reading through the letters showed a beautiful testament to you guys' love and admiration for each other.

4. Home-Cooked Dinner ♡

Despite her busy schedule, Paige took a day off to prepare a gourmet dinner for your anniversary. She spent the entire day shopping for ingredients, following recipes, and setting up the dining area. She decorated the table with candles, flowers, and their best dinnerware. When you finally arrived, you were greeted with the mouth-watering aroma of your favorite dishes. Paige served a three-course meal, finishing with a simple but delicious dessert she had made from scratch. You both spent the evening talking, laughing, and reminiscing about your years together and the ones to come.

5. Memory Scrapbook ♡

Paige created a scrapbook filled with photos, mementos, and little notes from you guys first year together. She included ticket stubs from concerts and movies, pressed flowers from dates, and candid snapshots of spontaneous moments. Each page was carefully crafted, with handwritten notes detailing the memories behind each item. The scrapbook was a journey through your relationship, and a tangible reminder of all the love and joy the both of you shared.

6. Midnight Stargazing ♡

After the romantic dinner, Paige drove you both to a quiet spot away from the city lights. She set up a cozy spot in the back of her car with blankets and pillows, creating a little nest where they could lie down and stargaze. Both of you spent hours under the stars, sharing your dreams and hopes for the future. Paige pointed out constellations and told stories about them,*with you constantly reminding her she googled them* making you feel special and cherished. The night was filled with soft whispers and gentle kisses, a perfect end to your anniversary.

7. Special Song ♡

Paige had secretly learned to play a special song on the guitar, one that held significance for your relationship. After dinner, she brought out the guitar and, with a shy smile, began to play. You recognized the song immediately, your eyes filling with tears as Paige’s beautiful but nervous voice filled the room. It is a beautiful, intimate moment showcasing Paige’s love and effort to make the night memorable.

8. Custom Illustration ♡

Knowing your artistic side, Paige commissioned a custom illustration of both of you together. The artwork depicted a scene from your favorite date—sitting together on a park bench, holding hands and watching the sunset. The artist had captured everything perfectly, and the colors were vibrant and full of life. Paige had the illustration framed and presented it as a gift, a beautiful token of the relationship that would hang in your apartment.

9. Midnight Dance ♡

After dinner, Paige took you to a secluded garden or a rooftop overlooking the city. She had brought a portable speaker and played your "couples" song on her phone. Under the moonlight, you guys danced together, lost in each other’s arms. The world seemed to fade away as you both swayed to the music, your love palpable in every touch and glance. It was a perfect, magical moment, one that Paige and you would both remember for years to come.

If you made it this far, thank you! If you have any critiques or requests. My inbox and ask are very open, so feel free. 🤍

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: remember that poll you guys voted in on what fic i should work on? this is the fic that one 😂 i’ve been wanting to write this one for a minute and had so much fun doing it!! i love the soft vibes and i hope you guys do too 🥰 lots of fun stuff coming up 🤍

word count: 4.9k

tw: a little dirty talk, a little horny making out, nothing crazy

summary: sunrise on the beach with mat becomes your favorite memory

Sleep fades away slowly, a warm hand working its way gently into your hair, fingertips rubbing against your scalp. You hum and press your face into the pillow bunched up under your head.

A familiar chuckle pierces the veil of sleep, fingers continuing their gentle rub. “Hey, come on Sleeping Beauty,” Mat’s voice is low and amused in your ear. “Time for that sunrise.”

You whine and roll over, sleep still clinging stubbornly to your brain. In your hazy half-awake state, you remember that you’d told Mat you wanted to see the sunrise on the beach, but you honestly didn’t think he’d be able to manage to get up this early. “Time’s it?” you mumble around a yawn, eyes still shut and hand groping for Mat’s. He laces his fingers with yours, taking pity on your floundering hand. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, his palm dry and warm in your own.

“Four ten,” he says, laughing at the outraged noise you make. “Babe, sunrise is at 5:20, had to get you up early.”

One eye cracks open and Mat comes into view, sitting on the edge of the mattress, hair looking a little crazy. He’s got a soft smile on his face even as his lips are tilted up with amusement. “This is cruel and unusual,” you mumble, stretching your legs out under the pile of blankets. Your calf cramps slightly and you flex your foot to relieve the twinge.

Mat’s fingers twitch in yours and he shrugs a little. “You said you wanted to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, tugging at your hand and pulling you into a sitting position. “Not too many more days left on the Island for that to happen.”

He’s not wrong - after the six-game playoff loss to the Canes, you’d hung around the Island so you could spend your birthday with your friends, but you’re leaving in a couple of days to visit Mat’s family before the Bear wedding and then hopping over to Europe for a couple of weeks of vacation. The summer is jam-packed full of fun plans that you’re looking forward to.

“I hate that you’re right,” you sigh, more awake now. Mat leans in and kisses you quickly. He jumps up before you can really kiss him back, making your forehead crease in confusion.

“I’m always right,” he teases, rummaging through your drawers to find you some clothes. You stretch your arms over your head, t-shirt riding up and exposing your stomach to the cool air of your bedroom. You shiver a bit, that full-body shake that’s the result of a really good stretch.

With a scoff, you swing your legs out of bed and mutter, “you weren’t right when you missed the exit and drove us into Staten Island last week, making us very late for dinner.”

Mat blows a raspberry at you. “I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again?” He whines, pouting like a toddler.

You shoot him a cheeky grin over your shoulder and pad to the bathroom to clean up. “I’m bringing that up until the end of time, Mr. I Don’t Need Directions Babe I Know Where I’m Going,” you laugh to yourself before knocking the door shut with your foot so you can have a minute of privacy.

Mat’s got the bedside lamps on when you leave the bathroom, casting your bedroom in soft light that doesn’t hurt your tired eyes. You smile gratefully and flop back down on the bed. “Are you sure we have to do this?” You yawn again. “What about staying in bed and fucking like bunnies? That could be fun.”

Your boyfriend laughs and comes to straddle your legs, knees on the outside of your own, leaning down over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “I think we can do that later,” he mutters against your skin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Get dressed.”

Looking at him, you notice for the first time that Mat’s already dressed in a navy quarter zip and jeans and you wonder exactly how early he got up. It doesn’t really matter at the end of the day and you change into a comfortably oversized royal blue cashmere sweater and a pair of leggings, ignoring the jeans Mat had pulled out of your drawer. He’s staring blatantly at you as you dress, grinning when he notices that you don’t bother with a bra. You wink at him, teasing, “I know that backseat of yours is very spacious.”

Mat’s laugh is contagious and you giggle along with him. “Babe, I’ll let you do whatever you want in the backseat of my car,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, catching your foot when you kick it up at him to put on your socks. He tickles the arch of your foot gently as he pulls a pair of his own thick Nike socks on your feet and lets them bunch up over your leggings.

You wiggle your toes in the warm socks, squirming when Mat captures your ankle and tugs gently to drag you down the bed. “Whatever I want?” You ask on a breathless giggle, letting him pull you to your feet and crash against his chest.

“Anything but eating Goldfish back there,” Mat shakes his head at you, both of you remembering the time you’d been babysitting the Martin girls and Winnie had asked for her snack sized bag of Goldfish to be squished into crumbs since they “taste better” that way and then had dumped the entire bag out on your lap when she was trying to share.

“That was an accident!” You protest, distracted by Mat’s warm hands snaking under the hem of your sweater and dancing over the soft skin of your lower back. “She was sharing. We’re supposed to be encouraging sharing, Mat!”

Mat snorts. “Only because you asked for a Goldfish,” he kisses your cheek, “now come on. We’re going to miss the sunrise.” He taps against your lower back and you wiggle against him.

You’re awake now, but you still try and convince him to get back in bed, “sure you don’t want to just undress me under the covers instead?”

“Later,” Mat promises, tugging at the waistband of your leggings and spurring you into following him down the stairs. You snag your phone off its charging pad on the way out and nearly fumble the tube of Summer Fridays lip balm when you lunge back at the last second for it too.

Downstairs, Mat grabs his keys out of the little bowl on the hall table and you shove your feet into a battered pair of Ugg Tasmans, going for maximum comfort. Mat pulls on a pair of Nikes and you follow him out the door, sighing when you see how dark it still is.

“Can I guarantee at least two orgasms for myself?” You ask, climbing into the passenger seat of Mat’s Defender. “It’s criminally early.”

You look over your shoulder and see that Mat’s already pushed down the second row of seats and the car is full of pillows and blankets to nest in while you watch the sunrise. A delighted smile curls your lips and Mat laughs at you when he gets behind the wheel.

