#I demand more thirteen content

[incomingawn]

Here, take this Thirteen Primes as Vines Compilation

#I love them #I made this so long ago lol #completely forgot about it #but it’s still pretty good #I should make more #it’s so easy #I demand more thirteen content #now #yet another Twitter banger that I’m posting here #transformers #maccadam #thirteen primes #Prima #vector prime #alpha Trion #solus prime #micronus prime #alchemist prime #nexus prime #onyx prime #Amalgamous prime #quintus prime #liege maximo #megatronus prime #the thirteenth prime #optimus prime

[janitorhutcherson]

Sacred Self Care (Mike Schmidt)

i'm 100% supposed to be cleaning my room up for family but i may go insane if i do not write RIGHT NOW!! so, this is something i've had in my mind for so long. i PROMISE after thanksgiving i'll give yall peeta and finnick content and get to more asks. i could not hold back on this one any longer though, so sit back, and enjoy!

summary: mike discovers self care, but what happens when his ritual becomes a little too intricate and he ends up in a silly predicament?

warnings: mentions of nudity, one or two innuendos

word count: 2,288

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

Mike Schmidt did not have time to take care of himself. This was a fact that was all too noticeable. His dry curls practically begged to be lathered in moisture, or at least in something that wasn’t a bar of soap that was also used on his face and body. His nails were dirty whenever he was busiest, the only time they were well groomed being when he was prepared to be knuckles deep inside of you. His eyebags were sunken in and his facial hair grew in patches, untrimmed. Mike did not care, nor did he think wasting time on such a meticulous thing would be beneficial to him. There were better things to do than to primp himself when he could be doing something more productive, such as getting to the bottom of his brother’s disappearance… thirteen years later. When he wasn’t obsessing over every minute detail in his dream that could lead him to the solution or fathering Abby in his own backwards but still productive way, he was admiring you and your glory.

While Mike may not have been someone for self-care, you most definitely were. You were constantly looking up new ways to better yourself, new hair masks to try and new ways to make your skin as smooth as butter. The water bill also certainly showed your love for self-care. Some nights, you’d prance into the bedroom after an intricate shower, throwing your leg up on the bed as you demanded for Mike’s rough hands to feel, every centimeter of hair gone, the smell of cocoa butter sifting in the air. He was amused when he’d walk in to you sitting on the couch, some new green goop slathered on your face, or some strange piece of paper stuck to your nose. On occasion, you’d convince Mike to join you and Abby, his desperation to spend more quality time with the two of you trumping his disdain for fifteen minutes of clay on his face. He’d peel away at chunks as they flaked into his lap, you and Abby giggling every few seconds as the pile would grow amusingly larger before Mike would give up, running to the bathroom to scrub his face clean before the timer went off.

He wasn’t sure when it clicked. Perhaps it was when Abby told him he’d looked rough lately (he attempted to take this with a grain of salt, as she was his little sister, scolding her and telling her that was not very nice) or perhaps it was when one morning after work, he’d noticed new wrinkles covering his forehead and increasingly pale skin with purple dips underneath his eyes. One day, he found himself in the shampoo aisle at Target. It started with something simple. He bought real shampoo and conditioner, specifically designed for curly dry hair. He enjoyed the scent it radiated as he lathered it through his locks in the warm shower, the aftermath amazing. He’d never seen his hair so fluffy as it dried, his once brittle strands now feeling smooth as he ran his fingertips through it. Then, there was skincare. Somehow, he ended up getting a free sample in the mail from one of those makeup subscription companies you subscribed to, the company accidentally sending you a made-for-men miniature face wash and eye cream set. You eagerly tossed it his way with a giggle, assuming he tossed it in the trash the moment he got it. Instead, that very night, Mike added it to his shower along with his brand-new hair products, patting the eye cream underneath his eyes once he got out. The next morning, the once deep reddish purple was now only tinted a light color. Before he knew it, underneath the cabinet tucked away in a corner were different hair oils, beard creams, moisturizers, and lotions. He’d gotten into different kinds of cologne, opting for scented deodorants as well.

Mike had to admit, he enjoyed this new routine of his. As it progressed, it became almost ritualistic. He’d get home from work at exactly 6:15, about 45 minutes before you’d wake up. He would hop into the shower, taking in the feeling of his fingertips massaging his scalp, his body feeling the tension flooding down as the water from the shower flooded down the drain. Then, the aromatic smell of musky body wash would fill his nose, cleansing his senses of the smell of ancient dusts from working at the pizzeria. He’d step out of the shower, his skin tinted pink from the hot water, his face freshly washed. He’d apply lotion, shape his beard and add his creams, he’d even gotten into grooming his nails every night, ensuring they were crisply clean and applying a protective clear coat on top.

He couldn’t quite figure out why he was so embarrassed by his ritual. Perhaps it was the way it made him feel less masculine, knowing damn well deep down that it didn’t make him any less of a man and it was just his years’ worth of built-up toxic masculinity that you were so desperately trying to get him to break down. Maybe it was the way he was splurging on things he simply didn’t feel he needed until now, until it suddenly felt like a necessity, something he’d go insane without. Most of all and the most likely of all the scenarios, it was admitting that he was wrong, that something you and Abby had so desperately attempted to beg him to get into was exactly what the two of you had explained to him. It was majestic and comforting. At least 45 minutes a day were dedicated to him and only himself, his whole body feeling renewed each time he stepped out of the shower. He felt rebirthed, imagining this was what religious people felt when they were deemed ‘saved’ at confessional. Even with that being said, he couldn’t let you and Abby in on his little ritual. No, he couldn’t possibly admit to it. It wasn’t because he wanted to hide something from you two but instead because his embarrassment seeped deep down into his skull every time he thought about revealing it. Instead, he would slowly creep himself into bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pretending to sleepily open his eyes as your alarm went off.

You’d suspected he was hiding something, and you were worried. The new signature scents, the freshly groomed look, the way he seemed to care more about his clothing and the wrinkles that were shown. Your first thought was that there was somebody else, someone he had needed to impress, much like he once felt the need to impress you every time he was around you, suppressing his comfortable and more Mike-like fashion choices. In the mornings, you’d sense the lack of his presence after hearing the door creak open, feeling the bed dip right before your alarm went off, sirens ringing in your head each time as if to warn you something wasn’t right. You would spend some nights he was away at work after Abby was in bed evaluating who it could possibly be. There was Vanessa, the blonde police officer who would make occasional appearances in conversation. There was the waitress at the diner who’d taken a liking to Mike, but you weren’t sure who else it could be. Of course, women ogled over Mike all the time in public. There was something about a man with a slightly off putting aura and messy tussled hair. But regardless, you had always trusted him, and besides, Mike didn’t really talk to many people as is.

It wasn’t until Mike added in a peel off face mask into the mix that the jig was up. One week, he’d managed to get the entire week off, ensuring the pizzeria was boarded closed and begging Vanessa to keep an eye on things. You’d felt slightly better having him around more and at normal hours. He was very much still head over heels for you, following you around like a lost puppy, the two of you showering together, cooking together, and of course, having as much ‘alone time’ as you could possibly fit in when Abby was asleep or away at a friends. Even with that, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were passed out on the couch after a movie night and it was late. Mike had crept away from the living room, tucking your sleeping body under a blanket, slipping into the shower. He followed his typical ritual, something he’d had to put off for a while in fear of getting caught, still unsure of what made him so anxious. After his shower, he applied his peel off mask, attempting to avoid his facial hair, but without thinking, he’d applied a layer over his entire chin. What would soon become a panic inducing issue in a short sum of ten minutes hadn’t occurred to him quite yet.

As the timer on his phone went off, he began slowly peeling the mask off, starting at his forehead before he froze, realizing more of his face was covered than usual. He brushed it off, continuing to peel before he noticed that not only was the thin, purple layer coming off, but multiple specks of hair were attached as well. Oh fuck, he thought to himself, unsure of how to proceed. No, he couldn’t just rip it off. He was attached to his facial hair. It made his baby face look mature and manly. No, of course it didn’t occur to him to just add water, simply wiping it away. There was only one option, and that was to waltz into the living room with his bright purple face and to wake you up, puppy dog eyes pleading for you to help him with his predicament.

You stirred away as you felt a hand shake your shoulder, your eyes widening as you sat up with a confused expression.

“Well, hello there,” you croaked out, your voice laced with gravel from exhaustion. He looked at you with embarrassment laced over his face, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Help, please. I…” he trailed off, gesturing his hands towards his face. “I just need it off,” he grumbled lowly, his fingertips holding the piece holding his facial hair tenderly, ensuring he didn’t rip anything else off.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud giggle, amused by the man standing in front of you. You grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom. You both sat on the ledge of the tub as you tenderly wiped his face clean with a warm washcloth, his reddened cheeks from both the mask being on too long and the embarrassment becoming more apparent by the second.

“Facial hair is saved,” you said triumphantly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do have to ask though, why the sudden liking to all of this? And why not just.. tell me?” you hummed curiously, shaking your head.

“I just.. I don’t know. I think I didn’t want to admit I was wrong or that I was spending so much money on such worthless stuff. It started out so small and then became so big, I just couldn’t,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I am really sorry for keeping it from you,” he hummed before he went into a further explanation, explaining the way it made him feel.

You let out a sigh of relief along with a content giggle, shaking your head. “I knew something was up, but I wasn’t sure what,” you said, cocking an eyebrow as you placed a hand on his knee, your cheeks now warming up.

“What, did you think I was getting all fancy schmancy for another girl?” he teased, bumping his elbow against your shoulder. Your eyes widened as your mouth opened and closed as you went to say something, his expression dropping into something more serious.

“Oh my god, Y/N, honey, no, I’d never,” he said, placing his warm hand on your exposed shoulder. “Baby, no,” he chuckled, happy he could reassure you but somewhat upset that you had to sit through that alone. “No, I love you very much, I promise you, there is no other woman... just, your silly grumpy man being too embarrassed to admit I like girly things,” he teased, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your lips. The kiss was all you needed for electrical sparks to be sent through your body, your brain buzzing as the anxious thoughts began to disappear.

For the rest of the night, Mike walked you through his entire routine, both for fun and for transparency. You two joked back and forth, you occasionally poking at him, telling him he should become an influencer. Afterwards, you both did a face mask together, this time ensuring the product did not cover his chin.

Yes, you and Mike most definitely had your own things to work on, but at the end of the day, you were happiest with him. Your heart felt warm. He had finally found a way to take care of himself, a way to feel more content in his own skin, and even though he had an odd way of going about it, you were pleased, happy he was also finally willing to share this with you. From now on, Mike would wait for his routine in the mornings until you woke up, instead crawling into bed and cradling you in his arms, thinking about how lucky he was to have such a sweet, loving, and accepting partner like you to share his life with, even if it was just skincare and Vaseline kisses.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #michael schmidt x reader

[loveysloveclub]

evermore - jack hughes

in which, raven baltimore and jack hughes were meant to be high school sweethearts. but after jack was drafted, the two didn’t work out.

raven had finally did it. she had gotten the job she had wanted to get since she was thirteen. the only downside was that she had to move away from her family and all the memories she had created back home and move to the big city.

new york had always where she pictured herself living when she was older, and she had finally made it.

releasing a long sigh, raven dropped the final box she had to unpack onto the bed of the her new apartment. picking at the tape until she finally got it, she unwrapped the box. but, when she finally did, she wished she hadn’t.

sitting on top of a pile of old photographs was a photo of her and the only boy she had ever lived staring right back at her. the two were smiling into the camera, as they sat in the front seat of his car.

“jack, stop!” raven laughed as she pushed his head away from her neck. the two were sitting in an empty parking lot after their weekly ice cream date. she was trying to take a photo to remember the night, but jack had other plans.

the boy groaned before looking into the phone screen with a dead panned face. “smile, weirdo.” raven rolled her eyes.

“i saw that.” jack scolded, which brought a smile to his girlfriends face. “then smile.”

the boy sighed loudly before presenting a big smile. raven smiled in content before grabbing his face with her hand and bringing it closer with her face. after taking a few photos, jack grabbed the phone out of his girlfriends hand and threw it in the back seat.

“jack hughes.” she scolded, reaching over to the back seat to grab her phone again. raven released a squeal when jack grabbed her waist and threw her into the back seat, climbing in after her.

raven couldn’t help but smile sadly at the photo as she grabbed a small pile of photos and sat on the edge of her bed. going through them, the next one she stumbled upon was the day of his draft. she was sat next to him, in a long black dress that he said he lived in her. ellen had taken the photo, and quinn and luke had sat on either side of them making fun of how forced jacks smile looked.

he had always hated taking photos.

“jack, smile!” ellen scolded his middle child. raven nudged the boy in the stomach with her elbow, a smile still on her face. jack huffed before smoking forcefully.

quinn and luke snickered from either sides of the happy couple, poking fun at jack in the way that all brothers do.

”okay mom, that’s enough.” jack told his mum, grabbing his phone out of her hands and sliding it into his pocket. “no, no. quinn and luke, get in there.” ellen demanded the boys before taking out her own phone.

jack rolled his eyes as his two brothers squished into the photo. luke slyly wrapped his arm around his brothers girlfriend, producing a laugh from the girl. jack glared at his brother, hitting his arm away from raven.

a couple more photos were taken before ellen smiled in content and walked away whilst looking at the photographs. luke switched places with jack so neither of the boys were third wheeling on either side of the couple.

raven watched intently as jacks leg bounced up and down nervously. the girl reached over and grabbed his hand, placing a small kiss on the back of it before she held it in her own lap.

“are you okay?” she whispered to the boy, who squeezed her hand in affirmation. “you’re gonna do it jack, trust me on this one.”

jack smiled at raven as if she hung the moon and the stars before leaning across his seat and placing a kiss on her lips. raven smiled into the kiss and she placed her hand on the back of his neck.

gags erupted from beside her, causing the two to look over at the other hughes siblings. quinn gagged loudly whilst luke coughed.

jack rolled his eyes at his brothers bestie slumping in his seat.

raven had decided after two hours of reminiscing on her failed relationship that she had had enough, and opted to grabbing a cup of coffee.

what she hadn’t expected was both jack and luke hughes to be walking down the street, with cups of coffees of their own.

“shit.” raven cursed as she frantically looked around the almost empty street to find somewhere she could hide. inching backwards, she kept her eyes on the two boys to make sure they weren’t looking at her. that was, until, her foot gave out and she stumbled backwards into a bush.

“raven?” she could’ve died right then and there, causing when she looked up, she saw the two youngest hughes brothers looking down at her.

“heyyyy, guys. fancy seeing you here?” she squeaked out. luke laughed at the girl before jack bent down to pull her back up to her feet.

the three stood an awkward silence, before jack cleared his throat and glared at his brother. luke, getting the hint, rolled his eyes and gave raven a quick hug before walking back down the street.

raven watched the boy leave, a small smile on her face before redirecting her attention to her ex boyfriend, who was looking at her the way he always had. her heart flipped and her face heated.

“hi.” she spoke softly, smiling. “hey.”

her eyes fleeted down to her feet.

“did you wanna grab some coffee?” jack asked the girl. her eyebrows raised before scrunching in confusion. “what about the coffee you already have?”

jack looked down his coffee cup, scolding himself for getting one already. if he had known he would be running into the girl he hadn’t stopped thinking about since they called it off from long distance, he would have never gotten his daily latte form the coffee shop down the road.

looking around, he quickly threw the coffee cup in the closest bin before turning back to face raven. “what coffee?”

raven laughed loudly. “c’mon, you dork.”

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #nhl #nhl imagine #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils

[ruanais]

。。。 FOUR, NINE, THIRTEEN 。。。

• — { omnipresent. chapter one: }

• — {warnings : mentions of suicide, dark content, no nsfw but things that could be triggering, dazai :P , bad writing, reader curses a lot, maybe some typos, etc. etc.}

• — {special thanks to : silver for helping me write + plan the plot, thank u to red and kat for taking their time to beta read, and thank u to mai for also helping with the plot ! }

• — { tagging the people who expressed interest ! @settingssun | @silverbladexyz @cheriiyaya | @kxttqi | @riiwrites + comment under this post to be tagged ! }

THE FIRST TIME Dazai Osamu met you, it was midnight. he was just walking to a bar and you were on the edge of a bridge railing, dressed in a school uniform. probably from a prestigious high school and not more than 15, he guessed when he took a better look at you. 

it was raining a storm, Rain had soaked through your clothes, and your hair was drenched. Paired with the harsh wind, you must be freezing. 

You were looking down at the river, a rather far away look in your eyes as you were seemingly in a dilemma, weighing two choices and- 

oh. 

dazai had already got the gist of what you were about to do, yet made no motion whatsoever. still and silent as a shadow, even when you took in a sharp breath and stepped off, falling down to the river’s current

a splash and you were gone forever, leaving him alone on the bridge.

now he was blankly staring at where you were mere seconds ago. not caring to even move. rooted at where he was. but several questions ran through his mind at that moment.

did you notice him staring? 

it wasn’t any use thinking about it so he let it go. 

the second time he encountered you, he had heard a series of gunshots then quickly headed to there. you were already dead. shot by someone he couldn’t catch.

Obviously, he was surprised to see your face but quickly collected himself, called the police, and left. finding it suspicious but quickly brushing it off his mind as he had more urgent and important matters to take care of than the measly death of someone he didn’t know. 

the third time he saw you, you were crossing the street. a calico cat in your arms as you talked to it, petting its fur and a warm smile on your face. 

then, you turned your head and caught sight of him, you widened your eyes seemingly in recognition, but you had ran, almost as if you were trying to escape from him.

well, dazai had tried to chase after you. But in your haste, you had failed to look at the road. tires screeched and you got hit by a car. 

he had ran and reached out his hand to try and pull you away despite knowing it was futile. but it was too late. blood splattered on him, staining his hand. Not that he ever cared. 

the cat was unhurt though, somehow miraculously shielded by your body. its large eyes looking into his’s before letting out a small meow then ran away. leaving you on the ground. 

sirens cut through the deathly silence, medics quickly rushing out of an ambulance after a bystander called the police. arriving just a few minutes later.

He tsked, running his hand through his hair, and and slipped away from there, away from that street, never to return.

on the fourth time, he saw you again. now convinced that you were a special case, he had to find you before you were gone. 

but unfortunately, he was too late again. you were a member of an rival organisation, holding important information and so was captured, interrogated, then brutally killed by one of the executive’s ability. crimson red blood pooled around your corpse before he got a chance to talk to you. 

“she already told us what we needed to know already. it’s no use keeping her around.” was what ozaki said when he demanded an explanation. “best to kill them before they cause further trouble. Say, dazai, don’t tell me-?” she frowned, shooting him a small glare. sighing deeply when he shook his head no. 

“I have to say, she was quite pathetic. Immediately telling us everything when we threatened the lives of her subordinates… I overestimated her.” was what she said while walking away slowly disappearing into the darkness, leaving him alone in the dim room. 

it was strange, he had to admit. the fact that you died every time before he got the chance to talk to you was quite eerie. not that he could do anything about it. Then, he left you again, leaving his underlings to clean up the mess. 

it happened nine times more, but instead of seeing you directly, he saw it on the news or heard it from his acquaintances. looking at your picture, you looked different in every universe but you had the same features. just enough to be recognizable. 

…

He was in the agency now, a new member. And amazingly, in record time, he was already doppo kunikida’s worst nightmare. 

today was his third day. how boring was this? 

in short: indescribable.

he felt like a deer caught in a spotlight. Far too out of place. Dazai knew how to put on an act, one to cover his true intentions quite nicely. Not enough to fool edogawa, of course. But enough to fool everyone else. 

he had listened to what odasaku had told him, be someone who saves people. he did or tried, or it would be something that he would do later. Depends, really.

