#at least you guys like the art so slow n steady I guess

[luderailing]

Lat 🖋️

#I feel like the panels don’t really go together #and I realize some of the dialogue doesn’t make sense #but yknow….I’m just kinda proud to get something out #I feel like I had a long day haha #glad I was still able to draw something #and this wasn’t really related to anything. I just like doing these with characters #random comic strips/writing scenes #helps me get to know them better I think #I realize my blog isn’t really centered around any few characters? #I mean there’s definitely some characters I draw more than others #but I wanna develop my ideas about them #who am I kidding ive been trying to do this forever haha #at least you guys like the art so slow n steady I guess #I’ll get to wherever I wanna be someday. I’m still young ig #faith is key! #if ur reading this rn (u a real one if you actually read allat???) have some confidence in your future #that sounds very cheesy and overused but it’s true. I believe in u<3 #hetalia #aph baltics #art #aph latvia #my art

[hutchhitched]

Don’t Talk To Me

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 76: Modern a/u Katniss is getting over the loss of her sister (you decide how) when she meets Peeta. She’s closed off but he finds a way in. Maybe she works for him? Him for her? Maybe she cries herself to sleep on his bread scented shoulder? (Please yes I need that) [submitted by @endlessnightlock]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: Y’all... It’s finally here. This is story number nine from the nine prompts I claimed for the 2020 @everlarkficexchange and then lost the will to write during the early months of the pandemic. I wasn’t sure I’d get here, but it’s happened. This is not the story I intended to write when I took the prompt, but sometimes the muse takes control, and I simply follow. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays and @endlessnightlock for being supportive of my plot change.

Katniss Everdeen hates people. Well, that’s not exactly true, but she doesn’t exactly like them either. They’re too…human or whatever. Too many acquaintances. The last thing she wants to do is get close to any of them, especially after the events of the past few months. She’s barely holding it together as it is, and introducing people or, even worse, friends could tip her right over the edge. She values her sanity.

 That’s probably why the new, sweet, disgustingly optimistic, overly friendly hire at the coffee shop where Katniss works irritates her so much. He’s just so nauseatingly earnest. It makes her want to punch him in the face.

 “How’s my favorite barista today?” he asks when she joins him behind the counter while still tying her apron. She mumbles noncommittally, but he doesn’t seem at all deterred. “I like that sweater.”

 “Peeta,” she says as she attempts to maintain control of her temper. He looks at her with such eagerness, she wilts under his obvious enthusiasm. “I’m just… It’s not a good day. Can we not?”

 His face falls, and she almost relents. She doesn’t know what it is that’s convinced him she’s someone he needs to befriend, but she simply has no interest. She doesn’t want more entanglements. They hurt too much.

 “Sorry,” he whispers and turns away. She swallows a twinge of guilt for hurting his feelings, but she doesn’t yield. Instead, she pivots to the espresso machine and starts making coffee. They work together silently, their only conversation about drink orders. They move around each other easily with no uncomfortable bumping or banging elbows or shoulders. He’s a good worker, at least, and he knows how to take a hint.

 “See you tomorrow,” Peeta says softly as his shift ends, and she flashes a brief smile. She doesn’t want to be rude, but come on. He doesn’t have to be friends with everybody.

 It continues like that for months, him fruitlessly friendly and her taciturn and distant. He continues to pursue a friendship, never pushing or prodding, simply being there and consistently showing kind. It’s exhausting.

 “How do you manage to stay so sickeningly upbeat?” she asks finally after several days of wanting to scream. He wears her down. She’d tell him to stop, but she’s starting to think she might like his optimism a little bit.

 He pauses for a second to glance at her before returning his attention to slipping sleeves onto the cup he’s holding. He calls out the order and smiles at the customer before answering. “What’s the other option? Being miserable?”

 “Well, I’m pretty good at it.”

 “I don’t think that’s true,” he argues softly. “I think you’ve had a rough time, and you’re grieving and healing. No one begrudges you that.”

 She gapes at him for a few seconds before snapping back to attention. The last thing she needs is to break down in front of everyone. Somehow, she thought he didn’t know anything. It’s disconcerting to realize her grief is on public display when she’s worked so hard to tuck it away. She reels, and he presses his lips together in frustration.

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

 “It’s… You’re fine.” She swallows hard and shakes her head. “I’m taking my break.”