“You literally begged me to take you to see the sunrise,” he reminds you, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. He plays with the radio, finding your preset Taylor Swift Sirius station and you smile happily, kicking off your Uggs and pulling your feet up onto the seat.

“I forget it’s so early in the summer,” you laugh lightly, humming along to ‘Paper Rings.’ You reach your arm out and rest your hand on the nape of Mat’s neck, scratching your nails lightly into his hair, letting the silky strands curl around your fingers. He hasn’t cut it yet and you begged him to let it grow a little longer during the summer, just until Ethan’s wedding in July. Luckily for you, Mat agreed, mostly because he loves when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull when he’s going down on you. Now, Mat’s shoulders drop and you can feel his body relax under your touch. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Robert Moses,” Mat replies, merging onto the Meadowbrook. Despite the early hour, a car nearly sideswipes you as you merge in and Mat lays on the horn, shouting through the closed window. You wince, fingers freezing in place on Mat’s neck.

“I hate the Meadowbrook,” you mutter. “Meanwhile, where was he going? It’s literally five in the morning.”

“It’s also Monday,” Mat reminds you, grinning when you resume scratching at his scalp. “People are going to work.”

You hum a little laugh, “right, the employed, upstanding citizens making the rest of us bums look bad.” The parkway opens up now though, the road clear in front of you and you zone out a bit while staring at the sky as it lightens. The music changes and you mumble-sing along, tapping your socked foot against the leather seat. Mat’s fingers alternate between tapping against the steering wheel and clenching it so hard his knuckles go white. You turn your head to look at him, studying the line of his jaw and the stubble that he’s letting grow in for a few days before he’ll decide to shave again. His hair curls around his ears and you run your fingers through it, brushing your fingertips over the hinge of his jaw.

His lips tilt up in a smile even as his eyes stay on the road. “Enjoying the view?” He teases and you giggle.

“Yeah, actually I am,” you murmur. “Call it sleep deprivation, but I can’t stop staring at you right now.” You angle your body towards Mat’s, still studying his face. “I love you,” you say on a little sigh, never tired of the way his ears go a little pink when you say those three words.

“Fuck yeah, same,” he replies, smirking a bit before laughing at the inside joke. You wrinkle your nose at him, thinking about that first confession - both of you drunk out of your minds, Mat holding you up while you danced on the beach, half of his teammates partying around you in the late July warmth. Influenced by High Noons and beers mixed with too much tequila, your hangover the next day had only been worsened when you remembered the way you slurred the three words into his ear and his response, three different words. But tangled together on the oversized couch in Matt and Sydney’s Hamptons home, with the sunlight nearly blinding you and the sounds of the waves breaking, Mat had pulled you close to his chest and buried his face in your hair and mumbled, “for the record, I love you too.”

From there it had been a wild year, so much fun and excitement, mingled with the heartbreak of missing the playoffs and the month-long break you’d taken after a blowup fight.

Before you can linger too much on the past, Mat pulls off the Meadowbrook and navigates the traffic circle to merge onto Ocean Parkway. You roll down the window to get the ocean breeze into the car, inhaling deeply. “God, I love the smell of the ocean,” you sigh, wiggling happily in your seat. “I miss the days they would prescribe going to the shore for your health.”

Mat’s laugh fills the car, “you already spend more time at the beach than any other person I know! Who takes four mile walks on the sand in the middle of January?”

“I’m a summer baby, Mathew,” you sniff haughtily, tugging gently on the piece of hair twirled around your fingers. “I need my designated beach time to thrive.”

“You’re crazy, that’s what you are,” Mat says, but his tone is laced with affection. “Hopefully this morning fills the quota for when we’re up in Vancouver.”

“We’ll see,” you laugh, the car bouncing slightly as Mat takes the turn off the road and navigates the Defender into the sand. The sky is lightening slowly and you’re still ten minutes away from actual sunrise, so it’s perfect timing. He situates the car so the front is facing west and turns it off, turning to grin at you.

“Ready for a show?” He asks, tossing the keys into the cup holder and reaching up to lace his fingers with yours.

You nod, wide awake now and excited to cross something off your summer bucket list. “Let’s get cozy,” you lean over the console and press your lips to his in a quick kiss before shifting onto your knees and climbing over the console into the back of the car, head first and nearly kicking Mat in the head with a stray foot. He’s laughing behind you, tugging at your ankles.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to get out of the car?” He’s opening his door, half out onto the sand as he talks.

You’re perched happily in the pile of blankets when May pulls open the hatch, exposing the full view of the beach and eastern horizon. He’s backlit by the rising sun and you reach for him, wiggling your fingers to encourage him to climb into the expanded backseat with you. “My way was more fun,” you chirp when he climbs in, kicking his sneakers off and leaving them in the sand.

“Crazy,” he mutters, scooting you to the side so he can wedge in behind you. His elbow bangs against something and makes a sort of thunking noise.

“What’s that?” You settle in between Mat’s legs, resting your back against his chest.

He leans a little to the side and tugs at one of the blankets, exposing the Yeti cooler that usually lives in your garage while it waits for summertime. “Breakfast,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ohhh,” you grin, angling your head back so you can see Mat’s face, “you’re really gunning for boyfriend of the year, huh?”

“How’re my odds looking?” Mat flips open the lid of the cooler and pulls out a snack sized bottle of Tropicana, holding the bottle in front of you while he cracks the top. You take it from him with a quiet, ‘thanks’ and sip at it. His thighs are firm against the outside of yours, warmth radiating off his body.

“Holding onto a solid second place,” you tease, knocking your knee against his.

Mat cracks open his own bottle of orange juice and knocks back half off it before replying, “second? Jesus, what’s my competition like?”

You shift a little, angling so your shoulder is slightly pressed against his chest and Mat’s left arm is draped over your shoulder, one big hand inching closer to cupping your breast. “Well,” you hum, tapping the lid of your orange juice against your lower lip, “Andrew Price did save the last cherry BlowPop for me back in first grade. I thought that was very gentlemanly.”

“You’re a menace,” Mat grumbles against the top of your head, flicking at the side of your breast with his index finger. You jolt and giggle, bringing your hand up to play with his fingers.

“Yeah, and?” Mat’s foot hooks over yours and you lean to the side, resting your elbow against one of the pillows piled around your bodies. “You planned all this, so you must love me.”

“Against my better judgement,” Mat teases. You look up at him again, pouting and wrinkling your nose, making him smile and lean down to plant a quick kiss on your pout. Humming happily, you rest your cheek against his arm and go quiet, watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon, coloring the sky in gorgeous pastels. Mat’s chin rests on the top of your head and his other arm comes around to wrap around your stomach, keeping you held tightly against his chest.

The waves crash against the sand and you zone out a little watching them, breathing in the ocean air and feeling your entire body relax. Your stomach grumbles quietly, a little vibration that you hope Mat can’t hear. He chuckles and you roll your eyes. “You can move up the boyfriend rankings if you’ve got a cherry BlowPop in that cooler,” you murmur.

Mat shifts behind you, unwrapping his arm from a round your stomach and leaning to the side, taking your body with him. “Even better,” he says, the crinkling of a bag echoing in the small space. You look over just as he withdraws the cream and gold pastry bag from one of your favorite bakeries. “Almond croissant from French Workshop,” he continues, displaying the bag in front of your face with a flourish.

“Ooh!” You perk up, leaning forward to pluck the bag from Mat’s hand. You can smell the buttery pastry and your stomach grumbles again. “Okay, you’re officially in the number one boyfriend spot. I don’t think there’s anything better than almond croissants at sunrise on the beach.”

Mat pulls a second bag from the cooler and you sniff out the scent of Nutella, which only widens your grin. Mat doesn’t have too much of a sweet tooth, except when it comes to Nutella. You’re constantly buying the little snack packs for him to get a quick energy hit.

“Nothing at all?” Mat teases you while you shift in his lap, turning so your back is resting against the side of the car and your legs are draped over his thigh. He takes a bite of his croissant, flaky crumbs landing on your leggings before he brushes them off with a casual hand.

Around a bite of your own treat, you hum. “Nothing I can think of,” you retort cheekily after swallowing.

You shriek and wriggle around when Mat’s fingers tickle your side, your stomach hurting as you laugh loudly and wildly. Mat’s body is on top of yours, nearly flat against the floor of the trunk, croissant crumbs all around you. “Mat, no! Stooop,” you whine, laughing and trying to fight off the onslaught.

“Take it back,” he laughs, peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses. “Say I’m better than breakfast pastries.” He nips at the edge of your jaw.