…maybe one of the reasons he decided to follow through with his friend’s words was to make himself feel better. From what though? 

the guilt of not being able to save you? Maybe not stopping you from dying on the first time you met? 

Impossible. he was known as the demon prodigy after all when he was back in the port mafia, famous for being someone who had no remorse for murdering hundreds or committing endless heinous crimes. 

How troublesome. Such emotions were an obstacle to his goals. 

He tried to get rid of it. ignoring the guilt that was eating his heart away helped only a bit. But distractions helped. A few bottles of sake and his guilt would leave him for a while. 

But maybe paired with the fact that he couldn’t help nor save sakunosuke oda only made it worse. 

guilt was annoying. Troublesome, a nuisance. just about anything that was negative, he thinks, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the reports he has to write. 

actually, all emotions were useless. Was what he thought, turning around and around. 

…come to think of it, he never saw you in this universe before. nor even heard of you. 

maybe you don’t even exist right now. 

which is weird. since you seem to pop up randomly in every universe he’s in. 

really, really, reallyyyyyyy suspicious- 

“Ow!” 

A book hit his head, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Get to work dazai!” 

ah yes, classic kunikida. Always and forever strict and doesn’t like fun. Why were all math teachers like that? oh. even former ones. all they do is yell, scream, scold, yep math is definitely ruining the minds of everyone.

“Fineeee…these are boring though… I’ll do it later….” he whines, laying his head on his desk, drawing random shapes with his finger on the light brown wooden table. 

“Just do your work already!” Kunikida yelled, clearly at his breaking point.

“Come onnnn kunikidaaaaa just let me have some funn~” 

“You can have fun after work is over-“ 

“Aaah! sorry I'm late!” 

The agency’s door bangs open, and a disheveled young woman appears.

you?

he automatically freezes, eyes widening as he feels a chill run down his spine, dazai did just a quick double check to see if his vision is finally failing him.

the same eye colour? check.

the same hair colour? check.

the same height? check.

check, check, check.

fuck

Was what Dazai thinks after mentally checking off everything. His eyebrows furrowing. it was getting even more suspicious. Normally, you would die before he got to interact with you, so isn't this practically giving him a chance to know about you? What the hell does it- does it even fucking make sense? 

obviously not. 

which…didn’t make things any easier. 

kunikida mutters something under his breath before marching towards you, ready to give out yet another lecture. “Now why were you late?!” 

“uhm…I had to work a longer shift?” you said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Uh…it also didn’t help that there were more customers than usual..?” you added, awkwardly smiling as you sweatdropped nervously. 

“how many times do I have to tell you to fix your schedule?!” kunikida practically screams at you. “This has been the 5th time this month!” he stomps his foot before sighing, walking back to his seat and sitting down before checking his watch; “see? Now you’ve made me 3 minutes behind!” he groans, but promptly pushes back up his eyeglasses and opens back his computer to work.

“It wasn’t my fault- oh! new member huh? hi. want meat buns anyone?” you raise up a paper bag of warm buns, waiting for their response. instantly, almost everyone in that room raises their hand up. Except for kunikida and dazai.

“…we need to save some for president and haruno though.” Yosano reminded you as she reached into the bag for one. “i bought another bag of them, it’s fine!” you reassured her, then walked towards dazai.

 “hey, you. Do you like meat buns?” you ask, before letting him having a chance to answer, you stuffed the whole bun into his mouth when you got the chance, “it’s good right?” ignoring the fact that he may be choking right now. But who cares when you have dr. yosano? 

“Yep!” he replies after a while when he finished the bun, putting on a charming smile, pausing for a few moments before adding something utterly ridiculous; “would you be interested in committing a double suici-?” 

“no.” you interrupted, cutting him off. hitting his head with a folder you took from kunikida’s desk. Not noticing the slight ouch he let out. “I’m far too young to die yet.” You declare, taking out a bun and apparently practically inhaling it in less than a minute.

“What’s your name by the way?” “Dazai Osamu.” “That’s a weird name.” You remark, placing back the folder. “Anyways, I’m [name].“

“no last name?” “[name]’s surname is a mystery to everyone. only the president and ranpo know it, but apparently they wont even give a hint.” Yosano yawned stretching her arms.

“But, if you successfully guess what is her last name, you get half the money in her purse!” A random staff member chimed in.

“shut up!” you huff, “and my last name isn’t that important anyways! Besides, I’m not paying anyone for guessing my last name correctly-“

“all of you shut up! We won’t ever get any work done at this rate! Dazai, focus on your damned reports! [name]! Help organise these folders!”

kunikida hollered, now practically spitting fire. Well, to avoid trouble, everyone got to work. Expect for dazai that is. Unfortunately, he was still lazing around until you threatened to tell the president of his tardiness.

“Who knew [name] could be so strict? you really wouldn’t know her from just 3 years ago.” yosano teases as you glare at her. “Let’s not talk about that time.” You cringe, tensing up at the memory.

“ehh? but you were so cute back then! now you’re just a boring adult…” the doctor sighs, “at least I can go out to drink with you now.” she added, browsing through grotesque pictures of victims’ deaths. “oooo now this looks good…” she mumbled, absorbed in choosing the next picture to hang in her room. 

“Well im glad that I changed.” you say as you pour some coffee into your cup. How the coffee machine got placed on your desk was a wonder but no one asked why, already used to your rather unusual actions.

“Mmm…pretty sure you’re the only one that feels like that.” 

…

“I swear to God I’m gonna dieeee…” you slump in your chair, frowning after a few hours passed. evening had arrived and it was just about 6:00PM. The sun was in the process of setting, a warm orange-reddish glow settled around the agency.

everyone was occupied with something; dazai with his beloved a guide to suicide book, you with your day dreaming, kunikida with his work, yosano with her pictures, the staff with their own things, and ranpo who finally arrived after buying his snacks and is now feasting on them.

“there’s more work for today. Good job everyone. Feel free to home and rest.” the president suddenly appears from from his office, a black cat and haruno following him close behind.

Fukuzawa Yukichi: the man responsible for creating the Armed Detective Agency. the cat sat down the floor, then stared up at the president, letting out a small ‘meow!’ earning a few “awwws” from the agency staff and members.

“goodness…that cat is cute…” you murmur, playing with a pen. “I’ll bet I’ll scare the shit outta them the second i try to go near there though. what a shame.” You sigh before picking up your phone, after hearing numerous pings, you quickly scrolled through them, then got up, took your bag and started out.

“well then, thank you all for the hard work and please excuse me for leaving before you. I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Also! president! There’s a bag of meat buns for you and haruno! enjoy!” You waved, opened the door, and left. stretching your arms when you felt like you finally tasted the freedom of after finishing work.

you soon arrived at the train station, buying a ticket then entered the train. Suprisingly, there weren’t too much people. That’s good. after all, being stuffed in a train with loads of people like sardines in a can was never fun.

sitting down, you glanced out the window, admiring how pretty the sky looked when the sun was setting. Maybe you should wake up earlier tomorrow to see the sunrise…which would probably never happen since waking up in the mornings were hell.

nothing was really new. you followed the same routine everyday. wake up, brush your teeth, eat something, dress, then head to uzumaki cafe to work.

Which usually lasted until the afternoons. Then, you walked up to the agency’s office and helped with almost anything until your roommate spammed your messages to buy groceries or beer or whatever.

you’d head back, make dinner, do chores, shower, mess around then practically pass out in your bed until 7:00am and repeat.

you followed the same routine today as well, get back, made dinner, which today consisted of rice, vegetables, and soup. after that, you headed to bed a bit later than usual. due to innasomia from caffeine.

you really shouldn’t have drunk that much coffee at night.

either way, you were content with how things were. And you had thought that tomorrow would be the same as before until you woke up due to your phone ringing.

squinting at your clock, you wince. It was quite early: 8:00am and you only got 4 hours of sleep. just the day when you got the rare chance to head to work late.

groaning, you reached for your phone blindly, knocking down a few things until you could finally get a hold of it.

“…hello?” You groggily ask when you answer the phone, immediately snapping awake from your half asleep state after realising what the other person on the line just said.

“what the actual living fuck?”

rua’s notes : and that concludes the first chapter! whoaaaa it sure took a while huh :0 since it’s only the 1st, I wont immediately write abt the reader and osamu’s relationship :3 also, the reader has a ability ! (just wait a few more chapters) also chapter two will be focusing back on dazai !

thank u for reading this cringy ass fic that I stayed up all night writing !

#Bsd x reader #x reader #dazai x reader #dazai #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #x f! Reader #kinda cringe idk #bsd x reader angst #Angst #ᨳ rua’s works 𐙚୨୧𐙚

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Masterlist

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: When the making at the heart of the world steals you from your own universe and drops you into the fictional country of Ravka you’re thoroughly bewildered. But this is an opportunity for you to right every wrong - and hopefully save one life in particular.

Word Count: 60.5K - COMPLETED

My Masterlist • Series Playlist

Read on AO3 HERE

Part One

One moment you’re going about your usual day, the next you’re in Ravka - the fictional country in a fictional universe. When you realise that the story you know by heart hasn’t even begun, there’s only one person you can think of going to.

Part Two

After a restless night of sleep, you wake with too many thoughts in your mind. The contents of the General’s war table provide an ample distraction, and soon the man himself joins you.

Part Three

You and Aleksander journey to Kribirsk, where everything starts to become real for you, as your plan is finally set in motion.

Part Four

Accompanied by your new recruits, you and Aleksander return to the Little Palace, and soon settle into a comfortable routine. But nothing ever stays the same for long.

Part Five

Alina is presented to the king as the sun summoner, and from that point onwards you and Aleksander become increasing busy - and apart.

Part Six

An unexpected visitor arrives with some good news, and Aleksander makes a earth-shattering discovery.

Bonus Scene

As your first interaction with Baghra occurs, a wounded Aleksander returns from a mission, and you have no chance to ponder over her opinion of you.

Part Seven

The search for the stag takes your group north into Fjerda, but it’s after you return to Os Alta that a surprising event occurs.

Part Eight

The Winter Fete goes smoothly, a perfect evening followed by a foiled assassination. A few days later, you and Aleksander journey into the Fold.

Part Nine

After a dramatic arrival into West Ravka, your group travels to Os Kervo, and you recruit a pirate privateer to join you in the search for the sea whip.

Part Ten

The hunt for the sea whip has begun, but a number of obstacles stand in your way, demanding more from you than you ever thought possible.

Part Eleven

Your near death experience has taken a toll on you, which forces Aleksander to come to a realisation.

Part Twelve

A successful return to Ravka prompts you to share warnings of the future with Aleksander, and a new (but not unfamiliar) character invites himself into your schemes.

Part Thirteen

Slowly the pieces of your plan for the Fold come into place, but thoughts and fears of the future continue to haunt you.

Part Fourteen

Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.

Part Fifteen

As Alina is about to bring down the Fold, Aleksander suggests a theory that lifts your hopes.

Part Sixteen

Together, you and Aleksander journey to the monastery of Sankt Feliks. To mend the tear at the making, a sacrifice from one of you is required.

Part Seventeen

With the remains of the Fold vanquished, the people celebrate. Together, you and Aleksander work to establish peace in Ravka and a safe haven for your Grisha.

Bonus Scene

Alternate Ending

Until I Found You - IAL (Aleksander’s Version)

Aleksander isn’t expecting to find love in this lifetime, that is until you arrive. - A collection of scenes from In Another Life from Aleksander’s perspective, as well as a bonus scene.

-

Post-In Another Life

Future Uncertainty

Lingering insecurities rear their head now that everything has been resolved, and Aleksander encourages you to share your fears. (set mid-part seventeen)

The General’s Crown

In an attempt to escape the attention of being a living saint, you retreat into the fields and create flowers for the local children. It isn’t long before your husband finds you.

Christmas Eve

Its your second Christmas in Ravka, your first with the country at peace and Aleksander as your husband. Together, you have the perfect Christmas Eve.

The New Year

It’s New Years Eve, and the first time you’re celebrating with Aleksander as your husband.

What the Future Holds

Immortality suits you well, and your new life with Aleksander is better than you ever could have imagined.

#in another life au #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 14

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6k

Content: SMUT WARNINGS!!! (hoooorayyy!!!) oral sex (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, nipple play

A/N: unbeta'd!! literally just finished writing it!!! hooray for these two finally getting it on!!!

Chapter Thirteen | Masterlist | Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fourteen - Me, too

Part of you couldn’t believe it was happening. Another part of you couldn’t believe that it hadn’t been happening all along. You kept your hands on Yoongi’s face, not breaking the kiss, as you moved, straddling him and sitting down into his lap. It wasn’t close enough. You were filled with an intense longing, that expanded in your chest like a balloon waiting to burst.  

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to Yoongi, your lips barely leaving his to say the words before you pressed them together again.  

“What?” 

You kissed him twice more before you could answer. 

“I don’t know; I just feel like I’ve missed you. We haven’t spoken for a week and I...”  

Your heart hiccupped and you took a breath, your face still close enough to his to smell the tang of whiskey in his mouth. 

“I thought it was all over,” you whispered.  

“I’m so-” 

You put a hand over his mouth; you didn’t need him to keep saying it. You didn’t want him to be sorry. That didn’t matter anymore. Not now. Not now you were right where you wanted to be.  

“You don’t have to keep saying it. It’s ok. I understand. It’s ok.” 

Yoongi was starting to shake his head, to argue with you even while you still had your hand over his mouth, but you wouldn’t have that either. You replaced your hand with your mouth, wove your fingers in his hair, and sucked on his bottom lip, grazing your teeth against it lightly. Yoongi’s hands were on your legs, just resting, and you had to move them for him, picking them up and placing one on your hip, one on your waist, your T-shirt lifting just enough to bring his palm in contact with your skin. His hands were cold—they always were—and goosebumps skittered across your skin. You moaned, encouraging, when he squeezed, his grip tightening on you.  

You wanted him to want this as much as you did; you were burning up with it. You wanted every inch of him, every ounce. You knew that it wasn’t exactly true, but it felt like it had been a year; it felt like you had been waiting for this since you met. Something unlocked inside you, unleashing things that had been bottled up so tightly, it took you months to realise they were there. But you knew now and you wouldn’t be forgetting. You were all in and your desire, your greed, for Yoongi was enormous.  

He wanted it. You. His skin felt aflame with it. His stomach flipped when you moaned into his mouth, when you rolled your tongue over his, when you shifted slightly on his lap. It was difficult not to fight it because he had been fighting these feelings for such a long time. Denying them, at first, refusing to accept them; trying to convince himself they were something else, something different. And then a different kind of denial: a denial that said he was fine with it, a denial that said he was happy being your friend, kept at that distance as you held others closer, a denial so sure that he hadn’t even recognised it was there. Finally, a gut-wrenching battle every time you smiled, every time you laughed, every time you so casually crossed into his space, inserted yourself there, your legs resting over him on the sofa, your head on his shoulder, your hand in his as you skipped down the road. He knew he was weak; he knew he was powerless in the face of your brightness. Shadows disappear under the light of the sun and so did his. You made him feel happy in a way that hurt because he wasn’t whole. Because there was always a gulf of two or three inches between him and you, whom he loved, without admitting that he loved.  

But now you were in his arms, your skin warm under his palms, your mouth sweet, your tiny little moans like arrows straight into his heart. And he wanted all of you. Every inch. Every ounce. Every drop of you that he could get. He wanted to melt right into you like sugar into water.  

Then you lowered one hand from his hair and ran it down his chest, your fingers toying with the hem of his shirt and the butterflies in his stomach turned to snakes.  

He wanted all of you. That much was indisputable. But there were things he didn’t want you to see. Not yet anyway. Not now. He had barely made it over here with his life and sanity intact. He couldn’t do more. He put his hand on yours, gently, not moving, just stilling. You pulled back and the space between you felt cold. 

“Are you ok?” you asked, your hand tangled in his where he had stopped you. 

He nodded and tried to think of what to say, of how to say it, of how to get out of saying it. You touched your nose to his.  

“What is it?”  

He cleared his throat. 

“Um, can we maybe get off the floor? My legs are going numb.” 

You giggled and stood, taking his hands in yours to pull him to his feet, too, leading him to the sofa. Yoongi grinned, relieved for a second to have dodged the bullet, his mind still working furiously to think of how to put you off a second time without having to reveal even more brokenness to you. 

As you walked the few paces to the sofa, there was so much more distance between you than there had been before and it almost felt like fresh air, like you had been drowning in Yoongi. Drowning happily. You felt dizzy, a little giddy, like laughing until your stomach hurt. It fizzed in you like a shaken can of coke.  

You made Yoongi sit, then pushed him backwards so he was lying, and took your place on top of him. You were happy kissing him. Just being this close to him. The feeling of his hands on your skin and the taste of his tongue and him being yours, you would take it.  

You twisted your hands into Yoongi’s hair and he sighed a breath of relief. Figuratively. Literally, he felt breathless, heart pounding and chest heaving, as it had been when he was standing outside your door, but better this time. All good. All you. All the breathless anticipation that had led to this, all the lovesick sighs and hitched breaths he’d tried to hide, all the days and weeks and months that he’d believed this would never happen evaporating into nothingness, filling the air with sweetness. He was terrified of being seen by you–literally–but he wanted to see you, touch you, taste you, all of you. He wondered if he could have it both ways. If you would let him just give to you, if you would let him hide for tonight even as he asked you to bare yourself.  

It ached in him, like a deep stretch, yearning for you, for your body, for the feel of it beneath his hands, for the sounds you might make, for showing you that he could be good to you. He slipped beneath your top once more, higher and higher, up your waist and past your ribs, until he could squeeze your breasts, rub a thumb over a nipple and feel it harden, until your lips opened and out fell a sigh of contentment, your hips slightly shifting over his.  

You bit down on Yoongi’s earlobe to try to stop the whine escaping you. You’d always been sensitive and he was being tantalisingly gentle with you, in a way that felt teasing, felt like breadcrumbs, felt like anticipation building in your gut and dripping in your underwear. You felt him shift beneath you, rising so you were both sitting and then pushing you back further, turning the tables so now you were on your back. You complied willingly, happy to be wherever he would put you, as long as he kept kissing you, as long as he kept touching you.  

When he dipped his head, you thought he was going to kiss your mouth, but he planted his lips against your neck, trailing down onto your chest.  

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered as he licked over your T-shirt, soaking the cotton and sucking at your nipple beneath it. “Yoongi...”  

He pulled back and looked at you with eyes as bright and clear as you’d ever seen them. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked with the hem of your top in his hands.  

You nodded and lifted yourself up so he could pull it over your head and discard it onto the floor. And then your back arched as Yoongi’s hot mouth met your skin, as his tongue made a wet stripe across your chest, as he closed his lips around the tight, hard bud of your nipple and grazed his teeth gently over it.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, reaching down for Yoongi’s T-shirt, its hem out of reach but you grabbed at it anyway, pulling it up.  

He stopped immediately, his hands flying to yours, holding them still, stopping you.  

“But-” you began, confused now because you were just following his lead. 

