#I don’t think you should ever be mad at someone for coming clean when she realizes he’s a liar

[prettiestgrlinthemorguexo]

Swipe (Lucifer Morningstar x reader) part 2

Description: after talking to a man name Luca for a few weeks, during your first date your greeted my a unsuspected man…

RAHHHH

Am I starting this legit like 2 hours after posting the first chapter yes

I genuinely love this story and I can’t wait for this part

Next chapter is a smut ;)

Warnings: lying, apologizing for said lying, first date, angst (like 0.0001%), make out sesh

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Lucifer’s POV

I was hesitant, why was I so nervous? I stood outside restaurant, looking at the door. This was a mistake…I was getting ready to leave when I felt a Buzz in my pocket. I pull my phone out to see a message from you.

Y/N - Hey! I just sat down! We have a really nice table, are you almost here? :)

I staired at the message Y/N sent, I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing until I finally let out a breath, a raspy sigh left his lips “you have to do this..” i said quietly before walking inside the establishment. The moment i walked him all eyes were on me, considering I’m not out in public much so it is expected. I made my way over to hostess stand to see the host staring at me, she looked terrified.

“Hi I have a reservation, my party member should are ready be here.” She staired at me for a few seconds longer before being dragged back to reality, “of course! Come with me!” She said as the rounded the corner to the bustling dining room, almost immediately eyes are on me, now more then ever was I happy I reserved a more private area, she let me to the archway leading to a separate and smaller dinning room, “right through this door sir please enjoy!” She said as quickly as she left. I let out a breath before walking through the archway, and there they were…

It felt as if time had stop, this was really happening. All of a sudden a wave of nerves washed over me, but through the nerves I spoke. “sorry I’m late..” I said, my voice full of nerves. When I spoke their eyes left their phone, when they saw me their E/C eyes sudden slightly, their posture changing from casual to nervous.

No ones POV

Y/N looked up to see the face of the king of hell it’s self. They had a wave of nerves wash over them, the air felt thick. “Hi um,” Y/N started to say, clearly nervous. “Sorry I think they sat me at the wrong table I’m sorry your-“

“No your not” Lucifer said as he sat down at the table. Y/N still looked confused, why was Lucifer sitting across the table from them? Before they could get a word out to question him, Lucifer spoke, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, just let me explain...” he started, clearly nervous.

“I…” Lucifer stopped for a moment, hesitating, “I know this isn’t easy to explain but I need to come clean and apologize. A few weeks ago I started to reconnect with my daughter Charlie, and she wanted to help me meet someone…so she signed me up for Viva…and..” he said moving his eyes up to meet theirs, trying to read a reaction as the continued. “I lied about who I am..being the king of hell on a sight like that, who in the hell knows what would happen, so…I used a fake name.”

Lucifer was watching Y/N’s eyes, seeing a lot of shock, he understood where they were coming from. Lucifer looked at their eyes, Y/N stated quite for a few more seconds before speaking up. “So…the whole time I was talking to you?” They asked quietly. Lucifer swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Everything clicked in Y/N’s head, it was so obvious. L.M, having a daughter named Charlie, his divorce being at the same time. As Lucifer’s and Liliths. Y/N stay quiet, the room had a uncomfortable silence before Lucifer broke it, “I know it’s wrong now and I shouldn’t have done that, and I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me again but you have a right to know.” Lucifer said quietly, clearly preparing for the worst. Y/N face went from surprised at the facts to a warm smile “I’m not mad, I’m happy you told me early on..” they said, reaching over the table taking his hand in theirs

Lucifer’s eyes widen and lit up see their hands touch his, the nerves washed away, he couldn’t help but smile. “But, everything else you said was true right?” Y/N asked with a small laugh. “It was the only thing I promise!” Lucifer almost blurred out in reassurance. Y/N laughed as his reaction, they loved how dorky he was.

The rest of the date went off without a hitch, he was such a gentleman. They talked about everything, their interest, their family and passions. Along with the amazing food, Y/N could happily say this was the best date they’ve been on, love or dead. Lucifer couldn’t help but be infatuated with every word that left their mouth, they were perfect…the apple of his eye.

Soon it turned late into the night, the red sky turning a dark crimson, soon they were both outside on the now dead street. “I had a great time tonight.” Y/N said to him turning to face him, Lucifer felt his heart skip a beat. “Anything for you dove” Y/N face got flushed at his little name. Lucifer stepped closer, their bodies inches apart. “So, you’re not mad right?” Lucifer ask them softly.

Y/N knew he needed that reassurance, Y/N took his hand his in theirs intertwining their fingers. Their face had a soft expression fully of love. “I’m not…I could never be mad at you..” Y/N said their eyes moving their eyes from their hands to his eyes, seeing the gloss in them…his eyes could illuminate a room. They staired at each other for a few seconds before he moved in closer. Lucifer’s eyes were begging for permission.

Y/N smiled before closing the distance, their lips finally connecting, It was a sweet passionate kiss. He was quick to wrap his arms around their waist, pulling them closer. Y/N’s hands made their way to both sides of his face, feeling his soft skin and perfect hair, It was all perfect.

After what felt like an eternity, their lips a few inches apart. They could feel each others breaths, Y/N pulled him in closer burying her face into his neck. “Take me home with you..” they said quietly. Lucifer’s face when crimson red and those five words. He didn’t say a word, the tighten the grip around their waist as red smoke in golfed them both…disappearing.

TAG LIST

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @aarkhamkknight

#x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

[antiquarianfics]

Better Than Us

Being a woman is hard, and it’s not necessarily something you’d wish on another.

A/N: Comfort fic because I’m sad and I have not stopped thinking about that scene in Barbie. Warnings: Mentions of sexism, mentions of self-loathing/body issues. Not really proofread. Genre: Angst/Fluff Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, you may like, comment, and reblog.

——

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad, it’s a girl!” The sonographer says, hitting a few more buttons on the ultrasound. “Your baby girl is looking great. I’ll get the sonograms printed off for you to take home, get you cleaned up, and get you out of here. Alright?”

You stare at the sonogram, watching as your baby moves around in your uterus.

Congratulations, Mom and Dad, it’s a girl!

Mom and Dad, it’s a girl.

It’s a girl.

A girl.

Bucky watches you, and when you don't respond to the sonographer after a while, he turns to her and nods.

“Thank you.”

She smiles and nods as she takes a wipe and cleans the gel off your stomach. When she finishes, she smiles and excuses herself to go grab the sonogram photos from the printer in another room.

You pull your shirt down and sit up on the exam table.

“You all right, Sweetheart?” Bucky asks, concern laced in his voice. He gently run his hand through your hair comfortingly.

You lean into his touch before looking up at him and forcing a smile. You’re attempting to be reassuring, but he seems to see through it, you think. Bucky lets it go, though, and kisses your forehead.

——

You’re quiet for the rest of the day, and it worries Bucky. Usually after a doctor’s appointment, you’re giddy; you love getting news about your unborn child.

“Bucky! The baby’s the size of a grapefruit now! Isn’t that crazy?”

“Buck, did you know our baby has fingernails already? Wild.”

“Holy shit! Holy shit! James, come here! The baby just kicked!”

Bucky was always just as excited to hear about his child, and he was expecting to be celebrating finding out the sex. However, ever since the words “it’s a girl” were uttered, you’d been quiet.

“Could she be disappointed?” Bucky wonders, but it seems so unlikely he pushes the thought aside.

When the majority of the day passes without you saying much or expressing any excitement about your daughter, Bucky can’t help but confront you.

“Y/N? Doll?” He asks, a little nervous.

You’re sitting on the couch, fiddling with the blanket across your lap, and the TV on and ignored in front of you. You hum in acknowledgement, but you don’t meet his gaze.

“Doll,” he says again, moving to sit next to you, bringing his hand gently to your face so that he can divert your gaze to his. “Is everything alright? You’ve been quiet since the appointment.”

You clench your jaw, obviously anxious. Perhaps a little angry with yourself.

“You’ll be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re gonna realize you’re having a baby with someone who’s going to be a terrible mother.”

Bucky is taken aback. You’re so sincere that it scares him.

“Y/N, honey, you’re not going to be a terrible mother. Why would you think that?”

You look away from him to try and hide your impending tears.

“We’re having a girl.”

“And that means you’re going to be a terrible mother?” Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together. He is absolutely not following.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just. We’re having a girl, and I should be excited, but I’m not. I’m going to be—no, I am—a terrible mother because I’m upset I’m having a daughter.”

Bucky is still not following, and his hesitance to respond pushes you to keep going.

“It’s not that I don’t want a daughter. It’s that being a woman really sucks. One day you’re a kid, playing with Barbies, playing tag, making up games no one else understands, and the next day you’re so self conscious about random things; and men look at you when you don’t want them to; and people make fun of you for liking anything; and no matter how good you are at your job, people still question if you should have it.

“I remember the first time I was aware my stomach was bigger than it should be to be considered pretty. I was in the 5th grade, Buck. I was standing in line to throw my lunch away and go to recess, I looked down at my feet, and I saw my stomach. I remember sucking it in and never stopping. And when I told my mom, she didn’t tell me not to. She didn’t tell me I was healthy, and a kid, and that I was beautiful without sucking my stomach in. No. She praised me. Told me she did the same thing. Said it strengthens our abs and makes us healthier when it really messes with your breathing, and reshapes your body, and-“

You cut yourself off with your own tears. You’re immediately pulled into Bucky’s arms as he moves to soothe you; a comforting hand slides up and down your back, soft kisses are pressed to your forehead, and sweet nothings and reassurances meet your ears.

When you finally calm down some, Bucky pulls away, grasping your shoulders and holding you just far enough away to look into your eyes.

“Listen, I hear you. The way women are treated—the way you’re treated—sucks. It really does. But it’s a lot better than when I was a kid, and it takes women like you recognizing that the way you’ve been treated is wrong and working to make it better for your daughters. The fact that you’re upset for your daughter—not about her—means you’re a good mom. And I know you’re gonna do everything you can to instill confidence in her and let her be a kid as long as possible. And we are going to teach her how she should be treated, and we are going to teach her how to stand up for herself.

“And if we ever have a son, we’ll teach him to respect women. Not to ogle or harass them. We’ll raise our kids to be better than we are.”

Bucky’s speech takes you off guard. You’d expected him to tell you you were being dramatic. You’d expected him to tell you that you should just be happy about having a daughter regardless of what that entails.

You’d expected him to act like every man that he was not.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m not a bad mom?”

“You’re not a bad mom.”

A pause. You catch your breath; Bucky holds you close.

“Hey, Bucky?” You say after a while.

“Hmm?” He hums. He is gently massaging your scalp to comfort you as he holds you.

“We’re having a girl!” You pull back to look at him, a smile across your face. You’ve finally processed the day, its revelations, and Bucky’s assurances, and you’re finally ready to be happy.

“We’re having a girl,” Bucky agrees, smiling and kissing your forehead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

[rustedhearts]

send her my love (boxer!steve x fem!librarian!reader)

summary: a series of letters written after your recent breakup with steve, recounting your time apart.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡ main masterlist

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey love letters.

a/n: pretty self explanatory, but libby’s letters are in pink, steve’s are in black ♡

“…how it hurt so bad to see her cry. i didn’t want to say goodbye. send her my love, memories remain. send her my love, roses never fade.”

—send her my love, journey

december 1992—march 1993

♡ ♡

12/05/92

Dear Libby,

Dear god I hope you open this. My hands are shaking so bad around the pen that I’m sure it’ll be all scratchy and shit, but I hope you know that I’m trying. I know how much you love letters, and after you stopped picking up my calls a few weeks ago…I figured this was the best way to reach you.

It’s been almost a month since we last saw each other. I hate thinking about that day. I hate thinking about you crying, and crying because of me. Because of something I did. I want you to know that I take full accountability for what I did, my love. That’s a word they said I should use more often. Accountability. “They” would be Big and Mikey. When they heard about what happened…I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them so mad. I think, for a moment, Big thought about coming out of retirement just to kick my ass into next year.

I patched up the wall myself. It was my mess to clean. The house seems so big and empty without you. I never realized it echoed before.

I don’t blame you for going home, baby. I know you’ve been wanting to go for a while. I know I drove you away. Pushed you away. I was so terrible to you and I see that now. I’m so sorry it took something so awful for me to see it. But you were right. I’m just like my father. And I needed someone to tell me that so I could realize how fucking stupid and awful I’ve been.

I hope you don’t mind that I used some of your stationary to write this to you. You left it on the desk downstairs. The shelves came in for your books and I put them up. Maybe when you come home, we can fill them up. I’ll buy you all the books in the world, my girl.

I’m sorry. Please know that.

Love,

Steve.

♡ ♡

12/10/92

Steve,

I was surprised to receive your letter. When I stopped answering and your calls stopped coming, I assumed we were done for good. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Despite my every want to feel the opposite, I’m still so terribly in love with you that my head hurts every waking moment of the day. I ache with it. Now that we’re apart, it bleeds. It has nowhere to go. I have nowhere to put it. But this was your doing, Steven. I don’t want you to forget that.

We both said terrible things that day, but what you did was unforgivable. You promised from the start to never raise a hand against me in anger. You promised to never become the thing you hated. I took your word as bond, and perhaps that was my mistake. Perhaps that’s my grievance to regret.

I miss you terribly, but this time apart will be good for us. It’s what we need. I’ve been away from home since I was 19. My brother stands taller than me. His voice is so much deeper than when I left. They’re getting computers at the library soon. Everything is so different, yet it all still seems the same. But even these tiny differences make me realize how long I’ve been away.

It’s snowing here in Hawkins and I helped mom put up the Christmas lights. Nick and I had a snowball fight. I felt ten years old again. Mom made hot chocolate and we watched Charlie Brown. I know how much you love Charlie Brown’s Christmas. But in that moment, I felt wonderfully calm. I felt okay. I felt happy.

And it made me wonder…were we happy, Steve? Or have we been pretending for too long?

I’m glad my shelves came. Use them for your trophies.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

12/14/92

Libby,

I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your letter in the mail. I’ve been scared to open it for the past two days. But the thought of going a moment more without knowing what you said would kill me. I can hear your voice so clearly when I read your words.

I’ll never forget what I did that day, Libby. It will always be a reminder of how awful I’ve become. And it will always be a reminder of who I don’t want to be ever again.

I know it doesn’t mean much now since I’m a few months too late, but I’m talking to someone. A shrink or whatever. Big recommended him. Apparently he specializes in “anger issues.” You know how I feel about sitting down and whining about my problems, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’ll help. If it turns me back into the man you loved then I’ll sit on that couch and talk for days.

You asked if we were pretending, and for me at least, I never pretended for a moment. There wasn’t a second that went by that I didn’t love you with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry if you felt you had to pretend. I’m sorry that you weren’t happy, and if you give me the chance, I’ll do my best to make you happy this time around.

No amount of trophies or champion belts in the world could make up for the loss of you, my angel. Please know that and believe it.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

12/22/92

Steve,

I hate the way your words make my heart pound. All that love is still so strong, and it’s all still festering in me. But the heartache is just as powerful. The heartache is just as real.

I cannot give you a second chance just yet. I don’t think we’ve quite earned it. I don’t think we’ve yet reached a point where we’re both okay—on our own. I want to be okay even without you. I fear I’ve become so reliant on you to tell me where life will go, because my life has revolved around your own. I’ve never found my own path to wander. I want that opportunity now.

I went to the Hideout tonight. A Christmas party with some friends. I haven’t felt that young in years, Steve. I’m only 22.

Merry Christmas, Steve. And happy New Year.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

1/3/93

Libby,

Christmas was lonely without you. Mikey invited me to his "bachelor pad" in L.A for a "booze fest" (all his words). Gargling gravel sounded like a better time. For a minute, I thought maybe it might be good to get out. To be my own person, like you said. But everything just feels so dull now.

I thought about mailing your present, but I figured you'd just get upset. I want to respect your space and our time apart. My shrink says I have to find more time for other people's wants and needs instead of just prioritizing my own. Is that what I've been doing, Libby? Is that what I've always done?

I guess I kinda did. Took you away from the library and your home. I just wanted you with me all the time. I couldn’t imagine getting through that first string of fights without you. I don’t think I’d be the fighter I am today if I didn’t have you there.

I guess I’m talking about “me” a lot again. I’m sorry I do that.

I hope your Christmas was nice. Hope it snowed the way you like.

Love,

Steve

♡ ♡

1/28/93

Libby,

I haven’t heard from you all month. I thought I’d reach out again. For a few days, I had myself convinced my letter got lost in the mail. I waited for a “return to sender” to come. I think I would’ve preferred the honest rejection to your silence. It’s been so quiet here, my girl. I miss the sound of your voice in our home.

The fights mean nothing anymore. I won the Russell fight last week and felt nothing. Ever since you left, victory tastes stale. The referees declare the winner and I just hear static. Jesus, I miss you so much I started reading some of your sappy literature last week. It’s clearly having an affect.

I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re good. I miss you more and more with every passing day. I miss you more than I thought was ever humanly possible for one person to miss another. I never thought this deep of a feeling could exist. This “break” has taught me a lot.

Been talking to the shrink more too. He says I have an issue with authority and always need to feel in control because of how my dad was. Big fucking brain on this guy, huh? Must’ve went to school in Dumb Fuckville.

Sorry. I’m trying to be kinder. Not swear so much. Wish they made patches for anger like they do for nicotine. Something to ease the ache. But it’s hard to quit something you were born into. The Harrington rage doesn’t just disappear over night. But I swear I’m trying. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, baby. I’m doing my best to be better.

I hope I hear from you. I hope you’re alright.

I love you.