You hook your legs around Mat’s waist and bump your hips up against his, trying to distract him but all it does is make you hotter for him, heat flushing up your chest. Mat grins against your neck, fingers slowing a little, but still pressing into all the spots that he knows are vulnerable.

“Mercy,” you choke out on a laugh, tugging at Mat’s hair, breathless.

He presses a final kiss to the pulse point on your neck and then his fingers are smoothing over your skin, fingertips gentle as they draw goosebumps in their wake. “I’m taking that as a win,” he informs you, leaning on his forearm so his full weight isn’t on top of you.

You lean up and capture his lower lip between your teeth, biting down a little sharply and tugging. Mat groans into your mouth and you shiver, the noise vibrating down your spine. “Only,” you pull away, your back resting on the floor of the trunk again, “because you play with dirty tactics.”

“Gotta take the wins where I can get them, Squeaks,” he laughs, rolling back onto his side and then sitting up, taking you with him so you’re straddling his lap, the top of your head grazing the roof of the car. You lean down and graze your lips over Mat’s, grinding down a little on his half-hard cock. He grunts in the back of his throat, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

“I’m missing the sunrise,” you chirp, pecking him quickly before wiggling off his lap and settling against his chest again. “You distracted me, back down to number two boyfriend.”

By now, the sun is mostly over the horizon, the sky bright and promising a gorgeous weather day ahead. You pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping an arm around your knees, while you watch the sky change colors. It’s so peaceful and your shoulders relax, the stress of the last few weeks of the regular season and the first round of playoffs dissipating. You’re looking forward to the summer, to getting to spend some real time with Mat. He shifts behind you - you sway to the side a little when he reaches for the cooler again and then back when he adjusts his position, his legs bending at the knee to bracket your body. A breeze off the ocean makes you shiver and press harder against Mat’s body, the hard ridge of his collarbone pressing against the back of your head.

He hums in your ear, breath kissing your cheek when he murmurs, “number two boyfriend, but how about number one fiancé?”

You blink, your brain processing the words, and he reaching around your body to rest his hand on your knee, a black velvet box held loosely in his fingers. You stare at the little box, barely comprehending what’s happening. Mat’s thumb taps carefully against the seam between the two halves of the box, his thumbnail wedged into the spot so he can flick it open at any second.

“What?” The syllable is barely a breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel his cheeks rise with a smile against your temple. “Mat…” your voice is shaky, nervous excitement making your tone higher pitched than usual.

He taps the box against your knee and you immediately move, turning so you’re facing Mat, kneeling in between his legs. He’s got your favorite crooked smile on his face and when his features go a little blurry, you realize you’ve got tears in your eyes.

When he starts talking, Mat’s voice is a little wobbly too. He clears his throat twice before he manages to say, “you know I, uh, usually have a lot to say.”

A laugh slips out of your mouth and you cover your lips with a trembling hand. He grins at you even wider, showing off all his teeth.

“But,” he continues, fingers fidgeting with the box, “I thought about what I wanted to say, what I wanted to tell you, and I… couldn’t think of anything.”

Your heart pounds behind your ribs, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“There was just too much I wanted to tell you,” he says, leaning up on his knees so you’re both kneeling in the trunk of the car. His hair rubs against the roof of the car and gets a little staticky, sticking up in all directions. “Every single time I tried to come up with a speech, all I could get down was how much I fucking love you. Every single day that you’ve been in my life, you’ve made it better. Even on my worst days, you’re the bright spot.”

“Mat,” you gasp his name softly, mouth still covered by your hands. “Oh my god!”

“I want to have a million more days with you,” he says softly, leaning forward and popping the lid open on the ring box. You were so focused on what he was saying, you barely realized that he hadn’t even shown you the ring. It’s gorgeous, a big oval diamond sparkling in the early morning light filtering in through the windows and open trunk. No smaller diamonds surrounding it on the band so the focus is just on how perfect the diamond is. You cry harder because it’s perfect, simple and stunning and everything that you’ve ever wanted in an engagement ring.

Mat cups your cheek with his free hand and you look up at him, nodding and laughing and babbling an answer to a question he technically hasn’t even asked yet.

Off of his own laughter, because he realizes that you’re giving him the answer he was expecting, Mat asks, “will you marry me? Give me all the best days and -“

He’s cut off when you shout a ‘yes!’ and throw yourself against his chest, arms around his neck and mouth covering his in fervent, excited kisses. In between peppering his face in kisses, you keep repeating “yes, yes, oh my god! Mat! I love you so much.”

Mat’s arms are tight around your back, keeping you held close to his chest, and he laughs against your mouth, entire face scrunched up with happiness while you kiss him. “Want your ring?” He mumbles the question, words muffled by your mouth on his.

You lean back in his arms, eyes wide and still glassy with tears, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please!” You hold out your left hand and Mat slides the ring home - a perfect fit. The sunlight glitters off the diamond as you twist your hand in the air, a stupid grin on your face. “Mat, god, it’s gorgeous. Holy shit, I love you.”

His laughter fills the air and he presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Aren’t you glad I woke you up this morning?” He teases, bracing an arm around your lower back so he can sit back on his ass and you can straddle his lap. No chance you’re letting go of him just yet.

“Oh yeah,” you nod like a bobble head, still looking at the ring on your finger. It’s surreal, you’re engaged to Mat, you’re going to be his wife! He’s going to be your husband! “Best reason for an early morning wake up.” A wild giggle bubbles up in your chest. “I can’t believe it, we’re engaged!”

You cup his cheeks with both of your hands and pull his face to yours for a kiss, your lips turned up in a permanent grin. Mat rests his forehead against yours when you break apart, your hands still holding his face.

“One more surprise,” he tells you.

“There’s a bottle of champagne in that cooler?” You joke, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Okay,” Mat chuckles, “two more surprises.”

“Lay it on me, you big romantic,” you wiggle happily on his lap, the fizzy excitement of Mat’s proposal making you feel a little lightheaded.

Mat’s hands trace a lazy path up and down your sides, slipping under your sweater and ghosting over your warm skin until his fingertips are brushing the undersides of your breasts, making you inhale sharply and arch into his touch. “Y’know how we’re going to visit my parents in a few days?” He asks, turning his head so he can kiss your palm.

It’s hard to concentrate with his hands on your body, but you manage a faint nod.

“We’re taking a little detour to Punta Cana first,” Mat says, punctuating his words with a kiss to your lips. “I wanted to make sure I got to see my gorgeous fiancée in a skimpy little white bikini as soon as possible after proposing.”

“Oh, do you?” You giggle, kissing his cheek. “When do we leave?”

Mat lifts his left wrist up so he can look at his watch. He squints at the face and you can see him doing the mental math before he says, “like thirteen hours?”

“Seriously?” You lean back, face scrunched up, shocked at the quick departure. “You must’ve been really convinced that I was going to say yes,” you tease.

“I know that you’re nuts for me,” Mat smirks, leaning forward to kiss the argument right out of your mouth, his fingers expertly twisting over your nipple and making you melt in his lap, pliant and horny. He licks into your mouth and you lean closer against his chest, pressing Mat back against the back of the passenger seat, the heat of his cock pressing against your core while you rock over his lap.

While you’re making out like horny teenagers, Mat’s phone vibrates incessantly in the cup holder in the center console. Mat laughs into your mouth and breaks away with a gasp, “that’ll be everyone waiting to see what you said.”

Licking at your swollen, chapped lips, you reach around Mat and grab his phone, the screen lit up with dozens of messages. “Did you tell everyone that you were proposing?” You ask, scanning the messages from the guys and spotting a few from Sydney too.

“Uh, yeah?” Mat plucks his phone from your hands. “I needed Syd and Holly to pack your bag for you and I liked the positive encouragement. You would not believe how many wife guys are in that locker room.”

“I believe it,” you assure him, beaming and holding your left hand up by your face when he turns the camera on you. “Selfie time, Mr. Barzal.”

You smush your cheek right next to his, matching cheesy grins on your faces when Mat snaps the picture, sending it off to the group chat. You tuck your face into Mat’s neck, breathing quietly and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Hey,” you murmur against his skin, getting his attention, “I’m really excited to be your wife.”

Mat’s chin knocks gently against your forehead. “I’m really excited to be your husband,” he replies, hugging you to his chest. “Ready to start FaceTiming everyone?”

“Hmm,” you hum, brushing your nose against Mat’s neck, “can it just be us for a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, it can,” Mat agrees, tossing his phone back into the driver’s seat and tangling his legs with yours. He plays with the ring on your finger, running his thumb over the band. The diamond catches the sunlight and you watch it sparkle, casting rainbows on the roof of the car.

The waves keep crashing and now there are some seagulls making noise outside too.