He shook his head and you could see the reluctance in his face as his mouth chewed around words he didn’t want to say. Because saying there’s something you don’t want to say is, in some ways, as bad as saying the thing itself. By saying you don’t want something to be seen, you acknowledge that there is something to see. And Yoongi didn’t even want to think about that. He was cursing himself for stopping you but he was itching with the discomfort of disclosure, having to strip back even more of himself. Even though you wanted him. Even though you were right there, so close he could almost feel your heart beating. It still felt contingent. Contingent on him not being worse than you thought. Contingent on him being everything he wanted to be for you. He didn’t want to be letting you down, disappointing you so soon, not when he was so close to being so happy. 

“I don’t want,” he started, slowly, “I don’t want to take it off. I don’t-” 

He paused to clear his throat and you were already nodding, your hand flat on his back now, no longer grasping but soothing.  

“I don’t want you to touch me,” he said, his voice quiet, strained with the embarrassment of saying it.  

Your stomach flipped and you felt too many things at once: sad, disappointed, angry on top of your heady desire and longing for him. Sad because Yoongi, who was the most beautiful person in the world to you, no matter what you had or hadn’t seen of him, did not want to be seen or touched by you. You could barely stand not being touched by him, regardless of your body, regardless of what it looked like or how you felt about it; sometimes friend and sometimes foe, it was nevertheless the conduit by which you could transmit yourself to others, to him. It was up against the barrier of your skin that your heart pressed, trying to reach the rest of the world. It was your fingertips that traced his face; your skin that shivered with goosebumps when he touched you; your stomach that swirled, nervous and excited, when you saw him; it was your body that allowed you to experience all this, and you wanted him to feel it, too.  

You were also greedy. In the back of your mind, there was a distantly ringing bell that said you had decided it would be a good idea to move slowly, to pace yourself, to not gorge on this all at once, but it was one that you had stopped attending to. And you were disappointed because you wanted to see Yoongi, because you wanted to touch him, because you wanted the heat and sweat of your body against his. Not even everything would be enough – there was no such thing, not for you, not when it was Yoongi.  

And you were angry. Not with Yoongi, but with whoever and whatever made him feel like he couldn’t show himself to you. For spoiling this for him, for not allowing him to let go, for taking up space in his brain that they didn’t deserve.  

“At all?” you asked, trying not to sound put out; you would do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed; you wanted to do that.  

He shook his head.  

“Ok.” 

You sat up then, pushing Yoongi onto his knees above you, and you took his hand. 

“Just so you know, though, I do want to. I won’t. It's ok, I promise I won’t, but I want to say that I do want to. I want to see you and I want to touch you, ok? I want you, totally. And I’ll wait.”  

He nodded and avoided your gaze and squeezed your hand hard. You wanted him to look at you, to look in your eyes and see that you meant it, all of it: that you wanted him and that you would wait and that everything was ok, everything would be ok.  

“Yeah, I just...” He cleared his throat again. “Not now. Not forever, but it’s too much. I ca-” 

“It’s ok. We can do whatever you want.” 

When he did finally meet your gaze, his eyes were bright again, a glint in them that held wicked promise. He leant down and kissed you, eyes never leaving yours. He spoke with his lips against yours. 

“I want to taste you.” 

Yoongi didn’t believe he was good at much, but he knew he was good at this. He could make up for all his failings with his tongue lapping at your core, lips sucking at your clit; he would show you he was worth something. He had to. He had disappointed you enough.  

He took your face in his hands and kissed you, deep and slow and soft, a quiet, rumbling moan in his chest as he lay you down again, as he palmed at your breasts, as he sucked a trail of wet kisses down your neck, as he swirled his tongue around your nipple and lower, as a breathy whine escaped you when he pressed his fingers against your clothed core, as your hips lifted and tilted and rocked against his hand.  

You whimpered when he manhandled you, pulling you around, pulling your leggings down to your ankles and off, your underwear, too, so you were sitting, naked, at the edge of your sofa, skin shimmering with hot-blooded anticipation. When he kissed the inside of your thigh, you gasped, his mouth so warm on your goose-pimpled skin. You couldn’t even have spared a second to think about your legs, what they looked like, how embarrassed you’d been by them in times past because Yoongi was squeezing you with his hands and looking at you with naked desire. His tongue poked out and he licked his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth and taking a sharp inhale.  

“Fuck,” he gasped on the exhale. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

You were waiting for it, his lips, his tongue, the wet heat of them mingling with the wet heat of your arousal, the slickness of your lips and cunt, but it was his hands first, his thumbs pressing against you, spreading you open, still with that hungry focus in his eyes, drinking you in. But you couldn’t stand it; you needed him now. He had said he wanted to taste you so why wasn’t he tasting already? 

“Babe,” you whined, drawn out and high-pitched. 

When Yoongi responded, it was with a low chuckle, deep in his chest, that sent a thrill right through you.  

“Ok,” he replied, gentle, and he pressed his lips to your thigh again, then the crease in your hip, and then all over, but just the lightest of kisses, barely there, barely felt, barely registering a tingle against the searing need already screaming in you.  

But he was just getting himself acquainted. He was trying to slow himself down because he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He wanted this to be right; he wanted to put his best foot (mouth, hand, fingers, whatever) forward and he needed to start light. He wanted to take his time, devour you slowly, unravel you carefully like the finest silk, all tangled. He could feel you getting restless beneath his hands, hear the way you huffed, impatient with him, and he took one final second to remind himself not to eat you all at once. Then he pressed his tongue to your slick, dripping slit and felt you shudder. 

He gathered your arousal and pushed it up, swirling around your clit, once, twice, over and over and you were losing yourself to it, the world receding, fading to black. You tried not to lose control, not to rush through this – though you were close, so close already, so easy for him: did he know? Could he tell? Did he know you were like putty in his hands, that everything he was doing to you was setting you alight? That you had been waiting for this for months and you wanted to savour every second, even though he was pushing you closer to the edge with every lap of his tongue, every squeeze of your thighs, every moan vibrating through his lips.  

You were panting, breathlessly chanting his name, just Yoongi, Yoongi, no one else, because it was him, and you could call anyone ‘babe’ (you did, in fact, call anyone ‘babe’, any pet name you liked), but there was only one Yoongi, only one man doing this to you right then and right there.  

And right then, right there, he sealed his lips around your clit, his tongue alternately soft and hard, lapping and flicking. Right then, right there, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them hard and insistent against you, and you couldn’t stop the low, deep moan that tumbled from you, nor the rocking of your hips. You couldn’t help the trembling and tensing of your thighs, the way they tried to close on Yoongi’s head, as you burst with pleasure, gushed with it, tingling all over as Yoongi drank you in. You came with his name on your lips and were seeing stars on the ceiling as you lifted your head, with heavy eyes and a heaving chest, to see Yoongi looking straight out you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking you off them. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your head falling back onto the sofa. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

With bones that still felt like rubber, you slid from the sofa and into Yoongi’s lap. You could feel that he was hard and you were relieved, hopeful that it meant he wanted it, wanted you, even if he didn’t want to be touched. Yet. You clasped his face between your hands and kissed him, hard, shifting when he wrapped his arms around you and shuffled you into just the right place, just the place where he could feel your wetness meet his own through the fabric of his joggers.  

He pulled away to kiss your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and asked, with a voice gruff and strained,  

“Can I fuck you?” 

The sigh of relief came out of you like a whimper and you kissed him again. 

“Yes,” you muttered, your lips barely leaving his. “Yes. Please.”  

You scrambled off him and stumbled to the bathroom, crossing your fingers that you had condoms somewhere in there. Luck was on your side.  

You fell to your knees and Yoongi took the little foil packet from you and nodded for you to climb onto the sofa. You lay back and he knelt over you, eyes roving, lip caught between his teeth. You tentatively reached out a hand and palmed at him over his clothes; his eyes fluttered shut and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He placed his hand over yours and moved it away, so he could push his trousers and his boxers down, and you watched with rapt attention. 

Yoongi didn’t look at you; he chose not to see you seeing him, even just this much of him. A blush he wished he could hide crept onto his cheeks because he realised that this was the first time, that last time, he had been behind you, your back to him, face down against a sideboard, but now, your eyes were on him. Your eyes were wide and open and shining and he could feel the heat of them as he tore open the packet and put on the condom. He didn’t have the wherewithal to think about your reaction to him; he still had something to prove.  

He shifted you again and you loved the way he did it, that he grabbed you and moved you, that he knew what he wanted and took it. You wanted him to take you. He stuffed a cushion beneath your hips and pressed your thighs apart.  

“Please.” 

You had intended it as a whisper but it came out a whine. The ache in your cunt was sharp and strong and your body trembled with need. You were barely touching, your legs resting over his, one of his hands on his thighs, the other on his cock, and you wanted more. You wanted to be smothered, overwhelmed, suffocated by him.  

“Please,” you said again and he finally flicked his eyes to yours.  

You gasped as he smirked and pressed his tip against your entrance; you were nodding fervently, panting ‘yes’ as he pushed inside.  

Yoongi had to close his eyes, had to focus on going slowly; he wanted this to be good for you, far more than he cared what he got.  

“Are you ok?” he asked, risking a quick glance at your face.  

Your affirmative reply was barely breathed, high and tremulous, and Yoongi might have mistaken it for a lie, for you saying what he wanted to hear, for uncertainty, but your hands were clawing at him, pulling him down by the shoulders, bringing his face to yours so you could kiss him; your legs were lifting, wrapping around his back as he bottomed out. You moaned into his mouth as he pulled back and tipped your hips so that when he pressed in again, he hit you exactly right, and you clenched around him. 

It would have been a lie for Yoongi to say that he hadn’t thought about this at all over the last eleven months. But it wasn’t a lie to say he’d tried not to. He’d tried not to think of you like this: wet and naked and kissing him, warm and pliant and squeezing him tight as he fucked you slowly. He’d tried not to fantasise about this even though he thought he’d never have it because it didn’t feel right. It hadn’t felt right to think about you like this when you were only friends, when it wasn’t what you wanted; there was a boundary there and he didn’t want to cross it. But now that you were, now that you really were bare and blushing and breathing heavy beneath him, everything he’d tried not to think came at him.  

In a grossly not safe for work kaleidoscope, he saw this, you, him, the two of you, everywhere. He was fucking you on this sofa and he’d fuck you in your bed, and his bed, and on the floor of every room of his apartment; he’d eat you out in the barely private toilet stall of a club and you’d suck him off in the shower; you’d wake him with your small, warm hands wrapped around his dick; he’d leave work early to come home to you and fuck you on the dining table while dinner got cold; he’d finally make use of the back seat of his car... Every minute drop of desire he’d felt for you came raging forth and he gasped when he realised how close he was, how he could come that very second.  

That wasn’t what he wanted. He tangled his fingers in your hair and kissed you hard, looking into your eyes that looked back at him with a kind of open vulnerability that made him want to cry. He closed his eyes and kissed you again, grateful for you, desperately grateful that you were there, for everything you had ever done, for making the first move, for giving him a second chance.  

He had to slow down. He hadn’t intended to fuck you this fast. He pushed himself up on his hands and looked down your body to where you and he connected and he groaned.  

“Fuck,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. “Fuck, you feel good. Shit.” 

You hummed your agreement and tightened your legs around him. He had to bite his tongue when you said his name, breathy and deep and almost slurred. No one had ever said his name like that before, like you were drunk on him, drunk with desire.  

Because you were. You were full, everywhere. His cock stretched out your cunt and your feelings for him stretched out your heart; your smile stretched your face when you looked at him, sweaty at his hairline, fucked out, mouth hanging open. You hoped this was as good for him as it was for you, because it was really fucking good for you.  

Then he shifted his weight onto one arm and his other hand found your clit. Your head tipped back and your eyes rolled with it as you thundered towards another climax, your breath catching in your chest, a half-uttered exclamation trapped in your throat. Yoongi grunted, his eyebrows knitted together as you came, the sick squelch of him moving through your flooding core making him clench his jaw. If he let himself, he’d come too, but he wanted to fuck you through it, wanted to make sure you were all done, out for the count, before he did.  

Spent, your limbs flopped, an arm falling off the sofa and your legs falling from Yoongi’s back. As if reading your mind, he leant down again, on his elbows now, closer to you, so you could kiss him, so you could taste him and sink your teeth into his bottom lip, so you could feel him groan as he picked up his pace.  

He surrendered to it, let himself into his body to feel it, you. Taut like a tightrope, he was trembling as he slammed his hips against yours a final once, twice, and three times before he came, his face pressed into your neck, your lips next to his ear, calling him ‘baby’.  

He stilled, getting his breath back, careful not to fall onto you, and you both lay quiet for a moment, the rush of your breath the only sound between you.  

You whined, pouting, when he moved first. When he carefully pulled himself out and climbed off the sofa, discarding the used condom and tucking himself back into his clothes.  

“Hey!” you called, when he didn’t come immediately back to you.  

You heard his footsteps grow more distant and you were just waiting for your body to come around so you could turn over, look for him. He was back before that, with a damp towel that he cleaned you up with. The tenderness built a lump in your throat and you swallowed thickly, promising yourself that you weren’t going to cry. You were done with crying.  

Yoongi moved away again and he looked at the towel in his hands, not sure what to do with it. He didn’t know where you put your dirty laundry, wasn’t sure if he should put it there even if he knew because it was damp and damp things would fester if they weren’t dried. He stood in your kitchen, looking left and right, still a little dazed, and he suddenly felt so stupid. Because it had been going so well. And- 

“Hey!” 

He turned around when you called him again and he could see your head over the arm of the sofa, looking at him, frowning and pouting. 

“What are you doing?” 

He held the towel aloft and then shrugged. 

“Where should I, wha-” 

“Throw it on the floor for all I care! Get back here!” 

You were about to feel self-conscious of your neediness, self-conscious of your nakedness next to Yoongi, fully-clothed, but he grinned and it seemed so genuine, so unguarded, his smile so wide that you forgot to. You shuffled over on the sofa so he could lie on his back and you could drape yourself over him. You had to turn his face with your hand so you could kiss him, had to hold it there so you could look at him some more. You saw the pink at the tips of his ears reach his cheeks, noticed that he didn’t hold your gaze. You giggled and kissed his cheek. 

“You’re so funny,” you said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re being all shy and cute but five minutes ago, you were so confident, even smug about getting me off.” 

Yoongi’s mouth twisted and you rushed to make sure he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“I liked it. The confidence is well-deserved, trust me-” and you pressed another kiss to his cheek, “it’s just funny seeing you like that, and now like this.”  

Yoongi cleared his throat and nodded but still didn’t look at you when he spoke. 

“I’m good in bed; I know I’m good in bed-” 

“-I’ll say-” 

“It’s not-… It’s actually not that hard to be good if you pay attention. I know I- I can give you what I want to give you-” 

“Like two orgasms?” 

Yoongi pinched his lips together as he tried not to laugh and the blush on his cheeks deepened. 

“Something like that... It’s just... This part, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you want.” 

You shrugged. 

“I want this.” 

He looked at you, his face an open question. 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “Don’t you? Are you not a cuddler? Do you not like cuddling?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“I do-” 

“Oh, well, thank god, because you may have noticed, I’m kind of a cuddly person. I need them to live.” 

He didn’t fight his smile this time. 

“I had noticed.” 

He turned to you voluntarily then and you took the opportunity to kiss him. You kissed him lightly at first, but you couldn’t help yourself going in for another, for more this time, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, gliding your tongue over it, rolling it over his when he opened up. You could have lain for hours doing just this, just this much.  

“I’m happy you’re here,” you whispered against his lips. 

“Me, too.” 

You dragged yourself back, knowing you were wandering so close to the edge of being truly drunk on him, too giddy and loved-up to ask the questions that were hovering at the edges of your brain. 

“Um,” you began, and it was your turn to not want to look at him. “Where do we go from here?” 

“Bed?” 

You snorted and playfully slapped at his chest. 

“No, I mean, like... us. Are we- like, we, are we together now?” 

You tried not to be nervous because he said he felt it, had feelings, wanted you. And he had fucked you like he meant it—it had felt like he meant it, hadn’t it? -- so you shouldn’t be nervous. But you were.  

“Do you want to be?” he asked back. 

“Yes.” 

“Me, too.” 

And you were going to respond, to say more, to kiss him one more time, but he spoke first. 

“I want to take you on a date.” 

“A date?” 

“Yes, a date. If you want.” 

Yoongi was already anxious about it. About what to do and where to take you and whether or not you’ll like it, whether or not you’ll have a good time, will it change things or will he do the wrong thing—but he wanted to do it. He had talked himself into this (with a little help from Namjoon and Suri) with the truth: he trusted you and you never ran away from him. You still hadn’t run yet; you were still naked in his arms, telling him you needed cuddles to live and it hit him again: you’d always been like this. You had always been coming towards him, even when there were other people, or when things went wrong or things were bad, you were always coming to him; you never walked away from him, never left him. Even after last week when he had let you down, broken your heart, you still let him come back to you. So he was going to do this. He wanted to be everything he could for you; he wanted to be everything or at least die trying, so yes, he would take you on a fucking date. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Of course you wanted to go on a date. And it filled your heart with a soaring relief, that he had thought about it, that he was thinking about it. That there was something beyond the edge of this sofa, the end of this night. He had kissed you and fucked you and he was still holding you now and he was looking at tomorrow or tomorrow’s tomorrow and making plans for it. There was a future and you weren’t the only one looking at it.  

But you still had to check. Because you couldn’t be wrong again. Not with Yoongi. You had to make sure you were on the same page, completely, that this was it, that he was yours, that you were his. And if he uttered the word ‘casual’ or said you’d ‘see how things go’ or anything that implied he wasn’t both feet in, you thought you would burst into flames, spontaneously combust and never come back to this realm again. So you had to ask.  

“Babe?” 

He hummed his response. 

“Are we... Is-” You paused, cleared your throat, and took a sharp, decisive breath. “Are you my boyfriend now? Do you want to be?” 

“You want that?” 

You were frustrated that he couldn’t just answer, that you had to be the one to say it first again. You knew why, you understood, but your guts still twisted that he fired it back at you, that he didn’t just say it, that he couldn’t tell you what he wanted, that he wanted you. You knew he’d say it if you did, but it somehow didn’t make it easier to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

You heard Yoongi’s sigh of relief as you let out your own. 

“Me, too,” he said. 

“I don’t want to see anyone else,” you clarified further, needing this to be absolutely explicit. “This is it for me. You.” 

Yoongi’s arms reached around you and he squeezed as he kissed your hair. He sighed lightly, breath washing over you. 

“Me, too. I haven’t wanted anyone else since the day we met.” 

Chapter Thirteen | Masterlist | Chapter Fifteen

tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fluff

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 13

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Johanna thinks men are stupid and she doesn’t respect them (pls tell me someone gets this reference)

Content Warnings - your fave is an idiot (for now)

District 13 is lonely. They still won’t let you have any visitors and haven’t quite determined if you are safe yet. Their constant dismissal of your words reminds you of why you went mute all those years ago.

“Please,” you beg one of the doctors. “What do I have to do to prove I’m not a danger? You released Annie a week ago.”

“Miss Y/L/N I am not approved to clear you. That decision is made elsewhere,” the doctor responds.

“Then let me speak to whoever’s in charge!” you demand. “There has to be some way for me to show you all that I’m harmless.”

Ten minutes later you are sitting in front of a lady named President Coin. Your hands and feet are still cuffed but they gave you a jumpsuit to wear instead of your hospital gown. They wheeled you over here in a wheelchair despite your constant reminders that you could walk just fine.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Coin states. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to be released from the hospital,” you firmly state. “I’m of no danger to anyone here.”

“I’m afraid we cannot do that,” Coin replies.

“Why?” you ask.

“It was risky enough to bring you to thirteen,” Coin explains. “We can’t have someone as rogue as you wandering amongst the general population. It’s too dangerous.”