— Steve

♡ ♡

2/3/93

Steve,

I meant to write. I’ve been so busy now that I’m at the library full time again. I forgot how taxing it can truly be, but it’s like riding a bike. The smell of the books, the feel of the paper, the conversations you have with readers who don’t know where to look, or the ones who do and are searching for more. I forgot how important I feel between those stacks of books.

My girlfriends and I have been going out. They never got to celebrate my twenty-first with me, so we had a belated celebration a few weeks ago. We went to a bar in Indianapolis, took a bus the whole way there. The bar was loud and hot and sticky, and someone spilled beer all over my purse. I know you would’ve hated it, but part of me wished you were there. Bodies were pressing against each other on the dance floor, touching and smearing sweat—but all I wanted to feel was yours. Your familiar frame, right next to me. Only with you have I ever felt so secure.

Anyway, I got my first hangover, and that wasn’t fun. Especially because I’m still staying with my parents and they still think I’m seventeen. Nick tried to get me to buy him beer for his friends. I wish I could be this ‘cool’ older sister for him, but right now he doesn’t like me very much.

I watched your fight last week. There’s something so different in the way you move now. Your punches seem heavier, harder. You take more hits before you hit back. I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I always worry, Steve. I worry about what might happen if you take too many hits. All those concussions can’t be good. I’m no doctor, but I figure eventually, they’ll catch up to you. I don’t want to see that happen. I can’t fathom the idea of losing you like that. No matter what happens between us, I always want to know you’re well. Selfishly, I always want to know you're out there if I need to call.

I’m glad to know you’re trying, and that you’re still going to therapy. I think it’s very healthy, Steve, and I appreciate and value your honesty. And….I miss you too.

Yours,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/12/93

Libby,

There hasn't been a moment that's gone by since you left that I haven't wished I was with you. In whatever way that might be, all I've wanted is to feel your body next to mine. I miss your touch, your smell, your smile. I never want to know another kiss but yours. I never want to hold another body in my arms that isn't yours. I don't think I could stomach the thought of never having that again.

The longer the time between us lasts and the further the distance grows, the worse I ache for you. God I sound like a fucking dope. It's all those novels you left me, I swear I'm not this sappy. But I guess with you I am.

Please forgive me. Please come home. All I can do now is beg, and show you how hard I'm trying.

I love you, angel. There's nobody and nothing but you.

Love,

Steve

P.S. You're the best big sister. Nick will see that one day when his brain isn't full of beer and Playboy.

P.P.S. Happy early Valentine's Day, baby. I hope the flowers are okay.

♡ ♡

2/17/93

Dear Steve,

I loved the flowers, and I loved the sap. Reading your last letter brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time in a while, they were blissful. I cannot begin to describe the size of the welt in my chest. It feels bruised by your absence and my longing.

Despite every bone in my body yearning for you, I cannot come home. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't think you are, either. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while it pains both of us to endure it, I think they're right. Whoever "they" are.

In the spirit of all this honesty, I have to admit: Tom Marrow asked me out for Valentine's Day. And god damn you, Steve, I said no. I said no because I'm wilting without your sun shining on me, and I'm lost without you by my side. I said no because I'll never be able to look into the face of another man without wishing it was yours.

I said no because I know, one day (maybe soon, maybe not), I'll come home to you. Don't let that get to your head.

Love,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/22/93

Libby,

My heart has never suffered as many palpitations in all my high-risk athletic career as it did reading your letter. I hate the way the paper crumpled in my fist when I read about fucking Tom. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to abandon the jealousy that fills me when I think of you with another man. But I can admit, it reached a point even I don't like to think of. I was letting it control me. I'm trying not to do that anymore.

The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink. That's what you've reduced me to, my love. An animal searching for you in the earth.

Please come home. Please come back to me.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

3/2/93

My darling Steve,

I'm coming home to you. Please unlock the door.

Yours always,

Libby

♡ ♡

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve the babysitter #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #joe keery fic #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fluff #king steve #steve the hair harrington

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

i wanted you until the halloween masks all melted down my face; finally the burns are healing, finally i can see you.

am34 x reader: a very different take on older brother’s best friend.

(warnings: NO SMUT! (crazy how that goes in my warnings).  only tension, here.  no actual smut.  lots of family dynamic speak and emotional healing and childhood trauma and stuff of the like, but i promise it has a happy ending - maybe the happiest ending i’ve ever written.  be kind to yourself.  only read if you’re 100% sure.)

(a/n: let me preface this by saying this is simply a character who’s face-claim is auston.  THIS IS NOT MY TAKE ON AUSTON MATTHEWS, SO DO NOT COME AT ME FOR THAT.  honestly, i’ll be mad as hell if i get hate about that, so don’t even think about it.  i did not proof-read, either.  my favorites - i apologize, this is very different than what i normally write.  but, right now, i’m not in a place where i can write good smut (trust me, i tried).  this is what i can write right now, so i figured something is better than nothing.  there is plenty of great smut on this site to go around, i promise.  more so than any other of my stories, this fictional you is the star.  she is healing and she is growing and she is so, so beautiful, inside and out.  please know that this story is very personal to me.  and while i refuse to take any hate personally, please be kind.  sometimes we make someone up to be perfect as a distraction, like a survival technique.  favorites, you and your snakes deserve to grow and heal and love yourself so brutally and wholly.  i don’t know if and/or when i’ll see you next, but know i’m thinking of you often and fondly.  go canucks.  gif is not mine.  love always.

it was the smell you noticed first, as you arrived back.  your childhood home, exactly as you had left it, last summer.  as if it had simply ceased to exist when you were away.  exactly the same, yet foreign.  and that smell, something like your mother’s subtle perfume and the cleaning spray your father used in the kitchen.

it made your stomach turn.

it made you young again.

you hugged your family hello, attempting to push any anxiety that nipped at your nerves away.  you should be happy to be home, you told yourself.  you should be happy, it’s normal to be happy, just be normal, please.

your mother said something about your trip and traffic before returning to her desk, your father mumbled something about barely recognizing you as he continued to prepare dinner, your brother barely looked at you before heading back to the basement.

and then, in a moment, you knew he was here.  a kind of sixth sense you had developed in middle school.  his voice came from behind you.

“welcome home, angel.”

oh, how his voice, that name, how it made time drip like syrup around you, made you lose your grip on what was here and what was there, what was now and what was then.

for as long as you could remember, auston matthews had been your older brother’s best friend.  and for as along as you could remember, the mere thought of auston matthews sent a flurry of butterflies to spawn in your stomach, a fiery chill up your spine, a flush with a vengeance to your cheeks.

when had the butterflies been born?  maybe it was when you were seven, him and your brother ten, when you were all playing pond hockey in your backyard.  when he had given you his mittens because yours had gotten wet and your brother had refused.  maybe it had been that simple, maybe that had been all it took.  

maybe that big, perfect, toothy smile, flushed cheeks, on a winter night in your backyard had been it.

or maybe it had been strengthened a couple years later, when he invited you to play video games with them even though your brother had been furious, had slammed the door in your face.

maybe it had been that hand extended in the dark.

or maybe it had been solidified at your high school graduation, when he had been there, despite his season just barely being over, standing with your family and clapping as you walked across the stage to get your diploma.

maybe it had been the way he had hugged you that day, so hard it knocked your cap off, strong arms wrapping around your torso.  the way he had whispered, “proud of you, angel,” into your ear.

for as long as you could remember, he had been grabbing a bottle of gatorade from your fridge, laughing from the next room over, his games on the television in your living room.

if your head was a living room, the sound of his voice would be the television static, constant and reliable and home.

your dad made his favorite meal when he stayed for dinner, your mom knew all his stats by heart.  your brother was his best friend.  

and you were there, had always been there.  and every boy you had ever kissed hadn’t been their own person, they had only been not auston.

maybe it had been everything he had ever done.  the way you had received everything he had ever done.  do you ever get over your first crush?  do you ever forgive them for stealing all your innocent peace and serenity?  

do you ever want to?

you were older now, just finished your second year in university.

you were different now.  everything would be different.  that’s what you repeated in your head, over and over.

but he made you young again.

you turned to look at him, wholly unprepared for what awaited you.

“auston,” you greeted, more like an observation or statement.

of course distance had only made him more handsome.  somehow taller, bigger, broader, more defined even through his sweatpants and shirt.  his jaw sharper, emphasized by his five-o’clock shadow, his eyes brighter, lashes longer, hair messier and curlier and more lovely.

everything about him lovely, and no longer just a memory, an image in your head.  here he was, right in front of you, and that made him so much better in every way.

“that’s all you’ve got for me, angel?” he asked, smirk playing up on his lips, making your stomach turn in a different sort of way.  he crossed his arms across his chest, shoulders straining against his t-shirt, leaned against the hallway frame.  he looked down at you, eyes ever so teasing.  “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t disappointed.”

you wanted to slap yourself for how his words made your stomach drop.  because oh, how you so despised the idea of disappointing him.

and you wanted to slap him, too, because you knew that he knew that, as well.

different, different, different.  older, older, older.

“and what would you have preferred?” you quipped, a bite to your voice that made his smirk widen in a flash of teeth.  “should i have jumped into your arms, teary-eyed?”

he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, cocked his head, let his gaze melt down your body and up to your eyes again.  the moment was heavy, potent.  your skin hummed.

he shrugged.  “even your dad got a hug,” was all he said.  a flippant reminder that he knew you as well as anyone, that he knew all your family history, that he knew what made you tick.  and worse, that he noticed you and what you did, what you were doing.

and you were young again, glassy-eyed at the dinner table as you counted the amount of times your father sighed after you spoke, making a tally with penne on your plate.

suddenly you couldn’t meet his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall, made to follow your brother back into the basement, gave a single, disbelieving shake of his head.  “didn’t think you could get prettier,” he almost whispered.

he said it as if those words didn’t make your vision spin.  you could practically see his prideful smirk as he walked down the stairs, leaving you, dazed, gripping your suitcase too tightly.  here, and now.

your first few days at home were tough as you fought tooth and nail to maintain the confidence you had forged from what felt like nothing, to preserve the version of yourself that existed away from home, the version you had worked so hard to build.

but every comment felt charged, full of meaning, slight intention.  this house seemed to suck the energy clean out of you, so you tried to be out of it as much as possible.  

but auston was sitting at the table, on his phone, early one morning as you walked into the kitchen, having just woken up.  his presence was like an electric shock to your body and mind, still soft with sleep.

you rubbed your eyes and adjusted your tank top, suddenly very aware of how you looked, how much skin you were showing.

you poured yourself a glass of water, poured a second one for him instinctually and placed it in front of him.  he put his phone down immediately.

“thank you, angel,” he said easily, his eyes alight as you leaned back against the counter, crossed an arm in front of you, the other holding your glass.  

his eyes on you seemed all too much, this early in the morning.  you shuddered.

“welcome,” you rasped, pretended not to noticed how his eyes darkened at the sound of your voice, blushed and quickly decided it would probably be safest to leave.  to get out before he could reduce you to shambles, the way he always did.

he got to you first.

“used to like to hang around me, angel,” he said, making you stop in your tracks, turn to face him.  “what happened, hm?”  he smiled.  “don’t like me anymore?”

if only he knew.  if only he knew just how much you still liked him, how it was still his mocking laugh in your head whenever you meaninglessly texted a boy from school.

“no,” was your simple answer.  you cursed the waver in your voice.

“yeah?  what’d i do?” he brought his cup to his full lips and took a slow sip, his swallow practically pornographic, at least to you.  “used to follow me around like a puppy, now you won’t even look at me.”

you flushed deeper at the reminder of that wide-eyed, trembling little girl, who felt so far away, now.  the one who hoped her older brother would invite his friend over, just so she could catch a glimpse of him.

"wasn’t like a puppy,” you mumbled, rosy shame tinting your neck and face.

he shook in a laugh.  you both knew you were lying.  the fact settled between you, energizing the space.

“no? look at me, then,” he said simply.

you did, and regretted it in a second, his gaze much too dark, heated.  a trap.  and you, sinking.

“sit,” he said.  you did, sitting across from him at the table, again overcome with the urge to please. perhaps that little girl wasn’t so far away after all.

his eyes flashed again at your obedience.  you watched him register the change in your demeanor - stiff to malleable, your gaze, once hard, suddenly so desperate.

this was the you he remembered.

“are you mad at me, angel?” he asked you, slow and deliberate.

you shook your head, fidgeted with your fingers.  

“no?” his eyes were more prying than any touch could be.  “then tell me what’s wrong, hm?”  your felt your exhale come out shaky.  he let out a tsk noise. 

did you imagine the trembling of your lips?  you willed stability into your voice.

“nothing’s wrong,” you choked out.  “‘m just different now, that’s all.  grown up.”

he nodded slowly, sighed, the silence and understanding heavy between you.

“you’ve really changed, hm, have you?”

it was your turn to nod, and the words in his mouth almost made you believe them.

you got up to leave with a steady exhale, but as you walked past his chair, he stood up, boxed you against the wall with his massive frame, one hand on the wall next to you, the other tilting your chin up so your gaze met his, truly.

you stayed in that position for a moment, your chest rising and falling in an undeniable way.  you couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment, but a moment was enough.  of course he noticed.

“you sure, pretty baby?” he rasped, so close you could feel his breath on your lips.  he smirked before drawing back, leaving you there, almost drowsy with want and anger and a million other things.  “i have my doubts.”

doubt, disappointment, it rattled around your head like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

and leaning there, you realized that underneath the rubble, you were just so afraid.  downright terrified of - of what?  not of auston, not of your family, not even of time itself.

it was that teary-eyed little girl, broken-hearted at the dinner table, braiding and undoing and braiding her hair while alone in her room.  

she scared you so, so much.

and what was he playing at?  what did it matter to him, if you were trying so hard to prove that you weren’t that little girl?  he had never reciprocated your feelings, so why did he care now?

was he really so insistent on keeping your eyes wide, full of hope, and on him? always on him? did that really matter to him? 

every sign was pointing to yes, it did.  yes, you did.

and you realized there was more than one way to be different, older.  more than one way to change. 

so a few nights later, when your family sat down to watch his game, you did not join them, as you had for practically every game before.  

the smallest act of rebellion, the smallest bit of difference, and yet already you could feel some kind of confidence solidify in your stomach.  look what i can do, it said.  look who i can be.

the following night, when you bumped into him in the hallway, you didn’t shrink away when he asked, “did you watch me?”  you didn’t let his smirk distract you, nor his closeness.

you looked him in the eye as you shook your head.

you swallowed your delight at the surprise that flashed across his gaze.  “no?” he asked. 

“you have enough eyes on you,” you said, as stable as you could muster, straightening your posture, refusing to fidget.

his smile was that of someone who had been winning since birth.

“oh, you’re right about that, angel,” he said.

you shivered at his tone.  “i know.”  different, older.  changed.

“you’re so smart, now, yeah?”

the barest tint of a blush began to form on your cheeks.  yes, you thought, i am.  always have been.

“but it just feels so good. to be just drowning in attention.”  was that a trace of cruelty, dripping down his teeth?  “but you wouldn’t know what that’s like, hm, pretty baby?”

and part of you faltered, frozen, could have cried at this attack - so calculated and personal.  if it was anyone else you would have called it mean.

but a different, older, changed part of you recognized that you had changed something in him, too.  auston had always been one of those people for whom you felt winning was second nature, easy as breathing.  

but this familiar game wasn’t one he was winning without trying.  all this testing you, tempting you, this was him, trying.  this was new for him, too.

and that filled you with something downright dangerous.

“i don’t know, auston,” you drawled, barely recognizing your own voice.  you took a step closer to him.  “if you’re drowning in attention, why do you seem to want mine so badly?”

he sucked on his teeth for a second, making you smile.  you picked a piece of lint that wasn’t there off of his sweatshirt.  

“what’s wrong?” you pressed.  “can’t handle one person not treating you like a god?”  you smirked, the expression feeling foreign, powerful on your lips.  “thought you were tougher than that.”

that darkness grew opaque in his eyes.  in a moment, he had you boxed up against the wall, yet again, both of his hands on your hips.

how many times had you imagined his touch, like this?  how many times had you tried to will it out of him?  how was this all it took?

but you weren’t ready to fully give in.  not quite yet.

you leaned back against the wall, reveled in the warmth of his palms.

“so you’re really ready to play, then, angel?” he asked.  a warning shot went off in your head.  a game, a game, a game, a voice said.  only a game.  “you know i always win.”

you tilted your head.  “you don’t even know what game i’m playing,” you said.  “besides, no matter what,” you placed a hand on his chest, grabbed a fist-full of his sweatshirt.  “i’ll outwork you.  every time.”

and this time, you were the one to leave him there, practically panting.  the high was almost addictive.

that high was what you were chasing again when you agreed to go out with an old classmate.  you could concede that you probably wouldn’t have said yes on your own - but this was you, outworking the natural.  showing the god that his angel wouldn’t always be around.

you knew he would be over just as you were leaving, he and your brother were getting ready to go to the beach.

“dress up for me, angel?”  he asked, smug.  he looked you up and down lazily, eyes catching on the short hem of your sundress.

joy bubbled up in your throat at the fact that the answer was technically no.  you shook your head.  “have a date, auston,” you said.

his face soured, if only for a second.  