Mat’s heart beats steadily at your back and it’s the perfect way to start the next chapter in your lives.

[daenysx]

I have one !! One for the road with my lovie james potter <333 im on my period rn and i just know he'd be the best !!! I need a hug from him !!!

join the 1111 followers celebration

thank you for requesting lovely, i hope you feel better soon! ♡

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"is it too cold in here?" you ask, discomfort drips from your voice.

james shakes his head, it really is not. you frown, bury your face back to your pillow. a groan comes out and james puts a hand on your lower back.

"i can get you another blanket but that'll be too hot, sweetheart." he whispers. he rubs gently on your skin. "what about a cup of tea?"

you can't help your tears. you feel everything too deeply, a normal thing for the second day of your period. you can't feel your legs, your bones act like they are made of porcelain, and you can sense another cramp in your belly.

"baby." james leans in closer to dry your tears. "can i do anything to help? you're breaking my heart, don't cry."

"it hurts too much, jamie."

james coos, he pushes your hair back to see your face. "are you okay to cuddle?" he asks.

you nod. "but i need to go to the bathroom first."

he helps you walk to the bathroom because your legs feel numb. when you're securely inside, james goes back to the bedroom to fix the wrinkled sheets and blankets a little bit. he isn't sure if you want tea now but he can quickly make it if you ask him to. he tries to get some air into the room by opening the window.

you wash your face before coming out of the bathroom. james closes the window when he hears the water running, 5 minutes of fresh air is better than nothing.

"can we have some tea?" you ask, feeling a bit better.

james gives you a long kiss on your forehead. "of course we can." he says, huge hands cupping your cheeks. "i'll be right back, sweetheart, go get under your blankets."

you nod, do as he says. you sit with your back leaned to the headboard, you spend some time on your phone until james returns. he comes back with two cups of steaming hot tea, puts them on the nightstand before he sits next to you.

you hold james's hand, he massages your palm with his thumb. your other hand goes on your lower belly, your mixed emotions curl up in a ball deep in your chest.

"jamie?"

james looks at you. you have an exhausted look on your face, physically and mentally worn out. he wants to make the pain disappear. he wants you to tell him everything he can do to make you feel better. he wants to call his mom and ask her for advice. he just wants to know things about how to get through these a few days every month because seeing you like this, without your usual energy and smiles wreck him into pieces.

"cuddles?" you ask.

james pulls you to his lap gently, your legs are on either side of him. he's able to rub your entire back now, and it's great. you put your head on his chest, his body becomes a huge pillow.

"why do you look so sad?" you ask with a quiet voice, pressed to his chest.

"because you look sad, angel." he replies. "i know this is all normal but i hate seeing you so tired and upset."

you play with his fingers. "i'll be okay."

"hmm." he kisses your hair. "you'll be okay."

you settle down, james keeps rubbing your back until your tea gets a little drinkable. he holds you close the entire time, his palms cover your lower back and thighs. he presses gently, only enough to relieve the numbness.

you fall asleep before finishing your tea. james forgets his own cup, he's too focused on you. he kisses your hair many times, holds your hand when a cramp hits you badly. he can see that you feel better though. it was a difficult morning but he thinks he can at least show how he's with you through everything, and maybe that will help.

[heli0s-writes]

intricate rituals*

a/n: You know how kids pick on each other but it's actually because they like each other? It's like that. 4.7k words. I don't know why this one was so long. I wrote this as a companion piece to slow hands. warnings: fantasizing & masturbation, language, the usual helios sprinkle of angst because Steve. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Judgmental red numbers gleamed from the alarm clock on your beside table. 2:50, it leered like a schoolyard bully, and you could only groan in reply, shoving your pillow over your face and muttering into it a string of unintelligible curse words.

The day stretched too long after you were hit—socked—square in the left orbital. Your skull ached and thrummed, congregating pain at the welt along your brow bone, and beneath all of it, your brain was at once empty and full of insistence.

And although you’d have to be vertical again in about three hours, your nerves were still uneasy, still roiling beneath your skin because adrenaline could be a bitch and a half like that.

You were floating aimlessly in limbo, trying to force-sink into the distance of sleep. Thoughts skated behind the back of your eyes and around your ears, restless fingers twitching beneath blankets. Each time you slipped off, the rug was pulled out beneath your feet and your body jerked awake, leaving your heart racing. Self-sabotage.

You were too tired to attempt a jog, not trusting your sore muscles to maneuver the compound’s wooded perimeter. The best option was the easy route: quick, simple, and only a little offensive. After all, imagination after a certain hour of the night was a dangerous thing but flirting with danger in private was worth it once you could rest after.

Besides, asking Tony for any strange white pill to put you to sleep was perilous at best and fatal at worst, and asking to be gently placed in a sleeper hold by a friend was a one-way ticket to seeing the on-call psychiatrist.

And, anyway, they’d think you were a masochist.

And, well, maybe you were. But that’s not their business.

Maybe you’d like it to be though. Maybe you’d like to see the flutter of interest, the reciprocity, admittance that they were also a little masochistic because who in this line of work isn’t?

Volunteering to get pummeled day in and day out must be diagnosable in the DSM-5 manual. Yeah. At least a few of your teammates are masochistic. You’d bet good money on it.

Bucky, for one. And—oh—wouldn’t his cheekbones look so good bright red? You could cut your palms on those.

Here was the danger with imagination past a certain hour of the night:

Co-ed dormitory style living with a gorgeous cast of characters—all deranged in their own right—but still gorgeous. Lovable despite their many, many flaws. Egregious, maddening flaws.

Some were shared, inhabited by every member like they decided to build homes inside of their neuroses. Martyrdom, obstinacy, the occasional withholding of all worldly pleasures when they thought they deserved deprival—when someone would fuck up unnoticeably on a mission and then self-flagellate inside their mind for days afterwards.

Bucky’s refusal to trust his own instincts sometimes; Tony’s incurable lust for sticking his foot in his mouth like he’s starving for the taste of dirt; Natasha’s quiet, catastrophic need to be useful whether it made her a teammate or an object.

Steve— the basket-case. A whole shitshow marathon of issues all crammed up in his bright blonde head, and it’d get so full it would rush out of him by way of seething rage, reflex reactions, his boot pressed against yours as he’d stare down. His hands curled into boulders, jaw working in slow, powerful movements as clenched and unclenched his teeth.

You couldn’t help but think of it now and again. Imagine him turning all that misplaced anger to good use.

One hand ventured to your thigh, the other crossing over your chest, rubbing up your bicep to your shoulder. There was a knot you couldn’t massage out, that Bucky couldn’t either despite his best efforts. His flesh hand first and then his other hand when he thought a temperature change would help. It whirred by your ear, the plates shifting like bee song.

You could hear yourself hum lightly at the memory. It felt nice—smooth, cool, heavy. The weight of his curled fist as he kneaded, the strength in his fingers he was always holding back, even more so as he worked over the delicate skin near your neck. You didn’t shudder then, but you began to.

He’d probably laugh if you did. Roll his eyes even though he’d be pleased about it.

And excuse you for being like everyone else in the world who’d ever seen Bucky Barnes and his arm in action.

You might just say, shut up, just touch me, and he would. Touch up your neck, thumb propped at the base of your skull, the rest of his fingers around your throat where he’d drum out the beat of an old 40’s song.

And then Steve began emerging from darkness along with a couch, cheek propped on his fist, watching lazily. It was indigo all around him. Just a lamp somewhere in the corner making the side of his pale face warm orange.

Guess three’s not a crowd in your book—

Shut up, Bucky.

His hand was still on your neck, but you’d gotten in his lap, thighs spread until your legs were on the outside of his. He’d lost his shirt and landed on the couch next to Steve, who asked, petulantly, I’m here to watch?

You weren’t sure. You didn’t expect your own half-awake mind trying to reason itself out of a sex fantasy. Not when Bucky was shirtless beneath you, slightly tanned skin displaying a scatter of freckles like the time he ventured to the tropics and came back with a grin lasting almost two weeks.  

But Steve was expecting an answer and the critical eyebrow high on his forehead repeated the question: I’m here to watch?

Apropos of nothing except being 85% shut down, you replied with, you hit me today, and fell forward into Bucky’s arms. It was sullen and Bucky snickered, pressing his nose into the dip between your collarbones, a kiss somewhere nearby.

I didn’t mean to, Steve said cooly, still unamused.

Oh yes he did. Bucky touched you again, the webbing between thumb and forefinger beneath your breast for a second before he tweaked a nipple. Your toes curled slightly, chest jolting upward, and Bucky confirmed, masochist.