 His wounded expression slices through her as she flees.

 ****

 Another couple of weeks pass before Katniss finds herself alone with Peeta again. They’re scheduled to close on a slow night, and everyone else has gone home when he locks the door behind the last customer and she turns off the light and secures the window for the drive through window.

 “Alone at last,” she jokes and is struck by his wry grin.

 “You don’t have to do that.”

 “Lock up? I think I do.”

 He catches her gaze and refuses to let it drop. “Pretend to be happy you’re here with me.”

 “I—”

 “I’m sorry,” he insists. “I thought maybe if I could talk to you and stop being so, you know, wounded that maybe we could take a shot at being friends. I didn’t mean to upset you, Katniss. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

 She doesn’t answer for several beats. He squirms a little and drops his eyes to study twisting hands and twitching feet. She’s going to regret this. She knows she will. Still, there’s something sweet and shy and kind that she yearns for when the rest of the world is so hard and cold. Maybe it’s weakness or something else equally awful she should expunge from her personality, but she can’t let him spiral this way. Maybe it’ll stop hers, too.

 “We could, uh, try that.”

 It comes out garbled and stunted, but the change in his countenance makes her glad she took the step. A thousand emotions flit over his handsome face, but a grin splits his lips so wide that his teeth flash white. She holds up her hands to head him off, but he steadies himself. With eyes twinkling, he chuckles.

 “I saw the fear there for a second. I’ll control myself before I start asking the deep stuff.”

 “The deep stuff?” she asks, still gun-shy.

 “Yeah, like it’s crazy that I’d voluntarily cover a shift for you if you called in sick, but I don’t know your favorite color.”

 “It’s green.”

 “Mine’s orange.”

 “Like those chairs?” she laughs and nods at the overly bright upholstery on the furniture. Apparently someone in corporate thought pumpkin spice wasn’t just their most popular fall drink; it was also where customers could put their butts as they sipped caffeine-laden drinks.

 “Softer,” he answers, his voice a breathy whisper. “Like the sunset.”

 Her eyes drift shut. He’s put a spell on the space with his words, and she wants to stay there for a moment. When he’s not being overeager, Peeta Mellark is charming as hell. Lord, help her.

 “Can I tell you a secret? It’s really important.”

 She tenses, but when she opens her eyes, she finds that he’s moved closer to her and propped his hip against the counter. He looks so young and hopeful there’s no way she can be scared of him.

 “If you must,” she sniffs and smiles to soften her response.

 “Lean in close. It’s a big one.” She does so slowly, and he waits patiently until she’s close enough that he can whisper, “Don’t tell our boss, but I’m a tea guy. Two lumps of sugar. I don’t even like coffee.”

 Her eyes widen for a split second, and then she bursts into laughter. Tears gather in her eyes as she shakes. “That’s not a big one!”

 “Coffee is life, Katniss. A known tea drinker would be cast out among the wolves. I’ll just stay incognito. I’m trusting you with my life here.”

 “And what if I spill it?”

 “Spill the tea?” He winks as she gasps for air. Just as quickly, he wipes his expression from his face and assumes mock sobriety. Somberly, he picks up the broom and starts to sweep. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have one fewer opponent to beat out for employee of the month.”

 The whole idea that Katniss, surly and grumpy as she is, could ever win a customer service award is so preposterous she can’t keep from giggling. By the time the café is clean, she’s a million times lighter. When they head separate ways after locking up, she watches him as he strides down the street. Before he turns the corner, he tosses a look over his shoulder and waves. She doesn’t even have to think about it. She waves back.

 ****

 They become friends, and it upends her life. Katniss isn’t used to having people around. Not since her sister passed away and left her all alone in the world. Katniss had gotten used to being an orphan, but when her sister was killed in a car crash, the loneliness and despair overwhelmed her. With Peeta around, she doesn’t feel quite so isolated anymore.

 They take short walks on shared breaks, and he leans down to pick dandelions from between the sidewalk cracks before handing them to her with a bashful grin. He shields her from overly aggressive customers during busy periods at the café, and, after several weeks, he manages to convince her that spending time together outside of work isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

 “Friends do tend to see each other in social settings,” he teases, and Katniss finally relents.