“that right?” you thought you saw his perpetual lean stiffen for a moment.  

you nodded.  “catching up with an old friend.  should be fun.”

he shifted his sunglasses from to the top of his head to the bridge of his nose.  “an old friend?  didn’t realize you had any old friends, angel.”

a littler version of you would have choked back a sob.  had his comments always been so cutting?  so selfish and mean?  “you don’t realize a lot, it seems,” you said instead, stepping so close to him you could see your reflection in his sunglasses.  

you lifted a delicate hand to his face, stilling it in your grasp as you ran a finger along the edge of your lips, fixing your gloss in your reflection.

something rumbled through his jaw into your hand.  it felt like power and healing and winning.

you released your grip and stepped back, grabbing your bag and making for the door.  “have fun at the beach,” you said, only a little patronizing.  “don’t wait up for me.”

on the way out, you let out the smallest laugh to yourself.  if only younger you could see present you.  telling auston matthews not to wait up for her.  unimaginable.

the date was good, honestly.  better than you expected.  he was sweet, and funny, and you could really see yourself being friends with him, which was awesome.  you were both on the same page, liking each other but not really attracted to each other, and by the end of the date you already had plans to hang out with some of his other friends.

you were happy when you pulled back into your driveway.  

you were happy when you entered your room, laid down on your bed, smiled at this proof of your growth.  a friend.  what a beautiful thing.

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed between when you got home and when he appeared in your doorway.  

suddenly, he was there.  just like how he entered your life, you thought briefly.  suddenly, he was there.

you smiled.  “auston,” you said.

“what’re you smiling about?” he asked, the smallest bit of a smirk on his face.

you sighed.  “just had such a good time.”

“did you?” he asked, “‘m glad, angel.”

“are you?” you mocked him, sitting up, fixing your dress around you.  

he nodded as he walked towards you, made an affirmative humming sound.  

“happy you thought he was a good time.”

you scrunched up your face in confusion.  even as he got closer, the nerves that used to plague you were nowhere to be found.

he now stood next to you, a towering presence.  the energy between the two of you was different than it had ever been before.

you tilted your head back, leaned against your headboard to meet his eyes.  “and why is that?”

his smirk was delicious.  “’cause he’s going to make me look even better than i already am.”

and a younger you would have sighed with desire, with want, with everything dangerous like that.  but something even more dangerous was alive and growing inside of you now, something that had nothing to do with him.

you were almost confused at the fact that now, in this moment, when everything could have happened, you didn’t particularly care if it did.

it dawned on you then that perhaps auston had always loved you.  he loved you the way a child loves the candy their parents tell them to save until after dinner - loving the knowledge that it is there, that it will always be there.  loving the temptation, the prospect, the comfort.  but not loving, truly.  not the way you so desired.  when dessert is done, that love is abandoned.

and he was not the auston you had so desired, all these years.  he was not the hero, the god, the perfect boy turned man, he was not everything.

you looked up at him, now, feeling none of the delirious wanting that had defined him for so long.  

“would you stay, do you think?” you asked, voice steady and simply curious.

he raised a brow in confusion.  “what?”

“would you stay?  afterwards?  even for a little bit?”

you could see it now, and you sort of already knew the answer.  you could see yourself laying in this same bed, shaken out of that sticky afterglow by him, getting up, getting dressed, getting out.

the man in front of you now, he actually let out a laugh.  “what did you think this was, angel?” he asked.

and younger you would have cried forever.  spent eternity breathing in tears.  

but this older, different, changed you, she laughed right back at him.  because he had said something that deserved to be laughed at.

“who do you think i am?” you asked, smiling.

because you were not his angel, not anymore.  you were not his pretty baby.  you were healing, you were growing.  he was not your superman, your hand extended in the dark.

he was just a person, a person who was used to your attention, and didn’t like that he no longer had it.  a person who could be cruel when you eyes weren’t on him.

and you thought that the next time you kissed someone, maybe they would finally be a real person, not a person lacking.

you weren’t really paying attention to him now, but at some point, auston matthews left your bedroom.  and you didn’t even notice.

and your dad still knew his favorite meal, and would probably make it tonight.  your mom still knew all his stats, even though they had changed from two nights ago.  he was still your brother’s best friend.  

and you were still there.  beautifully, wonderfully there.

the living room in your head mellowed.  the television static was finally just television static, nothing more.  and there was a little girl sitting on the couch.  and she was laughing.

fin. 

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #nhl #hockey #hockey x reader #hockey angst #angst fic #auston matthews smut #toronto maple leafs

[rottenimagines]

THE FAVORITE GIRL

Summary: You, Negan's favorite ''wife'', have been captured after trying to escape. Now you have to face the consequences of your actions.

(Little disclaimer: English is not my native language, but I try my best, I promise x.)    

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It had been a week since Y/n had escaped; a too-long time for someone like her to survive alone in the woods. Although all her effort was useless in the end, since she was captured by a search party anyway.

She was Negan's favorite woman, after all. He wasn't going to let her go that easily. He knew very well that she would not get very far by herself. And he was right...

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Two of his men drag her to Negan’s office, where he has been waiting for their reunion for a while.

‘‘Well, well, well... Look who's back!’’

He says, as he immediately sets down what he was doing and jumps up from his desk to greet her with a triumphant grin. When he's right in front of her, he motions for his men to leave, and so they do. Both are left alone.

He smirks, looking her up and down, and lets out a mocking whistle before speaking again.

‘‘Well, my dear, it's good to see you again, still in one piece. You look terrible, though. No offense.’’ 

He grabs her chin and tilts her head up. ‘‘Tell me, Y/n, where were you?’’

She glares at him, ‘‘away from you.’’ 

He grins and pulls her closer to whisper in her ear, ‘‘you know you can’t escape from me...’’

‘‘You’re an asshole...’’ 

Negan rubs his face against hers. She can feel his hot breath on her skin.

‘‘You should be grateful, y’know? I saved you from the life you were living,’’ he stares her down. ‘‘I’m the reason you had three meals a day. I’m the reason you slept in a warm bed. I’m the reason you’re breathing right now.’’

‘‘I don't want any of those things anymore. I don’t want anything from you.’’

He steps away a bit, surprised by her attitude. He remains serious for a few moments, analyzing the whole situation before his eyes.

‘‘You wanna be the dinner of one of those dead pricks, darling? Is that what you were looking for out there? ‘Cause, you know, all this little mischief of yours has been stupid as hell. You know that, right?’’

He stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person alive, and she stares at him back as if he's the worst.

‘‘I'd rather be one of those monsters' dinner than yours.’’

The playfulness disappears from his face; he looks at her with a dead stare this time.

‘‘You must be joking...’’ his cold, dead stare last another few seconds, then he laughs. 

‘‘You’re just like every other woman in this world, aren’t you? You say one thing and do another. You agree to be with me, and then you just run away like a scared puppy.’’

He tries to get a more passionate reaction from her; he wants to provoke her to put an end to this new cold attitude of hers that is starting to make him mad.

‘‘Think what you like...’’ is her only response.

‘‘Oh, I know you’ll come back to me’’, he kisses her cheek, ‘‘...because you have no choice, right?’’

‘‘We’ll see.’’ She is willing to face the risks. 

A look of disappointment slowly creeps across his face. 

‘‘If you wish to be treated like the rest, fine. I’ll remove you from your pedestal and treat you like everyone else. No benefits. No special status. Nothing at all. Is that what you really want, Y/n?’’ He pauses a moment, while uncomfortable thoughts arise through his mind. ‘‘Just because of a little... misunderstanding?’’

She nods, impassively. 

‘‘Very well, then’’. He nods and puts his hands on his hips staring at her sternly. ‘‘You are on bathrooms cleaning duty starting tomorrow.’’ 

 He is willing to make her life as difficult as possible from now on as punishment for running away and, of course, to get her back to him.

 ‘‘...Fine.’’ 

‘‘And one more thing, Y/n. If you ever try to run away again...’’ he puts a finger under her chin, lifting her head to look at him. He leans in, close to being nose to nose, ‘‘you’re dead. Got it?’’

She nods.

‘‘Good girl.’’ He leans in and speaks in her ear: ‘‘You’ll come back to me, honey. You'll see, you'll see’’. His words come out in a husky whisper. 

Negan kisses her cheek before letting her go.

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#twd #the walking dead #twd imagines #twd x reader #negan smith #negan x reader #negan imagines #negan smith x reader #negan smith imagine #jeffrey dean morgan #negan one shot #negan smith one shot #twd one shot #twd fic #fanfic #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan fic

[redmyeyes]

Mad about the boy

I know it’s stupid to be mad about the boy. I’m so ashamed of it, but must admit the sleepless nights I've had about the boy…

— Noël Coward

It shouldn’t have made Hawk so giddy. Missing Tim’s birthday should have made him ashamed of himself, letting the triviality of complete career ruin get in the way of the fun they’d been having. Instead, he felt stupidly giddy, fifteen and sick at heart with his first crush, because, according to Marcus, Tim had noticed. Which meant that Tim had expected Hawk to win him back, despite his principles and high-minded speeches and his “last dirty thing I’ll ever do for you” and his slamming the door on the way out. Silly, stubborn boy. He could have come to Hawk himself instead of running to Marcus, and Hawk would have let him apologize. Probably. He was generous that way. Especially when the apologies involved Tim on his knees.

Hawk had been planning on getting Tim out of his head this weekend once and for all, replacing him with multiple quick fucks. Multiples of multiples. This was a numbers game. Quantity over quality. That was what he’d told himself anyway, despite how the idea rang hollow, and despite the way he’d been unable to get Tim out of his head for one minute over the past four weeks.

But the way he’d latched onto the idea of taking Tim to Rehoboth Beach instead, once Marcus had inadvertently let him know it was a possibility, had Hawk realizing he was well and truly in over his head. Of course it would have been much easier to let this break be a clean one. To separate entirely, go back to conquests that were much easier let go of. Easier, and safer, and a hell of a lot less confusingly painful. So why the hell was he so giddy?

The look of unadorned shock on Tim’s face when he opened the door out of the judicial session and found Hawk standing there made all the uncertainty worth it. He was adorably flustered in that squirmy, self-conscious way of his, trying badly to hide it and to hold onto his anger. Readable as a picture book. Hawk’s heart swelled with delighted affection. Why did he ever think this was a good thing to be giving up? He wasn’t Catholic, and this wasn’t Lent. Besides, he always had enjoyed a bit of measured risk.

“Where are we going?” Tim asked as he slid into Hawk’s Ford precisely fifteen minutes later.

“You’re late, Skippy,” Hawk admonished, teasing, and was rewarded with the look of hot affront on Tim’s face.

“I don’t have— a change of clothes, you know. I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

“That’s a problem?” Hawk asked mildly as he glided the car into D.C. traffic. Not quite early enough to beat the rush. He’d wasted time coming to get Tim.

“You make presumptions,” Tim said, but he was grinning.

“You’re already in my car,” Hawk pointed out, grinning back.

“Why now, why— it’s been four weeks.”

“It’s come to my attention only yesterday that I missed your birthday. Can you legally drink now, Skippy?”

“I’m twenty-three,” Tim said, with a look of rebuke only someone in their early twenties would have for being mistaken as younger. Hawk rolled his eyes.

“What did you end up doing? On the day,” he clarified at Tim’s confused look.

“I… nothing special,” Tim said after a moment. “Mary…” he started again, and trailed off, and Hawk felt something tighten in the pit of his chest. He darted a glance over, but Tim was staring out the window. “We thought it best we not be seen together right now. For verisimilitude.”

“Right,” Hawk said, clearing his throat. It was for the best, he reminded himself. Losing Mary would have been crushing for Tim, of course. The two had gotten close quickly, and from what Hawk had gathered, she seemed to be the only close friend Tim had in the city. Every time Tim spoke of her, his eyes had glowed with genuine warmth and affection. Every time Hawk saw Mary in the office, he was treated to a look of badly concealed rebuke. Even seeing her every day, Hawk had not once thought about what the loss of her friendship would mean for Tim. He felt uncomfortably ashamed of that now.

“I talked to my mother,” Tim continued with a shrug. “The family is doing well. Except for Uncle Ronald, who apparently needs to be locked up for his own good. She says.”

Hawk gave a grunt of acknowledgement and concentrated on the road. They sat in strained silence in the slow-moving traffic for the next ten minutes, while something incongruously upbeat and poppy played at low volume on the radio. At last they made it out of D.C. proper, hit the parkway and sped up to a decent cruising pace, at which point Tim turned to him with that too familiar look of determination in his eye and asked again, “Why did you come get me?”

Hawk sighed. Tim never was one to let things go when he got an idea stuck in his head, and here they were stuck in a car together for the next two hours. Hawk reconsidered whether this had been the best idea, after all. He said, “Maybe I wanted to give you a present.”

“You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

Hawk looked over at Tim, and back, and back again. The looks lasted longer than they should have, given that he was driving, but all he wanted was to drink Tim in. He’d brought his camera. He wished he could immortalize this moment, too: the adorable pout on Tim’s face, mixed with that fierce determination and equal parts hope and hurt in his eyes. It was a potent cocktail, and it tugged at Hawk’s heart. “You want me to say I missed you? I missed you. I missed you, Skippy.” Then, more truth slipping out as he saw the skepticism still on Tim’s face, “Thought maybe you were too high-principled to ever speak to me again.”

That seemed to settle something, Tim’s face twisting into that smile he sometimes got where he seemed on the verge of tears. “Hey, c’mere,” Hawk said, and stretched his arm along the back of the bench seat to pull Tim towards him. It hit him only then, as Tim slid closer and collapsed into him with a little moan, that they hadn’t touched in four weeks. He buried his nose in Tim’s hair, sinking into the comfort of the familiar smell even as he tried valiantly to keep one eye on the road. “God, I have missed you, Skippy.”

Tim settled closer with a contented little shimmy, head pillowed in the crook of Hawk’s shoulder as Hawk’s hand combed through his thick hair. Tim’s hand skimmed over the fabric of Hawk’s shirt, slipping inside Hawk’s jacket as though he couldn’t help himself. “Tell me,” Hawk said, tilting Tim’s head back to give his forehead a quick kiss, “what does my boy want for his birthday?”

“Am I still? Your boy?”

The question sent heat lancing straight through Hawk, especially with the slow-blinking wide eyes that accompanied it, and he shifted to accommodate the sudden rush of blood south. His hand tightened on the wheel. Thank god for automatic transmission and a surprising lack of traffic on this rural two-lane highway. His voice dropped an octave as he answered roughly, “If you want to be.”

Tim’s hand continued to rove over Hawk’s chest with the barest pressure. His eyes didn’t leave Hawk’s face. “I ask Marcus about you sometimes. When I can’t help myself.”

It was said so easily. Tim had this way of stating the most vulnerable, damning things as simple truths. Like it didn’t even hurt him to be that open. Maybe it was the habit of confession. Hawk wondered what else he could be made to confess. Then his expression darkened. What else he could be made to confess could get them both into a world of trouble. That’s what had gotten them into this whole mess in the first place: Tim’s inability to lie. He shook it off. Tim would learn eventually. He’d have to, if he wanted to survive. Until then, Hawk would keep them both safe. And in the meantime there was no sense in not taking advantage. “What else can’t you help yourself from?”

Tim pulled back a little. “You’re making fun of me,” he said, but he sounded unsure.

Hawk nodded significantly at his lap, where his erection strained at his trousers. “Does it look like I’m making fun of you? It’s a long drive, Skippy. Maybe I just want to hear about how you touch yourself at night, imagining me there with you. What kind of things do you imagine? Confess.”

That last got a reaction, a shuddered breath that Hawk felt on his neck, followed by a catlike flick of Tim’s tongue. “You and your presumptions.”

“Mhmm, so you’ve been celibate this whole time, then.”

“What about you?” Tim said, poking Hawk in the side and eliciting an undignified yelp. “I know you haven’t. And I know you’ve used more than your right hand.”

“Didn’t expect me to wait for you to come knocking down my door, did you, Skippy?” Hawk shrugged, easy. “I have been known to indulge, on occasion. Did you want to hear about my hollow bathhouse conquests?”

“If they’re hollow, then why—”

“Same reason you’re not celibate, I imagine. Because… it’s better than nothing.”

They were silent for a moment, Hawk moody with things he didn’t want to be thinking about, and Tim’s expression gone contemplative. Then Tim relaxed into him again and said, hesitant but deliberate, “I do think about you.”

Hawk hummed in approval, the moodiness swept away like clouds before sun. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I think about… the night of Alsop’s party. Before the party. When you… when you made me—”

“You like to be made to do things,” Hawk said, which felt true even if it had been Tim calling the shots that entire night.

“How did you know? I didn’t know.”

Hawk considered that. “Didn’t know. Had a sense, maybe. That you’d be… receptive. Little things. Straight away, election night, you let me order for you. A lot of men wouldn’t. They’d get offended or put up some macho bluster… You gave me your number when I asked. And then that first night, our first real night…” he shrugged. “I like being in control. And you seemed so eager to please.”

Tim flushed, a heat that Hawk could feel as his fingers skimmed over Tim’s cheek. “You make me sound like such a, a—”

“Didn’t mean it as an insult, Skippy. Nothing gets me hotter than an eager boy.”

Tim turned his face into Hawk and shuddered out a heavy breath. His hand was rubbing firmer circles now over Hawk’s chest. “It’s not about being forced, or made to do things, it’s… you told me what you wanted and that made it easy. I could do it and I liked… seeing how far I could push before you cracked. I like making you lose control.”

“Better watch it, Skippy. Making me lose control already and we’ve got a fair bit of driving to do.”

Tim’s hand had slid down to Hawk’s thighs, and was now inching upwards, skirting the area where Hawk wanted him most, of course. “Does that— is that a turn on for you? Trying to hold on to your composure while you’re losing it?”

Hawk blew out a measured breath, eyes firmly on the road, as Tim’s hand slid up his inner thigh, into the junction between thigh and hip, and started kneading. Still not where he wanted him. His foot had gone heavy on the accelerator, and he eased the car back to fifty. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boy.”