“How many times do I have to explain to you that I’m no longer a danger to anyone?” you practically shout. “They didn’t hurt me in the capital. They gave me some treatment that made me better. I’m not feral anymore.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Coin asks.

“I didn’t talk to anyone for five years besides Finnick,” you snort. “You think I’d be talking to you if I wasn’t healed?”

“That is a fair point,” she sighed. “Maybe we could come to a compromise. I won’t permit your release yet but I will allow you to have pre-approved visitors on the condition that a soldier can monitor the visits and administer sedative if necessary. We can revisit this arrangement in two weeks and adjust based on results.”

“Fine,” you huff. “I just want to see Finnick.”

An hour later, Finnick comes to visit. You reach out to pull him onto the bed with you but he sticks to the edge of the room, sitting down in a chair in the opposite corner.

“Finn,” you whine. “Come here.”

“They told me I need to stay five feet away,” he states. “for my own safety.”

“Well that sounds a lot like a rule you ignored for the past five years,” you shrug. He just shakes his head in response.

“I can’t,” he states. “Not until I know you aren’t going to hurt me.”

You look at him dumbfounded. He thinks you would hurt him?

“You really think I’m going to hurt you?” you ask him.

“I,” he stutters. “I don’t know.”

“They fixed me,” you explain. “I can talk to everyone now. No more violent outbursts or breakdowns.”

He just shakes his head and puts his hands on his temples.

“If you’re just going to treat me like a feral animal, then leave,” you state, causing him to look up at you. What hurts the most is the fact that he actually does get up and leave.

He doesn’t trust you.

Three days later, Johanna comes to see you. Finnick hasn’t come back since you told him to leave so you’ve been all alone in your room.

“Hey Fiesty,” she mutters as she sits down on your bed. “What are you up to nowadays?”

“Nothing much,” you shrug. “I just got moved from one prison to another.” This answer gets a small laugh out of Johanna.

“Glad to see you’re talking again,” she states. “When are they letting you out?”

“They aren’t,” you respond.

“Oh come on,” she groans. “You’re harmless. Don’t tell me Finnick hasn’t tried convincing Coin to release you.”

“He hasn’t,” you reply, shaking your head. “He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to hurt him like how Peeta hurt Katniss.”

“Ugh. Men are so stupid,” Johanna groans. “I’ll talk some sense into him when he visits me this afternoon.”

“He visits you?” you ask. “Why doesn’t he visit me?”

“Because he’s stupid,” Johanna snorts. “Don’t worry. I’ll go fix your relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship!” you exclaim as she leaves your room.

“Shut up Fiesty!” she yells as she finally exits.

“Hey idiot,” Johanna states as Finnick enters her room. He looks like he didn’t sleep again.

“What did I do this time?” he groans.

“You’ve been avoiding Fiesty,” she replies. “She’s locked up in a room all by herself and I’m the only one who has visited her in days.”

“I can’t see her,” he responds, fiddling with the rope in his hands. “It isn’t safe.”

“Stop being an idiot,” Johanna states, causing Finnick to look up at her. “I don’t know exactly what her treatment entailed but it definitely wasn’t the same as mine or Peeta’s. She never screamed. She didn’t have a single cut or bruise on her body when they rescued her. They even polished the bite mark off her wrist. If they had done anything to her, I think someone would have noticed by now.”

“You said before that her room was near Peeta’s,” Finnick comments. “Did he see or hear anything?”

“Well I’m not allowed to see him so I haven’t been able to ask,” Johanna shrugs. “One of the soldiers, the one who is supposedly Katniss’ cousin, told me that Fiesty made a comment about Peeta being dangerous when she was brought in but he didn’t think much about it till he attacked Katniss. If she was also dangerous, I don’t think she would have tried to warn anyone.”

“I don’t know…” Finnick sighs.

“Look,” Johanna states firmly. “We will go visit her together, first thing tomorrow, and I will show you that she’s not dangerous.“

“Fine,” Finnick relents.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick #thg finnick #mockingjay #johanna mason #the feral one

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

Unexpected Meeting With Thirteen

Nsfw content MDNI

CW: NSFW, Smut, Fem!Reader (Breasts and "Good girl," but GN genitals,) Thirteen X Reader, Oral (receiving and giving), Fingering (Receiving), Hair pulling, Very raunchy and a little rough.

A/N: My shortest so far, but it's basically all sex lol. Thirteen interrupts you while you while you're getting ready for a meeting. Way dirtier and rougher than my other stuff, but I think it fits her. I think she would be mean to me and I'd like it. <3 ~1600 words.

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

You're a little late, frantically running around your room trying to get ready. You have an important meeting coming up that you really can't miss.

As you're picking out the clothes you want to change into, you hear a knock at the door. Great, he's coming to collect me, you think. Can't I just get a second? Before you can even get to the door it swings open and Thirteen walks through.

"Oh," you say. "Thirteen. What are you doing here?" You're trying to keep your cool as this reaper has burst into your room while you're already stressed about being late. Of all the times she could have come by.

She casually runs a slender finger over some of your possessions as she walks past. "Just thought I'd check in on you," she says, aloof. She's tapping her long nails against some glassware, making a pleasant tink sound.

"Well I'm kinda busy," you say. "I’m running late and I've got a meeting wi-"

"With one of the brothers?" She cuts you off. She rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Yeah," you say, defeated.

"It's always them with you," she grumbles, taking a few steps closer to you. Your voice catches in your throat as she comes mere inches from your face. She smells so sweet. "Tell me, which one of them has taken your fancy?"

"I'm just doing my job," you scoff, turning away from her. She turns your head gently with one long nail. You gulp when you meet her eyes. Shivers run down your spine as she casts her intimidating gaze on you. Excitement or nerves? Your heart is pounding and you're not quite sure what to think.

"Wouldn't you rather a woman's touch?" She asks as she presses her soft, bare thigh up against your crotch. You gasp and tense up as her plush skin squishes up against you, feeling a sudden excitement surge down there. You blush and look away.

"I'm not sure what you mean," You reply, but secretly hoping she continues.

"Look at me," she says, taking your chin in her hand and turning your head again. With her other hand she reaches down to your crotch and runs her slender fingers across it, her nails scratching the fabric as she does. You moan a little and she smiles. She knows it's over now, and you'll be putty in her hands.

"But what about my meeting?" You ask through heavy breaths.

“It can wait,” She says, running another finger down your chest.

“What if he comes looking for me?”

“Let him look,” She replies as her finger reaches your pants.

“He might hear,” You moan.

“Let him hear,” she says, kissing you neck as she gently rubs you with her hand through your pants.

She licks from your neck to your lips, wrapping you up in sloppy kisses with forceful tongue. She runs her fingers through your hair, grabbing and tugging it occasionally which gets even more moans out of you. There’s a frenzied intensity to her every touch. She just grins in satisfaction as you give her what she wants. Suddenly, she pushes you down onto your knees, still holding you by your hair. You’re face to face with her skirt now.

“Pull my panties down,” She demands. As you start to reach up under her skirt, she barks “Not with your hands.”

You bite the fabric of her panties and start to pull them down. You can feel the hot dampness of the fabric already. “Good girl,” she says, swirling her fingers through your hair. You get chills from the feeling of her nails on your scalp.

When her panties fall down to her ankles, she says “Stick out your tongue.” As you do, she pulls your face to her pussy, and starts to grind her clit against your tongue. She’s drenched down there already as she clutches your hair even harder to press your face against her crotch. She’s moaning loudly as she grinds her hips against you in dramatically sexy gyrations.

As you start to get into it, you move your tongue and she moans even louder. Desperately clutching her thighs, you wrap your hands around her legs to brace yourself. Your tongue slides between her folds as her soft thighs rub and squeeze your cheeks. You can feel arousal swelling up in your hips. Her pubis is grinding into your nose, and all you can taste and smell is her. She’s making such cute sounds already.

“Good girl,” she moans again. “You’re doing sooo good.” She’s getting louder and higher. “Keep going. You’re doing so good.” As she praises you, you lick her clit faster. She moans your name until suddenly she quivers and convulses as warm sweetness spills out over your tongue and chin.

Her legs are shaking as she lets your hair go and looks down at you with a wicked grin. “Your turn” she says, gripping your collar and pulling you up to your feet. She pushes you up against a wall and starts planting kisses all over your wet face, almost feral in her excitement. She’s running her hands all through your hair and clasping your cheeks as she runs her tongue over you. You can't hope to keep up, so you just continue to give her the soft little involuntary moans she's looking for. Wrapping your hair in her hands, she jerks your head back and starts to kiss your neck. She sucks on your skin leaving little lipstick marks and hickeys for the world to see.

Suddenly she pulls away and turns you around, pressing your face against the wall. She unbuttons your top and expertly removes your bra as she plants little desperate kisses on your neck. She grabs your breasts from behind as she kisses your back. You don’t even have time to get shivers as she rubs and kisses all over you. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t tell her to stop. Would she even listen anyway? She’s rubbing your nipples with one hand as she moves her way to your pants with the other. After unbuttoning your pants, she flips you around, biting her lip as she looks you up and down.

She gets down to her knees and pulls your panties down. Now she’s taking a more delicate approach, gently kissing your hip bones, each little kiss shooting a jolt of electricity through your spine. She looks up at you as she runs her fingernails up and down your back.

She takes her time down there, kissing your legs and tummy and gently scratching up and down your body with her long nails. She spreads your legs to get to your inner thighs. As she licks there, you can feel her face occasionally brush up against your genitals, causing you to throb in excitement.

She can tell that you're more than ready so she takes more time to tease you instead. She's licking your inner thigh, scratching up and down your legs, gently brushing your pleading and desperate parts with her face. Each second feels like an eternity.

Without warning she brings her lips down. There's an explosion of pleasure, almost orgasmic in its intensity. You're grinding and gyrating your hips as she goes down on you, but she just looks up at you with her serpentine eyes. There's a sense of lofty arrogance in them like she's trying to say I know you won't last long, but that's okay. She might be right too. She twirls her tongue around and licks back and forth, making sure to leave no part untouched. You're already bucking your hips wildly, and you can tell you’re close.

She pulls away and says "Not yet. Good girls last a little longer."

You groan in protest. She takes her two first fingers and licks them up and down with seductive eye contact. Of all her nails, she's kept these two short for this very reason. Using her fingers she gives you a few gently teasing strokes of your hole, before pushing them in. You moan loudly as she curls her fingers toward your belly button, repeatedly rubbing your G-spot.

She presses her mouth back down to your genitals as she continues her skilled finger movements inside of you. The two sensations are almost too much to bear. You're moaning louder now, and you're sure it can be heard in nearby rooms and the hallway, but there's no controlling yourself; not with her. You think you may hear footsteps outside, but it's impossible to concentrate while she's running her tongue so skillfully over you. You can hardly think about anything at all as you get closer.

She can feel it in the way you clamp down on her fingers. You're right on the edge and absolutely shrieking in pleasure at this point. A few more strokes of her tongue set you over the edge and you release your warmth all over her tongue. She moans and giggles as you throb and convulse all over her.

Your knees are shaking and you can barely hold yourself up, even with your back against the wall. You slide down onto your butt and sigh heavily, trying to catch your breath.

"Good girl," Thirteen coos.

"That was so good," you say, barely able to form words. "I've never felt anything like that."

She grins and climbs into your lap, arms wrapped around your neck. "That good, huh? Well I guess we'll have to do it again." Clasping your cheeks, she gives you a long, deep kiss before getting up. "Don't forget your meeting." She winks at you as she wipes her wet face and walks out the door, leaving you a crumpled mess of pleasure on the floor.

#Thirteen smut #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #omswd #omswd smut #thirteen x reader #obey me thirteen #obey me x reader #om thirteen #obey me

[blainesebastian]

new normal (ccg universe)

words: 3,339 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (based on two anon requests) this is basically a 3+1 fic! three times ccg was uncomfortable while pregnant and one time she was perfectly content notes: most of my ccg family series is in 'order' so if you want to read ‘expectant’ before this, you can! this fic also references 'you fit right here' but again, not 100% necessary to read these first :) i just like knowing my universe works well together lmao warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief , @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

When you first found out you were pregnant you were excited and terrified all at the same time. You weren’t exactly sure how it was all going to work even though you were sure it would, everything had to change in ways you weren’t expecting. Not all at once, of course, a slow trickle…but even then it was noticeable. One day, nine months later, the direction of your lives would change forever.

Something to plan for, of course, but the day to day? You often times had no idea how to begin to approach it.

Here’s the thing that seems completely ironic—you finally felt like you had settled. That’s how it always appears to be, isn’t it? Once you tackle one obstacle, something else pops up like a twisted game of whack-a-mole. Not to…completely describe your relationship with Austin like that, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like working over hurdles. You think it’s healthy to acknowledge that your relationship with Austin isn’t normal, far from something ‘regular’ in so many different ways.  

You tackled what it was like to date him under the very public eye of everything that had to do with Elvis. Then getting married and realizing that no matter what you did, there would always be ‘opinions’ of you and where you’ve come from, your lack of ‘worth’ automatically being connected to you like cinderblocks attached to your ankles. Didn’t matter how you had dreams of being in the industry before Austin, all that some people saw were rungs in the ladder, you somehow ‘using’ your husband to take those steps into film.

Some days bothered you more than others, but you got through it, because at the end of the day—Austin always saw you for who you truly were. And that’s all that mattered.

Becoming pregnant, as suspected, is a completely new set of hurdles.

--  one

There is really no use in keeping it quiet, the fact that you’re expecting, you’re at a party over Jillian’s when you spill the beans to Austin and things only progress from there. Your family and other close friends learn rather quickly but you don’t post anything on social media. There’s this strange sense of wanting to keep this private that envelops you like a tidal wave. For some reason, it’s one thing for people to have opinions about your relationship with Austin, your career, but it’s another for them to say things about your body like this, about the life growing inside of you.

You feel utterly vulnerable and exposed and don’t want to be in front of cameras or talk to anyone that’s not someone you both know (meaning paps or fans). You don’t stop Austin from doing so, would never demand that of him, but he also respects that you’re uncomfortable and has always been protective of you. That doesn’t change.

The first trimester is the easiest because the baby isn’t bigger than a peach, you’re not really showing, but it all spirals from there. Thirteen weeks turns into fifteen, which turns into twenty-five. And there’s really no hiding a head of cauliflower.

You kinda accept that because this isn’t going away any time soon, you’re only going to get bigger. It’s not like you’re really worried about what you look like? Moreso that your hormones are raging in a bunch of various ways and you don’t like the feeling of being looked at. Like you’re under some sort of microscope, a specimen to be studied.

Paps are nothing new, Austin is pretty good at getting them to keep a healthy distance, but no—you’re really talking about fans.

You’re out to dinner at this Italian place you love with Austin’s sister and Jillian, tucked into a booth towards the back that’s supposed to promote privacy but…throughout eating you’ve noticed that a small table of girls have spotted Austin from their seats. Again, this isn’t new and usually wouldn’t bother you.

But instead of coming over? They’re taking pictures from their seats and because the booth is close enough, you can hear them chattering on about you. It’s not a full conversation but the tailends of sentences and—since you’re on the end of the booth seat they can see the swell of your belly and they’re wondering if that’s a food baby or a pregnancy. You can’t help but bristle, the words feel louder than they actually are, you know this because your table continues on with discussions that are light and funny and easy.

Your fingers dig into the napkin on your lap, trying to lean back into the seat and just enjoy catching up, especially with Austin’s sister. But you feel like your world keeps tilting off its axis, ruining your equilibrium.

It’s really bothering you that they’re taking all these pictures, trying to be nonchalant but coming across like Gossip Girl instead.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Austin’s palm rest on your knee and you blink, turning your head to look at him. His eyebrows draw together a little, “You alright?”

You nod softly, giving him a small smile but your husband doesn’t look overly convinced. You shouldn’t be surprised, you suppose, he knows you.

He’s patient, squeezing your knee as he takes a sip of his water. Jillian and Ashley are knee-deep in a conversation about an actor the make-up artist is kind-of-sort-of seeing. You’re grateful that the attention isn’t on you, which is probably one of the only reasons you turn to Austin and say,

“That table of girls over there keeps taking pictures. I think they’re trying to be subtle about it but…” You trail off, shaking your head, words getting stuck in your throat. Your hand settles on your belly and Austin glances down before looking over at the table.

You don’t have to explain, “Want me to say somethin’ to them?”

“No,” You reply quickly, not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone. You…you get it, you were and are a fan. There are boundaries, of course? But you’ve seen and experienced way worse. This probably wouldn’t even bother you if you weren���t feeling extra sensitive and vulnerable right now.

Austin hums lightly from the spot next to you, putting his napkin on the table and motions for you to get up. You hesitate for a moment but…he’s not going to go over there when you’ve told him not to. You shimmy out of the booth and let out a soft sigh, waiting for him to stand—and then he motions you to slide into his spot.

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as he runs a hand down your back. You eagerly get into the booth, Austin following, his body shielding yours from any onlookers. If Jillian or Ashley realize the switch for a reason, neither of them saying anything, instead Austin’s sister asks you about your upcoming writing project.

Austin slips an arm around your shoulders and you lean into his chest, already feeling a lot better as you begin talking. At some point during the conversation, you kiss his cheek just because and Austin smiles as his other hand gently brushes over your stomach.

--  two

The end of your second trimester somehow feels the slowest and busiest time all happening at once. You suppose it’s because you really feel yourself become the most introspective about the upcoming weeks and everything else after that, and yet, Austin’s life speeds up because he takes on another project. One of your favorite versions of your husband is when he’s working, that brightness in his eyes as he studies to become another character and figuring out what he needs to do to best bring those words on a page to life.

Sitting on a park bench near your apartment, you run your hand over your stomach and take a deep breath. The weather is just starting to turn a little chilly but it’s your favorite season—you’ve just never been a spring or summer girl. You settle back against the bench and check the time; Austin should be along any minute now. He had a lunch with his agent, and of course invited you, but you wanted a lazy day at home in bed. And that’s where you were as of an hour ago.

Stretching your legs out, you open up a small container of fruit from your purse, popping a bit of strawberry into your mouth.

“What’s the fruit today?”

You smile a little, turning your head to see Austin walking towards you. Kind of unfair how unbearably handsome he looks in his black-on-black look, jeans, leather jacket, boots…and here you are feeling like a swollen beach ball.

“Strawberry,” You tease, eating another one. You know what he’s asking.

He rolls his eyes and leans down to steal a kiss, humming at the taste of your lips.

“You ask like, every day,” Laughing lightly, you put the lid back on your fruit container and slip it into your bag, “It’s a rutabaga—we’ve moved into some vegetables.”

Austin crinkles his nose, “Never had a rutabaga.”

He reaches his hand out to help you off the bench and you hum softly, gaining your footing, “Would it help if I said she’s the size of the hamburger phone from Juno?”

Pursing his lips, he nods, “Slightly.”

Walking back towards your place, Austin wraps a loose arm around your shoulders. “How did lunch go?”

He nods, “Good, mostly just event planning, that sort of thing.” He glances down at you as you both pause to cross the street, the light blinking red, “I got somethin’ next week, lowkey schmooze event. Want to be my date?”

You let out a slow sigh and move forward to walk with him, quiet for a few moments as you contemplate. It’s not that��there’s just so many thoughts buzzing in your head about attending an event with Austin. The first one you went to as a couple you nearly had a panic attack in the car, and now you’re…like this? You hate that you’re feeling so cliché about what you look like when you’re pregnant but—

“Feels like I should be glowing but I actually just feel a hot air balloon.”