Steve perched his elbows on knees, leaning forward. One hand reached out, stroked the tapering edge of your eyebrow down to your cheekbone. His face was sweet, pleased, mischief cutting across his features. He pressed his finger down just a fraction, made your bruise sore with it, and the sweetness in his face glinted sharply.

Okay, he said, what else do you want?

He pressed down again and a handful of Steve’s flashed past as you exhaled. All those glimpses of him in various phases of his life, light-speed. There were suspenders and pressed white shirts too large for him. There was short hair and ballcaps and aviators. The way his shoulders hunched as he made himself invisible in a crowd. Captain suits in bright blue, then dark blue, and finally the deep night of the stealth number, material of tough neoprene and dull and sturdy across his chest. His hair was long flipped out at the ends. His beard grew and then shortened in length.

You couldn’t decide what else.

He was standing and then he was sitting. He leaned back on one elbow, sprawled like a Greek statue on a chaise lounge.

He was behind Bucky, arms coming to rest on either side of his neck, hands hanging limply forward, palm up, as if coaxing you closer, pressing Bucky tight in the middle until he huffed with discomfort.

Guess three is a crowd in your book.

Bucky disappeared and Steve came forward until he was flush against you.

In my dress uniform, really?

He sat with his thighs spread, contemplating your choice of Steve. His hair was slicked back, the high collar of his dress shirt starched and cupping his sharp, gorgeous jaw.

He was a garbled assemblage of an old photo in olive-green military wear. His blue eyes sparkled with attentiveness. He looked down his chest at the ribbons you were sure were incorrect, but they approximated something official. The jacket was starched and crisp, slacks well-pressed and fitted nicely.  

You liked the idea of him young, hopeful, and—smiling.

He placed his hands on your biceps before moving to your waist, stretching his fingers as far as he could to snare you. The fabric of your white button-up crinkled between your body and his. Three top buttons were undone, your breasts spilling out.

Steve’s hair was a mess, like it’d been yanked at fiercely. His mouth was wet and red and he was pawing at your back, rolling his hips upward until your groins met. His voice was rumbling and stuttery, brows together and cheeks rosy.

He stopped moving, only looking up at you with enormous eyes like a dog waiting for a command— which he’d never, ever looked like before. Panting as he caught his breath, he took a labored gasp, pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and asked.

Ma’am?

Oh. God help you.

There he was in all his glory, one foot into martyrdom and the other still in boyhood. Before everything crashed and burned and he was still clumsy with it. Just a bright, beaming thing pleading for  you to notice his light.

He began to fumble, hardly used to his body and so different than how you’ve seen him hurl himself through the air head-fucking-first because he was always ready to die on some hill or another.

He was shy, worrying his gorgeous mouth into a small line as he looked and looked. Over your face, down your neck, your chest, the mismatched set of underclothes you were still dressed in—and he stared at it entranced as if you were some kind of centerfold.

Like he ever would—but your brain was an electrified lump of meat, so dream-Steve could forgive it for irrationality.

But you were still sane enough to feel guilty about it because he was 24, and in a flash of genius engineering, he’d be weary beyond all his days.

Which hurt, which was stupid, which was really killing your whole endeavor.

You couldn’t do it with the thought of him careening into war at 20-something and couldn’t even worse with the thought of him, terrified and alone, the same giant, blue eyes searching the modern world for a sliver of recognition only 7 years later.

So your fingers halted between your legs, letting his nervous, boyish face shimmer away into the back of your mind.

Your eyes opened back up. The clock taunted 3:15, sizzling fuchsia.

You closed your eyes again.

The numbers shifted, rearranged until they were two curved lines and Steve’s mouth was there, hovering over yours, and he’d grown up some—you could see it in the pallid sheen of his skin, the creases in his face that were less from age and more from suffering. He waited, saying nothing.

There was supposed to be a lot you could do here. All manners of debauched acts to imagine— involving rope and whip and raking your nails down his back until your name burned in his throat, his considerable figure reduced to a tremble as he ached for you.

But you couldn’t, because suddenly the agony of not being able to sleep pivoted into a strange, new turn of events. From wanting to touch yourself to wanting nothing more than jumping into a lake to erase the turmoil his big, blue eyes roused in you, you struggled on a little longer, peeking around his haloed head of blonde, faint light behind him like a corona.

No? He drew one eyebrow up toward his hairline, his full pink lips quirking into a smirk. Not doing it for you? Why’s that?

You put a hand over his mouth, but dream logic was in no mood to be silenced, and Steve’s voice crept up in your ears anyway. No matter how much you wanted to shut him down, to push him away, he remained.

The truth, soldier. He tipped his head and looked at you past long, dark lashes. Give it to me straight.

-

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was gravelly.

You rubbed your eyes, wincing. 4 A.M. approached while you were still caught in a loop in bed—drifting, then jerking awake, nauseated with each new scenario.

Finally, it had been enough. You couldn’t force a thing that wouldn’t arrive, and so you trudged to the training room with your water bottle and forgot shoes along the way.

“Just need to get my mind off things,” you replied, and swatted weakly at a punching bag.

Steve was still wrapping his knuckles because he would always have more foresight than you do and watched you from the corner of his eye. You tapped at the leather, jabbing one-two, one-two, until it began to sway marginally wider, the link chain holding the bag rattling like windchimes.

You wished he wasn’t in the gym. You could feel him in the corner of your mind, a presence that sensed you as much as you sensed it, that weighed heavily, waiting.

“You’ll split them open.”

You jumped in surprise and then it only took a few steps before he was in front of you, hand outstretched with the wrap.

“I’m fine,” you protested, but his mouth was a thin straight line that didn’t need to emit any words. He’d just nag until you gave up. Then he’d throw you onto the wrestling mat and call it a lesson.

Maybe you were cranky.

“I can do it myself,” you attempted, but he ignored it steadfastly, focused on pulling your fingers apart.

“Sure, you could.”

You shifted your weight, “You think I’d fuck it up or something.”

“I think you’d do it clumsy. Think it’d be a rush job.”

He secured the loop onto your thumb before tugging it over the back of your wrist. You watched his fingers, wrapped up skillfully, as they turned and twisted around yours. For all his calluses, he was handling you delicately, and it was all too strange.

Sweat beaded along his brow, his pink cheeks from an earlier warm-up were settling the longer he stood still. He wasn’t making eye contact even as you ducked to find his gaze. It felt like part of an apology.

Nothing passed but his breath and yours, both awkwardly out of their regular tempo. You knew why you were being so weird, but couldn’t guess a damn what reason he would have.

Suddenly, he said, “If I pulled my punches in practice, it would skew your perception in the field.”

You deliberated this information, and the way he offered it up. Like he was bringing you a precious relic you’d be grateful to receive. What an honor. The stinging aftermath of his bones against your bones.

“So this,” you tilted your face forward, showing him where his forearm landed this morning and the pulp of your skin that ice, for fifteen minutes after, did nothing for, “This is a favor?”

He frowned, something complicated skittering across his face.

After a minute, which was quite a long time for Steve to meditate when you were obviously baiting him, he said, “It’s a warning. Enemies won’t go easy on you. I can’t either, even if I wanted to. It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for whatever is coming next. It’s my job to bring you back home.”

“That’s nice—"

He cut you off, firm. “That’s the truth.”

The truth.

You felt it with your entire chest as Steve stood there, attention fixed upon your hand, his own circling your wrist and palm and then between the sensitive webbing of your fingers with diligence.

A lock of hair fell over his forehead, obscured one eye, and when he looked up behind it in wait of your reply with that open, honest expression, you gulped.

The truth, he asked in your dream— that he seemed to be wanting now wordlessly. That you’d been punching down every morning and night because it was so simple, and excruciating.

The truth was, you were stupid for him. And just stupid, in general, because you could never tell him. Because he was Steven Grant Rogers, for fuck’s sake. He was stunning and tortured and you wanted to die sometimes, just looking at him because you didn’t know how else to express it.

Because there wasn’t a world where you could step up to Steve, stare down the magnum opus of his monumental hero’s journey and feel like you could be a contender for a single, sad crumb of his attention. 

And yet you could never quite help yourself.

The truth:

Sometimes you’d do it to get his hands on you—to motivate him, to have him spare a single glance your way. Screw up the training exercise just so he’d spend an extra hour beating the drill into you.

Because outside of your private quarters and battered-tired imagination, when would he ever?

Because short of begging him to touch you, when would he ever?

The baiting. The backtalk. Challenging him at every turn. You were a spiraling addict, grabbing any high within your reach.

Hell, you were just as deranged as the rest of them. DSM-5, eat your heart out.