“Answer the question.”

Hawk darted a quick glance over, and Tim’s eyes glittered, locked on his face. Hawk grinned, predatory. “Alright then. Just remember who started this.” Another slow exhale to get his pulse under control and he eased off the gas again. His hand threaded gently into Tim’s hair from the nape of his neck. “Take me out.” When Tim hesitated, he added, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Skippy. Do it. Or get back on your side of the car.”

A moment’s pause, then Tim obeyed, undoing Hawk’s belt, and then trousers, one-handed. Hawk tilted his hips to make it easier. He wished he had a cigarette. And another hand. Hawk was barely uncovered, only a few inches of him peeking out from the waistband of his boxers, but it was enough that it would be a challenge to cover up quickly if anything happened. “Go on, then,” he said.

Tim met his eyes, as if gauging what Hawk wanted, then licked his lips seemingly unconsciously and lowered his head.

That first touch of wet heat and suction had Hawk bucking up into Tim’s mouth. “Ahh— slow down, Skippy. Slower. That’s it,” he sighed as Tim eased back, mouthing wetly at the head of his cock. “Settle in, that’s it.”

Tim settled into his lap, as Hawk grazed the backs of his fingers over Tim’s cheek. “Now take yourself out.” There was a muffled moan as Tim nosed deeper, but he complied all the same, clumsy fingers fumbling at his own trousers. His other hand slid behind Hawk to grip Hawk’s left hip. “I don't want to see your hand stop moving,” Hawk said once Tim had gotten himself out. The head of Tim’s cock was shiny wet and dripping, challenging Hawk to keep his eyes on the road.

“Wanna make me lose control? See how long you can keep us here. On the brink.” Tim moaned around Hawk’s cock, his hand speeding up. “Love this, don’t you? You’re so hard just from sucking me off. Bet I could make you come untouched. Something to play with later. Ah— easy, easy.” That last was in response to Tim taking him deep, his throat convulsing around him with blissful pressure as he swallowed.

“God, Skippy,” Hawk breathed, forcing himself to relax. “You drive me crazy.” His hand moved from Tim’s cheek to his throat, squeezing gently. He could feel himself, inside. Tim moaned again in answer, his hand still moving. What a picture he was, his head buried in Hawk’s lap, hair a mess, glasses askew, body sprawled and twisted on the white leather, cockhead angry red as it peeped between his moving fingers. “I could keep you here for hours if I wanted. So hard, for so long, until you’re sobbing for me to let you come.”

Tim made an urgent noise, his hand stilling on his cock as he squeezed tight. “I said keep moving, Skippy.” Hawk’s cock slipped out of Tim’s mouth as he gulped for air, but his hand did start moving again, slowly.

“Hawk,” Tim panted, turning his name into a strung-out needy groan.

“Need some help there?” Tim shook his head, his mouth finding Hawk’s cock again, and Hawk blew out a heavy breath. “That’s right, want to do it all yourself, don’t you, boy? Get me hard, make me come, make me lose control.”

Hawk had slowed down enough that a car was about to overtake them on the left. He gave the family of four a sedate nod as they passed. “Imagine what they’d think if they could see you,” he murmured, hand stroking Tim’s throat. “My shameless, needy boy.”

Tim’s high-pitched keen was a thing of beauty. Up ahead, the family station wagon was taking an exit, leaving a long, open straightaway. Enough. “C’mon,” he said, his hand sliding into Tim’s thick hair, urging him faster. Tim’s hand on himself sped up, his other hand digging into Hawk’s hip hard enough to bruise.

Hawk’s head dug into the seat back as he panted open-mouthed, every muscle in his body tensed. The speedometer was creeping past eighty, so he took his foot off the gas and planted it, forcing his eyes open as Tim bobbed in earnest now. “That’s it, come on, c’mon. Make yourself come, I want you coming with my cock in your mouth, knowing you love it.”

Tim spluttered, convulsing in on himself as Hawk flooded his mouth. Didn’t let any spill though, good boy, swallowing around Hawk and then lapping, suckling, as they collapsed together, boneless.

Hawk sank back in the seat, laughter in his heart and bubbling up through his chest. “God, Skippy. God. The way you make me—”

Head pillowed on Hawk’s lap, hand curled protectively against his own stomach, Tim turned his face to the sky and laughed in wild, pure joy.

#just a little ep3 interlude <3 #fellow travelers #fellowtravelersedit #redrites #tim x hawk #hawk x tim #* #ftfic #fellow travelers fics

[igotanidea]

Another privateer : chapter 2

Chapter 1

Masterlist

***

She hated it.

She hated the dress, the hair, the make-up.

She hated that she had to walk through those damn door, on display for everyone and make a scene out of herself. And being formally announced with her full name.

“Damn the official royal parties” she thought, walking in circles, waiting for her name to be called  “Damn my father! Damn Nikolai with his teasing smile and cocksureness.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” she heard the calling and sighed deeply, praying to the saints not to trip on the hem of her dress on the stairs and wishing that she could just turn invisible so no one would see her coming in.

Wishful thinking. She was the talk of the palace. Of course everyone’s gaze landed on her and she cringed under the weight of judgement, terrified eyes jumping from one person to another, searching for any anchor, anything to help her survive this madness. But once the heat raised inside her it became easier and she took a step forward. And then another, and another and another until she found herself down.

Due to all the nerves she did not notice the gaze of the most important person. As cliché as that sounds Nikolai could not force his eyes away from her figure. It was the first time he saw her in a dress, clean, dolled up. He believed her to be beautiful when she was messy and weary, but now? Now it was amplified so many times he just held his breath. He needed the first dance with her. Unlike Y/N he couldn’t care less about the gazes and whispers while watching her descend the stairs.

“Congratulations, you made it down without tripping.” he mocked. To be honest, he hoped for a teasing remark or some half-flirty words, and yet, met with terrified gaze and a bit trembling hands “Y/N, love, are you all right?”

“Not even close” she whispered, turning her head around “everyone here hate me and ….”

“Since when do you care about that?”

“Since I’m being the object of rumors and, to put it in my father’s words, bring shame to the family.”

“Your father has very strange opinion on so many things.”

“Maybe. But this time he is nothing less than right.”

“Is he?” Nikolai smirked. “Are you giving up?”

“No.” she answered in all the seriousness she could gather “I’m just taking rational approach to things and my relationship with you is just… not right.”

“So you admit we have a relationship?” he raised an eyebrow

“Stop it, Nik. I’m serious. You should be entertaining all those princesses of royal blood. I don’t even understand why ….”

“Dance with me, Y/n.” he cut her off in the middle of the sentence

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

“No.”

“You’re refusing prince?”

“That I exactly what I am doing.”

“That calls for treason.”

“So go ahead, throw me into the dungeons. At least, I will be free of people who call me whore.”

“No one calls you that.”

“Not in my face.”

“Nikolai, sobachka, my boy, there’s someone I would like you to meet. The princess from Kerch. I’m sure Y/N can do by herself, while you fulfil your duties.”

“Moya tsaritsa” Y/N bowed at the same time taking a look at Nikolai. ”I’ll just go find my family.”

“That would be wise, my dear. Now, my son, come with me.”

***

 No matter how many beautiful girls were there at the ball, how eloquent and gentle they were and how many dances he had with them, it was impossible to keep Y/N out of his mind. He was jealous of every smile she gave someone else, of every giggle another man elicited from her. It was pure torture and for the first time ever he was torn between his duties as prince and the want of a young boy, craving for a girl. He had to act royal and noble even though everything he wanted was to make a scene, confront Y/N, pull her close and kiss in the middle of the dancefloor.

But he just couldn’t.

Not only for his own sake, but also for hers. If she truly was the talk of the palace now, it would be simply mean to put her more into the spotlight and damage her already undermined reputation. No matter what someone may say about him being selfish and conceited he had her in mind.

But saints, was one dance too much to ask for? Just one.

Was it really so bad to want to hold her close, touch her waist and pull her into his chest ,just to feel her heartbeat next to him? Was it wrong that he wanted to confess how he felt for her and hope that by some miracle she would reciprocate those feelings? Was it unnatural that he wanted to keep her just to himself, shield and support her through everything she was going through? Even if he was the reason for that?

The ball was slowly coming to the end, all that was left was the last dance and Nikolai knew this was his chance. He let go of his current partner, bowed, leaving the girl flustered and blushing and started turning around, searching for her familiar face, but she was nowhere in sight.

“Looking for someone, prince?” Genya, who was standing nearby quietly, observing asked him. With all her  lofty attitude and bit of cunning character, she was Y/N;s best friend in the palace. The one person that would stand by her side, and never betray her. Especially because the Tailor was painfully aware of similarity of their situation.  

“Y/N” he whispered “Have you seen her, Genya?”

“Don’t you think you put her thought too much?”

“Genya, please. I have no intention of causing her any pain. That’s why I need to talk to her. Tell me if you know anything.”

“She left some time ago. I’m actually surprised you did not notice. You are distracted, my prince.”

“You know exactly why, Genya.”

“I’m not the one who should be hearing such confessions. She’s in the garden.”

“Thank you, Genya” Nikolai squeezed her hands “can this… stay between us?”

“Just because Y/N is my friend.”

***

She was walking thought the garden alleys, not caring about the dress and the fact that the hem of it was already dirty. Her gaze were fixed on the starless sky and she was not exactly looking where she was going. Until someone started calling her.

“Y/N!” Nikolai yelled rushing towards her

“Oh, damn it, Nik! I came here to have some peace!” she started running from him

“Don’t you dare avoiding me!”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” Y/N yelled turning head around to assess the possibility of him catching up with her. Grave mistake. She should have watched where she was going. As a result, she tripped over the stone on the path, and over her own feet and found herself falling face forward onto the ground. Saints, that hurt and the power of the collision was hard enough for her to let out a single groan.

“Y/N!” a second later Nikolai was crouching by her side, helping her up, one hand on her waist, the other on her shoulder, not wanting to let go “Did you forget how clumsy you can get?”

“My self-preservation instincts just got me running from the danger.”

“I am the danger?”

“What else” she muttered “Now tell me, how’s my face?”

“Do you want me to be considerate or honest?” Nik smirked

“I have no idea you can be considerate.” She rolled her eyes “How is it?  Because it hurts. I’m no heartrender but I can feel the blood pulsing in my cheek. I’m definitely gonna end up with a bruise.”

“It’s nothing a healer couldn’t handle. I’m just not sure how much our resident tailor will be able to do. Maybe you’ll be left with some scars.” He brushed some strands of hair out her face and cupped her reddened cheek gently.

“I’ll come up with some story for them. Preferably about my bravery in a fight.”

“Oh, you fight very bravely against me.” He whispered leaning his forehead on hers, making her close her eyes.

“Nik….”

“Don’t run from me. Ever. Please.”

“This is not right. You are a prince. And I’m just a Grisha. No one would ever accept that.” Despite her words, she leaned into his touch. How could this be both wrong and right. How was this possible that her heart wanted him in a way words could never explain and her brain was just screaming to back out before it was too late.

“Then tell me you want me to leave you. Tell me now, cause I don’t think I can control myself anymore” now both his hands circled around her, pulling her closer and he felt all her walls crumbling. Almost like her body was responding to him instinctively, her hands locked around his neck.

“I don’t.” She whispered, being so close, her eyelashes almost brushed over his face “Don’t leave me, Nik.”

“I won’t” he promised, crossing those inches that were separating them and pressing his lips to hers. Finally. She was his. She was in his arms, locked and caged in the sweetest of prison without any chance of getting out. She wasn’t running or denying the tension between them. She relented to him and he relented to her. It was perfect moment, almost like taken from all those romantic novels, that most girl read and dream about. And her body felt so right, pressed against his. It was like his teasing attitude crumbled under her soft, gentle touches, raising fire in his veins. Saints, he waited so long to have her like this.

“I love you.” he whispered pulling away and brushing his lips over her forehead, not ready to get back to reality.

“I love you too.” She smiled lightly, feeling the warmth inside. Forgetting about the rank difference, reputation, the scandal that this may cause in the palace.

“ How does it feel? Knowing you got a prince on his knees for you?”

“Do I?’s he smirked “from what I see you’re still standing on your feet, moi tsarevich.”

“We’ll remedy that in more private environment, love. But not in the garden where everyone can peek at us”

“Nik!” she squalled, taken by surprise by his lips on her neck

“You want me to stop?”

“I’m just…oh, saints, that’s actually nice.  I’m just saying that we should be careful. If anyone finds out….”

“Then I’ll protect you.”

“I can handle myself! Been doing this my whole life!”

“You think you were doing it yourself? I was your invisible shield!”

“Pfff, funny as it is. If anything, this was the other way round.”

“Back to teasing?” he raised an eyebrow

“Were you expecting anything else, just because we said eight letters to each other.”

“I was worried you may change your attitude towards me. I like our banters.”

“You are way too sure of yourself, my prince. I don’t change for anyone.”

“That’s good.” He smiled and started kissing her again.

“Nik, we should ……”

“No, we’re not going back. Not yet. I just need you for myself for a while longer.” “Fine by me.” She retorted and pressed herself closer, getting lost in him.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x y/n #prince nikolai #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x you #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x you

[kamii-2]

I’m lowkey obsessed with the thought of the Curtis boys having a sister so here we go

Curtis sister /maybe younger than Ponyboy even???/ being supes distant to her brothers after their parents die, and is lowkey pissed at Darry whenever he tries to parent her, Sodapop and Ponyboy

hi anon!! hopefully you like this fic (i’m so sorry if it’s short)

warnings: cussing, yelling, mentions of death

pairings: curtis siblings

genre: angst

not proofread 😲

curtis sisters name is nova and sodas twin but she didn’t drop out of school

==================================

it was currently 5:14 pm, nova was laying on her bed and reading. darry wasn’t home and pony and soda were in the living room watching TV and talking. everytime darry wasn’t home she took advantage of that time because she knows the moment he gets there, he will make her clean and do her homework. recently she has gotten very annoyed with darry and his yelling, she’s at her breaking point. nova has a feeling that if he yells at her one more time, she will break.

—

when darry got home he told pony and nova to do their homework, nova was already tired of him and he’s been home for 3 minutes. “why, it’s literally friday and it’s not due till monday.” nova questioned in an annoyed tone, “because i said so,” darry answered while walking out of her room. nova sighed and continued to read her book.

—

it had been about 20 minutes since darry last came in her room and nova was still reading, she knew that darry was gonna be mad but she didn’t care. he’s not her dad so why should she listen to him? the house was semi quiet so nova assumed that darry was reading the newspaper and pony was doing his homework still or watching tv with soda. while nova was thinking about her family, darry suddenly walked in.

“did you finish your homework?” darry asked her while standing in the doorway, “no” nova replied while sitting up on her bed. “why?!” darry said slightly raising his voice, nova was at her breaking point, she knew that if darry yelled, she will yell back. “because i don’t want to.” nova replied calmly. “nova, if i tell you to do something then do it when i tell you to.” darry yelled at her, “you’re not dad so i don’t fucking have to.” nova yelled back while going last darry and walking out of her room.

“don’t walk away from me when i’m talking to you.” darry angrily said as he followed behind her, “you’re not my parents so i’m not listening to you,” nova said as she went to sit on the living room couch, she didn’t want to be in her room anymore. “wait what’s going on?” soda interrogated, him and pony were both sitting on the couch watching tv but now their focus was on nova and darry. before she could answer darry started to yell at her again, “ever since mom and dad died you’ve been really distant. what happened to when you were always hanging out with us snd were always happy?”

darry’s last sentence really pissed nova off, “you happened, all you ever do is yell at us like we’re maids or something. it’s getting really old darry, nobody wants to sit here and get yelled at all the time. how would you like if someone yelled at you every day? huh? you wouldn’t like it so stop fucking doing it to us.” nova yelled back as she grabbed her shoes that were on the floor and booked it out the house.

she could hear one of them trying to catch up to her but she just went faster and turned some corners so they lost her. nova did regret her decision to run away with absolutely nothing, she figured out she could go to some friends for help.

==================================

sorry for this story taking so long to come out but i hope you like it even though it’s very short, anyway hope you have a good day/night, love you all 💋

#the outsiders #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #curtis sister #angst

[arc-misadventures]

Motherly Concern

Juniper: Hey, Winter~!

Winter: Ah?! Ahem! Hello, Mrs. Arc. Can I help you?

Juniper: Oh don’t call me that, it makes me feel old. Call me, Juniper… Or, Mom, whichever feels better~!

Winter: E-Excuse me?!

Juniper: So you, and my mad little scientist… I like the sound of that…

Winter: W-What are you talking about?

Juniper: I can see you two getting together; I remember when I was younger your mother, and I fought all the time for, Acheius. That’s my husband, I obviously won the fight. I often wonder how happy, Willow would be. But, then again, I wouldn’t have my children, and you wouldn’t have your sisters, but nonetheless…

Winter: I-I’m sorry… Juniper, but why are you telling me all of this?

Juniper: I don’t want you to end up like your mother, Winter. A sad drunkard shell of a broken woman. She was so, so much more years ago, you wouldn’t even recognize who she was back then. But, then she married that bastard! He broke her, he lied to her, and married her for the money. She never saw it coming… That why she…

Winter: S-She what…? What did my mother do?

Juniper: You should ask her yourself. She probably won’t tell you, but after what happened she just escaped into the bottle, and now she’s trapped there…

Winter: How do you know all of this?