Austin smirks lightly, shaking his head, “You’re beautiful.”

You roll your eyes even though your cheeks kiss pink—compliments from him never fail in making you feel good. “You’re bias.”

“Absolutely,” He grins and a small laugh rumbles out of your chest as you get closer to the apartment. “You don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.”

You chew on your lower lip—you know that he wants you to go, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned it. There’s no pressure there, obviously, other than a selfish need to want to spend time together. You can relate to that.

“I’ll go,” You give him a small smile, “Hope there’s good snacks.”

Austin smirks, drawing you close to press a kiss to your temple. “We can leave early if there isn’t.”

And that seems like a good enough plan. You’re about to mention maybe grabbing some sort of snack now, you’re craving chicken tenders of all things, but then someone steps right into your path and nearly has you stumbling off balance. You’re about to apologize, but then you see the camera and—seriously? A minute away from walking back into your apartment?

You know you sort of signed up for this by deciding to date Austin, to marry him, to create a family together but sometimes the lack of privacy drives you utterly crazy. Is it really too much to ask for a little peace? Especially when you’re not feeling your best.

“Not today,” Is all you manage to get out before Austin is stepping in, shifting positions so that you’re in front of him. It’s easier to direct you towards the front door and unfortunately if there’s one pap, there’s usually more.

“Got a name for the baby yet?”

Austin puts his arm up, walking a bit quicker as his other hand squeezes your hip, “What have I said about puttin’ the camera in her face guys?” His voice is calm but firm, not willing to entertain any of these questions.

“When’s the due date?”

You bite your tongue on hissing out none of your business and walk up the steps to the front door. The doorman, Mike, quickly opens up to usher you both inside. Shaking your head, you run a hand over your stomach, back and forth as you make your way to the elevator with Austin.

“Sorry,” Austin says after a moment and he always does this, like he has to apologize for the paps and take responsibility for them.

You shake your head, gently waving off his apology as you lean against one of the walls, “I should start whipping cameras down,” And you’re joking…mostly, “That’d be something to write about.”

Austin smiles a little and you can see the firm line along his shoulders begin to relax. He reaches for you, drawing you close to his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead, the bridge of your nose, and finally your lips.

--  three

You only regret telling Austin that you’ll go to this event with him just once and it’s when you’re getting ready and the zipper of your dress won’t work. For starters, it’s on your side and you…while you know that means it should be easier to tug up, it’s not. You try it twice before beginning to feel the creeping in of frustration and annoyance and god, you are not about to cry over a zipper, you’re not.

“I’m not going.” You snap out, because apparently dramatics make more sense.

Austin turns away from the mirror after he does his tie, a small, handsome smile on his face that you nearly want to lose your mind over.

“C’mere.” He holds out his hand and you so want to cross your arms over your chest and pout instead, but you don’t, huffing as you move closer to clasp onto him.

Austin guides you in front of the mirror which is the last place you want to be, your eyes casting down a moment before just focusing on him instead. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and tries the zipper. When it won’t budge, you just about tear the thing off.

“Take a breath,” He says soothingly, reaching in the bedside drawer for something. Pulling out a small container of Vaseline, your eyebrows draw together as he rubs a very small amount on the zipper track. “Somethin’ my mom taught me.” He smiles a little.

He pulls the zipper down to start over and in one smooth motion, he zips the dress shut. Your mouth opens and closes almost like a goldfish. The dress wasn’t too small for you or anything like that…the zipper was just stuck.

You shake your head, tilting it back a little to rest on Austin’s shoulder. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His hand crosses back and forth across your belly, pressing a kiss to your neck. “You tell me you want to go and we’ll go, alright?”

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you nod, allowing yourself to linger in his embrace for as long as you can.

--

Turns out the event is just fine—the photos are painless and quick, Austin is as attentive as he’s always been, you’re able to catch up with people you haven’t seen in the industry in a long time and there’s plenty of good snacks.

Doesn’t stop you and Austin from leaving after two hours to grab burgers and milkshakes on the way home, however.

-- plus one

You weren’t really expecting it but Austin pushes things around in his schedule so that you both can go on a ‘babymoon’. You’re incredibly excited because it’s one of things that you found yourself looking forward to when you became pregnant, and it’s right at the cusp of thirty-five weeks (a honeydew!). After this, it’s advised that you don’t travel, even somewhere within the U.S.

Nothing really beats the feeling of your feet digging into sand, the ocean breeze kissing your face, a private-ish beach where no one is going to bother you. Not to mention—

You smile lightly from inside this beach tent you brought, an open-mouthed structure that has a canopy to keep you shaded and plenty of room for beach chairs or just towels. Austin walks out of the ocean so gracefully—you feel like you were never capable of that, even when you weren’t pregnant, tripping on the ground disappearing underneath you and waves hitting the backs of your thighs. He’s got a slight tan going on, freckles kissing his cheekbones and the skin of his shoulders, both his hands pushing his blonde hair back.

Utterly handsome; your stomach doing the same flip-flop it’s always done since the first day you saw him.

He makes his way into the beach tent, sitting down on the towels. Grabbing one, he runs it through his hair and you can’t help but chuckle at the wet dog look, running your fingers through his strands.

“You don’t want to get in?”

“I’ll probably fall,” You reply, “And then float like a buoy or something.”

Austin huffs out a soft laugh, “I’ll help you; you won’t fall.”

Humming at the idea, though very tempting, you look down at the sand right outside the tent and, “You know what I really want?” He raises his eyebrows, “I want to be able to lie down on my stomach, like, I miss that.”

Austin smiles, running his hand over your belly. Then he pauses, his eyes glancing outside the tent and… “I have an idea.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He chuckles and motions for you to get up, “C’mon,” Austin gets out of the tent and helps you stand and you watch him tug the tent aside for a moment and kneel in the sand. He starts digging with his hands and…you have no idea where this is going.

“Buried treasure?” You tease, crossing your arms along your chest. You opted for this really cute orange two-piece, not even worrying about wearing high-waisted bottoms because nothing feels good on your stomach right now.

“Yeah, X marks the spot.” He throws out, laughing a little.

It takes you a moment but…then you realize what he’s doing. He’s digging a deep hole, roughly the size of your stomach and, “Are you—”

Austin hums, standing. He tugs the tent back over the hole and crawls inside, the bottom of the tent easily giving into the space he’s created. Which…that’s perfect because you don’t have to worry about putting your belly right in the sand.

He reaches a hand out to help you back inside the tent and you kinda laugh as you hold onto his shoulder and inch back down, turning to lie on your stomach for the first time in months. It takes a bit of maneuvering and Austin folding some towels so that you can position your head but…once you finally lay down, comfortably?

“I could kiss you.”

Austin smirks, “Still can.”

You grin, “Come down here then.”

He puts down another towel and does so, running his hand along your back and brushing your hair back over your shoulder. He smiles, his nose bumping into yours as he settles close.

You lean up just slightly and kiss him, your hand cupping his cheek, and maybe it sounds dramatic? But you’ve never been happier.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips, dragging your thumb against his cheekbone.

Austin says it back against your temple, both of you settling into the sand and allowing your eyes to close as the sounds of the waves crash in.

Despite not knowing what the future will bring? You can’t help but find yourself utterly overjoyed for it.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

[stargirlaveblog]

7Seals

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Chapter 12

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Eleven

•Next Chapter: Chapter Thirteen

• Chapter List

• New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

• Word Count: 2.3k

• Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter.

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"When He opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, 'Come and see.' Another horse, fiery red, went out. And it was granted to the one who sat on it to take peace from the earth, and that people should kill one another; and there was given to him a great sword."

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Three Years Later

848

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The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows around my room as my knives chimed in a metallic duet. Outside, the night was draped in cold freckles of falling snow, the wind howling its melodic fury against the window.

Even with the clouds veiling the moon, its feeble light persisted, a reminder of the nights I yearned to spend on the roof, basking in her glow. Surviving these nights had become a silent victory, an unspoken conquest. The door creaked open, and boots scraped across the floorboards.

"Captain,"

“Iris.”

"What brings you here?" I asked, setting my knives aside. His unexpected entrance demanded my full attention.

"To check on you,"

"And how's that going for you?" I teased.

"Exactly how I thought," he grumbled. "We have an expedition tomorrow. Why aren't you sleeping?"

I shot back a playful grin, reveling in evident irritation.

"Well, look who's talking," I continued to teased, a big smile lighting up my face.

The man who never sleeps wants to chastise me for staying up?

"Not the point," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "We made a deal."

I leaned back, crossing my arms.

"You proposed a deal. I merely lent my ears," I retorted, my sass oozing.

Another audible exhale escaped Levi's lips as he paced like a caged titan.

"You need your rest for tomorrow. It's going to be a brutal expedition, and I don't need you distracted."

I couldn't resist the chance to tease him further.

"Awe, Captain," I cooed mockingly. "It's almost like you actually care for me?"

"Shut up," he groaned, clearly unamused. "If you get hurt, that's more paperwork for me. Which means stable duty for you."

Propping my feet up on the desk, I scoffed at the notion.

"We both know I don't do that type of labor," I asserted.

Levi's raised eyebrow hinted at a challenge.

"Oh? Really?"

"Absolutely," I insisted, punctuating my point with a fake yawn and a stretch. "Now, is that all you came for? You're disrupting my sleep schedule, Captain."

With an eye roll, he headed for the door, leaving me to relish alone in our chaotic conversation.

"Don't be late," he grumbled.

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"You're late."

I taunted the Captain as he sauntered into the stables. His gaze could slay a titan, but I grinned back, undeterred.

"Save it," he grunted, clearly not in the mood for my morning banter. Not that he ever was. Mornings and Levi – a match made in grumpiness.

Petra, always the dutiful soldier, handed him a canister. His reaction spoke volumes, a subtle acknowledgment of something he enjoyed. The aroma wafting from the canister hinted at it being tea.

"What's this?" Levi inquired, sniffing it with a barely perceptible smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey!" Oluo interjected, a pout on his face. "Where's my tea?"

"In the captain's hands," I laughed, already mounted on my horse.

"Come on. Let's go. Erwin and the others are waiting for us," Levi ordered, mounting his beautiful blood bay steed with practiced ease.

"Hey, Capt?" Oluo persisted, the perpetual chatterbox. "Can we just call off today's expedition? It's kinda chilly out."

"Oluo," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Shut up. All you do is yap."

"I wasn't talking to you," he sassed back.

"I was talking to the Captain."

Levi brushed off Oluo's incessant chatter, a skill we all honed over time. I could sense his annoyance – who wouldn't be irritated by Oluo's yapping?

"The Captain obviously doesn't care," I quipped, earning a silent nod from Levi.

"You don't know what you're-" Oluo began, but the sharp pain from a bitten tongue cut him short. I shot him a threatening look.

"Wanna finish that sentence?" I challenged, and he vehemently shook his head, avoiding my gaze.

"Thought so," I said, urging my horse to pick up the pace.

"Hey," Eld's unexpected voice sounded next to me. I hadn't even realized he was riding alongside.

"Hey,"

"How you feeling?"

"Pretty good. Just want this to be over. What about you?"

"Same way. Hoping the Titans won't be as active today," Eld shared.

"Same here. Just another one of Hange's theories we have to endure," I chuckled.

"So, uh," Eld's shyness was practically dripping off him. "You ready for the Yule Ball?"

"Ready? Darling, I was born ready," I joked, twirling my hair. "Every year I grace them with my absence. Quite the gift, if you ask me."

"Oh yeah, can't forget last year. Stealing all those bottles of wine was a masterpiece," Eld chuckled.

"Erwin's still recovering from the shock," I replied, feigning innocence.

"Couldn't believe his eyes. It was like magic."

"Hey, shithead."

Levi's glare pierced through the conversation. "You better not pull the same stunt this year," he warned.

"Pull the same stunt?" I widened my eyes in mock horror. "Levi, dear, that would be so last season. I'm the trendsetter, not a copycat."

Levi's smirk grew as he glanced behind me. The amusement on his face grew by the second. His devilish smize said everything. I made the mistake turning around to see Erwin on his ivory stallion, trotting right behind me.

"Commander!" I greeted, overemphasizing my surprise. "What a delightful surprise, catching you out and about."

"Likewise," Erwin replied, amusement in his eyes. "I thought you might be hidden away, skipping our expedition today to nurse a secret stash of stolen wine."

"Me? Never," I gasped dramatically. "I'm a model of sobriety. A paragon of virtue."

"Really?" Erwin raised an eyebrow. "Not what a heard a minute ago. I recall you were admitting to all your dirty tricks from last year."

"A magician never reveals her secrets, Commander," I quipped, punctuating it with a wink. "Wouldn't want to ruin the mystique."

"Well, good for you. I need entertainment for this year's ball. I expect our lovely magician and her traveling circus all in attendance," Erwin grinned.

"Oh, sir, I have stable duty that night. Can't be missing out on the thrilling world of manure management," I teased, batting my eyelashes.

"We both know that's not your type of labor," Erwin chuckled as he rode off.

"Nice going, Iris. Looks like you've just gifted us all a mandatory ticket to the ball," Levi grumbled, riding next to me.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch," Oluo complained.

"If you don't shut up," I retorted, "we both know you were only going for the booze and the chance to impress some poor soul."

"I think it'll be nice," Petra chimed in. "Seeing everyone dressed up and fancy. It'll be a good squad bonding experience."

"Iris in a dress?" Oluo laughed. "Now that's a sight I don't want to see."

"Bozado, if you don't-."

"Enough," Levi groaned at us. "Focus on the task at hand. We've got Titans to deal with, not some stupid ball."

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The wind howled, biting through layers of clothing while Oluo complained about the biting cold as it echoed into the desolate landscape.

"How much are you going to bitch?" I asked him rolling my eyes.

The frigid air seemed to freeze my words as soon as they left my mouth. I couldn't feel the tip of my nose or my ears, and my hands struggled to maintain their grip on the horse's reins.

"Enough," Levi groaned, his annoyance evident in every line of his face.

"Guys, stop," Petra attempted to mediate. "It'll be over soon."

One would assume Petra was Levi's second in command the way she attempts to keep the peace between us all. She's always there for him, attempting to make things stress free for him.

"It's not like we've seen any Titans," Gunther chimed in, breaking his silence.

"True," Levi conceded, his eyes scanning the barren surroundings.

"Hey, four-eyes!" Levi's voice cut through the cold air. "Wrap it up."

"Negative," Hange retorted, excitement evident in their voice. They looked everywhere around them as they trotted around on their dusky dark horse.

"We still have tons of time left. Right, Commander?"

I couldn't care less about catching titans. The whole situation was a headache, and I wanted those giant pests dead as much as anyone else. The bickering between the scouts only added to the chaos, but I'd endure it to keep Hange content. There was a certain level of respect I held for that lunatic.

Amidst the arguments, I found solace in the winter beauty of Wall Maria. The blanket of snow concealed the scars of the past, hiding the devastation that had scarred this place. My pale steed carried me away from the noise, into the serene white wonderland.

The wind howled, a symphony of nature's fury against my ears, yet the peace I sought remained elusive. Within the walls of Maria, echoing footsteps reverberated against the concrete structures. I watched as the snow cascaded off rooftops, the sound growing louder.

Where is the ugly bastard?

Frantically, I searched for my flare gun but it was nowhere to be found. The landscape blurred as my steed carried me, and I strained to see the others.

Did I wander that far?

And then, there it was – the monstrous figure, mindlessly wandering through the ruins of what was once a thriving town. A bitter reminder of the world we lived in, where homes turned into graves and streets into stomping grounds.

It ran mindlessly, limbs flailing as it collided with anything in its path. With a swift motion, I tore off my winter coat, spinning my gear toward the nearest building.

I have to get that fucker before it catches the others off guard. Who knows if they are paying attention right now.

My sprint across the rooftops quickened, but the snow beneath my feet threatened to slow me down.

"Abnormal in the west entrance!" I screamed, my voice cutting through the icy air, adrenaline surging through my veins. The abnormal titan loomed, fifteen meters of grotesque menace, flanked by two others measuring seven meters each.

I shot my hooks into the withering clock tower, hurtling through the sky toward the repulsive creature. Blades clashed together as I executed a mid-air flip, the hot liquid of Titan blood splattering over my freezing form. The Titan beneath me began to crumble, but time wasn't on my side, not with the other two mindless freaks closing in.

My hook shot out, aiming for a smooth ascent, but it snagged on a layer of ice. For a moment, it granted me a fleeting lift, only to betray me as the frozen surface crumbled beneath, leaving me stumbling against the wall like some chew toy for the lurking monsters.

"Friggin' hell!"

The sting of pain spread throughout my body. Breathing became a laborious task, and an all-too-familiar ache, long dormant, rekindled with a vengeance.

"Damn it all!" I shouted, hitting the floor, each impact aggravating the throbbing pain. Lifting my head, frustration bubbled within me as I found myself surrounded by three towering seven-meter Titans.

I can handle these bastards, it's my own body I'm not so sure about.

Getting back on my feet proved to be a torturous endeavor, compounded by the challenge of fixing my ODM gear after that disastrous fall. The relentless cold added another layer of difficulty to the entire ordeal.

I attempted to shoot out my hooks, only to find my gear jammed by the fall. Whirls of ODM gear spun above me as I backed against the wall, frustration boiling over.

"Come on, you piece of junk!" I muttered, wrestling with the stubborn machinery. The Titans loomed, and my irritation skyrocketed.

I watched, jaw clenched, as they closed in. In a burst of desperate energy, I pushed myself away from the wall, my blades glinting in the harsh light against the backdrop of the encroaching Titans.

Yet, before I could make a move, a shadow darted past, a blur of blades and precision. In a seamless dance, they sliced through all three Titans' napes. The achievement appeared effortless to them, and for that person, it quite literally was. He stood triumphantly on the back of the last Titan as it crumbled, a silent savior amidst the chaos.

"Hey, shithead!" Levi's voice sliced through the frosty air.

"What's grinding your gears, Grumpy?" I shot back, reveling in the opportunity to add some spice to the icy atmosphere.

He closed the gap between us, that signature scowl etched across his face as he scanned me from head to toe.

"Tch," he uttered, as if his own standards were offended.

Without a word, he tossed a handkerchief my way, and I made a show of cleaning up the remaining Titan blood on my face, all while locking eyes with him.

"Why'd you decide to go off on your own?" he grilled me, irritation simmering beneath his words.

"The bickering was giving me a headache," I quipped, shrugging off his concern with my usual nonchalance.

"You could've died," he growled, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge of anger.

"Yeah, yeah, we've danced this dance before," I retorted, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"Where's your jacket?" he demanded, scrutinizing my lack of proper winter attire.

"With my horse," I informed him, fully aware of the disapproval in his eyes.

Levi shrugged off his own winter coat and draped it over my shoulders.

"You're gonna catch a cold," he muttered, a gruffness in his tone that almost passed for concern.

"I'll survive. You're the one risking pneumonia," I countered, attempting to hand the coat back, but he walked away before I could complete the transaction.

"Where's your horse? We're leaving." he declared, his orders ringing out in the frigid air. I followed him, smirking at the thought of Grumpy Levi catching a cold.

I think it's best not to mention my injury.

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#levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #captain levi #snk levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi fluff #levi angst #levi #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #ackerman #snk #hange zoë #hange zoe #erwin smith #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff

[avatarkv]

Two hearts on the floor— one mine, both yours. (And when he died, the sun was buried with him)

You can’t seem to get over it— him.