He dropped your hands, finished, and brought his thumb up to your temple where the welt throbbed under his pulse. “There,” he said. Almost silent, almost like you imagined it.

Then between one heartbeat and the next, his lips parted, bottom one pulled in almost imperceptibly— and— fuck, you didn’t understand a damn thing.

You made a noise like a fish out of water and he rubbed the back of his broad neck, craning his sight to the high ceiling. When he turned back down, he was soft at his edges, the tired years on his face placated.

“I know what you’re doing. You don’t think I know?”

You were nearly sure you were still in bed, and the fantasy was turning on its head, coming up absurdist and you were ready, nowpleasegod, to wake up.

“Pickin’ fights in alleyways since I could throw a punch. Why’d you think so?”

You sputtered, because you’re a ham-fisted, sleep-deprived, single-minded moron, “Because you’re a glutton for punishment?”

Steve snorted. “Like you are?”

You could feel the burn of agony twist its way up your neck, the way fact exposes itself when there’s no other cowardly avenue to run down. He watched, his sea-glass eyes stormy and insistent, and the lights of the compound gym were like stage spotlights now, white, and localized.

You found interest in your feet, because you were still missing shoes, and Steve followed the path and saw your toes curled up tight like hiding themselves.

“Jesus,” he huffed with dismay.

“I was tired. Am. Still tired.”

 “Go back to sleep.”

“I tried. Why do you think I’m here? Have you ever seen me here?” You swept your arm out toward the abundance of equipment that have not yet been acquainted with even your shadow.

“Now that you mention it,” he replied.

“Not once—my god, Rogers, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“Hey,” he said, because you were doing that horrible, compulsive, nervous-tic conflict thing again, and this time he put his hand on your shoulder and it was warm.

Your skin crooned his name.

“What. Are you doing.” Your throat was bone dry.

He stepped closer—not a dream, he was real, he was there, he was breathing your hair and touching your shoulder—and he dipped his head down, in wait.

“Oh,” your mouth decided sentences were beyond its means. “O-oh.”

“That a yes? Or no.” He moved to step away, his serious expression fluttering into embarrassment, and then guilt, and then you were doing an aerobatic move between a hop and a hurdle to reach for his face.

Teeth clicked, and you winced. He didn’t seem to mind, only stabilizing you with one hand on your neck and the other at your hip. His lips were full, hot, like there was a pulse in his mouth that was trying to overcome yours. He towered, not just in height, but—you couldn’t describe it. Your head was swirling, dizzy.

“You haven’t had any water today,” he murmured—and what kind of psycho would say that during a kiss.

“Do you mind?” you grabbed at his hair, “I’m trying to—” You kissed him some more, your brain a fluttering, ecstatic mess. You shivered when he licked your tongue, fisted his collar when he made a huff—a moan—and then he was gone, a faint hiss between his teeth and his eyes burning darkly.

You wanted to fall down to the gym floor, take him tumbling with you, hands impatient and wild as you felt for each other. Up t-shirts and down waistbands, tongues sloppy and missing each other, leaving lines of spit along chins and necks.

It felt silly—stupid, reckless, fantastic—but it was damn good. Like two kids figuring out their bodies for the first time. So natural and luxurious that you could literally fall forward into him, let him do everything. Strip you naked in the damn gym, fold you in half atop some mats, over a bench, leave marks down your spine and up your throat. Curl himself so deep you could feel him in your mind for days after—you wanted it all.

He was laughing a little bit, the creases of his eyes lit with joy as he weaved left and right, getting all the right angles to mouth at you with. He pawed and squeezed and sighed as he touched you, feeling every inch. He was excited, and it kind of killed you to know—made your belly swelter and clench with pride.

You rolled your hips lazily into his, and he backed up until he found a bench to sit down on, pulling you by the hand, the wrap yanking open and unspooling onto the floor.

“This okay?” He asked.

You made a low, pained sound.

“Hey,” he said, and you blinked at how concerned he was. He steadied your shoulders, his long fingers comforting and heavy. “You okay?”

You yawned, and when you looked at him again, he was confused. And he was standing.

You couldn’t keep up. You looked down dumbly at your empty hands. He was just there.

Oh, gods.

Steve was standing—at the punching bag, not sitting on a bench with you between his thighs. And the wrap that had unspooled from your left hand was limply hanging from your right, the necessary supplies in a bag next to your foot.

You went ice cold.

You wobbled and caught yourself, because you were standing in the middle of the gym idly, realizing that you’d spent the last 10 minutes losing yourself in a fever dream about Steve.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” you said too quickly, recoiling when he side-stepped from his position to head toward you. Your knees trembled, the place between your thighs warm and clenching madly on nothing.

“You don’t look okay.”

“You’re… worried about me?”

Steve narrowed his eyes and said “yes”, like you were stupid. But then he breathed soft, and looked so much like that fantasy you’d conjured up a few seconds ago, that you turned and made ready to bolt.

He caught your wrist.

“I need to—” he began firmly. “You need to listen--”

But you didn’t. You licked your lips because he was so close and you were insane with want for him, and he stopped dead in his tracks for a split second, eyes tracking your mouth and the short, puffs of air that your chest was pushing out without you meaning it to. Just quick huffs as you bit down on your lip to make yourself quiet and small and unseen.

Steve swallowed. He said something almost silent and it sounded like sorry before he leaned forward and caught your mouth with his.

He sighed into it. Breathed into it. He placed one hand on the small of your back and pressed your entire body to him, and you moaned like he tore it out of you.

And this time, it was real. The two of you scrambled for each other, heaving and loud.

He took you to the floor, only took another few impatient, hotheaded licks of his tongue and then he was inside of your shirt, his mouth sucking round, wet brands up between your breasts.

You bucked up to get closer, and he sank down, licking and sucking and all ten of his fingers dug into your hips and waist.

“Shit,” he said.

“Uggnnn,” you replied eloquently before your better judgement pivoted and decided to swipe at reason. “What’s—“

“You make me fucking crazy.” Steve rushed out.

“Fair,” you gasped when he began rolling his hips against yours. “Feeling’s mutual—oh, what are you doing--”

He only answered with more of it, and harder, up and down, his forehead pressed to yours—his entire body, really, pressed like he wanted to swallow you whole.

It went on for eternity, it felt like, the two of you messy and starved, every second of contact a half-fight, half-resignation. Between the rushing blood in your head and the high-pitched ringing of excitement, there was a relief, like your skin was singing finally, oh god, finally.

Steve, above you, was smiling—was happy—almost as if he felt the same.

-

“Next time just say something,” you said, when you could finally breathe again.

“Like what?” He wiped his forehead. You did that to him.

You sputtered, the taste of his tongue still in your mouth, “Like—just don’t hit me so hard. And don’t say you have to.”

He opted to say nothing instead, only rolling his eyes, and you found the perfect opportunity to continue pestering. “Do you ever pull your punches? Could you maybe try?”

He only grinned with that wet, red mouth, and his eyes flicked down to you like a challenge. “I hold myself back more often than you think.”

“Name one time you held back from anything.”

His lips pressed together, a smile squirting out of the corners as he looked at his bare feet, toes flexed against the mat. His lashes were fluttering as he pondered, looking so shy and mischievous all at once.

“Just now.”

“Now?”

Beneath your collarbone, the bruise Steve sucked into your skin stung with embarrassment. The sound you made when he did it should be burned out from all memory. You had to beg him to stop, you could have cried.

“I had it all wrong. I thought you might have liked getting bossed around in bed, but you’re a sadist, Rogers.”

“No, no. You can boss me around.” He paused, “Maybe. You can try, go ahead.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, try.” And if you were to look up the definition of shit-eating, annoying, and contrary-bastard-even-more-so-than-yourself, you’d find his smug as sin picture.

“I need to go to sleep— team captain, my ass. Don’t you care about my well-being, Rogers? What even is your refractory period?”

“Don’t have one.”

Your brain was a watery 7-11 slushie, and instead of saying anything comprehensible back, you only babbled.

Just then, the gym doors slid open and both of you were on your feet like someone had been shooting them.

Natasha looked you up and down. From the crumpled bedclothes to the unruly hair and then to your mouth, which was slightly open and catching your breath. She narrowed her eyes, glanced over to where Steve stood leaned on the wall, shuffling his feet in an attempt to sort out his sweatpants.

She made to remark something else but then Bucky sidled up wearing nothing but basketball shorts and grey socks.

“It’s ass o’clock,” he complained loudly. “Why are any of you awake. Never mind, Steve you’re a degenerate. You wake up at 4. I was having a great dream, then Nat drags me up, then you’re already here? You fucking animals.”

“Hm, a dream?” Nat drawled, “Anyone I know?”