Juniper: Well, Willow, and I may have fought over, Acheius love, and affection. But, we still loved each other like the sister we never had. And, I don’t want you to be like her; trapped in a broken, heartless marriage. I want you to be happy, and I know you feel happier just looking at him. Sure his little Hunter Drones may love him like they do, but he will never see them in that way, no matter how hard they try, you on the other hand. Well, you’re young, you still have time. But, don’t take too log, otherwise someone else may try, and take him away from you.

Winter: B-But, my career, my job for, Atlas, my team?! W-W-What about all of that?! I-I just can’t leave it for, Jaune. C-Can I…?

Juniper: Who says you have too? You could easily marry him now, and stay in the military as you are now, or you may decide to leave, and be with, Jaune, and what ever family you chose to be. One with kids mind you, it’s not that I just want grandkids, lots of grandkids… But, that they’ll fill a void in your heart that you never knew you had.

Winter: It sounds like you’re placing me, and Jaune in your husbands, and my mother shoes.

Juniper: Meh, I won’t deny I am. But, that just because of what I said earlier; I don’t want you to end up like my dear friend. I want you to be happy.

Winter: Be happy…

Juniper: Listen, you don’t have to decide about any of this now. At most you just have to think about it. Okay?

Winter: I-I’ll try, Juniper.

Juniper: Good, now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a few words with my son. After that I need to do some clean up work.

Winter: What kind of clean up work?

Juniper: Well help, Willow get clean up. Get her sober, and all. Remind her she still has a friend who loves her. Maybe I should have, Acheius help me. He could be the father presence you kids always needed. Maybe we could finally do that threesome I always wanted to do~!

Winter: T-Threesome?!

Juniper: Then I have to deal with that bastard first. What do you say, incriminating evidence that will get him locked ip for life, or should I just kill him?

Winter: You’re going to kill my father?!

Juniper: Yeah, it would probably easier that way; less paperwork, and no lawyers to deal with.

Winter: W-Wait, Juniper!

Juniper: Well, I’ll be off now; Bye, future daughter-in-law~!

Winter: W-Wait, hold on now?!

Winter: …

Winter: Oh no…

Ironwood: Ah, Specialist, Schnee. Did you enjoy your conversation with, Mrs. Arc?

Winter: I’m not sure… She gave me some advice about, Jaune. Then she told me about her history with my mother. Now she’s going to kill my father…?

Ironwood: Is she now?

Winter: She said so herself, Sir. Should I assign a guard detail to protect him?

Ironwood: No, its pointless. We couldn’t stop her even if we tried. Hell, he may already be dead anyway.

Winter: He may be what?!

#rwby #jaune arc #winter schnee #juniper arc #acheius arc #willow schnee #jacques schnee #jaune x winter #winter x jaune #rwby winterknight

[maraudersmyloves]

Perfect

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: Marlene Mckinnon x reader

warnings: light kissing, my english, cursing, unedited

word count: litttle over 800

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re about to close up your café when the door chimes. You groan and look up at the clock. Shit. If this would have happened five minutes later you could have sent them away. Well technically you are allowed to send them away now, but you promised yourself no early closings unless emergency. You need every cent.

Fuck it. “Go away, we’re closing.”

“Rude.” You look up at the girl with bleached hair and almost black outgrown roots, she's plastered in leather and grinning at you with bright eyes. She looks like an entitled rockstar. Your already large dislike of the customer only heightens at the thought that she could be some wannabe rockstar who thinks she figured out that people aren’t genuinely happy anymore and that her music is the saving grace.

Maybe you’re being too harsh seeing that you don’t know if she actually is a musician. 

Nah.

“Yes very, tip me and I might be nicer,” you grumble as you check the dairy and the, frankly, very delicious, various syrups to make sure none expire tonight. One does, you’ll use it for your own coffee later and then throw it away.

Her Eyebrows climb higher and her grin grows larger. If that’s even possible. She seems way too happy to be in this situation. “I thought I was supposed to leave.” 

Wow. How witty.

You sigh, picking up the rag next to you and start to clean the counter. You’re supposed to clean the machines first but guessing the wannabe rockstar will want something to drink you’ll do that later. “Just tell me what you want. please.”

The girl leans against the counter, blocking a part you were about to clean. Fucking great. “Im Marlene.”

And you’re a broke café owner. Who cares?

You meet her brown eyes “So?” They remind you of something or someone you can’t quite place.

She chuckles and her laugh seems to fill up the room, which was comfortably silent until now. She has some freckles around her nose that look a bit like a heart. Fucking weirdo.

Marlene tilts her head “Don’t you need that for the order?”

What are you, Starbucks?

“You’re the only one here,” you counter, making the girl in front of you fumble on her words before slapping on her obnoxious grin again. Does she ever stop smiling?

Your eyes wander to Marlene's right hand. Her long fingers, full of silver rings, are drumming on the wood counter. Pointer, ring, middle, pointer, pinky, ring, pointer, middle, repeat. “Still, it's always good to know what name you should be screaming later tonight,” she says with a casual wink.

You almost drop the rag as heat goes to your cheek. But you’re not flustered by this rude, annoying, very pretty, annoying girl. It’s simply hot in here. In August.

You clench your fist and look around to avoid her eye, yet you feel her looking at you intensely as if wanting to study your face.

You get her to order, an overly sweet cofé with basically every syrup available, make said order and clean all the machines while managing to only look at Marlene, who's now sitting at a table next to the big window, thrice. She met your eye every time.

You finish cleaning up, including doing the dishes, without looking at or speaking with her. That means you can’t get her dirty cup. Better have Regulus being mad at you tomorrow than having to go over there and ask for the cup.

You get the key out of the back, pretending not to notice Marlene’s eyes following you or her scrambling up when you come back. The door creaks as you open it. “I'm closing,” you tell Marlene without looking at her, instead busying yourself with holding up the door. What you did not consider is standing pressed against the door meant Marlene squeezing through the door and pressing herself against you, more than needed to be fair, but still, you could have avoided this. 

You feel every point of contact between your bodies, hoping she doesn’t notice your heart beating or how hot your body is. You feel lightheaded as she, very obviously, takes her time walking through. Still it’s only a bit more than a second and you’re basically weak in the knees.

When you're both outside, neither of you keep on walking.

You turn to Marlene who looks a bit sheepish and is about to open her mouth when you, to your own shock, pull her close and kiss her.

She immediately reciprocates and presses herself closer to you. She tastes like coffee and strawberries. You can feel her breasts pressed against you as you push your hands in her hair. She pulls you impossibly closer by your waist and bites your lip causing you to exhale shakily onto her mouth, she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Your heart has never beaten so fast and as you pull away slightly to get a breath of air she whispers into your ear, “I live 5 minutes away.”

“Perfect.”

#marauders #fluff #headcanon #marauders era #marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon x you #marlene mckinnon x reader #marlene mckinnon x Y/N #kissing #barista #coffeshop

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER THREE on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 4,812.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Enjoy. :)

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

For reference: Menbā: a derogatory term for someone who is considered a criminal. Uragirimono: traitor, turncoat, etc.:

Tumblr version:

Oh God, I'm thrown. I am only happy on my own. My heart grows harder, it wants to perform. And I only ever feel it when I wanted to be torn. To be torn.

-- To Be Torn, by Kyla La Grange

.:.

I can’t do this.

This thought was immediate and harsh in her mind. But after a long shower in which she’d taken full advantage of the supplied body cleaning products as well as an experimental bout of relief from the removable shower head, Sakura was feeling a little better about her situation. A bit of touching here and a lot of extra water pressure there, and she was refreshed, tingly, relaxed, and something akin to happy. Her sensitive nerves drawn out and heightened, even if for a short while. Her building headache had simmered down, and she had a plan of sorts in mind. Well, more like mental images and a bullet-point list of things to do.

Acting like a normal human being had not been on that itinerary, but it should have been expected. She didn’t want any more suspicion to be cast on her. She scoffed at herself for her stupidity. Sakura needed a clean escape for when the time came.

If it comes at all.

She scoffed again. Her new housemates were clearly expecting her to be normal.

“Clean up,” Kankuro had told her (while she was panicking and ignoring him). “Join us for dinner later.”

Might as well get ready for that.

Standing in her room, holding a towel to her damp body, and rifling carelessly through the boring choices in the almost bare closet, Sakura sighed and grunted at each and every lame item of clothing inside. She didn’t have this in her. Not anymore. The old Sakura would’ve just politely followed direction and smiled in all the right places while she secretly basked in the selection of free clothes at her disposal. That Sakura would be tossing out all the simple items and scrounging around for the prettiest and most lavish looking clothes. Because she always had someone to impress, even after she stopped acting like a cliché fangirl and finally grew up. It used to be Sasuke then close friends…

Ugh.

Sakura shuddered, angry at her regressive thoughts.

No Sasuke. No friends. Not anymore.

She hadn’t had down time for twelve months and it was messing with her head. Now that she had time to dwell on everything and everyone that had happened and disappeared from her life, her intrusive thoughts didn’t know when to stop. In that moment, she missed the cold comfort of working too much. It had kept her alive, warm, and hot and cold all over. But now? Now, she couldn’t distract herself from the pain that came with having nothing else to do.

She shook slightly and pushed her emotions down as much as she could, her fist clenching a particularly top that reminded her of a bland looking version of her old qipao dress, just in shirt form. Just remembering the ghastly outfits that she used to wear made the clanging in her head echo louder. Sakura closed her eyes desperately.

Not out of the woods yet.

She was still in that tree stump, bleeding, broken, and surrounded by foreign ninja. Blood did not dry quickly in the warm, forest climates, so she was still sticky and wet. Her body shuddered with the phantom sensations. But she couldn’t let her guard down now. Not even here.

I can do this.

She had to. Sakura had no idea what was waiting her during this dinner with Gaara and Kankuro, but if she couldn’t do this one simple thing, then what hope did she have for the rest of her stay here? She nodded to herself as her body trembled; pins and needles preceding a rush of exhaustion.

But it was with renewed determination that Sakura sorted through the closet, putting aside anything that reminded her of the old days. There were no knickers or bras (she wasn’t well-built, so to speak, anyway), but she found a formal-looking top and a pair of trousers that matched. The pockets made her think they were men’s trousers, but she didn’t care. Black sandals at the bottom of the closet were an easy choice to go with the grey, black, and red colour palette of the clothes and she slipped into them, running a distracted hand over herself, like she was trying to smooth down wrinkles. She found a brush and quickly ran it through her hair, wincing at the slightly painful tugs. It had been too long since she’d taken care of herself.

Sakura surveyed the stranger in the full-length mirror behind the large closet door and sighed. It would have to do. She wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants but that hardly mattered anyway. She checked the time. Kankuro said that dinner would be served at six. She sat on the edge of the bed and twiddled her thumbs, trying not to think of anything in particular and just keeping her eye on the slow-moving hand of the clock on her wall. Idleness was going to be the death of her.

When it was time, she narrowed her eyes at it for a moment before reluctantly standing.

Here goes.

Before leaving the room, Sakura took out the stick of charcoal she kept in her travel bag. She didn’t have the right type of sharp implements for this job, funnily enough, so this would have to do for now.

I’ll cut it open when I find one.

Taking a deep breath, she used the charcoal to draw the kanji for “one” on the back of her bedroom door, nice and clear and in the upper corner, so she’d have plenty of space to write more. She wasn’t going to be here long enough to cover the entire door, but the anal part of her wanted it to look neat and tidy anyway. Satisfied with her handiwork, Sakura tossed the charcoal back in her bag. Dark, obsidian eyes flashed in her mind, and she hesitated, staring at the compressed carbon residue masquerading as a drawing implement. She swallowed heavily. Memories pushed at the edge of her mind of the artist this had belonged to. Her friend.

Sakura closed the bag to shut out those thoughts and took another deep breath to steel herself.

Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place.

“No such place.”

Sakura swivelled at the sound of the voice but saw nothing.

I’m talking to myself again.

She hadn’t forgotten that mirage with her face. And it hadn’t forgotten her either, it seemed.

Sakura opened the door and quietly closed it behind herself. The smell of food hit her, making her stomach rumble painfully, and she could hear voices in the dining room downstairs. She froze up, hand against the wall to steady herself.

Not now, she told her anxiety. What the fuck? Calm down.

After a moment she was able to plaster something that looked like a smile to her face and make her way down the internal staircase. Her palms sweating, she stepped into the light of the dining room. Kankuro and Gaara ceased their conversation and Sakura swallowed her smile. Her face slackened as Kankuro pulled out a chair for her and the heavy eyes of the Kazekage watched her closely as she settled herself into it.

The smell of the food hit her nostrils once more, like a physical force and (once again) her stomach growled. Though far less painfully this time. She waited for the pleasantries to pass and gave the brothers a nod before digging into her rice and vegetables. She felt almost human. The food was so good that Sakura wondered who had cooked it. Neither of them struck her as the chef type. But then, appearances were often deceiving.

Kankuro explained that Temari was on a mission and Sakura nodded again. Gaara said a few things about some kind of renovations and his brother engaged him in conversation over idle topics. It was a casual setting, and nobody seemed interested in any of the heavier issues they were all thinking about. The elephant in the room, as it were. Well, maybe they were, but Sakura didn’t care one bit. If they wanted to take this engagement thing seriously, that was their problem.

But she did find herself curious how opinions in Suna had formed on the current ninja climate. What those in this room thought about everything. If they even knew the extent of Danzo’s reach. Or if they just saw him, and the rest of the ninja, as simply another leader and their hidden village.

Not that she had the courage to ask.

This engagement is mindboggling enough.

She wasn’t going to go along with it. She had a plan. It was simple, really: pretend to be normal, play at being the demure bride-to-be, scope out her options, and then think of how to evade her Root shadow long enough to get the fuck out of the village. They were very good points to consider, in her opinion. She’d done so much more crazy things on assassination missions. Of course, those were months ago, and she’d been running from one fight to the next ever since then.

All that blood does a good job of distracting me. Sticky, thick, ugly substance that is surprisingly easy to wash out.

From her clothes, at least.

Still, she was getting out of here, regardless of the methodology. And the idea that she might have to kill that shadowed, masked freak on her way out brought a small smirk to the corner of her mouth.

“Dessert?” Kankuro asked when they were all finished.

Sakura nodded and he left the room for a minute. A minute of Gaara’s curious, silent stares. Then she was feeding the hungry animal inside of her again. The one without the ability to snap back at her. She had no idea what this confectionary was called, but it tasted like a mix between ice-cream and salted caramel. She remembered suddenly that the Kazekage wasn’t a fan of sweets.

Where did I learn that from?

She wasn’t sure, but the redhead was eating his dessert, so it was clearly sugar-free. Sakura smiled slightly at that. Some things never changed. She swallowed the last mouthful and placed her spoon down, licking her lips greedily. Sakura hadn’t tasted anything this good in a long time. In between mission locations her food was either standard, dry ninja rations or involved caught meat that she either did or did not have time to cook first as well as whatever fruits and nuts she could scavenge. Sometimes she could steal food off her targets or sneak something out of a vendor, the ninja way, on her way wherever she was going. She always ate and ran.

A home cooked meal had been off the menu for almost two years.

Since Danzo took office.

She scowled lightly.

Stop fucking regressing.

She fiddled with the cutlery for a few moments before remembering she wasn’t alone in the room.

“I realise this is unorthodox and I apologise.” Gaara’s deep voice interrupted her errant thoughts.

Sakura blinked heavily and stared owlishly at him, her skin warming with the shame of embarrassment. What had he been talking about? He continued talking as though she had heard every word.

“Relations between our villages has been strained.”

No shit.

“But maybe this new agreement can help.”

Not likely.

Either Gaara was incredibly naïve, or he was just placating her. She didn’t know which was worse. She knew Danzo. This arrangement was nothing more than a distraction. That Root shadow was the one he should be more concerned with. The dark, ugly man whose only purpose here was likely to look for a way past the seals of the Kazekage mansion for no reason other than to fuck with everyone inside of it.

He can fuck himself for all I care.

Sakura leant back in her chair, returning Gaara’s intense stare. A bubble of confidence suddenly welled up inside her and she managed to keep her face straight as they held each other’s gaze. The pale green of his irises danced in the light of the candelabra in the middle of the table, and she was reminded of a green sapphire her mother had gifted her when she became chunin; a pale hue that she liked despite being lacklustre in any form of bright or ostentatious colours. It burned in her heart as a distant, longing memory. Gaara’s eyes suddenly reminded her of home.

And I kind of find it hot. Wacko.

Sakura swallowed heavily and splayed her hands over the tabletop, shifting her eyes away from Gaara.

You win that round.

“Please feel free to ask for anything you may want or need,” he continued, as though they hadn’t just been staring avidly into each other’s eyes.

Like star-crossed lovers too stupid to realise it.

She nodded her head, not sure her voice would come out as strong as she’d want it to. Gaara didn’t seem to mind but Kankuro was clearly becoming at least mildly curious regarding her silence. He cleared his throat, but she ignored him. She had no idea what to say to Gaara’s idea of hospitality, anyway.

Gaara cocked his head to the side in much the way that Sakura had seen former Hokage when they sensed nearby Anbu. She forced herself not to mirror his movement as she tried to detect the subtle chakra they would be giving off and sighed when she ultimately failed.

Suna Anbu must use a different subtle method to gain their Kage’s attention.

“Temari might not get back for a while,” Kankuro said to his brother.

Had Gaara said something? No. There seemed to be some kind of intensity in the way he was looking at his older brother. Sakura had heard that sometimes siblings were close enough to simply understand each other that well. Much like two people who’d spent way too much time together. And it could have something to do with the Anbu that Sakura just knew was there.

She clenched her fists to hide the trembling.

“Temari is not the only kunoichi absent from the village.”