 They go to movies and basketball games and art exhibits and archery competitions and all sorts of other things she had no idea she’d enjoy until Peeta suggested the activity. Sometimes, they do mundane things like grocery shopping together. She finds she likes trying new things as long as there’s someone with her and they can debrief about what was good and bad afterward. He convinces her to try one of those art classes with BYOB wine and a pre-chosen image to paint, and she gasps when his own creation takes on a life of its own while hers seems like a bad paint with water replica. He teaches her to cook bread and cookies and cinnamon rolls, and she shares her heirloom lamb stew recipe with him. They’re comfortable together. He never pushes, never makes her feel like he needs anything more than simple friendship.

 Until, that is, the anniversary of her sister’s death.

 She should have taken off work. She knows that, but the café is short-handed. Besides, she needs the money. It’s rainy and muggy and awful when she leaves the house, and the subway is packed much more than usual. She’s jostled and pushed and touched inappropriately (although, that was likely unintentional with how closely pressed together the passengers are in the train car), so that by the time she gets to work, she’s irritable, grumpy, and a ten seconds from losing it.

 It’s possible it’s the weather or the alignment of the stars or an almost full-moon or the changing of the seasons. It could be that other people are suffering from trauma and loss and depression, as well. Or it could be that Katniss just has really bad luck.

 “This drink is wrong.”

 The harsh complaint is snapped at her by an unpleasant looking man with white hair and a beard. He looks at her like she’s something rotten on the underside of his shoe when he shoves the cup toward her and sloshes some of the hot liquid on her outstretched hand. She hisses at the burn and immediately turns to the sink to run cold water over her skin before it blisters.

 “Don’t turn your back on me! Fix my coffee.”

 Katniss tenses, her guard up, but she refuses to move. His actions burned her, and she’s following not only methods of self-preservation but also the company’s safe work policies. Injuries are to be treated immediately on the job. She’s doing that.

 He continues yelling, attracting the attention of patrons and staff. Peeta finishes with the order he’s taking and quickly intervenes, coming to her rescue whether she wants him to or not. She’s not sure which is accurate.

 “Can I help you, sir? My name is Peeta, and I’m—”

 The man squints at Peeta and raises a shaking hand toward me. He’s livid, and Peeta takes a half-step back at the fury that’s suddenly directed his way. The situation escalates. It’s not pretty. The police are called, and customers are shaken. That’s nothing compared to the way Katniss quakes inside her own skin. She’s barely holding it together when their manager intercedes.

 “Get her out of here,” Haymitch barks at Peeta before turning to the customer. The coffee cup he’s thrown at her rolls on the floor in a puddle of liquid. The name scrawled on the outside is Snow. It’s ironic. Katniss has always hated winter.

 They make it to the back before she crumbles, and Peeta lets go of her hand to help her sit down on a stack of crates. He settles next to her and pulls her into a loose embrace—tight enough so that she knows he’s there but loose so she doesn’t feel trapped. It’s the perfect way to comfort her. He’s perfect, and she’s a mess.

 The tears flow, and she’s too broken to bother to wipe them away. Shoulders shake and sobs tear from her throat in gulping heaves. At one point, she moans her dead sister’s name. It’s a mournful wail that washes over her and makes her hurt even worse. He pats her back and toys with the tip of her braid. It’s an unlikely source of solace, and it causes her to turn into him and press her face to his shoulder.

 He smells like bread, she realizes in a random flash of clarity. She’s lamenting her sister, but that scent claws at her senses and registers in the olfactory section of her brain. How odd, she thinks before a fresh wave of grief shakes her torso.

 “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I’m here. Take as long as you need. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 She’s not, though. She’s not all right, and she knows he understands that. He’s working with a limited vocabulary as he tries to help her. That’s what people say when they’re faced with a weeping friend. She’s done it herself. His tone of voice and gentle touch more than prove his compassion for her pain.

 She doesn’t know how long they sit there, but it’s long enough that her tears have soaked his shoulder. A sharp cough invades their little bubble, and they both glance up to see Haymitch in the doorway.

 “Clock out,” he orders in that gruff way of his. “We’ve got you both covered. Take her home, boy.” Peeta nods at the nickname without protest. It would be offensive if it meant anything other than their boss can’t remember anyone’s names, although that’s bad enough.

 Peeta hails a cab and gives her address. He escorts her to her door and unlocks it for her before guiding her inside and seating her on the couch. When he moves away, she grabs at his hand and pulls him down next to her. His arms envelop her again, and she presses her face into his neck and allows the tears to streak down her cheeks while she hiccups. She hates being vulnerable, but she trusts him. They’ve grown close over the past few months.