She flicked his chin already knowing entirely too fucking much.

“Can’t remember the details,” Bucky turned to you offhandedly before recognition lit in his eyes. “Oh,” he chirped, leering. “I remember now.” He wolf whistled, muttered, “Hello nurse,” and rubbed his palms together like he was warming them up.

You backed up, covering as much of your body as possible with two hands, and bumped your ass into Steve, dick-first, who cleared his throat loudly.

Nat only cackled.

[koiiiji]

sorry honey, im ovulating

tw ; minors, ageless, empty blogs DNI OR ILL BLOCK YOU!! nsfw, porn w/o plot straight under the line, kinda m!sub

Gun never ever thought that sex might be different.

he never suspect that it actually can be way different than he used to do with his one night stands. how can sex in a serious relationship differ from the sex he paid for, or with those who just clung to his shoulders in some random club? that's right, no difference! or so Gun thought before he started dating you.

many would have identified Gun as a masochist, but in bed he still preferred to keep a dominant role. although you don't seem to care much about that right now. all you were worried about right now, was another orgasm while you were jumping up and down on your boyfriend's dick.

what was the time in a row? 4? 5? you both have already lost count. blankets and pillows are scattered on the bed, and lying somewhere at the foot or at the floor, the sheets are all wet with sweat, saliva, and a mixture of his sperm and your juices.

any other time, Gun would have finished as soon as he cum, but it was different with you. of course, usually you two went through 2, in rare cases, through 3 rounds and then exhausted (lol only you) went to sleep, but that night for the first time Gun felt that he was not fucking, but being fucked. he already had you in all positions, was rough, was gentle, but you still didn't calm down. after the last orgasm, you were still caressing like a kitten, giggling, biting your lower lip and nuzzling his neck, sucking and biting the skin, whispering in his ear that you still want more. you were purring with pleasure, and Gun was getting nervous. did he lack the strength to cope with your libido? is he tired? after sex? nonsense, he would have thought, but you have already straddled his hips from above, and his cock has already showed deep into your tight, hot pussy. after so many hours of sex, you were still clutching him tightly, and then Gun thought… you are fucking him now, not him, as it usually happens. and if his eyes were pitch black, then he could have sworn that your eyes were almost glowing in the darkness of your bedroom right now. just like the succub.

it's not that he sees you as a rival now, but your smug smile, half-closed eyes in which he could almost see little hearts when his dick pounded into your sweet, sensitive spot. his hands found your hips, and squeezed with such force, that there will definitely be bruises in the morning. you just gasped in surprise, too deeply immersed in the euphoria of your own pleasure…

when you finally finished, it was Gun who was lying exhausted, arms outstretched and staring at the ceiling with an empty (as well as his balls) gaze. rising up on your elbows, you giggled, and lightly kissed him on the cheek, merrily murmuring “sorry honey, i’m ovulating, i just couldn't get enough of you” and easily flew out of bed, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower, leaving Gun alone in bed... thinking…

wait, did you just fucked him?

[slytherinshua]

ALARM

genre. fluff. warnings. not proofread. pairing. riku x reader. wc. 464. request. requested by anon for #5: "five more minutes please. I don’t wanna leave you.” a/n. look at sleepy riku he's sooo pretty :( most massive brainrot i think that might've singlehandedly made him my top bias wrecker...

Riku had a habit of oversleeping. From the very first day you slept over with him, you figured it out. Waking him up was easy, and there were many ways to do it. If you so much as kissed his forehead, like the sleeping beauty he was, he would open his eyes. But he just loved to fall back asleep, which is where the problem came in.

His alarm had gone off almost 4 times already now, and each time he woke up to snooze it, he would soon fall back asleep after mumbling something about how warm the blankets were or how tired he was. By the time the alarm went off the 4th time, you turned it off instead, deciding to take matters into your hands. If he kept this up, Riku was sure to be late to practice.

You knew he was awake, you could feel him nuzzle his head against the crook of your neck, almost as if he knew you would force him to get up and didn’t want you to. He could never say no to you; it was embarrassing how quickly he could fold. He was such a simp. Some days he took it with pride, other days he felt as if it was unfair just how down bad he was. If he wasn’t so in love with you, it would be much easier to get his way.

“Riku, baby.” You started in a soft voice, immediately earning a whine from your boyfriend who only tightened his grip on you.

“Five more minutes, please. I don’t wanna leave you.” He pleaded, his groggy voice muffled by the blankets and pillows.

“You have practice today. It’s already 7.” You nudged him, trying to find a way to get his body off of yours. But he was much stronger than you, and had at least double the determination you did in staying right where he was.

“Just five minutes, I promise.” He mumbled, already on the edge of sleep again. You had to admit he did look so comfortable snuggled so closely to you. And he was warm, and smelled really nice, and…

“Fine, just five more minutes.” You surrendered, your hand finding his back as you started to stroke it. After all, he had been working so hard lately. He deserved a little more sleep since he wanted it so bad. Plus, how could you ever say no to your boyfriend?

Riku sighed in content, pleasant goosebumps rising on his skin as you scratched his back gently. He let sleep overtake him again, mentally preparing to explain to Sion how his alarm just hadn’t worked that morning. Him wanting to stay in bed with you? No, no, that was so unlike him. It was definitely the alarm’s fault.

↳ nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyujs,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @hursheys,,

@kristianities

[rebeltigera]

WAIT, hold on, I need more info about Mac in heat.

Is Wukong taking care of everything? Did it take them by surprise or Mac just forgot to mention it to Wukong? Is Wukong, idk, making sure everything is alright? Like,,, like the nest! Does he bring more pillows and stuff or is Mac one of those that prefers more space than being surrounded by things?

PLEASE GIVE US MOFE INFO 🥺

(ALSO, bc I almost forgot about them, are the cubs with them too?)

—🐵🐵

If that would happen like trillion years ago wukong in fact would take care of Mac But it's happening in the healing arc. Somewhere after Mac healed from the wound by scroll , but not enough for them to be that close to each other (HA, the first time will be years later from now ) So Mac told Wukong to not come visit his island for a whole week. Excuse? Pif was there It wasn't much of a lie- Pif indeed spends every Mac's heat with him so he don't feel alone, they also meet up with Chang'e and they have their "wine party" (it happens like once per 5 years) It's literally for the purpose of Mac not being alone in those days

Usually it works well enough , tho this time Pif wasn't there whole time, after many assurances from Mac that was quite still clear-headed , she departed before the thing was over and well, Mac got lonely either way

And he tends to overthink and self loathe when drunk, on herbs and during heat So he wasn't really in the good place on the rest of last day

The cubs were there alr- they got worried. And where they could go ? To the only person they thought can help, a one-year protector of the island during the scroll fiasco - Wukong.

Wukong worried visited the island (He wouldn't disobey Mac's orders in normal situation but his cubs came seeking for help) , and seeing Mac curled all in one of the common rooms , left alone , under some blankets, smelling all wrong - He took him back to his room , where his nest was . It was much better than that common room . Mac all delirious thought mostly it's hallucination , Wukong stayed with him- not entering the nest , giving up his phoenix robe, not providing more than smell and some semblance of warmth - U have no idea how he mourned that moment. He'd bring mac the best materials, pillows, blankets , helping him create the best and comfiest nest they could create , full of fluffy things because mac love them He couldn't do more in this situation . The hell would rise if he would , The moment When Mac would stop smelling wrong he'd be out. But the robe would stay

[thef1diary]

moving along by 5sos, charles leclerc, angst?? ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Thinking ‘Bout You | C. Leclerc

Summary: you and Charles lived in the same building, so it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did seeing you again after breaking up.

Warnings: angst, heartbreak.

Pairing: charles x ex!fem!reader

wc: 2.3k+

Charles sighed, turning the alarm off before covering his face with the blanket as he tried to get some more sleep.

Thinking 'bout you lots, lately

He pulled it off as soon it as got too suffocating, and begrudgingly looked to the empty side of the bed.

It had been empty for far too long, a few weeks went by without it being occupied by you.

He turned onto his stomach, reaching his hand out to graze the bedsheet on the other side. He grabbed the pillow you used to sleep on and brought it close to his face.

He could still smell the faint scent of your shampoo even after washing it once. Inhaling sharply, he threw the pillow off the bed before groaning.

As he closed his eyes, he was disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing. He knew it wasn't you, but a small part of him hoped that you'd call.

It was his trainer, asking if he had followed his morning routine but Charles easily lied and said he followed every step but in reality he was still in bed.

His trainer sighed, knowing how difficult it was dealing with Charles after his breakup. Usually it wasn't like this, but you weren't just anyone, you were his everything.