“True.” Kankuro sat back in his chair and smiled genially at Gaara before turning to Sakura. “Gaara and I might be stuffy and useless–” Gaara huffed slightly. “–but we know when we’re out of our depth with women.” He chuckled.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am,” Kankuro said. “And for you too.”

“Hm.”

“You should be glad I’m including you. Wouldn’t want to feel left out, right?” The older brother laughed as Gaara sighed and leant back in his chair.

Sakura relaxed her hands and splayed them over the table, staring down at her empty plate.

The brothers exchanged a few more words before Gaara cocked his head to the side again.

Anbu getting busy tonight.

At least someone was, she supposed.

“You’re not better with women than I am,” Kankuro said, almost as though he’d forgotten there was an actual woman in the room with them. He puffed out his chest. “They’re lining up to date me.”

Gaara scoffed softly, eliciting a soliloquy about the perks of being the Kazekage’s brother from Kankuro.

A heavy weight settled on Sakura’s chest, and she felt a slight sting, biting her lip to swallow a light gasp. She shifted in her chair.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to be good with women,” Kankuro mumbled once he cottoned onto the fact that no-one in the room was impressed.

They both glanced at Sakura as she fiddled with her thumbs, crossing, and uncrossing her feet self-consciously. She had nothing to add to their weird, sibling dynamic. She’d never had any brothers and sisters and these two were acting very strange. Sakura tuned them out as her vision blurred slightly and she closed her eyes. She was feeling light-headed and just wanted to head back to her room. When she opened her eyes again, the brothers were back to exchanging barbs with each other.

Do they always talk this long after dinner?

She had to leave the room. Sakura tried to think of an excuse to get away. In the meantime, she just needed to act normal.

“You’re not normal.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at the fourth person in the room, even as her heart raced, ignoring that conversation around her had suddenly gone quiet.

Not even a person.

It hit her with startling clarity, and she almost let out a rasp of laughter.

I can’t pretend to be normal.

.:.

Pity.

That was the dull light in their eyes. Even in Gaara’s.

She didn’t want it.

Sakura excused herself with a quick, mumbled apology and no explanation, but remembered to bow in respect at the last second before fleeing the room and half-running up the staircase. Silence followed her until she slammed the door behind herself, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Sakura gasped and stretched her fingers outward as she trembled. What Gaara and Kankuro must’ve thought meant very little to her other than the inevitable embarrassment for their next encounter. At least, that was what she told herself. It seemed that even after two years of thinking she’d grown numb to it, the old Sakura who was easily embarrassed and cared what other people thought of her wasn’t long dead after all. But she wanted it to be. She wanted to take a kunai to the throat of her old self and be done with it.

She was an idiot.

And a loser. And weak. And pathetic. And all the other things Danzo told her she was now. He was an arsehole but very right about her. Why else was she still here and not half-way to the North Sea? She could be almost anywhere right now.

I am an idiot.

But she was better off now. In many ways. Who she’d been before, that silly girl hadn’t been able to save Lady Tsunade from the coup. From Danzo’s kunai. She hadn’t been able to follow Shizune out of the village. She’d been less than useless as fires and smoke and the cries of battle raged around her. She hadn’t been able to find any of her friends before it was finally over. Not even in the ashes. She’d been too weak to kill the Root following her as she tried. Broken earth and broken ribs; she fallen so hard.

Sakura let out another gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

And now she couldn’t even pretend to be normal for a few hours to keep anyone from asking questions she didn’t want to answer. Maybe she was still that idiotic, weak child after all. Gaara and Kankuro probably thought so too. Were they laughing at her? Or only sighing in disappointment? She was a major disappointment.

“They think we’re insane.”

We?

Sakura chose to ignore that train of thought. She had made a fool of herself enough for one night. Her first night in Suna and she was barely holding it together. Gaara and Kankuro didn’t know her well enough to realise just how far off the rails she was, which was a point in her favour. But that wasn’t going to last forever. She needed to get a grip. She really didn’t want to hear their questions if they thought to ask them.

Sakura settled her nerves as she moved toward the bed, only now realising there was something on her dresser. A package. She stopped suddenly, narrowing her eyes at it from the middle of the room.

How did that get there?

Her brain flitted back and forth between weird genjutsu ideas and those times Gaara sensed Anbu nearby. Hm. She wondered if there were any animal summons in the village that were difficult to detect. The package looked like a normal one, with her name written across the small card on top. There was even a bow knot on it, like one would tie to a present.

Weird.

Sakura walked slowly over to it and performed the few detection jutsu she knew from her Root commander’s training. A series of quick, simple hand signs later and there was no chakra reaction from the wrapped package. Not a chakra bomb, or anything of the sort, at least. She wished she had an actual kunai as she tentatively tapped the parcel with her forefinger. She hadn’t sensed any chakra signatures in the mansion during the dinner, so she decided those Anbu had to have delivered it. Or someone else who deliberately suppressed their chakra inside their own, friendly village.

Even weirder.

She fingered the card gently, reading the short message silently. It was from two people called Matsuri & Yukata. Sakura vaguely remembered the names like a distant memory from a past life come back to haunt her. She had a visual a few minutes later as she rolled their names over her tongue. Right. Gaara’s very emphatic fangirls. She smiled at that.

What do they want?

Throwing caution to the wind, Sakura roughly undid the bow and opened the package, tossing the ribbon and now broken box aside carelessly. She held her gift up to the lightbulb on the ceiling. It was a cactus. She frowned, then reread the card. They didn’t mention what kind of cactus it was, and she’d never seen it’s like before.

“No doubt Lord Kazekage didn’t have much prepared for your arrival. We’ll fix that, don’t worry. We decided to get you a ‘Welcome to Suna, Lady Sakura!’ present, so WELCOME!”

The note ended in several smiley faces after their names, clearly added for dramatic effect. Emphatic seemed to be their default setting. This didn’t bode well. And what did they mean by fixing that? Were they going to buy her better clothes? Some feminine products? Or maybe some entertainment, like reading material. She smiled lightly at that. As long as they didn’t expect her to go to the store with them.

Nobody is ready to see my anxiety react to that.

Sakura put the cactus on her bedside table, pushing it to the edge furthest from her, then sat on the bed and sighed. She looked around the room. Really looked. Aside from the barest of furniture and no personal touches, which was to be expected, it did well as a temporary guest room. Nothing glamorous, just functional.

Almost like she was in a low-budget hotel.

She glanced at the cactus before turning away, kicking off her shoes and climbing under the bed covers, fully dressed. Sakura stared up at the ceiling.

Okay, I’m fine.

There was no threat here. She rolled over on her side, facing away from the bedside table, and closed her eyes. But the night was a cruel bitch and as she drifted off to sleep, that familiar pull into the dark, broken recesses of her mind was her only warning before everything went black.

.:.

She was back in the forest, stumbling as she tried to find a hiding spot to avoid her pursuers. The mission had gone wrong, on an epic scale, and now she was the only one still standing. The captain had died first, the other Anbu shortly after. Their screams followed her as Sakura moved between the trees, blundering along as she tried to rush her tired legs. She kept falling against the wide oaks and tripping over exposed roots. The cries in the distance were no longer her Anbu escorts. They were her hunters.

Sakura pushed herself off a thick tree trunk but instead of barrelling her way through the brush, she toppled forward, and face planted. She wasn’t cognizant enough to feel embarrassed, merely laying there, breathing in the musk of forest floor, then gasping when something started crawling over back and an insect decided to go for her mouth. With effort, she pushed herself onto her knees, spat the bug out, and then looked around anxiously.

What to do, where to go… she did her best to hide her tracks as she stood shakily, then gasped at the renewed pain in her side. She had no idea where to go and any minute now, they were going to zero in on her position.

“Where are you, little menbā? My little uragirimono”

No time to debate it. The hollowed-out tree trunk she’d fallen next to was large enough, she supposed. Dragging her pitiful arse along and gripping her travel bag like it was a lifeline, Sakura hauled herself into the relative safety of the trunk; the overgrown shrubbery hiding her from sight. Her vision blurred. Her feet were suddenly numb. Darkness crept in around her. And she was gone.

.

A dull thud. Her eyes snapped open. A distant soft light illuminated the ceiling above her as it blinked into existence. Her conscious mind was fuzzy as she blinked heavily, registering that she’d just been asleep. But something felt… wrong. Her body tingled as heavy breathing caught her attention and she stiffened. She turned her head to the side. Sakura let out an ear-piercing scream. Two beady eyes stared back at her as she tensed. When the breath from her short-lived scream finally left her, she gasped and then pushed away from the mirage. A maniacal grin on its face, it stood as she managed to back into the middle of the bed, just watching her. Nothing about it had changed: the same wounds that made no sense, the same torn and bloodied clothes.

My dream… no, my nightmare.

She was fully awake now.

Sakura grasped her chest, unable to break eye contact with it and unable to calm herself down.

“You’re going to die here,” it said, its mouth moving out of synch with the words. “And nobody will care.”

Sakura scrambled further away, gasping, and toppling over the edge of the bed. She stayed on the floor for a few minutes, shaking and trying to remember the breathing exercises she’d learned during her work at the Konoha hospital.

Breath in. Breathe out. In. Deeply. Out. Deeply. Rinse and repeat.

When it finally started to work, she turned around and continued the mantra in her head as she peered over the bed. The mirage was still there. Her race started racing but it didn’t give her time to resuscitate her courage. The mirage cocked its head then flickered and disappeared.

“Fuck.”

Sakura let out a loud groan. She slammed her hand down on the mattress, screaming silently at herself for letting this get her so worked up. She hated this moment of peace. She hated being idle and weak and forced to remember. Tears burned her skin and she sobbed. She wished she was back in the forest. Everything in there made sense. She was running for her life but at least she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. It was better. It was pure.

Sakura groaned again. She was self-aware enough to know how fucked up that thought was. She pulled herself up onto the bed and returned to her breathing exercises.

Breath in. Breathe out. In. Deeply. Out. Deeply. Rinse and repeat.

Her skin was moist as she hugged herself tightly. She’d gone to bed in the outfit she’d worn to dinner, and they were currently sticking to her like the sticky, sweaty sparring clothes did after a heavy workout. She laughed softly. Of all the things. But hopefully this incident was just the exhaust pipe of her emotions, and it wouldn’t be like this every night. She’d gone without sleep for large periods before, so if this happened again, she knew what to do.

Sakura pulled her legs up to her chin. Her first night in the Kazekage mansion and she was out of control. She listened for sounds of her housemates. If they weren’t heavy sleepers, they could’ve heard her initial scream. Her own eardrums hadn’t managed to absorb the sound, due to her distress, but she was pretty sure it had been loud.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the minutes ticked by, but nobody came. Relief flooded through her. Nobody was coming to check on her. That was both insulting and soothing. The last thing she needed was more pitying looks as she tried to explain away her scream.

Her body shuddered as she curled into a foetal position, on top of the bed covers and closed her eyes, hoping for a swift end to it all.

Please let the darkness take me.

She didn’t notice the eye made of sand watching her in the corner of the room as exhaustion finally took her. Nor the concerned frown from its owner.

.:.

#GaaSaku #my fanfiction #fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

[murphy-kitt]

Order - Ectober Day 3

AO3 Link

The Fenton’s find out Phantom is a halfa and attempt to fix him. Maddie has doubts.

Even though it’s been days since she and Jack found out, she can still barely comprehend it. Sometimes there is the slightest torrent of denial that comes flooding back, but she pushes it back, knowing she can’t ever be so oblivious ever again.

They’re meant to be experts on ghosts. Know everything about them, what makes them tick, the best capture methods. Everything.

Perhaps because it’s so unbelievable. At the beginning of her and Jack’s journey to become ghost hunters, back in the days when their theories were scribbled down in notebooks instead of published, credible sources, there’d been the slight consideration of the possibility. What if an entity could be both human and ghost?

Dismissed almost instantly. It was too ridiculous to even fathom, the possibility of someone being a split between ghost and human. It wouldn’t even be possible, ectoplasm reacting the way it did with human tissue.

Except it was. And it’s the ghost they’ve always had their eyes set on since the beginning. The first ghost to ever appear in Amity Park.

He’d always been different, and they’d spent days theorising why. And now they know the reasoning, it almost doesn’t feel real.

A human child is Amity’s protector. Forced by his ghostly obsession to fight other ghosts trespassing on his haunt. It must be exhausting, she thinks.

Perhaps it’s like being possessed, no choice on what to do or say, but forever. Phantom must be tired of the same routine, getting injured. Surely it must be interfere with his human life, having to prioritise the ghostly instincts all the time?

Suddenly, Maddie is jarred out of her thoughts as a black and white figure comes into vision through the sight of her netting gun. Her finger dances on the trigger.

“You good out there, Mads?” Jacks voice crackles through the speaker on her hip.

“All good.” She hisses, squinting, “He’s in my target. Must’ve got thrown by another ghost. I’m keeping wary for any others.”

Maddie waits a few more seconds for any other ghost to appear. She doesn’t want to take a shot and have another ghost to deal with, or possibly steal her specimen. Luckily, no others appear.

“Clear?”

“Yup. No sight of an opponent. Phantom hasn’t noticed me yet. Should be a clean shot.”

Despair washes over her as Phantom turns, his eyes fixing onto her. Terror fills his green eyes, mouth slightly hung open.

“W—what are you doing with that?” stutters Phantom, his voice making her wince with his young it sounds. He shouldn’t be on the battlefield. Is the confident, heroic facade just a ghostly instinct from his real personality?

“I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” she reassures, trying to calm him.

“Are you sure? You’re still pointing that at me.” Phantom cuts back warily, before gesturing behind himself, “There’s still a ghost over there. Y’know…instead of catching me you could get that.”

The fear is raw in his voice, and Maddie fights the temptation to put the gun down. He can’t be much older than Danny, small and slight, his cheeks still chubby and green eyes shining with terror.

An awkward silence encases the both of them.

“So…” Phantom hesitates, his hand resting on the nape of his neck in a hauntingly familiar gesture, “Why the change of heart? How come you say you don’t want to hurt me, even though you’ve still got the gun pointed at me?”

He’s half human, that’s why. But as she takes in his features, her stomach flips at the thought that barely days ago, she would’ve captured him, dissected him into pieces.

What if they’d never found out? What if they had dissected him—killing him in the process? A family would’ve been left without their son.

“I’m sorry.” The apology torrents out unexpectedly, as Phantom blinks in surprise. What she’s apologising for, she doesn’t know. The fact she almost dissected someone’s child? The fact a human child has gone so long like, this, and her and Jack never noticed?

“…we should’ve noticed sooner, me and Jack.” Maddie admits, not daring to look at him any longer, “But now we know, and I promise we’re here to help.”

”Know what?” A chill prickles down her spine as Phantom tenses, green eyes glaring at her with suspicion. All the thoughts of a scared, michevious child go out the window.

Even if he has the visage of a child, she has to remember he’s still part ghost. For now, that is. This is one of the most powerful ghosts in Amity Park she’s facing, the one who defeated the ghost king all them months ago.

It’s easy to fall into the rouse of the innocent teen act. Herself included. Some may be true, given that he is partially human, but it fills Maddie’s stomach with dread. To think how easily the town had fallen for Phantom’s “hero” ruse, forgetting how powerful and destructive he could be at the flip of a coin.

”What do you know?” Phantom hisses again, eyes narrowed and ghostly tail waving like a cat’s. Maddie wonders if he’s so on edge about his half-human status being discovered, or rather it could be another secret buried deep.

Whatever it is, she’ll find out. Just not now.

”Nothing, I promise. I just know you don’t have to keep doing this.” she says, genuine, “You shouldn’t have to be our town protector. You’re just a kid with way too much responsibility.”

“If you think I’m a kid then you wouldn’t have that gun pointed at me.” Phantom insists petulantly, folding his arms. But nonetheless, his expression softens.

“Just in case.” Maddie states, tension building in her stomach. She hopes he doesn’t catch on, she’s so close.

Phantom nods, an almost…disappointed look upon his face.

”I understand.” He nods sullenly, looking to the floor, “…of course you wouldn’t…trust me. Why did I ever think you would? Stupid me. You’re a ghost hunter…you would never…trust me.”

As the ghost remains stuck in his sullen trance, she sees her opportunity.

Finger on the trigger, she seamlessly points the netting gun towards Phantom and shoots without hesitation. The neon green net sprawls out and towards him.

All that comes crashing down the second she sees Phantom’s expression. Confusion. Shock. Terror.

Betrayal.

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me.” Phantom lisps, as the net encases around him, riddling him unconscious.

Maddie flinches at how quickly the ghost drops down. She hadn’t expected it to be that quick. The gun is some new technology Jack came up with, a netting gun able to render a ghost unconscious.

Right from the beginning she’s been hesitant to do this, she realises. She’d picked a defensive weapon, one that would capture Phantom, rather than hurt him.

“Got him, Jack.” Maddie unclips the radio and presses the button on the side.

“Thank god, Mads! I was about to get out the GAV, thought Phantom might’ve gotten to you! Not that you couldn’t defend yourself of course, but y’know….”

“I know, Jack.” she chuckles lightly, looking down at a now unconscious Phantom. Hesitantly, she pokes a foot out, nudging him.

He doesn’t stir. Out cold turkey.


In the distance, the GAV wheels screech. Jack on the way to help her take Phantom back to the lab.

As Maddie stares back down at the unconscious Phantom, she can’t help but think they’ve got this all wrong.

—

A/N: First day of Ectober done! And I know…a cliffhanger, but I thought it was a good place to end off since I’m exhausted. This will get a continuation as one of the other ectober prompts (idek which one yet lol)

Murphy :)

#ectoberhaunt22 #ectober #danny phantom #order #maddie fenton #jack fenton #identity reveal #eh order

[abbatoirablaze]

Captain Penisi, Chapter 3

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  jealousy, slight angst.