 Finally, she runs dry. Her sobs subside, and her body stills. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t attempt to pull away. Instead, he simply waits and gives her the space for what she needs. It’s a beautiful thing to grieve with someone who allows it to occur instead of hindering the process. She’s not okay. She won’t be for a long time, but she’s survived today. For now, that’s enough.

 “Thank you,” she mumbles against his shoulder. When he doesn’t answer, she glances up at him through wet lashes and finds him looking at her with compassion in his piercing blue eyes. She could fall into them if she’d let herself. When he lifts his hand to brush flyaway wisps of hair from her forehead, she thinks maybe she should.

 Time freezes. There’s a pulse between them that shakes the world. They’re drawn together, and she doesn’t second guess it or pull away from him. Instead, she closes her eyes and meets his mouth with hers. It’s gentle, just a sweet brush of lips, but it tastes like a reawakening, like the snow melting away and the earth coming back to life in spring.

 It’s scary. It’s terrifying. It’s also right. After the events of the past year, she deserves a new beginning.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 76 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #don't talk to me #bring on the new beginnings #ready for the next round

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | one

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

*a/n*: hiiiiii! so here we go. i don’t have much to say except that you’ll probably notice this chapter is a bit shorter than they usually are for my fics. with this story, chapters may or may not be shorter in length. this is just easier on me, and helps me to keep a regular posting schedule. now, i’m not going to say i won’t post longer chapters, but i just wanted to get it out there. i have a tentative posting schedule in mind, which i’ll make a post about later, but i’d say you can probably expect a new chapter every two weeks. 

also, just want to say- i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. stay home, wash your hands, avoid contact with your face, and if you have to order food tip your delivery drivers a lil extra! and to those that don’t get to stay home and still have to work, i’m right there with you. we’ll get through this and all we can do is take it day by day ❤️

✩ index here ✩

make sure you read the prologue first! 

Today had started just like any other day. Mark got up and went about his morning, brushing his teeth, eating his breakfast, and taking his usual ten minutes to sketch the ideas in his brain before heading off to work. 

It’d been slow, but Mark wasn’t worried. There were enough appointments on Saturday and Sunday to make up for a slow Friday. The temperature had reached an uncomfortable high, so he’d dressed himself in a black muscle tee to offer some relief from the sticky air. 

The early afternoon went smoothly. Mark took the opportunity to work on some new designs and do some organizing in his tattoo room, while the other guys opted to sit around showing each other funny videos on their phones. 

By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to sit outside with his iced coffee, scrolling through social media on his phone while relaxing in the shade of the awning. He glanced up mindlessly, his eyes drawn to a figure standing across the street. 

A girl holding an ice cream cone. Mark’s breath caught in his throat because, no, it wouldn’t be you. You’d be back home, attending some tiny college where your parents could keep a watchful eye on your every move, not here in the great big city. 

Then the girl dropped her ice cream cone, her whine audible even from where Mark sat. He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. He shook his head, just as there was a knock behind him on the glass of the door. 

Dahyun popped her head out. “Youngjae needs help grabbing some boxes from the back, can you help? Jackson and Yugyeom are being assholes.” 

Mark nodded, one last glance across the street before he stood up, heading back inside.

-----

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as Mark pressed the tip of his tattoo gun to your skin. Just the constant buzzing of the tool was enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Once you felt it, though, it wasn’t so bad. It hurt, but you’d been through worse. It was comparable to a thousand tiny kittens scratching you with their claws, over and over again. 

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, once one long minute had passed. 

You nodded, your arms squeezing the back of the chair you were straddling. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was the only way Mark would be able to access the back of your shoulder. You’d also had to strip down to just your bra, so at least you were given some modesty. 

“Yeah. Just... how long will it take?” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed how hard he was concentrating. His tongue was stuck between his lips, peeking out the corner. He was entirely focused on the art that he was tracing onto your skin. 

“Not long. The shading is what will take the longest, but it’s small, so I should have you out of here within the hour.” 

You exhaled slowly and pressed your forehead into the cushioned back of the chair as he went over the same area a few times. Though he muttered a ‘sorry’, you found yourself wincing from the pain. 