Knowing that if he stayed in the comfort of his sheets, he'd only reminisce the memories he made with you, so he decided to finally get up.

Have you been eating breakfast alone like me?

He wandered to the kitchen after freshening up but it didn't change his appearance much. The dark bags underneath his eyes along with the small frown that made its way to his face permanently remained the same.

He remembered how you used to stand in the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts that you accidentally stole, making breakfast that was definitely not approved by his trainer.

If he stared any longer at the empty space, his mind would play tricks on him and conjure up a dream that looked too real.

Thinking 'bout you lots, lately

He closed his eyes and rubbed them, ensuring that he wouldn't hallucinate your presence. Maybe, it was because of the lack of sleep he's been getting lately.

He had no one to blame but himself, as he had gotten used to you too quickly and it would take a while before those habits would start to disperse.

With you, even something as mundane as making breakfast was the best start to Charles' morning, but now it's the beginning to the worst days.

As he walked over to the fridge to grab some eggs, he paused, shaking his head. "Fuck this,"

He chose to grab a fruit instead so at least he had some proper nutrients and wouldn't be lectured on his eating habits.

Is it bad that I'm hoping that you're broken?

He made his way onto the sofa, in a half sitting half lying down position. He tossed his apple in the air before catching it, pretending as if it were a ball.

There were many thoughts haunting his mind, but only one stuck out to him the most. He wondered how you were, better or worse.

He kind of hoped that you were in a similar position as him, thinking of him as much as he thought of you.

Is it bad that I'm wishing you're still broken?

This had become his routine a few days after he had broken up with you, once the realization set in that you were no longer someone he'd be seeing everyday.

The first few days, his friends had taken him out to enjoy the 'single life', whatever that meant. But he did enjoy it. There was no one waiting at home for him and for some reason he liked that because he wasn't obliged to return at a reasonable time.

That you haven't found fish in the ocean

However, once he began waking up alone, missing out on the morning kisses and hugs, he realized that he had let you go.

His phone rang again, but this time he didn't even bother looking at who was calling, knowing who it'd be based on the time.

Everyday, Pierre would call at the same time just to check up on him. But by now, their conversations were so bland because he barely put effort into his responses.

He only wanted to be left alone, but ironically, he never wanted to know what it was like to be alone without you.

Is it bad? So bad

He had no idea how you were doing. But if he did, he might have felt a little better knowing he wasn't the only one in a bad mood following the breakup.

While you didn't look as bad as he did, you felt just as worse. You had already taken a few days off of work, but it was more than enough time spent sulking over him.

Truth is, you had understood the situation and accepted it better than he had. Since it wasn't exactly a mutual breakup, there was nothing you could've done to convince him otherwise.

He had already made up his mind.

While you thought he had fallen out of love with you, he was blaming himself for letting the love of his life walk away.

Is it weird that I'm drunk and on my sofa?

Charles' gaze fixated on the cabinet that held a few bottles of both yours and his choice of alcohol. He wasn't a day drinker—in fact he rarely drank unless he was celebrating—but if anyone asked, he would deny it. However, lately he had been grabbing a bottle without caring of the time.

He played some music, connecting to the speaker that you gifted him. He didn't have the heart to get rid of the things you had forgotten to take with you.

Opening the cabinet he grabbed a bottle without looking but he bypassed the glass, choosing to drink straight from the bottle.

As he spent time on his phone, which was something he rarely did, he didn't notice how much alcohol he was consuming.

Is it weird that I'm naked on my sofa?

As he was about to put his phone away, he got a notification from Instagram. When you began dating, he had turned on notifications for your account whenever you posted something. After all, he wanted to be the first to like your posts, even if he'd seen the image before you posted it because you always asked for his opinion.

Without thinking twice, he tapped on it, bringing your latest story on his screen.

It was a simple photo of the city, a view you had from your office but the words you added with the photo piqued his interest.

You had finished your long work day which made Charles check the time. He had sat on the couch sulking the entire day.

He knew you so well that he was certain you had posted the photo a few minutes after you had taken it. It was a habit that Charles told you to change, especially because he was concerned for your safety in case something bad happened.

However, right now, he was glad you didn't change, because he knew you were on the way home.

The thing was, you lived in the same building as him but you had moved into his apartment when you were dating.

All alone, damn, I wish I didn't know ya

Charles wanted to see you again, and even living nearby made it impossible due to his constant travels for work.

He stood up, ready to make his way towards the door but he stopped, finally realizing what he was about to do. You were no longer with him, heck, he's the one who ended it, but he was just so desperate to see a glimpse of you again.

You were so, so important to him but now he wished he never knew you because you occupied every thought of his.

Is it weird? So weird

Maybe he should leave the building just so he doesn't come in contact with you. He would have stayed at home, but knowing you were on your way back and living nearby, it became unbearable to stay.

Nodding once, he left his apartment. Although he slightly swayed while walking, he wasn't drunk or at least he'd like to tell himself that.

Once he entered the elevator, he placed his hands behind him on the metal bar while his head rested on the mirror.

I know I'm the stupid one who ended it

The entirety of your relationship flashed through his mind, the good, the bad, even the worst moments that he once thought were a good idea. Like breaking up with you. He laughed at himself as he wondered why on earth he ever thought being away from you was a good idea.

“I want to focus on my career, I don’t want any distractions plus I think we’d be better off without each other.” He recalled his reasons for breaking up.

And now I'm the stupid one regretting it

You were never his distraction, you were his biggest supporter. And fuck, why would he be better off without you, he doesn’t even know why he had to add that sentence.

He reached the ground floor and the doors opened but he was too consumed by his thoughts that he almost forgot to notice.

As he brought his arm out to stop the door from closing, he heard a voice—a very familiar voice.

“Pouvez-vous tenir la porte, s'il vous plaît?” You called out, rushing to enter the elevator, barely making it. (Can you hold the door please?)

I've been thinking about you lots, lately

“Merci,” you called out to the person who held the door open for you. However, you didn’t look up at them yet because you were attempting to grasp onto your bag, a purse, an umbrella and your phone all at once.

It was when Charles whispered your name you looked at him. He was in just as much shock as you, making direct eye contact.

It was too late for him to leave the elevator, it had already began going up to your floor, which was a few levels above his. He could’ve chosen to press the button for his floor, or even the next level to leave the elevator as fast as possible.

Instead, he chose to stay, watching your eyes flick over and away from him quickly, as if you were trying to decide whether to avoid him or not.

However, you chose to indulge in a conversation, especially after smelling the horrible scent of alcohol surrounding him.

Oh, are you moving along?

"Are you drunk?" You asked even though you knew the answer. He was slightly swaying around as the elevator kept going up, but he held on to the bar to stabilize himself.

He almost looked offended at your question, either because you thought so low of him to assume he was drunk or because that was the first question you asked him after your breakup.

"I might've had a drink or two" he decides, unsure whether to tell you the truth. Something he never had to think twice about before.

"You smell like you had the whole bottle, I know you Charles,” you stated, but once you saw Charles wince at your last few words, you felt the same emotions roll through you when you walked out of his apartment for the last time.

Is it wrong if I ask you to come over?

"That's the problem, you know me, so how did you let me tell you to leave?" He countered, shaking his head and wanting to blame you for his mistakes.

"What did you want me to do, stay?" You asked, scoffing when he nodded, “yes"

"I can't, you know that,” you turned away from his burning gaze, or you might just let him back in your life. “Why not? Je t'aime toujours, I can never stop loving you.” (I still love you)

Is it wrong if I tell ya that I love ya?

You were glad that you turned away otherwise he’d see you cracking through your tough exterior. You never imagined that your first meeting would be in an elevator, unplanned.

You watched the numbers on the digital screen go up, only a few more floors until yours. “You were right you know, I think we're better off without each other."

You didn’t want to repeat his words back to him, but since you had turned to look at him, you saw how those words affected him. Just like how it affected you when he first said them.

His eyes widened, his hands gripping the metal bar to ground himself. Out of all the thoughts he had running through his mind, he never thought about what he would feel if you acted the way you did.

He should’ve expected it, but he was too optimistic. Now, his own optimism would be the reason for another heartbreak, perhaps worse this time.

The elevator dinged before the door began opening, and he remained in his spot as you began walking out. His mind screamed at him to say something, anything but you spoke before he could.

“I just want you to know, I’m moving out of here—well out of Monaco. I don’t think I’ll see you again, and I’m hoping you understand and not try to contact me anymore. Goodbye Charles.”

As the doors closed again after you walked out, he felt as if the door to the opportunity of you returning was slammed shut in his face.