“What’s going on here?” Eddie asked as he noticed a school bus outside of the station, “we got another group of fourth graders that we gotta babysit for the education system?”

“Worse.  It’s the academy students making their rounds through the stations,” Granny groaned as he looked at Captain Penisi, “What are you doing down here on the floor with us?  Aren’t you and the chief supposed to be heading these things up?  How don’t you remember?”

Eddie shrugged, “so what?  It didn’t make the top of my calendar.  No big deal.  I’m great at public speaking and I can think on the fly…and do you know why?  It’s because I’m Eddie Penisi!”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll love this tour,” Granny chuckled as he started walking away from the captain, “they already roped chief in and he’s been taking them around the outside of the station to show them the lot.  I think he was stalling so that you’d have to do the tour with him.  Oh, and cap…the academy has someone tagging along on the tour that doesn’t normally do it.”

“Who?”

“And this is my home station,” an all too familiar voice called out loudly, interrupting his very question.  Granny took his leave, and made his way over to the edge of the floor where Ike and Andy were doing chores and cleaning up.  Eddie grimaced, as his father came into view, smiling broadly; his arms spread out as he gestured to the floor  Behind him, Terry was walking, eyes rolling, “stationhouse twenty-four!  And right now, my daughter’s husband is the chief, and my son is the captain on the A-shift!  But long before I was the commissioner, I was the chief of this amazing station!  Does anyone have any questions?”

“Gampy, can you tell the story about the time the-“

“Lucy, I’m sure your grandfather doesn’t want to tell the story of-“

“Actually, Terry, I’d love to!” Commissioner Penisi smiled as he started his story about the time he’d rushed into a fire where an explosion ripped into his back. 

Eddie felt himself smiling as he saw a familiar doctor who had made her way over to where Granny, Ike, and Andy were rolling the hose.  He was quick to make his way over as well.

“Funny…I didn’t think you were a recruit…”

“Oh-uh, Captain Penisi,” Auggie smiled politely as she held up her notebook, “I-I’m not.  Not for the academy anyways. Today, I’m lucky enough to be the representative with the hospital.  I’m actually supposed to be on the tour today to speak with each of the EMT’s at the stations for my next rotation in the ED.”

“Ahhh…” Eddie replied shortly, “still though…shouldn’t you stay with your group?  You’re on the tour, after all.  You should be paying attention to what the commissioner is saying.”

“I-I’m sorry, Captain Penisi,” she muttered as her head dipped.  She looked quickly at the boys and bit her lip, “I-I’ll talk to you guys later, I guess…”

The guys watched as she found her way back to the group, which then started in towards the kitchen and breakroom. 

Granny playfully hit Eddie’s shoulder, “dang cap, what was that about?”

“What was what?”

“When did you become the hardass?” Granny quipped, “you jus-“

“I wasn’t a hardass!” he proclaimed, looking at Andy, “tell Granny, Mywani!”

“You were…a little short with her…weren’t you?” Andy asked carefully,  not wanting to entirely contradict the captain, “I mean….it wasn’t really all that nice to just push her away when she’s supposed to be talking to the medic.” 

Eddie’s brow rose, and he looked towards the door, where the tour had already gone through, “what?  No.  I was being playful.  Joking.”

“I don’t know, cap,” Ike said nervously as he shook his own head, “it sounded kind of mean…like you were mad that she was talking to us instead of being with the group.”

“I was being playful!”

“It didn’t sound very playful…” Granny added in, “sounded like you were annoyed by her coming over to us!”

Eddie looked back to the door once again and he felt a bit of guilt rising up in his chest.  Ever since he’d heard her announce to Lucy that she’d had a crush on him, he’d been walking around the station a little taller. 

Yeah, he was used to women flirting with him, just as he had to them, but there was something about Auggie that made him feel victorious, just knowing she was interested.  But hearing how the guys thought he wasn’t being kind to her put a definite stutter in his step.

“You guys really thought I was being mean?”

“You kinda kicked her away from talking to us…”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You really did!” Terry pointed out, joining the conversation.

“No one asked you!” Eddie grumbled.  Terry chuckled, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“No one had to, Eddie!”

“I like her though!” Granny smiled, bringing the conversation back to the original point, “she seems really nice.”

“She did seem really nice…” Ike agreed thoughtfully.

“You guys talked to her for thirty seconds…max.  How would you know?”

“She just seemed really genuine!” Andy shrugged, “only person from the hospital that tries to talk to us is Vickie…I don’t ever remember a representative actually coming and talking to us when the tours went on.”

“And she’s really, really nice!”

“Yeah Ike…” Andy chuckled, clapping the larger guy on the shoulder, “you just think she’s cute…”

“Oh man, she never answered my question!” Ike began, realizing that they hadn’t finished the conversation, “Guys…she never-“

But Ike stopped himself when he saw the first of the recruits sliding down the pole. 

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked quickly, looking between the trio. 

“I-uh…it was-“

“Hey…Ike…”

Ike stopped speaking once more when he saw Auggie running up to him. 

“Oh-uh, hey Auggie…” he smiled, leaning up against the truck.  When he couldn’t get comfortable, he shifted again, placing one hand over his head and leaning against the truck, “what’s up?”

“I just…uh…in case I don’t get the chance later,” she offered politely, giving Eddie a momentary glance before handing Ike a piece of paper, “I just wanted to give you, my number.”

Granny and Andy looked at one another, before turning their attention to the EMT who was blushing.  Ike swept his hair from his face and reached out, taking the piece of paper, “oh…yeah…yeah, I-“

“And by the way…I’d love to go out with you later tonight and get some drinks!” she smiled, before bouncing away from the group of firefighters and back to the rest of the group. 

Andy and Granny’s eyes went wide, and they silently began hitting Ike’s chest and shoulders.

“You did it man,” Granny grinned, “she said yes!”

“So where are you going to take her?” Andy asked playfully.

All the while, Eddie’s rage grew inside of him.  He kept hearing her voice drunkenly admitting that she’d had a crush on him.  He kept seeing how cute she looked, getting ready to go to the concert.  And it was making him quickly feel dizzy. 

She’d accepted a date with Ike. 

But she was supposed to have had a crush on him.

Eddie snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and threw it on the floor.  The guys looked at their captain, shocked by his actions.

“What was that cap?”

“Be happy I don’t tear it up,” Eddie grumbled, already feeling the rage boiling over, “you’re a firefighter…and you’re on duty.  You don’t need to be picking up chicks!  Or asking out anyone on the tour while you’re supposed to be working!”

“Come on, cap…we’ve all seen you flirting with women on duty.”

“And in gear!” Ike said quickly, adding it into Granny’s previous statement, “what’s so bad about me asking Auggie out?  She’s really cute…and she’s interested in what I have to say.”

“Toilet duty,” Eddie growled, turning on his heel to stalk away from the men, “Toilet duty for a week, Crystal!”

Chapter 4

#captain penisi #eddie penisi #tacoma fd #firefighter #firefighters #ike crystal

[fauxraven]

The Time Paradigm [V]

pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!reader

summary: questions, betrayal, answers and the love of a good dream

warnings: gore, allusions to smut, reader is horny?

word count: 3.8k

Enter the Dream, weary traveller

Chapter V: Library of Everlasting Deceit

As first centaur on Olympus, head chirurgeon and occasional husband of a demi-god, Chiron has seen more than what the whole of creation entails.

And yet, when she finds him in his anteroom, sharing her odd request, he finds himself rethinking his lives.

‘’You expect me to do what?’’

‘’Open it up. Pop it open, whatever, however.’’ She says simply, leaning back against a bookshelf stationed behind her stool.

‘’Open you up, you mean?’’

‘’I’m not familiar with the logistics. Just do what they do on CSI.’’ He blinks, drawing a sigh from her. ‘’The Closer? Forever? IZombie? I’m running out of relevant examples if it isn’t obvious.’’

‘’You are indeed a strange girl. But you are mad, if you think I’m going to do that to you.’’

‘’I would do it myself but I don’t know how. What’s this for?’’

A flash of silver shimmers under the sunlight—he snatches it from her curious fingers just as quickly. ‘’Just the scar, then. But only because you’re a menace to yourself and others. We should have you in chains.’’

‘’Kinky. Why no stitches?’’

He gets to work, slowly peeling the bandage off. ‘’The wound itself seemed—what in Tartarus?’’

‘’Like I ate Wonka’s chocolate bar, wrapper and Golden Ticket included, I know. On the plus side, my entrails could easily pay off five student loans. Probably only just one—come to think of it.’’

‘’As a doctor, I strongly advise you to leave and see it cleaned but as a man of science…’’

‘’Come on, Doc. I know you’re just itching to do it.’’

His bespectacled eyes lift, a sheen of maroon beads shimmering with curiosity. She knows victory.

‘’Only just a little then…’’ he mumbles in his heavy beard. Between one blink and the next, he holds the same strangely-shaped tools she couldn’t name to save her life. She ignores all dutifully save for one that looks an awful lot like forceps; it bears the same icy cold feeling when it skims across her torn flesh.

‘’What’s that for?’’

Sensing her sudden unease, he feeds her the directions one by one, explaining his ministrations as clearly as possible, after which he provides a drink of sorts and lets her lay down, exposing her broken skin and trembling eyelids.

‘’Are you hurting?’’

‘’No, no it’s okay. I don’t feel anything. Not a fan of blood though.’’

‘’Are you squeamish?’’

‘’Not squeamish, just… sensitive,’’ she groans, the tell-tale of clanging things and squishing insides burning a hole through her throat. He tips his head, lips upturning into a grin. ‘’Don’t mock me.’’

‘’I am not, mocking you. I simply find myself amused.’’

‘’That’s the definition of mocking someone.’’

‘’You threw yourself in front of a flying blade for the Lord of Dreams but you feel faint at the sight of blood.’’

‘’Not blood. Just… large quantities of it—especially mine. Okay?’’

‘’Okay.’’

‘’Get on with it, please.’’

It feels like forever and ever before he speaks again. The wet squelching fades away in the gilded background the anteroom provides.

‘’You have a beautiful sternum.’’

‘’Thanks. Why are we in your rooms? Where’s your medical practice?’’

Something drops in a bowl, leaving behind a hollow thud and more squelching.

‘’This is my medical practice. It might come as a shock but doctors are rarely needed on Mount Olympus.’’

‘’The whole immortality thing is really killing business, eh? Do you have a license?’’

‘’Hush.’’

‘’Yes, mom.’’

‘’There seems to be something lodged in—‘’

Crack.

‘’Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy—that better not be me!’’

‘’That is a lovely dress you are wearing. What shade of blue is it?’’

‘’It’s green. And I know you’re trying to distract me. It isn’t going to work.’’

‘’The Dream Lord asked about you.’'

''He did?''

''In the days you slept, he required to be made aware of your whereabouts. Your name. Your recovery. His sister tells me he meant to send a gift as thanks. I did find it quite peculiar, since you'd have entered his realm in three days.''

''I was too exhausted.'' Even then, from a table-improvised-stretcher, she feels a liquid feeling of longing dripping through the naves of her heart, filling it up with hope.

Could she return to the Dreaming? If not hers, at least some version of it? Did she want that? A pale copy of her home? What did it even look like, in this day and age?

Beautiful, most definitely, but bare of any lingering traces of their love.

''Why are they here? The Endless?'' she asks after a pause, painful images of churning emerald skies and dark sands fading behind her eyelids.

''They are guests of honor, under Zeus' protection.''

Some protection.

‘’But someone thought it would be a good idea to come at Dream with a knife?’’

‘’It did do damage—which you have mended quite impressively. The scar was just fading when I attended to him.’’

‘’You did? How did he—how is he? He says he’s alright but I know it’s a lie.’’

He spares her another glance over round spectacles. ‘’The Dream Lord is… the Dream Lord. He seldom speaks his feelings.’’

‘’You’re telling me. It took a month for—‘’ Blowing your own cover, way to go. ‘’—For me to open up to my friends, about my past.’’

‘’Whatever trials you may have endured, I’d say you’ve come out a very fierce young woman. Very powerful.’’

‘’You kind of have to say that. I mean, I was nearly a shish kebab. What did you tell him?’’

‘’That you were not my charge—that he should ask Adiona.’’

‘’Because Adiona’s my mom now, is she? She never tells me anything.’’

‘’Adiona is many things; sharing is not one of them.’’

‘’I think she just misses her heart.’’

She's stunned a centaur, how the turn-tables.

‘’She didn’t tell me anything. I’ve got an X-ray vision when it comes do these things. And I… guess I understand the feeling.’’

''Abeona is expected for Kronia. She shall not be sorrowful much longer.''

''Is that some sort of grecian holiday?''

''Kronia is... many things that my meager words cannot do justice, I'm afraid. It is held at the end of the harvests, when the offerings are the ripest—in a few weeks, you'll see.''

The coin drops with a clang.

The bowl holds it, letting it swirl in reddish water, washing away blood, tears and the heart-wrenching realization that she is expected to stay. And she would; she will, if he asks.

She sits up before he cares to stop her.

''What is that?''

''I don't know. A broken bit of blade?''

But it isn't a broken bit of anything.

In fact, it's a whole thing, full, round and slightly bumpy, a direct consequence of long days of aimless trekking through her insides.

She hasn't seen many in her life, always figuring they were only used by MI6, downright psychopaths, and that one guy whose subreddit is filled with death threats and promises of never hiding in a cupboard again—but she recognizes it instantly.

Lo and behold, gents of forgotten times and hopeless hopes: an AirTag.

⌛︎ ⌛︎ ⌛︎

An AirTag. A fucking AirTag.

Round as a button, tiny as a toddler’s tooth—complete with the half-bitten apple.

They put a fucking tracker in her abdomen; branded her like aging livestock, ripe for the taking.

But deep within the recesses of her mind, someplace anger has not yet reached, she knows the knife was initially meant for Morpheus and dreads.

Was this their plan? Tracking his every move?

She had serious doubts an AirTag in this time and age would be a breeze to follow through realms.

But, back to the matter at hand: the guy had stabbed and branded her in the same breath!

Nevertheless, she thinks she showed discernment and maturity in making the right call.

In fact, she’d promptly dropped the AirTag in water and then crushed it under her sandal for good measure.

She’d had a half mind to toss it out the window-that’s-not-really-a-window-at-all and watch it slam through clouds, but Chiron had stopped her.

Before his inquisitive gaze, she’d had no answers.

She’d simply left him the offending piece of technology for safekeeping and told her she’d be back for it, and off she’d gone on her quest for answers.

Of course, the AirTag itself provided a few.

Firstly, the attacker’s sanity was waning rapidly.

Secondly, the knife hadn’t been a knife at all for it had hurt Dream. Inflicting bodily harm on an Endless, no matter how slight, meant someone was scavenging this world with a weapon unlike anything this world had ever seen. Or ever will see.

Because the attacker was undoubtedly, unequivocally from her own time.

What did that have to do with her? What had she done?

Had that vile pointy-eared man crossed over with her? Had he been there, in the Library of Everlasting Dreams when it all went down?

A library, she thinks through her scattered thoughts, a library is exactly what she needs to find.

She stumbles through the endless halls—she's never been good at orienteering, has only a few memories of pitiful grades, muddy sneakers and a strong dislike for P.E, but she perseveres and treads the unknown natural habitat of the greek gods.

She's in love with an Endless, but the fact that she's on Mount Olympus remains the most challenging thing in her world, in spite of all she and Morpheus have put each other through.

Love is testing; love is rage and sometimes love is just love, but it has always been enough for her. And now that she finds herself deprived of it, she wishes for more.

But onto the AirTag and the gilded halls and the distant music and the bird.

The bird.

The raven, in fact, that stands in an open doorway, perched on twig-thin legs, sharp talons facing her disastrous sight.

Jessamy blinks, owlish ebony staring at her as though she can see straight through her soul; she'd worry, had she any.

''Quite a number you pulled the other day, hun. You disappeared on me; us girls have got to stick together, do we not?''

Obsidian beads flutter knowingly.

''You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a half-decent library around here, would you?''

The sound of her wings, and she takes off running after the raven.

Infinity blurs before her eyes in golden hues and sharp turns. She twists, darts through an arched hall and then pushes a heavy set of doors.

They burst open on a scene worthy of dreams.

An endless room, wooden bookcases stretch around her, stacked up to the grecian fresque painted on the high ceiling.

Idly, with her jaw on the floor, she follows the swirling shapes of lean muscle and dexterous limbs—it paints a story of gods and the creation of a world, all the battles and the loves and the sorrows and the clouds. Sharp javelins and sandaled feet—the gods are painted with exaggerated accuracy, the battle seemingly forming a perfect circle around a regal group of seven individuals.

Seven entities, all powerful, all determined, all engaged. Far away from the battle, running away from the fallout—but endless, in their presence.

She'd always admired that in him; his ability to steer clear of conflict, even when it so bothered him. She loved him for it and so much more.

She loved the Library of Dreams too.

This library, however huge, however rich, however woven with dreams, pales in comparison to the real article, the one where she's left her own heart.

But it will have to do.

Now, she doubts that she can find much about AirTags within these pages, but still she roams between the giant shelves, hoping to encounter a librarian of some sort.

Jessamy watches her, walks with her even, with nothing but the occasional flutter of a wing to acknowledge her companionship.

''Seen a book-keeper?''

Jessamy gives the slightest hint of a silent shrug—as slight as one can manage without shoulders.

She moves on.

‘’Hello?’’ Her voice echoes off the cracked walls, making it sound far away in a hazy dream.