Content and warning: Neteyam x Reader! Mentions of death. This is purely angst, trust me it does not get better haha good luck

“I want to go home,” You applied pressure to the bleeding wound, eyes never leaving his. Time was a ticking bomb and any second now could be the last so you pleaded— begged! Not now Eywa, you cried, don’t take my darling like this.

His cold hand gripped your wrist tightly, the other on Lo’ak and it only made you shudder in disbelief. The waves hit violently towards the shore and it was difficult to keep track of the voices; a mourning mother, the regret of a brother, and the mistake of Jake Sully— all from the loss of a first born. On top of that, your heart broke loudly that it became inaudible, like white noise growing higher and higher.

“Dad, I” He faltered and then, no more.

☆

“You still with me?” Neteyam tilted his head near yours, worry etched along the creases of his forehead. It was unlike you to be so quiet, especially in escapades with him during eclipses. Times like these were rare, given the responsibilities you both shouldered and the multiple eyes strictly watching over you.

“Sorry, what was it?” You asked, a sudden sting running through your head making you grimace.

“I said, I wanna finally tell my father,” Guilt immediately seized your insides; he was bawling his heart out and you had only spaced out. What was that gut-wrenching sting just then that had taken a piece of your mind?

“I’ve always been so conflicted when I’m not even supposed to— Heck, I’m only thirteen. I thought,” He palmed his face harshly, sighing deeply right after. “I thought I had it good, having Toruk Makto as a father. Five year old me was the proudest, if not a bit boastful too.”

A depressing pause followed after, his shagged breath growing deeper by the second, as if he carefully plucked the words already long buried. Neteyam wasn’t always the mighty warrior everyone drew him to be; he was a coward— terribly scared of what his father would say when his first born denies him of his demands.

“But now, there’s this huge difference that draws the line between being the Toruk Makto and a father and I deeply miss the latter.”

If people could hear how your heart cracked just now, it would bellow throughout pandora. You embraced him tightly, and he let out another sigh that sounded like it was plucked from the deepest pit of his stomach— like he carried all the problems of the world. Poor boy, only wanted what was best.

“I see you, my yawne.” You caressed his cheeks and he took the moment to fully bask in the heat of your palm. How long has it been when someone touched him like this? It was always you that gave him great comfort and he was grateful. “Your father will understand, so help knock some sense onto him, yes?”

He chuckled. “I see you too, ma y/n.”

“Neteyam?” He hummed in response and you felt it vibrate through your body. You love him deeply and you’d do anything to help carry the burden, “I feel you, always.”

☆

It dawned you, he never had the chance to tell Jake.

You wake up, eyes still adjusting to your dim surroundings. It was night still and hearing the sound of harsh waves hitting the shore in the distance fluxed your insides with familiar anguish— had it really been two years since then? You couldn’t tell. Making your way out your pod, you weren’t at all surprised seeing a figure sitting by the sand. Slowly, you sat with him, making your presence known with a soft hi.

“Him again?”

“I would be a big fat liar if I said it didn’t bother me anymore” you chuckled, remembering the countless times you’ve had this conversation already. It was almost like a routine at this point— finding Lo’ak here, talking about him, seeking comfort in each other’s pain. “I don’t think I could ever unlearn him, Lo’ak. I have loved him a bit too much and now I have to stomach it for every day to come.”

“I’m sorry,” For a minute, his mouth stayed agape and deprived of any words. He debated if he should say more instead of lousy apologies, but it was all he had; Lo’ak kept mountains of apologies— sorry for being a trouble child, sorry for not listening, sorry for not doing better. The list would go on and on, but he would never get the chance to get it out his chest so it continued to pile. He sighed, dropping his head.

“It’s not your fault, Lo’ak” You say it again like every other time, but you meant it always. He only hummed in response. You sat in silence with only the noise out for company. It was peaceful like this; no more war, no reprimanding, and no bickering— but at what cost?

“My prayers that night be damned— all of it.” You stood up after hours of watching the water sway indefinitely, legs wobbling from it being idle for a while. It isn’t as heavy anymore, you’ve realized; the conversations weren’t as long unlike before and it’s been long since you have both confided in each other with tears. Maybe it has been two years. “I’m going back to bed, you should allow yourself to rest too, okay?”

“Hey, y/n?” He called out after only taking a few steps.

“Yes?”

“I feel you, always.”

☆

And when you slept, of course it was him again. It was always Neteyam. You were back to the familiar greenery and atmosphere

“You don’t look so pleased for someone who’s been dying to hunt with me all this week,” He laughed, but the way your lips quivered alarmed him so he quickly made his way towards you. “What’s wrong, why are you crying?”

And he seemed so young, you noticed. Dreams aren’t always this vivid; sometimes it fades into blur and a few comes in fleeting sights, but today he stood so real. Only now you felt embarrassed of how you looked— hair unbraided and unruly, posture restless, and you probably looked older— more mature. It was like time only worked for you while he stayed ethereal. It stung how this might continue on and on until you appear all gray and tired. He never became Olo’eyktan and he never became your mate. Funny how he’d forever stay as a child without ever feeling the joy of being one.

“If it was Eywa’s will to take you away from me, then why do you still come back?” You traced his face and its features; the dots and the stripes of his skin. You desperately pictured him over and over, afraid that you would someday forget how he looked like and his entirety would contort to nothing but a distant haze. “I do not feel you anymore, Neteyam, please come home to me.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, you’re here,” Neteyam swept a few strands of locks behind your ears. He started to feel uneasy and was debating if hunting would be a good idea while you seemed under the weather. “We’re home, always been.”

This was compensation, you thought. The great mother must have taken pity for her to send Neteyam to infiltrate your dreams every night and you were beyond desperate. You shook your head, hugging him as close as you can. “Sorry, just had another bad dream this morning.”

“We are home, Neteyam, always.”

☆ mauve here! i present to you *drum roll* neteyam angst because GOD DAMN I CANNOT GET OVER IT I HATE EVRYONE I HATE YOU JAMES FOR KILLING HIM AND AND AND

the title (and when he died, the sun was buried with him) will be a series of me mourning over his death haha so buckle up. mauve out! ☆

#mauve writes ☆ #neteyam sully #Neteyam #neteyam x reader #angst #avatar #Neteyam Sully angst #atwow #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam angst

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Thirteen.

Apologies for this being a little late, besties. This might be the last chapter for a little while as I am currently in the process of writing the final ones that will take the story to its conclusion. Thanks for being a lovely audience, as ever :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,621

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

The feel of large hand smoothing down her back in a delicious glide was what woke Emily from her slumber, enjoying it as she came around, but knowing she had to halt those intentions when after it had cupped her backside, it began to gather the silk of her nightdress.  

“Can’t, honey,” she spoke sleepily, reaching to grasp his wrist. “We have a guest.”  

Leaning over her shoulder, Luca saw him there, cuddled against her, his little cherub lips parted as he breathed softly in sleep. It wasn’t the first time Alessio had left his bed to climb into theirs in the middle of the night, and just four days on from his mother’s passing, it likely wouldn’t be the last. It was to be expected on that morning, too, the day of her funeral arriving, the family staying in a hotel over in Filomena’s home city of Newark, New Jersey, where she was set to be laid to rest.  

Reaching over her, he scratched his son’s short crop of black hair, thinking how much better it looked now he’d finally managed to get him into a barber’s chair. His youngest detested haircuts, screaming the entire way through, the only time his usually immaculately behaved little boy ever gave him an ounce of trouble. He’d been even worse the afternoon before, but Luca knew why. No mommy there to make it better.  

The three children were all still very quiet and lost, despite the constant love and assurance shown by him and Emily. Milania, lamentably, remained unchanged in her stance towards the latter. All Emily could get was one-word answers and dark looks, and that was only when her father was within earshot. When he wasn’t, it was either a mouthful of abuse, or nothing at all.  

Miss all-mouth-or-nothing appeared in the next room of their suite, shouting morning to her father while pouring herself a glass of water, Alessio waking and hopping out of the bed to run to his sister. She took him back to the room the children were sharing at the other end, Luca waiting two seconds before the door shut before he rolled right on top of Emily, burying his mouth against her neck.  

“Hey,” she spoke, poking his shoulder with her fingernail. “They’re awake, you can’t get frisky with me.”  

His agitated grumble amused her. “We gotta get the fuckin’ nanny back.” More kisses scattered her neck, Emily feeling his hands snake beneath her, running to her shoulders, squeezing as his mouth lowered to suck her nipple through the silk of her nightdress. “C’mon. I’ll be quick.”  

“Luca, we can’t. If one of them walks in, then... I don’t even want to think about that!” 

His teeth crushed sharp at her nipple, eyes like green fire as he looked up at her. “As I said, I’ll be quick.” She felt for him, having a libido that demanded they have sex at least every other day, if not every day if neither weren’t too tired. He was on day five of not getting laid, and not particularly taking it well.  

Just then, the sound of the other bedroom door opening brought his plans to a cease, Luca shifting to lie on his front next to her, cussing under his breath in Italian. “Hey pop, can you help me with my tie? Morning, Em,” Guiseppe spoke, appearing in the doorway. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” she waved. Oh yes. The nanny definitely needed to make a return.  

“Yeah, son,” he confirmed, pointing back in the direction he came. “Just gimme a minute to wake up more and I’ll be right out.” As soon as his son has exited again, the pained groan that rumbled in his throat had Emily laughing into her hand. “I love ‘em to death, I do, but right now... well my dick don’t fuckin’ agree.” 

“It was your dick that made them, honey,” she reminded him, Luca raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, and it’s got designs on makin’ a couple more, too. But that ain’t happening when I gotta be on full-time dad duty.”  

She nodded, thinning her lips as she turned over and slid out of bed. It was now just over a week since her monthlies should have arrived, and yet it remained absent. It was the only thing she wanted to tell Luca, that quite possibly the making of another child had already happened, but she stalled on it. Number one, she wanted to be sure, and number two, oh, the timing. It was perhaps the best news she could have shared, at the worst possible moment, with everything they had going on.  

Another child coming into their lives, especially when he had just bemoaned being on full time dad duty, as he now forever would be, she simply wasn’t sure how he’d take the news. If Filomena hadn’t passed, she’d have told him in a heartbeat, knowing how thrilled he’d be. With the reality of their adjusted life together settling in, though, she just didn’t know how well received it would be, for him to learn he likely had a fourth child on the way.  

Would it burden him all the more, now he and her were solely responsible for his existing children? Would it make matters worse with Milania? Those were her two biggest fears she let dance around her head when she wasn’t in stepmom and dutiful wife-to-be mode, making sure everyone under her roof was looked after and wanting for nothing.  

After washing and unpinning her curls, she spritzed on her perfume, pulled on her underwear and then got herself halfway into her dress, Luca doing up the zip for her when he came into the bathroom to get washed and dressed. She kissed him in thanks, leaving him to it and going to begin putting her jewellery on, deciding on simple elegance, clipping her teardrop diamond earrings in and choosing the matching necklace.  

She then went and helped Alessio dress, everyone ready within a half hour to head down to where Luca’s driver waited for them. On that particular day, that man was Donny, greeting Emily with his usual kiss to her hand as he held the door open for her. He was a little too high ranking to simply be used for ferrying the boss around, but a number of the top hierarchy guys within the Changretta mob were present that day. Anytime the boss and his family were in public at an event, so was considerable security. 

Then there were those who showed up out of duty on a personal level, such as Angelo and Greta. Enzo, his underboss had expressed a desire to attend, but Luca needed him to remain in Brooklyn, just in case of anything occurring that called for the presence of a higher-ranking member of their mob than the street guys who remained. Not everyone was thrilled by this, though. Well, opinions were divided, to say the least.  

“Lord Jesus,” Allegra hissed, greeting people as they arrived at the church, her presence as formidable as usual. “Why’d he have to bring his goddamned cronies with him?” 

“You know why, hon,” Rocco spoke from the side of his mouth, nodding in thanks of the sympathetic words and handshake delivered by his second cousin. “We don’t say it aloud, though.” 

She snorted, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t see why I should do the swine any favours, especially on the day I’m burying my daughter. Turnin’ up here with his new floozy and bringing half the Brooklyn outfit of the Cosa Nostra with him!” 

“Ixnay on the C.N, my dove. Ixnay,” he quietly whispered, fixing a smile to his face as they were greeted by the next set of relatives. 

Her mouth pinched; her chin lifted as she continued to view her former son-in-law with bitter contempt. “Everyone knows exactly what he is.” Indeed, they did, eyes flitting towards him as he walked, whispers abounding, mostly from the women, clucking like hens as they stared.  

“Hmm, thought he’d be even taller. I always imagined him to be like a giant. Still handsome, though.” 

“Did you know he’s meant to have a personal fortune of ten mil? Guy is richer than half the suits on Wall Street.” 

“One of his fancy women was Tallulah Bankhead, you know!” 

“I heard he once slit the throat of one of his enemies and then fucked his freshly widowed wife just four feet from the corpse.”  

Emily’s eyebrow raised significantly as that particular whisper reached her ears. Were people really so crass? 

“It isn’t true,” he spoke quietly. “It was a good ten feet.”  

His wink had her softly snorting with laughter. At least he took the complete bullshit with good humour. Realising her entertainment at his joke wasn’t appropriate, though, she pulled herself together, straightening her face rapidly. “And Tallulah Bankhead?” 

He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Another lightning flash wink sealed the answer for her before his words confirmed. “I knew her quite well, briefly.” 

“Dog,” she chuckled, elbowing him softly. 

“Yeah, but you hold the leash now, honey.” 

She smiled in triumph of that fact, again straightening her face quickly as they approached the church steps. Just because others were being improper by trading scandalous bits of gossip about her fiancé at a funeral of all places, it didn’t mean she’d forget her poise.  

“Allegra, Rocco. It’s nice to see you both, and once again, I’m so deeply sorry for your loss,” she greeted Filomena’s parents with respectfully. The former snorted, rolling her eyes before warming to the presence of her grandchildren, Rocco reaching for her hands and kissing her cheek.  

“You too, hon. You too.” He turned to Luca, smiling. “Great gal you got yourself here, son. Hope she makes you as happy as my Filie once did.”  

Luca shook his hand, nodding before they continued into the church. He knew already that Emily would make him much, much happier, but kept that simple truth to himself, obviously. They took their seats in the second pew back, Milania walking with her auntie and placing a single red rose atop the casket along with the many other floral tributes, Jacqueline ushering her back to her seat, kissing Luca’s cheek and giving him a little hug.  

“Good to see ya, big guy.”  

He smiled thinly, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek. “You too, Jacq.” As soon as she moved back to her place beside her husband, he leaned to Emily. “That’s Fil’s younger sister. She’s the only other member of the D’Acampo’s apart from Rocco who don’t hate my fuckin’ guts. Always had a lotta time for her, never been tempestuous like her damned sister.”  

“And which one is Estella?” she asked quietly, scanning the front row. She was apparently the one they had to watch out for, Filomena’s elder sister. Luca had mentioned that if his ex-wife earned the nickname of the viper, Estella was an entire writhing, hissing pit of snakes all on her own. 

“Broad with the crooked nose and eyebrows.” Ahh, yes. Seeing her, there was truly no mistaking the pencilled-on lines as per the fashion, Emily resisting taking her own down quite that finely. Looking at Estella, her choice not to follow that particular trend was solidified.  

With the priest taking his place at the top of the altar, the service began, Emily being forewarned by Luca that being a mass, it would go on forever. He was used to it, being raised in the Catholic church, but to Emily being raised non-denominational, it was a very strange experience. It went on and on, never ending droning about the kingdom of heaven, the priest seeming to make it more about Filomena’s connection to her faith than any of the loved ones she’d sadly had to leave behind. 

Overall, though, it was very peaceful, people seeming to find comfort in it, the casket being carried out as the congregation filled along behind. The peace was not to last, though. 

“You!” a shout sounded as Luca and Emily were leaving their place, Alessio in the latter’s arms crying, Milania and Guiseppe hanging onto their father’s hands as they sniffed and dried their tears a little more quietly. “You gotta goddamned nerve showin’ up here, Luca Changretta! With your new arm candy, too!”  

Moving aside to let other people pass him, he turned to Estella, his face lacking any kind of warmth at all. “Do not do this in front of my kids, or in a church. Show some respect.” 

“Oh!” she scoffed, her husband looking pained at her side, reaching to squeeze her arm.  

“Dial it back, babes,” he whispered, Estella yanking her arm free from his grasp. 

“I will not, Richie! That piece of shit broke my sister’s heart, and he has the bare faced nerve to show up at her funeral?” 

“I said not in front of my kids, Estella,” he persisted, turning his back on her and walking away, his jaw set to clench. 

“Or what? You gonna have me clipped, huh?” 

“You ain’t worth the bullet,” he spoke, well under his breath, Emily sliding her arm around him supportively. Leaving the church, they headed straight for the car, the children telling him that they didn’t want to attend the burial, Luca and Emily agreeing that it was likely the best thing for them, too. It was something very final and visceral, watching their mother’s coffin be slowly lowered into the ground. They didn’t need to see that in order to say goodbye to her.  

The wake was being held at a local hotel, Luca stepping in to luckily see a very welcome face open her arms to him. “I am so sorry about Estella,” Jacquelline spoke as she embraced him, hugging her niece and nephews, too. “I told her, not today. We’re here to say goodbye to Filie, not rehash the damned past.” She then turned to Emily, offering her the same warm gesture. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jacqueline.” 

“Emily, nice to meet you, too.” 

Her face was full of embarrassed regret as she shook her head, the kids moving to go and socialise with their cousins. “I’ve really had it with her and my ma. I mean, this one here, he was no angel to my sister, but I chewed him out at the time and then moved on from it, know what I’m sayin’? He's still my niece and nephew’s father, and there just ain’t any point in raking up what’s been and gone, but no. Estella is too much like mom. She won’t be told.”  

“I appreciate you for that, Jacqueline. Lord knows this is hard enough without any extra hostility, too,” Emily spoke, Jacqueline nodding at her while looking at Luca. 

“Speaks a lotta sense, this one here,” she praised, touching a soft hand to Emily’s shoulder. “I gotta mingle, but if you guys don’t wanna stay long then I can’t blame youse for that. Just come and hug me goodbye before ya go.” 

As Jacqueline had predicted, their stay wasn’t for long, Luca soon tiring of being shot daggers by Allegra and Estella, saying their goodbyes and rounding the kids up. They arrived back in Brooklyn at just coming up to five, the kids bickering with their father to be taken out for something to eat.  

“Can’t, guys. I gotta have a meeting with some of my guys,” he spoke, his boys immediately turning to give Emily two sets of very hopeful eyes. 

She sighed, looking over to Maggie. “Care to help me chaperone these guys for some burgers and fries? My treat.” 

“Sweetie pie, I could murder somebody for a double cheese!” her friend spoke, Angelo and Greta walking in, the latter deciding she would go along, too. Kissing Luca goodbye, she headed out the door again, with two excited children, and one sullen looking young lady. While the kids sat at a booth, the women huddled around a small table not far away, everyone ordering their food. 

It was while they waited that Emily chose to quietly open up about the whole Milania issue, wishing for a little outside perspective from her friends on how the heck she could proceed with it in the wake of Filomena's death. 

After hearing it all, Maggie huffed a long breath, reaching to adjust one of the pins in her hair. “I wish I had some wisdom for ya, sugar. I don’t have the faintest clue how to advise ya for the best, though.” 