Yerin had left to get ready for work, as the stenciling and position process had gone on longer than either of you had thought. You’d made Mark move the stencil several times until you liked the positioning. Admittedly, it had been a stalling tactic to delay the inevitable pain that was coming. 

“How’s Taehyung?” Mark asked, just as he took a break from tracing onto your skin. You opened your eyes to see him reaching for a cloth to wipe across your skin. 

The question caught you off guard. Just the name of your brother was enough to rub salt into the wound you’d been holding closed for the last two months. You gulped, turning your face to press your other cheek into the chair, hiding your expression. 

“He’s good. He’s been in Japan for two years now, I think. He’s happy there.” 

You barely even noticed Mark returning to your tattoo, the pain less noticeable while your mind was occupied. 

“That’s good. I saw on Facebook he has a girlfriend now?” 

You nodded. “Mhm. Her name’s Jennie--she seems nice.” 

Mark didn’t need to know that you hadn’t spoken to your brother since the week before you moved to Seoul. He didn’t need to know you’d been avoiding his calls, texts, and e-mails. Most of them you deleted without even opening. 

From what you knew, Taehyung and Mark had simply drifted once they both moved out of your tiny town and started creating a life for themselves. Taehyung spent his years after college roaming the world, taking photos and putting on exhibits until he secured a steady photography job for a Japanese magazine. 

Mark moved before that, though you hadn’t known he’d moved to the city until today. You hadn’t ever been close to him besides the casual greeting when he’d be downstairs playing video games with Taehyung while you were doing homework. 

When you were younger, you’d had an innocent crush on him, only because he was one of the few boys that paid you any attention. You’d only ever had a handful of conversations, but he was always polite and even helped you with your math homework once or twice. It really hadn’t taken much to impress you back then.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” Mark asked. 

You were grateful for the slight change in subject. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about your parents, and you wouldn’t have been able to pretend any longer. 

“A couple of months. I just… wanted a change,” you told him honestly. 

Maybe you’d gotten more than you’d bargained for… but regardless, you were grateful for your newfound independence. 

“I get it,” Mark replied. “Alright, outline is done. Now we’ll just have to shade. I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?” 

You lifted your face from the back of the chair and sat up straight. “Can I see it?” you asked. 

It took a moment for you to realize Mark’s ears were turning red because without the shield of the chair, your entire bra-clad chest was now on display for him. It didn’t help that you’d chosen a pink, lacy bra just because it was the first one you’d grabbed out of your laundry bag. 

Quickly, you leaned forward again to cover yourself with the chair, biting forcefully onto your lip. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” you said.

Mark cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for a handheld mirror on the table behind him. “It’s okay… I’ve definitely seen worse. Not that it was bad, or, well-” 

It was obvious he’d put his foot in his mouth. You found yourself giggling, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Mark looked as if he was desperate for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back around. “Here,” he said chuckling softly as he held up the mirror behind you so that you could see the work he’d already done. 

You managed to stifle your giggles as you turned your head. It was no wonder Mark was known for pieces like this--his lines were crisp and clear, flowing in such a way that it looked as if your skin was born with this intricate design. You couldn’t wait to see how it looked when it was complete.

“Good?” he asked.

“I love it,” you said, smiling wide. “Makes the pain worth it.” 

Mark looked pleased with your answer. He set the mirror down and got up, switching out the ink on his pen for the color he was going to use for the petals, a soft cool toned purple. 

You resumed your position against the chair after a few more minutes, fists clenched as you prepared for the pain. 

-----

It turned out not to be so bad. Mark kept you distracted, asking you questions about your experience in the city so far. When he sensed you avoiding the topic of home or your parents, he didn’t push. 

Once he got your tattoo bandaged up, you sat around talking for another half an hour while he showed you photos of his drawings, as per your request. You’d never known that he was so talented. 

“I guess I should be going,” you said after a lull in conversation. If you wanted to get back to your room before your roommate began their daily music blasting and loud video game routine, you’d need to head back. 

“Where are you staying?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and washing his hands in the miniature sink against the wall.

“Just… this little place,” you answered. Little was an understatement. 

When you’d moved out, you’d only had a suitcase and a finite amount of cash. It hadn’t exactly been planned, so your options were limited. You stayed in the first hostel you could find, and you were disappointed to find that the wages you received from serving couldn’t provide you with anything better. 