Morpheus chastises her from above, sand sifting through his open hand, one finger of the other grazing his puckered lips.

A command.

A caress.

She can almost feel it, slipping through her fingers like his own golden grains.

‘’Where’s Lucienne when you need her?’’ She whispers under her breath, turning away from the ceiling painting, advancing to the shelves. She engulfs herself between two sturdy pieces of furniture, shielding away all hope of light and golden walls. She almost misses them.

She doesn’t read Greek.

She never ever has read Greek. She’d tried her luck on an app once—failed epically.

She only knows the letter ρ from old circular traumas revolving around seventh grade algebra. But the letters appear as they are, all Greek and Grecian and… swirling?

Before her bewildered eyes, the shapes curl, uncurl, turn and wiggle until the letters rearrange, reassemble and reform into her native tongue and alphabet.

Half-freaked out of her mind, she draws closer, brushing her finger over the various spines. All sorts of hardcovers with the same kind of gilded writings on the spines, distinguishable only by colour and size.

She plucks a green volume from the shelf; it gives a groan in return.

‘’The Loved and The Lost, by Circe,’’ she reads. ‘’Or How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’’

Jessamy acknowledges her with a soft caw!

‘’What? I’m not completely clueless. Ha! Something else that doesn’t exist yet! Something else that is so very far from home.’’

She crams the book back where she found it. She isn’t here to reminisce, neither to wallow.

Another book falls into her hands, a hefty tome on genealogy.

‘’Nope. Not going there.’’

It snaps shut and shoves itself into the bookcase again. She follows the movement, finds the pattern. All the books in this section are labelled C.

Circe, Clio, Calypso, Chiron, and something called a Crommyonian Saw.

Just like any other library, she thinks, browsing through the shelves. She’s looking for something important, something big and nice and endless—

O.

Oceanus.

Ouranos.

Oneiros.

There aren’t any written by his hand specifically, but there is one that tells of his story. He’s been put in the title as co-author of his Memoirs of a Dream and it’s funny because she knows he’d be caught dead before he was associated to anything of the likes.

She reaches up on tiptoes; jumps, holds out her arm and stretches the skin that had been so meticulously stitched back up mere moments ago, to no avail. The book remains out of her grasp.

She asks Jessamy for help and the book finally falls into her hand. His hand. It’s hard to tell; sometimes, it’s like they’re the same person, sharing one heart and one bed.

But the pale hand that withdraws the thick tome is most definitely not her own.

She watches as it retreats, hovers over her head for a second and then falls into the empty air behind her.

She turns. His unwillingly narrated Memoirs paint a standoffish man, often cold, often dismissive—a king.

A king of soft, milky skin, nearly shining and burning eyes of twinkling stars. A coat of midnight dust and the universe itself. A heart of diamond and her.

But in truth, he is so much more. To her. To everyone.

He offers the book with a graceful hand, and she finds herself staring at the way his porcelain skin stretches across his lean fingers and clean nails. She’s always loved these fingers. She’s always loved every part of him. But his fingers, she could hold them, she could kiss them. Oh, the things these fingers could do—

She smacks herself internally. Something has drawn her from her stupor.

His lips are parted, his eyes expectant. He spoke when she could only hear the turbulent thundering of her own heart.

‘’Thank you.’’

He nods; the mimic is lost to the universe. She wants to kiss him, to feel herself melt against those pouty lips. Instead, she turns to Jessamy.

‘’Traitor.’’

‘’Jessamy had your best interests at heart.’’

She blinks. Holds the book to her chest. ‘’It’s so weird, the way you say her name. Without—‘’

Pain. Sorrow. Guilt.

‘’Thank you, for the book.’’

‘’You are very welcome.’’

Why does he have to say everything with such depth? Why does he always leave her trembling?

Kiss me. Hold me. Never let me go.

His eyes leave hers, she thinks she might faint. His sparkling gaze has found a new target—it ricochets across her new peplos as if it can see through the garment, to the freshly-bandaged wound.

‘’Chiron tells me it’ll leave a nasty scar,’’ she explains before he has the chance to say anything. And she can’t give him the chance, because she can’t stop at all. ‘’That’s fine. I’m told you dig those anyway. Not you specifically, I just meant guys in general—not that I’m trying to get with anyone. I’m not even trying to impress anyone, I’m free; free as the wind—but apparently he’s a god who’s also hitched so probably not the best comparison, feel free to stop me any minute now.’’

The words pour out of her gaping mouth with vivid accuracy, embarrassment and a thinly-veiled fondness he fails to acknowledge.

‘’I like the sound of your voice.’’

Fuck.

She clears her throat, stays her nerves, hangs onto the book for dear life.

I was doing research about you. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.

‘’I’m sorry I took off like that.’’

He looks offended she would even say those words. ‘’Do not be. You were in need of care.’’

‘’Obvs. But I don’t really know the social code here and everyone was being so nice.’’

‘’As they should,’’ his voice drops to the low baritone she’s heard only during bouts of anger and thorough afternoon delights. It leaves her weak in the knees. She feels hot all over, rendered thoughtless and speechless by that voice of his.

She would try to convince him that they have no obligation to her whatsoever, that all she’s done, she’s done for the most selfish reason of all—love—but under his molten gaze, she simply nods.

‘’You didn’t have to leave the party. Everything seemed… really fun.’’

‘’It was not.’’

‘‘You never came to see me.’’

Her chin dips and she almost misses the furtive blink his ethereal eyes give.

‘’I did not wish to encroach on your recovery.’’

‘’That’s…’’ Stupid. Hell. Love. ‘’Very thoughtful.’’

‘’I admit I have been restless, deprived of news of you. But in your absence, you did not once visit my realm.’’

Minor technical difficulties, she hoped.

‘’I was looking you up,’’ she surrenders with a whisper. ‘’Because I don’t like parties and because I’m also terrified of Adiona. Don’t tell her; it gives her power.’’

His eyes sweep over her beet red face and then fall to the book within her grasp. His lips twist into a sneer.

‘’Got something against books?’’

‘’Not all, but I advise you to tread with caution. Artistic license seems to be the author’s incentive when it comes to this volume.’’

‘’Why? Because she tells the truth?’’ There is no malicious intent behind her words, there never have been, but she can clearly see the shadows in the depth of his eyes. They expand, stretch, spread through the swirling cosmos of his sparkling gaze like the Beast of Judgement snuffing all hope of light—the end at the end of everything. The crimson jewel glows around his neck, shining a bright ruby red. She knows she’s upset him.

‘’Some truths had better stay buried.’’

‘’But is it a truth if it remains unspoken?’’

‘’The legitimacy of a statement does not lie in its wording.’’

‘’So a truth is always a truth? Wise words from the King of Lies.’’

‘’Very well—‘’ he makes to turn, to leave her all alone all over again.

He doesn’t wish to fight her, she realises. Because he cares—considers her, at the very least. Because she’s saved his life and he’s spent every minute of the past few days worrying to death over a woman who’d sacrificed her heart and sanity for him; to him.

‘’I would never turn away from your truth, Morpheus. Never have.’’

He isn’t angry.

She knows his anger all too well.

He is upset, yes, frustrated, dark, disgruntled; he has the personality of a wet cat, and when he turns to her, his eyes are clouded over, feral.

But this isn’t anger.

This is something else that makes her tenfold as frightened.

She offers truce—a dark hardcover filled with lies—stories, truths, everything in between.

He ignores it.

She burns even redder with shame.

‘’Where do you come from?’’

The Fates. ‘’New Jersey.’’

‘’Where do you really come from?’’

Adiona. ‘’Does it matter?’’

‘’More than anything.’’

‘‘Why?’’

‘’I wish to know you.’’

‘’You know my name.’’

‘’I wish to know more.’’

‘’Please, don’t do this.’’

‘’Why?’’

‘’Because I might tell you.’’

He pauses. Just as well; she’d break a thousand times over before she told him. Two thousand times afterwards.

He draws closer, by a single measured step—languid and lazy, calculated, purposeful and so very hot she feels she might faint. He treads cautiously, testing the waters.

He wouldn’t cross any boundaries, she knows this, but when his gaze burns into hers, she fears she might want him to.

She wants to.

His eyes pour a trail of gasoline across her flushed neck, over her heaving chest and the graceful slope where her neck meets her shoulder. She drops the match that lights her ablaze.

‘’You know my name.’’ Her voice whispers in the back of her throat. He stands too close to her fragile heart.

‘’Tell me more.’’ He repeats just as gently.

Sweet and sweeter memories come rushing back.

Tickling whispers of love and eternal devotion, tangled limbs and dream sheets, a heart and a question.

She gives in.

Breathless and quite literally hot and bothered, she takes a step toward him. Opens her mouth. Falls into his arms.

Wordlessly, he carries her limp form to Chiron’s medical practice.

She has fainted.

More on the consequences of love in Chapter VI: Mutually Assured Salvation

#dream of the endless imagine #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the dreaming #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #morpheus #the sandman netflix #the sandman (2022) #the sandman x reader #the time paradigm #no y/n #greek mythology #fem reader #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #Jessamy deserved better #Jessamy as a guest star

[steve-osahottie]

Friends to lovers?

Dico x reader

Warnings- Drinking, Novak being a little shit

Disclaimer- This is my first time writing so I’m sorry if it’s bad and I would love some feedback so if I ever write again I can make it better

You’ve known the CKY boys since your were 16 (you’re now 21) and you got along with all of them but your were the closest with Dico. You love hanging out with him and he loves hanging out with you. You would never admit that you liked Dico and even though all the other guys kept telling you he liked you back you never believed them.

“We should play a game” Bam blurts out clearly drunk, everyone agrees and you all sit in a circle of the floor with a bottle in the middle.

“Alright so someone spins the bottle and whoever it lands of have to kiss” Bam explained.

“Ladies first” Novak said while raising an eyebrow at you.

You sighed “Alright” as you’re spinning the bottle you start to regret agreeing to play this game. The bottle lands on Ryan you sigh again really regretting this game as Ryan comes closer to you and closes the small space between your lips, the kiss was short. You heard a scoff come with Dico who was sitting next to you and went you turned to look at him you noticed he looked beyond pissed

“What’s wrong?” You whispered to him

“Nothing just don’t worry about it” He replied

The game stopped soon after that when everyone had enough, thankfully you didn’t have to kiss anyone else. You went to get a drink from the kitchen whilst the others sat back on the couch and when you came back you noticed Dico was gone

“Hey Raab where’s Dico?”

“I don’t know I think he went upstairs, why?”

“Oh uh no reason he was just acting weird tonight that’s all”

Raab just nodded not really paying attention. You went upstairs to check on Dico when you saw him asleep in your bed, you were confused at first but then remembered Novak puked in his bed the night before and you said he could bunk with you. It was getting late so you decided to get changed and get into bed. It was hard for you to fall asleep because all you could think of was how angry Dico looked before, you were too worried that you had done something wrong to notice that Dico had rolled over and had his arm around your waist and was nuzzling into the your neck. You were hoping by tomorrow everything would be better between you and Dico. You took in how warm he was and how pretty he looked when he was sleeping as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Holy shit look at them” Raab whisper shouts

“Quick someone take a pic” Bam hurriedly said

“Already got one I’ll send it to you” Ryan says trying not to burst out laughing

“They look so cute together” April says as she comes into your room to put the clean clothes on your bed

You slowly open your eyes trying to make it look like you just woke up and realised you were cuddling with Dico, you jump up acting disgusted when really all you wanted to do was kiss him. Dico stirs when you get up to go into the bathroom not saying anything to anyone.

“You guys are assholes you know that right” Dico tells them slight anger in his voice.

“No we’re not, your the one gettin’ all cozy with Y/n and your just mad you got caught” Novak slurs clearly still drunk from last night

You went into the bathroom to try an compose yourself of what just happened the last thing you wanted was for Dico to find out you liked him he was your best friend and you weren’t gonna risk ruining the friendship so you splash some cold water in your face to really wake you up and walk back to your room. When you got there Dico was in bed laying on his stomach and his face in the pillow still waking up, you hadn’t noticed he was shirtless before but damn you weren’t complaining

“Holy shit he looks sexy” you thought to yourself

“Horny already Y/n? It’s not even noon” Dico replied back slightly lifting his head so you can hear him better. Your eyes immediately went wide coz you realise you had just said that out loud.

“Shut up” you reply trying to sound normal when in reality you were as red as a tomato

You pick up a Dico’s discarded shirt from yesterday and throw it at him as you tell him to put in on and come down for breakfast. You walk down the stairs into the kitchen still in shock that you had just said to your crush that he looked sexy and he didn’t seem to care I mean was that a good thing, was it a bad thing you were to distracted to see Bam waving his hand in your face you snap out of that little daydream and ask him what he wants but he just replies with asking if your ok and you nod. Dico enters the kitchen shortly after and sits next to you, you try to act as normal as you can but that doesn’t last long as Novak comes up from behind places a hand on each of your shoulders.

“So lovebirds when’s the wedding?” He says grinning ear to ear. You laugh along with everyone else but when you look at Dico you see the pink on cheek and realise he’s blushing but since nobody else sees you decide not to bring it up and add to the embarrassment. After breakfast everyone goes into the main room to watch TV but you and Dico go up to your room to hang. After a while Bam comes up and asks if you two wanna go to the skate park with everyone else but you both turn it down as skating wasn’t really a hobby of yours or Dico’s Bam just rolls his eyes calls you both lame and everyone goes leaving you and Dico in the house alone.

“Hey Y/n can we talk” Dico asks nervously

“Of course we can what’s up” you reply sitting up from your bed and turning to face Dico. Dico just stares at you for a bit and as you were about to ask him if everything’s ok he smashed his lips into yours with a breathtaking kiss you were almost immediately kissing him back he pulls you into his lap causing to moan against his lips which makes him slip his tongue into your mouth. You both hear the sound of a camera click and break the kiss turning your heads to see who’s at the door you two freeze unable to move or comprehend what you were just doing you when you see Raab with his phone out and a shit eating grin on his face “I knew it! I fucking knew it” he half screamed as you scrambled to get off Dico’s lap and try to grab Raab phone to delete that picture. “Nope your not deleting a thing I’ve already sent it to the group chat” he said seemingly proud of himself as you snatch the phone out of his hand and see that the photo was in fact sent to the group chat. Seconds later the group chat is blowing up

(just pretend that’s you and Dico)

“I fucking called it”- Random Hero

“Rake you owe me $20”- Bammy

“Finally!”- Novak

“So proud of you two”- Mumma bear April

You and Dico look up at each other and burst out laughing as he gestures for you to come sit back on the bed and when you do his lips are back on yours and you hear Raab groan “Ew”.

#brandon dicamillo #cky x reader #cky crew #cky imagine #chris raab #raab himself

[whimsyqueen]

Find the Word Tag!

I was tagged by @ahordeofwasps (thank you, friend!!) to find the words guide, lied, sighed, pride, and collide! As usual, if I don't have a word, I'll just insert a fact about one of my current WIPs instead!

I'm tagging: @magic-is-something-we-create @zmwrites @marigoldispeculiar @space-cadead @perasperaadastrawriting and anyone else who wants to find these words! Have fun!

Your words are: feel, real, heal, kneel, appeal

Guide - How Not to Slay a Vampire in 5 Easy Steps: A Modern Girl's Guide

Anyway, what I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve been doing this for a while. Theoretically, I should be great at my job, and you should be able to trust what I’ve got to say. Especially considering the Van Helsing thing. But sometimes, even the greatest ones slip. 

That’s why I’m writing this guide. I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong, and hopefully help a few people out along the way.

Lied - Amoret (this one is totally cheating but I'm so proud of this story that I can't not share)

I memorized the sound of your footsteps when you first entered the house, so it’s easy to follow your path. I don’t know what you are doing, but I wish to. You only move throughout parts of the house where they aren’t, and your steps are so calculated. I know you are planning something— you implied as much in our conversation— but I’m trying really hard not to think about what that means. I don’t want you to do anything dangerous for my sake, but it doesn’t really seem like I can stop you anymore.

Sighed - 'Tis the Damn Season (A Hallmark-inspired short story)

The line died down quickly, with everyone moving from wanting hot cocoa to wanting to get in line to meet Santa, leaving Olivia and Jenna alone together to clean up. They worked in silence for a while, just enjoying the energy of the farm, until Jenna felt the soft buzz of her phone in her pocket. She sighed, expecting to see a text from her dad asking what she wanted for dinner, or a spam email of some kind.

It wasn’t. 

Pride - Balefire (hey this one's published! Check it out here!)

“Good. My bones aren’t what they used to be, and I can barely get up the stairs before my knees give out for the day.” That much was evident in the way she stood, leaning in such a way that suggested she needed a cane, but was far too prideful to actually use one. I didn’t say anything about it, though my first instinct was to roll my eyes. I knew what I had decided in coming here, and I would stick to that.

Collide - Someone Else's Blood, Someone Else's Love (hope past-tense is okay!!)

She watched, because she could do nothing but watch, as Jane crashed into Father Osborne, yelling something indistinguishable. She was frozen, even while the flames moved ever close to her dress, threatening to take her down with them. Jane’s hands wrapped around Father Osborne’s throat as they collided, falling to the ground together. It was senseless and bloody, and Mary Catherine turned away, looking back to the congregation. Mama must be somewhere nearby, Mama must be looking for her, trying to save her from this madness. Mama would hold her, whisper quiet words to calm Mary Catherine down, reassure her that everything was okay.

Honestly surprised I had all of these! Hell yeah!

#writeblr #my writing #find the word #snippets #fiction writing #writing community #creative writing #tag games #original writing #short fiction