Greta’s face matched, stirring more sugar through her iced tea. “You’re in a tough spot, dolly. Whatever you say or try, she’s probably gonna throw it back in your face. It’s like she said, you’re not her mother, and that’s the only thing the poor kid wants. I guess all you can do is be consistent, let her come around in her own time. What does Luca say about it all?” 

“The same as you, that she needs to come round to the fact that I’m not the one to blame in her own time,” she sighed, remembering Milania’s fury over the last four days, especially when her father hadn’t been close enough to hear it. “He doesn’t let her get away with it, though, when she’s chewing me out. I suppose that’s something.”  

“Yeah, yeah it is, my love,” Greta spoke, patting her hand. “It’s just the other seventy percent of the time you gotta fix. I’m sure she’ll snap out of it eventually, though.”  

Or she’d become a hundred times worse, especially when Emily finally revealed her news to Luca. Another child in the mix, oh, it would likely well and truly upset the already precarious apple cart. Actually telling Luca had to happen first, though, and soon. After all, she’d chewed him out in the not so distant past for not giving her the entire truth regarding a matter he should have confessed all over. She wasn’t about to become a hypocrite and not share everything with him.  

That sharing happened later that night, once the children were in bed, Emily flopping down on the couch beside him, swinging her legs up to rest her head in his lap. 

“While ya down there,” he teased with a wink, chuckling when he received a soft slap to the forearm. 

“Animal.” 

“Ain’t that why ya love me?” 

He made a valid point. “In part. But right now, I have something I need to tell you, and I’m not sure whether knocking boots will be on your mind so much, once you know.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds ominous.” 

Sighing, she sat up, moving to sit cross legged at his side. “I’m unsure how you’re going to take this, but please, please. Don’t get mad. Even if you don’t like it, promise me you won’t yell.” 

He made a cross sign with his finger upon his chest. “Cross my heart, doll. Now, spill.” 

Oh, god. Swallowing hard, she rested her hands to his forearm, squeezing gently. “I don’t know for certain, but I missed my monthly. It should have come five days ago, and I’m never late. So yes, I think I might be having a baby.” 

His reaction was not what she’d been expecting, Luca beginning to grin as he pulled her into his arms. “Finally! Shit, I was beginning to wonder if I’d started fuckin’ firing blanks!” The sigh of relief she breathed was huge, basking in his adoration, being kissed within an inch of her life as his hand fell to gently stroke her tummy. “This is the best thing you could have told me. I’m thrilled, mi amore.” 

“Really? Because I thought it was the worst damned time to be throwing a new baby into the mix, with Filomena passing so suddenly, and the whole situation with Milania and me,” she replied, Luca shaking his head. 

“We got nine months for Milania to get used to it, and hopefully come around a lil’ more to you, too. I think you’re right, though. She probably won’t take it well to begin with, so maybe let's not tell her for a little while, huh? See if we can get her more settled. Whaddya say?” 

They agreed it would be best to wait, the news meaning their wedding plans took a definite upswing in urgency, wanting to be married before Emily began showing her rounded belly. Not that Luca gave a shit what anybody thought, but for her he did. Pregnant women out of wedlock received so much in the way of judgement, and he wouldn’t have that for her. Even though he knew full well nobody would even be foolish enough to speak it, feared as he was.  

Mostly, though, he just wanted nothing more than for her to be his wife, and as the weeks passed by edging ever closer to the date they’d set, and Emily definitely in the first trimester throes with sickness and no monthlies showing up, he loved her all the more.  

“You make me so damned ill, little baby,” she cooed one morning, cleaning her teeth and resting a loving hand to the tiny swell of her tummy, “but mommy loves you so much already.” She then turned to see him leaning against the bathroom doorframe, smiling widely. “Ahhh, daddy busted me being all sooky.”  

He smiled, walking to her, wrapping her little frame in his arms, hands stroking over her tummy. “You ain’t been busted for anythin’, other than being lovely, cara mia.” He kissed the side of her neck, gazing at her reflection in the mirror as she swilled her mouth, wiping it and leaning back against his chest. “Can’t wait for you to be my wife.”  

Neither could she. 

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #nobody's girl #luca and emily

[sailoryooons]

Happy Agust, Hali 💕

Because Mixtape!Yoongi has been living RENT FREE in my mind for the last week, can I please request a fluffy drabble where Yoongi befriends and/or adopts a cat 👀 ? I’m pushing the cat dad agenda here… 😏

Thank youuuu 💕

YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT. Thank you for being so patient with me bby you literally were on the list of had to do because you know I'm obsessed with the idea and finally, we revisit our favorite Mixtape couple and Cat Dad Yoongi.

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi can't stop thinking about the white cat he spotted alone and in the cold. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 3,915

❀ Genre: Older brothers best friend, f2l, a lil' angst

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

❀ Warnings: Yoongi Cat Dad Agenda, long hair Yoongi yes this is a warning, literally fluff and an excuse to give Yoongi a cat

❀ Published: 3,915

❀ A/N: This is a part of the Mixtape series as an extra chapter. You can 100% read this as a standalone, though you might enjoy it a tiny bit more having read Mixtape!

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

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Extra Chapter 2

Bright sun beats down on your back, warming your chilled skin through the softness of your sweater. You pause lifting boxes for a moment, content to stand in the shaft of light and close your eyes, head tilted toward the source of your brief hiatus from the cold.

Wind skitters down the road and you shiver. Eyes fluttering open in time to see Yoongi coming out of the apartment lobby, rubbing his hands together for warmth. A beanie is pulled down low over his long, black hair – long enough that you’ve threatened him within an inch of his life if it cuts it – and a long-sleeve shirt that’s two sizes too big.

“What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to where you stand motionless in the sun, box in hand. “You know you can’t photosynthesize, right?

You pout. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’m a plant.”

He hums as he passes you, hand absently touching your elbow as he does. Yoongi ducks into the trunk of the car, pulling out the last box. “Perhaps you’re right. Quiet, soaking up the sun, will die if not given attention.”

“Hey that last one isn’t true!”

The trunk snaps shut, Yoongi grinning at his little joke as he lifts the box. “It is a little.”

Maybe Yoongi has a point.

There was a time when you never dreamed of demanding attention from Min Yoongi. Most of your early life had been spent trying to stay out of his way until that fateful day in the piano room. After that, you co-existed on the edge of one another’s lives. His attention had been something you craved but never went out of your way to receive.

Thinking about your thirteen-year-old self writing about having a crush on Min Yoongi in her diary makes you smile. She had no idea one day everything would make sense. That you would come into synced orbits, and that you’d move in with him at the peak of his career, and a positive shift in yours.

Both of you adjust grips on your boxes and head toward the apartment lobby door to make your final carrying trip up to your new apartment. It’s deep in downtown near Yoongi’s new studio that he bought and opened himself to extend the branch of the label he works under, and it has the perfect large space for your new work at home office.

Best of all, it overlooks the entire city. At night, it looks like the stars have drifted from the heavens to float among the mortals, moving among the dreams and the lives of thousands.

Yoongi pulls up short before opening the door to the lobby, making a soft sound of surprise. You glance at him to see his gaze fixated near the northeast corner of the building where 77th North Street meets 4th Avenue.

At first, you see cars at a stop light. The winter-frosted glass of the coffee shop and dance studio across the street. The bikers bundled in puffer jackets, beanies pulled low over their ears.

Movement catches your eyes lower. You find the object of Yoongi’s attention- a small, white cat with its head cocked, blue eyes fixed on the pair of you.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, kitty.” It meows in response, making the side of your mouth twitch. “Cute.”

Yoongi looks up at the stretch of windows above your apartment building. “I wonder if it has an owner? I don’t see a collar. It’s kind of cold out here.”

“Unsure. Pretty cat, though.”

Yoongi hums, eyes drifting back to the cat. For a moment, you admire the way the cold turns Yoongi’s face pink. He flushes easily, but even more so during winter. He doesn’t notice your slow smile as you watch him and he watches the cat.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a quick shuffle of his box, Yoongi pulls the door open to the hotel lobby. “I’m sure it has an owner. I’ll let the lobby manager know there’s a cat outside, though.”

You smile at him as you pass. He doesn’t notice, eyes drifting back to the cat watching you one more time before letting the tinted, glass door shut. “Okay.” He makes his way to the counter as you move to the elevator. “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.”

Inside the new apartment is warm. It smells like the crisp, citrus candle flickering on the granite countertop. Boxes are stacked neatly in corresponding rooms, marked with your neat handwriting and Yoongi’s slanted scribble.

All of the furniture is already placed and put together. The movers had done most of the work the day before and Yoongi had spent most of the evening into the late night putting everything together, the whine of the drill backtracked by his curses and hisses when something didn’t mesh right.

Every part of the home – and it does already feel like home – is splashed with the watercolors of your shared life. The living room is muted neutrals, the pillows soft and worn from the nights of falling asleep on the couch and the throw blanket frayed at the edges from Yoongi’s sleepy feet stepping on the hem while wearing it like a cape around his old apartment.

There are three bedrooms, one of which now has a desk for you to work at on one side and the other with a massive slab of desk, shelving, and tangled wires for Yoongi’s little home studio. The master and the office both have large windows facing the city, letting in the bright winter light during the day and the glow of the city at night.

You check the writing on the box in your arms. Books is scribbled in Yoongi’s slanted writing, explaining why it’s so heavy. You shuffle to the guest bedroom where Yoongi has lined either side of the bed with tall bookshelves and deposit the box in front of the empty shelf.

Dusting your hands, you walk back to the kitchen, covered in a combination of folded cardboard, paper towel rolls, power tools, and wrapped glassware. You start unwrapping the glasses, sliding them in neat rows in the cabinet.

Yoongi doesn’t return right away. You lose yourself in the rhythm of organizing, crumbling the wrapping paper, and shoving it into the trash. When your stomach growls, you look up at the clock and realize that it’s been twenty minutes and Yoongi still hasn’t come upstairs.

You frown and move to your phone. Just as you swipe the screen to call, the front door opens and your boyfriend comes in. His nose and cheeks are frozen pink, and his hands are a little discolored from the cold outside and the grip he has on the box.

He sets it down by the door, too tired to carry it in as the door clicks shut behind him and he straightens, huffing a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, brows raised.

“Yeah.” He’s a touch out of breath. “The lobby manager said he doesn’t know anyone who has a missing cat and doesn’t have anyone having a white cat on file. But people bring in pets and don’t tell the apartment all the time so I went out to take a picture and post to that community page on our rent portal in case someone doesn’t know it’s missing.”

Yoongi flexes his cold fingers. You hold your hands out to him and he immediately responds, drifting to you like a magnet. His hands are ice cold when you take them in yours, rubbing them to create heat and friction.

Once Yoongi’s hands have a little more color and warmth, you kiss the back of his right hand briefly before drifting to the fridge. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Sushi?”

You hum in agreement, hands searching for the plastic box you had picked up earlier. Yoongi leans on the counter behind you as you pull out soy sauce and the spicy mayo, sitting it next to you.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“The cat,” Yoongi clarifies. You close the fridge and turn to face him. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves pulled down over his hands. His gaze is focused on the floor, lost in thought as he chews his lip lightly. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

A smile creeps on your face as you soften at the edges. Yoongi looks up at you as you wrap your arms around his middle. He’s still a little cool from being outside again, but the warmth that the smell of sandalwood and his arms returning the hug chase away the cold.

“I’m sure he will be. We’ll keep an eye on it, yeah?”

You tuck yourself into Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes. You feel him nod and hum in response. His hands play with the hem of your shirt and you sigh, melting into him. You slot perfectly against him, a puzzle piece finding its home after years of almosts and what ifs.

Yoongi’s stomach growls and you both laugh. You peel away from him and press a soft kiss to his mouth, sweet and pink. “Let’s eat.”

-

Something light washes across the darkness of your dreams. You sigh and squirm deeper into the pillow, willing to sink back into a comfortable sleep.

But the glow somewhere – a little beyond your sleep – is distracting. You hear tapping next to you and you grumble. The bed is cold, the windows cracked at Yoongi’s request. Eyes closed, you seek his warmth, hands following the soft dip in the bed next to you until your hands come into contact with bare skin.

“Ah,” Yoongi hisses. “Cold.”

His voice pulls you the rest of the way from your seep. Heavy eyes blink open, flinching at the bright, white light splitting the darkness. His phone is held near his face, casting him in an eerie glow with squinted eyes.

“What are you doing?” you croak, voice scratchy and deep. You close your eyes to hide from the light of the phone, but scoot closer to him anyway. Only Yoongi could sleep shirtless with the window cracked in a freezing apartment. “What time is it?”

“Three.”

“What, your emails couldn’t wait?”

“Oh I’m not emailing.” He lets you suck the warmth from his skin as you bury your face in his neck and angle it towards his pillow, finally muting the light. His heart thrums under your arm as you wrap yourself around him, squeezing. “I was checking to see if anyone claimed the cat yet.”

You pause, momentarily confused. Oh. The white cat. “Oh.”

“No one has yet.”

“Hmm, well I doubt anyone is going to at three in the morning, Yoons.”

He sighs. The phone light vanishes entirely and he reaches to set it on the nightstand, temporarily dislodging you. Yoongi settles in again, turning toward you slightly and wrapping his arms around you in return. You can’t help but smile as he sighs, warm breath hitting your brow.

“You’re probably right.”

“We can check on kitty in the morning.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel him nod. “Okay. Night, sweet girl.”

“Mmm. Night.”

-

An empty bed greets you when you wake up again early in the morning. Your muscles pull tight as you stretch, a strained sound escaping your lips as you look around the room for any sign of Yoongi. The light coming through the white slats in the blinds is dark grey and the clock on the nightstand shows that it’s a little past seven in the morning.

Slowly, you sit up, your body in a momentary state of grogginess. The master bathroom door is open with the light turned off, but you can see the light from the living room and kitchen area on underneath the bathroom door.

Peeling off the blankets, you hurry across the room to shut the window, rubbing your hands together and going in search of Yoongi.

Coffee wafts from the kitchen. There’s only a single lamp in the living room on paired with the light over the stove, casting the apartment in shadows and gentle light. Yoongi is curled on the couch, feet tucked under him and his favorite blanket wrapped around him as he looks at his phone.

For a moment, you stop and stare at him. His hair is messy and sticking up in places. It’s long enough that it reaches his shoulders these days, flipping outward when he air dries it or from being tucked underneath a beanie. His face is puffy with sleep, the hand not holding his phone wrapped around a still-steaming cup of coffee.

“Hi,” you murmur, drawing his attention from his phone. He smiles at you, full gums on display and eyes crinkling. Your heart flips – it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together now. Being the object of Yoongi’s affection still knocks the wind out of you after wanting it for so long. “It’s early.”

He hums but clicks the phone off and unfolds the blanket, holding it open like a bat wing for you to slot yourself into. You hurry over, snuggling into his side eagerly. He’s still shirtless, skin like a natural heater as you press against him. He wraps the wing around you, keeping the heat in as you settle.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, just naturally woke up. Noticed you were gone though so I came looking.”

“Hmm. Couldn’t sleep.”

You crane your neck to look at him.

Yoongi’s dark eyes are fixated on the window. They’re frosty with mist, the cool air outside at war with the hotter air of the apartment. His lips are a little chapped like he’s been biting them all morning and his eyes are unfocused, the kind of look when he’s thinking about new music or trying to remember something.

A small crease forms on his brow. You tentatively lift a hand, slipping it through the hole in your blanket wrap to brush the tips of your fingers along the shape of his jaw. Long lashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of skin against skin.

“What’s wrong?” you ask the question so softly you think he doesn’t hear you. Your hand slips to the hair framing his face, brushing the dark strands back. “Yoons?”

“I’m worried about the cat.”

Yoongi’s words come out like an admission of guilt. His mouth pouts slightly and he chews on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, but the dip of his brows increases as his expression melts into a frown.

“You have to give people time.”

“I’m just worried. It’s cold.”

You examine him. Even the calming strokes of your hand in his hair don’t chase away the frown. You remember all of the times that your touch could soothe him. You remember the way you first ran your hands through his hair like this, long ago at the Park cabin on a vacation you’ll never forget.

“What do you want to do, baby?” He opens his eyes, a question in them. You smile. “You obviously want to do something. What is it?”

He chews on his lip and you prod his mouth. He’s a little bashful as he lets the abused flesh go. “I may have… ordered some things.”

“Oh?”

“You know, to like… keep it here while we wait for an owner to come forward.”

“Uh-huh. What things?”

“Food. Bowls. Some toys.”

You grin. Your soft, sweet boyfriend can’t help himself. He’s the same way with people – buying things he sees people needing. Wordlessly putting gluten-free bread in the pantry for Jimin (and guarding when Taehyung tries to steal it). Buying a new wireless headset for Ren so she can join Jungkook when he streams. Sending Seokjin a stack of recipes Yoongi’s family cook has finally agreed to divulge.

Yoongi speaks in a silent language of love, and it makes you lean forward to press a sold kiss to his jaw before pulling away to get up.

“Where are you going?” He’s wide-eyed and soft when he looks up at you as you stand and stretch.

“Get dressed. Let’s go get your cat.”

-

It takes twenty minutes in the blistering morning cold, a couple of curses and hopeless looks from Yoongi, and constant encouragement from you before you find the cat in the parking garage under someone’s tire.

Yoongi immediately gets on his knees, staining his sweatpants as he tucks his head under the wheel well, looking up and speaking softly to the cat in question. You watch, shivering in the shade and arms crossed over your chest for another ten minutes before Yoongi slips his hands upward, only retreating when he has a dirty, white-coated cat with blue eyes in his hands.

You offer Yoongi the blanket that you’re clutching – Yoongi’s favorite, as he insisted. The cat is latched onto Yoongi’s shirt, your lips twitching in a soft smile. Yoongi whispers to the feline, head ducked down as you approach.

The cat turns its attention to you, eyes going narrow as it hisses. You hesitate when you lift the blanket, looking at the curve claws that snag in Yoongi’s shirt and the rigid line of hair running up its spine. Yoongi hushes the creature and nods at you.

Carefully, under the suspicious gaze of the cat, you wrap it in a blanket, sliding the material under Yoongi’s grip until he has a bundle, a white little face peering back at him from a checkered blanket. It’s cute, pulling lightly at your heartstrings.

Inside your apartment, Yoongi goes straight to the couch, the bundle in his arms as he murmurs to the cat in question. You watch wordlessly from the kitchen, a smile still on your face as he tucks the cat into his lap, his long hair hiding his face as he carefully unwraps the blanket.

The cat does not move from his lap. Instead, it curls up, blinking its eyes at Yoongi. You hear him laugh, just a soft breath of sound as he scratches between its dirty ears.

“We’ll just keep you until your owners realize your missing,” Yoongi says as you fill a bowl of water. “I think you need a little bit of a bath, hmm?”

You place the bowl of water near the couch, straightening to see a pair of blue eyes trained on you. You offer the cat a nervous smile. “Pretty.”

“Do you want to pet him?”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I might be wrong.”

Tentatively you sit down and hold out a hand. The cat stares at you warily before taking a few suspect sniffs. When it decides you’re acceptable, it rubs its shin on your fingers tentatively, closing its eyes.

“Just until the owners find it?” you ask cryptically.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi’s eyes never stray from the feline.

-

Week one you put up ‘cat found posters.’

There is a bed and a handful of toys in the living room. The white cat is clean after a yowling, hissing and screaming bathtub experience. You walk through the living room, peering at where Yoongi sleeps on the couch. His hair covers his face, lips parted lightly.

And at the foot of the couch is the cat, curled into a donut with its head resting on top of Yoongi’s foot.

-

Week two you trip over a cat toy and scowl. Sensing your irritation, said cat appears around the corner, winding between your legs and rubbing himself on your calves. You sigh, the irritation bleeding out of you as you bend down and offer a hand. He nuzzles you, purring briefly before rushing off.

You hear Yoongi greet the cat in the office and shake your head, though you smile a little bit.

-

“Can we take Sugar to the vet? I want to make sure he’s a he and that he’s got… whatever shots cats need.” You look up, pausing with a mouthful of toast. Yoongi is hovering near the kitchen, looking over at the cat that is kneading its bed. “I just want to make sure we keep him healthy?”

“Sure-“ You cock your head. “Did you just call the cat Sugar?” Yoongi blushes. You swallow the toast and cough a little, having swallowed too quickly. Yoongi is fast to grab you a glass of water which you take with a grateful glance. “You named him?”

“He looks like a jar of sugar.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it felt weird to keep saying ‘it’ and ‘the cat’ and not having a name.”

“Right.”

“And he’s very sweet.”

“This is true.”

Yoongi’s eyes are soft and round when he looks at you. Your heart melts a little, seeing that gentle flicker in his eyes. You don’t put a name to that look, that little gleam that you know it’s there. You don’t want to jinx it, to give it a name to have it taken away.

Instead, you take another gulp of water. “Let’s make an appointment.”

-

Week four, no one has claimed Sugar, but Sugar has claimed more space and more toys in your home. A new bag of cat food is on the counter along with a jar of catnip. There is now a basket for Sugar to contain his toys. And a pretty black collar with a little jar and a name.

And a doting Yoongi who walks across the living room with his phone tucked into his shoulder on a business call, carrying the growing-plump feline with him in his arms. He heads towards you, listening to the other voice on the line. He gestures to the fridge, hands full of Sugar.

You push off the counter pulling open the fridge and removing the bottle of Gatorade your boyfriend nods at. You crack the top and a grin spreads across his face. The smile grows when you pull a straw out of the drawer, plop it in and wedge the drink into one of Yoongi’s hands.

Sugar hisses at the disturbance, rolling his head to look at you defiantly.

Yoongi tuts at the cat. “Don’t hiss at mommy.”

Both yours and Yoongi’s attention snaps to one another. Your stomach flips at the term of endearment. It’s just a cat, but Yoongi’s slip – the assignment of a role in the creature’s life, an implication that… he wants to keep the cat too is there.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says absently. He looks at you when he says it, but addresses the person on the phone. “The cat was hissing at my girlfriend.”

There’s laughter on the other line. You open your hands and Yoongi nods, passing Sugar to you. Sugar likes Yoongi more, but he doesn’t mind you either. He rubs his head into the crook of your elbow as Yoongi starts talking about a soundboard that you know nothing about.

“Let daddy work,” you tell Sugar, giving Yoongi a devious grin. He pauses, midsentence, phone pressed to his ears, eyes dark. “How about we watch Sailor Moon, Sugar?”

-

Week five the ‘cat found’ posters come down.

“Yeah, his name is Sugar,” you tell Jungkook on the phone, crumbling the sheets of paper. Jungkook squeals on the other side of the line. “Do you guys want to come up and see him next weekend?”

-

Week thirty-three, Sugar sleeps between you and Yoongi on the couch, purring lightly as you drift to sleep, head propped on Yoongi’s shoulder as the credits to Naruto roll.

#min yoongi fanfic #suga bts #bts suga #min yoongi #bangtan boys #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi x reader #non idol au #haliiimedemasterlist #fic: mixtape #yoongi fluff #halis happy agust #halis requests

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God Masterlist

PAIRING: Matt Murdock x OFC

AO3 — Spotify — #foreigner’s god

❝ Sometimes, the greatest power lies not in what we can control, but in what we can uncover within ourselves. In the depths of darkness, secrets await, and it is our choice to embrace them or let them consume us. Together, they embarked on a journey to unearth the truth, unaware that love, like a tempest, would shatter all their plans and rebuild their world anew. ❞

⤹ SUMMARY:

She was born with the ability to manipulate reality and the world around her. Hydra raised her and turned her into their deadliest weapon until the Avengers saved her and offered her a chance at a better life. A dark past often comes with secrets that demand to be uncovered. There might actually be more to it than meets the eye, a kind of power that’s been sleeping deep within her, waiting to be discovered. But how does one get over losing everything without losing themselves?

One reckless night on a rooftop, a bad decision leads the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen right into her arms, and he decides to tag along on her journey down the past.

As it turns out, Matt Murdock is a man unable to take no for an answer when he has set his mind to something, and once she decides to let him into her heart, all the plans she made for the future fall apart.

Or, in which a troubled Avenger forms an alliance with Daredevil to fight a common enemy and save their city, but they end up saving each other instead.

⤹ CONTENT WARNINGS:

SLOW BURN, Canon typical violence, ANGST, EVENTUAL SMUT, light BDSM, Oral sex, daddy kink, praise & pain kink, blood & cum play, Switch!Matt, toxic behavior, language, severe mental illness, PTSD, implied/referenced torture, substance abuse disorder, self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, Hydra, age gap, religious imagery and symbolism, eventual romance, some fluff, mutant powers, mentions of child molestation, near-death experiences, catholic guilt, NOT TONY STARK FRIENDLY (at least until chapter 40 or so), turning good characters into bad guys, not completely canon compliant

-> There will be chapter-specific warnings before each chapter because they tend to vary with each one!

⤹ AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone! I didn’t expect this to blow up the way it did, so I decided to edit the entire Masterlist and repost it while I continue editing the chapters on AO3 and here, too. Welcome to everyone who’s new here!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

I’m trying not to describe any specific physical traits like body shape, hair color, etc. (although I think I called her skin “pale” once or twice in reference to her lack of sun exposure) in any of the chapters. The character was assigned female at birth and also identifies as female with she/her pronouns, but other than that, I do not give her any traits other than her name – Eliza Bennett. Her looks are entirely up to your imagination! So you can view this as a reader insert or not, whatever you want. It’s up to you how you interpret this story.

-> Series takes place in early season 2 and continues from there on.

-> This work is 18+ ONLY!

[the asterisk (*) indicates explicit sexual content; (^) indicates the chapter has been edited to fit the new style]

— ACT ONE: HYDRA —

chapter one: I Did Something Bad (^)

chapter two: Raise A Little Hell (^)

chapter three: I Think He Knows (^)

chapter four: This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (^)

chapter five: Hold Me While You Wait (^)

chapter six: Ivy (^)

chapter seven: right where you left me (^)

chapter eight: doomsday (^)

chapter nine: Block Me Out  (^)

chapter ten: 1 step forward, 3 steps back (^)

chapter eleven: New Invention (^)

chapter twelve: It’s Nice To Have A Friend (^)

chapter thirteen: Devil Town (^)

chapter fourteen: Family Line (^)

chapter fifteen: So it goes…* (^)

chapter sixteen: Do I Wanna Know?* (^)

chapter seventeen: Look Who’s Inside Again (^)

chapter eighteen: Anti-Hero (^)

chapter nineteen: You’re On Your Own Kid  (^)

chapter twenty: Innocent* (^)

chapter twenty-one: Green, Green Dress*

chapter twenty-two: mirrorball*

chapter twenty-three: The Avengers (pt.1) 

chapter twenty-four: The Avengers (pt.2) 

chapter twenty-five: For Real This Time 

chapter twenty-six: Black Out Days 

chapter twenty-seven: Dear Reader

chapter twenty-eight: Look What You Made Me Do 

chapter twenty-nine (Bonus Chapter): Haunted

chapter thirty: Hayloft II

chapter thirty-one: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

chapter thirty-two: Chasing Cars

chapter thirty-three: How To Save A Life

chapter thirty-four: Foreigner’s God(*)

chapter thirty-five: long story short*

chapter thirty-six: this is me trying*

chapter thirty-seven: New Romantics*

chapter thirty-eight: Lavender Haze*

chapter thirty-nine: As It Was*

chapter forty: Monster*

chapter forty-one: Daylight

— ACT TWO: PUNISHER —

chapter forty-two: I’ll Get The Coffee*

chapter forty-three: She Knows*

chapter forty-four: Cold As You 

chapter forty-five: Bird Set Free 

chapter forty-six: Human*

chapter forty-seven: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve (^)

chapter forty-eight: Bad Blood (^)

chapter forty-nine: Dark Paradise (^)

chapter fifty: Meet Me In The Hallway (^)

chapter fifty-one: Demons (^)

chapter fifty-two: Say You Won't Let Go (^)

chapter fifty-three: I Will Be Your Remedy (^)

chapter fifty-four: Dancing With The Devil (^)

chapter fifty-five: Why Am I Like This? (^)

#matt murdock #daredevil #foreigner's god #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock imagines #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #karen page #foggy nelson #the avengers #hydra #frank castle #elektra #the defenders #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #fanfiction #reader insert #ofc #masterlist #ao3 links

[moonslesbology]

The Lucky One I

prologue - next chapter

YEARS HAD PASSED AND NOTHING ABOUT FINNICK ODAIR REALLY CHANGED, ALWAYS REMAINING THE KID WITH CUTS ON HIS HANDS AND HIS HEART ON HIS SLEEVE. Though, he was always annoyed at Eleanor for taking longer shifts than necessary at St Magdalene Rossetti  and exhausting herself to an unneeded extent. That was his only complain, though Eleanor didn't care though. She preferred the serenity of a doctor's office over the dead silence of a house. Yes, she was only seventeen, but doctors in District 4 were a rarity, not to mention the teenager had been learning all you can about anatomy since she was eight.

She had decided that her potential future as a doctor was much more plausible than becoming a career, fully leaving the academy after Finnick's games just two years prior. Though both Annie and Finnick were annoyed at Eleanor, they both understood why she made her choice.

So, instead she traded her knives and spears for needles and a pair of surgical gloves, content with a life of service to her community. Every year she watched as innocent children were saved in reapings, and while she couldn't save them from the games, she could save them from the grief and guilt.

Eleanor Eves, District 4's local sweetheart, was nothing short than a gentle being with a softness for children, flowers, and her best friends, Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta. If she wasn't working in St Magdalene Rossetti, she was always seen with them, mostly her and Annie tackling Finnick whenever they had a chance.

There wasn't a single bone in her body that allowed Eleanor the ability to take a life.

Breathing in heavily, Eleanor rubbed her eyes as she opened the door for Mr Ives, an older man with greying hair but warm eyes. Everyone knew of his unlucky streak down at the docks, always managing to cut his hands with the knives he weaved through the scales of fish caught at sea. 

Mr Ives, a man who seemed to have a streak for always cutting his hand whenever he cut the fish, seemed overtly fond of the brunette for her sweetness. Men from The Quay had brought him in just fifteen minutes before and he had adamantly insisted only Eleanor stitch up his cut. He had known her since she began working properly and trusted her to work on his wounds after she had expertly patched him up after a nasty cut on his hand, something her mother's unsteady hands struggled to do. At the time, the thirteen year old was figuring out the busy environment of a doctor's office, and watched as her mother struggled to steady her hand over Mr Ives' bleeding wound. Eleanor had logically gone and took the instruments off her mother, patching him up quickly and without many words. Ever since then, it was always Eleanor who helped him.

"You know Sweetheart, you have a real talent," Mr Ives had remarked, wincing as Eleanor injected the Morphling into his arm. She unwrapped the cloth that had been tied over the cut, immediately wiping away any of the excess blood. She grabbed onto the thread, tying it to the needle, before exhaling as she began sewing up the cut.

Eleanor gave him a small smile. "Believe me I wouldn't be this good if you didn't get injured this much, Mr Ives." She laughed apologising as she saw him wince slightly from the sight of the needle. "How's Martha and the baby?"

He gave a laugh. "The little lady's getting proper done with the kid, I'll tell you that." Mr Ives was a sweet man, Eleanor always thought so. He had always given her family extra fish whenever he could spare some. He was eternally grateful for her mother helping his wife get through a nasty case of the flu two winters prior and by association, was in debt to Eleanor. "She keeps demanding I wash in the garden since she pukes whenever I'm near her after my shifts."

Eleanor shook her head. "She is seven months along now and fish does smell bad when it's on you." Eleanor ignored the playful glare Mr Ives gave her. She decided on changing the topic. "Do you guys have any name ideas?"

"None Sweetheart." He shook his head with a laugh. "Wanted to call her Eleri and Martha nearly throttled me. She said that name made her feel sick as a fish." She laughed as he rolled his eyes, mimicking Martha's thick District 4 accent with a shake of his head. Martha Ives had come from The Cove, a region seemingly alienated from the rest of District 4. Their accents stood out like sore thumbs and Martha's was thick and rich, something Mr Ives adored. 

Eleanor grinned, finally finishing off the stitches. She finally cut away at the thread, patting down on the stitches before pulling out a bandage. She wrapped it carefully around the hand, finally nodding up at him as she finished.  "There, you better go home now." She told the man with an authoritative tone. There was a hint of playfulness in her voice as she instructed him.  "No fishing for at least a week. Keep the stitches dry and come back in about a week. Mary'll remove them then." She pulled Mr Ives into a hug, laughing as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Sweetheart you are an absolute gem!" He laughed. He reached into his pocket, trying to pull out any spare change he had, only for Eleanor to shake her head at him. "Oh come off it, it's the least I can do."

She shook her head adamantly. "Policy is policy, Mr Ives. We don't care about money here, we aren't struggling for it at all. Now go, I don't want to see you until Martha has the baby."

He kissed her on the cheek once more, getting up and leaving the room. Eleanor sighed heavily, grabbing the cup of water which sat on the desk and taking a sip. She yawned, rubbing her eyes slightly. Then, she finally heard his voice and sobered up, blinking quickly to wash away any feelings of exhaustion.

Finnick Odair despised the days where Eleanor worked longer than necessary. Sometimes, his hatred took the literal form of him storming into St Magdalene Rossetti, just like today.  As much as he tried convincing her otherwise, often using the excuse that he misses her way too much, Eleanor always found herself spending most her days cooped up with foolish men who injured themselves down on the docks. It wasn't a bad job per say, just tedious with how frequently the same men came back constantly. 

As Finnick walked in, Eleanor exhaled heavily.

There were several ways in which Finnick Odair could be here:

A. He's injured.

B. He helped someone get here injured.

or

C. He simply wanted to annoy her.

Most the time, well at least nowadays, C was always the most logical and most likely explanation. "I swear to god, Finnick, you better not be injured again!" Eleanor raged as she walked around the room, pulling out bandaids and gauzes. She could already hear his choked laughs, rolling her eyes as she finally got off the ground. Finnick was stood in the centre of the room, holding a bouquet of tulips, scratching his head with a bashful smile. Her eyes softened, a blush already brewing on her cheeks. "Flowers?"

"Tulips," He grinned as she finally stood next to him, Finnick moving to smell the tulips and sighing breathlessly. He watched with fond eyes as she grinned at the bouquet, clearly not expecting the gesture. "My favourite which should be your favourite."

Eleanor grinned, a small blush already coating her cheeks. She couldn't help the way her heart fluttered as she took the tulips, holding them up to her nose and smelling them with a sigh. She wondered if flowers meant anything to Finnick, and if so, did they mean anything because he was giving them to her?

"Flirt with me when I'm not working, Odair." She rolled her eyes as he audibly groaned, quickly moving to grab a vase from the window. She gave the flowers one last smell, placing them in the empty vase and turning to see Finnick simply grinning at her. She gave an exhausted smile, hoping her cheeks weren't obviously red. She hoped she could just pass them off as a small sunburn if they were. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"Can't a guy miss his best girl?" He gave a lopsided grin, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Bother Annie, I'm sure she's not busy." She sighed, placing the bandaids down on the desk. She could feel Finnick's eyes on her, those stupid sea green eyes fixed on her figure as she finally took off her scrubs. "Don't tell me, you can't find her."

He nodded. "She's a good hider." Finnick scratched the back of his head with a bashful grin, watching Eleanor with a warm gaze.

"We always did beat you at hide and seek."

Finnick's eyebrows furrowed at Eleanor. "You mean, Annie, always beat me. You just followed her." He gave a laugh as Eleanor pushed him a way, scoffing in offence. Finally though, he held his hand out to her, looking at the clock momentarily before deciding for the both of them what they'd do next. "Come on, you're taking a break. Tell Ida and Margaret you're clocking out. You need a break."

Eleanor shook her head. "No, I've only got," she paused, looking at the clock before counting in her head. "four more hours." But it seemed as though Finnick wasn't having it, grabbing onto Eleanor and dragging her out, much to her protests. It seemed as though both Ida and Margaret were elated seeing the pair, waving Eleanor off with grins. "Finnick!"

Finnick grinned back at her, practically skipping alongside her. "You've been working all day! Have some fun!"

#The Hunger Games #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fic #finnick odair #fanfic #Annie Cresta #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #annie cresta x fem oc #lgbtq #the hunger games x oc #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #haymitch abernathy #mags flanagan

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi [Masterlist]

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 105k (not including bonus drabbles)

Content: alcohol consumption/drunkenness, language, Yoongi and reader are both depressed, some very bad mental health, lots of glib comments and jokes about death and suicide, reader tries to make herself sick (NOT food/ED-related, does not succeed), mention of a suicide attempt, Yoongi has a depressive episode, reader has a depressive episode, self-harm (cutting), death (Yoongi's grandfather), a little bit of vomit (alcohol induced); references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm

Smut: protected sex, fingering, semi-public sex/sex in a public place, oral sex (m. and f. receiving)

Specific warnings are posted for each chapter.

Chapter One - Peaches 5.5k

"Not everyone wants more friends. Some people just want to get through the day and make it home."

Chapter Two - Rebound 8.2k

“Well, maybe we’re both good at hiding it.”  

“Maybe we are".

Chapter Three - What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead 11.1k

“No one’s ever... No one’s ever taken care of me before.” 

Chapter Four - Someone old, someone new 8.1k

"Years of counselling and it turns out nothing makes you feel the joy of being alive like when you really fucking like someone."

Chapter Five - The other shoe 7.2k

It hit you at that moment: you would always be you... You'd always just be... this.

Chapter Six - Yoongi, after all 6.4k

You smiled, grateful to him, as you often were. Always were.

Chapter Seven - You! Me! Dancing! 6.1k

Come hell or high water, it would be fun.

Chapter Eight - Nostos 9.4k

You would love, value, and forgive him enough for the lot of them.

Chapter Nine - Crush 6.2k

"You said it yourself: your feelings are bloody loud."

Chapter Ten - Impasse 8.3k

"You know someone has to go first, right?"

Chapter Eleven - The mountain 5.4k

... it sounded like you needed closure. As if you didn’t know that already. Didn’t everyone?

Chapter Twelve - Peaches pt.2 3.2k

It was not every day that you ripped yourself open and placed your fluttering heart before them, hoping, praying that they felt the same.  

Chapter Thirteen - Damage Control 7k

"He can want me and tell me or he can want me and not tell me, but if he doesn’t tell me, he can’t have me."

Chapter Fourteen - Me, too 6k

“Me, too. I haven’t wanted anyone else since the day we met.” 

Chapter Fifteen - Spring 6.8k

You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves.

Morning 1.2k

Yoongi's favourite way to start the day

Investment 2.9k

Yoongi's tired of his job and terrified of making a change

~*~

Hey, You 5.6k

Hyunjin invites Taehyung to his new life in Paris.

Long for You 5k

Hyunjin and Taehyung's LDR continues... for now

#yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fic #yoongi