You shared a room, currently with a Russian girl a few years older than you that seemed to only be staying in Seoul to play shooting games and blast ear-piercing rock metal. Your last roommate hadn’t been nearly as bad, but you weren’t having great luck. 

“Here, I’m just finishing up for the day. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, then I’ll take you home.” 

Your efforts to refuse his offer were basically ignored. He gave you no choice as he led you out to the front room to pay for your tattoo, whispering something lowly to Dahyun as she wrote up your bill. 

“Mark,” you said in protest once you saw the total. You didn’t know much about tattoo pricing, but you were sure this was significantly lower than it should have been.

“What? It’s a family and friends discount.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to refuse his help, you had to admit you could take whatever discounts you could get. Tattoos were expensive and you certainly didn’t have the budget to get one as impulsively as you had today. 

“I’ll get my stuff ready, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Mark asked and you nodded, watching as he walked off to his room. 

“Family and friends, huh?” Dahyun asked, eyebrows raised as she watched you sign your receipt. “You must have gotten really close back there.” 

You laughed, sliding the receipt back over the table. “It turns out, he used to be best friends with my older brother. So… family, I guess,” you said, though you never really saw him as such. No matter how many times your mother acted like he was her second son. 

“Wow, small world,” Dahyun said as she handed over a sheet of paper with a list of bullet points on it. She went over the aftercare process, recommending the creams and ointments that she preferred, and ways to help it heal faster. 

After thanking Dahyun over and over for her kindness, you gathered your things and waited outside of the front door for Mark. 

When your day began, you never would have thought you’d be having dinner with your brother’s old best friend, bringing back memories you hadn’t quite been ready to revisit. But he was so sweet to you, so easy to talk to, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to say no. 

You’d always admired Mark’s choice to move to Seoul straight out of school, with no plan and no connections to the city. And he only came back for holidays and special occasions. While you were hastily packing your clothes into a duffel bag, you remembered thinking briefly of him. 

“Ready?” Mark asked from behind you as he exited the shop. The sunlight hit his skin, bringing your attention to the swirling designs upon his shoulder. The way his shirt was cut allowed you a peek of his ribs—you could see loopy cursive etched on his skin but you were unable to make it out.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied with a smile, tearing your eyes from his bare skin. 

#writing #fanfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark fanfic #mark smut #mark angst #mark tuan smut #got7 scenario #got7 smut #got7 angst

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 10)

HELLLLOOOOOOOO~~ are you guys still there? LOL, it’s been like a month and a half since I last posted on here. The end of the semester just really got intense with projects, presentations, and finals. But I’m here and back for at least two weeks. I wanna see if I can bosh out the rest of this series before I move onto another one. 

I hope you’re all well. If you wanna update me on what’s new with you all, I’d love to know. I applied to grad school. I have one more semester left before graduation. Vaccinations have started in my area of the world. I started playing Hollow Knight (if anyone wants to talk about THIS GAME, please do. I love it.) Think that’s kinda it. 

BIPOC reeeeeccccc: N. K. Jemisin’s The City We Became is EXCELLENT. Diversity, racism, feminism, LGBTQ representation. I love it so much. One of my favourite books of the year, hands down. Nicole Crowder on IG does like upholstery and interior DIYs and content. I’ve been wanting to upholster these two chairs in my home and she put up a whole 2 min tutorial on how to do it. 

w.c. 3k (lol, it got really long oops! fluff and mature content, not quite smut, but it was definitely getting there. The first draft of this part was basically just smut, so I chopped and fixed it LOL. hope you guys still like it.)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6; pt.7; pt.8; pt. 9

“What do you mean you haven’t had sex with him yet?”

She rolls her eyes and sets a bowl in front of her previous roommate. Soobin had moved out months ago, shortly after she’d met Jihoon.

���It’s going really slow.” She slips into the seat across the table. “We haven’t really said I love you yet either.”

“What do you mean ‘haven’t really said’? What? Just ‘cause Woozi’s an idol he doesn’t know how to treat you right?”

She motions for Soobin to tuck into the food. “Jihoon is treating me wonderfully, thank you very much.” She pauses, her chopsticks hovering in the air. “It’s just… slow.”

“He has a whole child!” Soobin chews her noodles as she continues. “You’ve already passed the point of going slow.”

“It’s not as if Eunha is my child.”

“The kid spends more time here than any of our friends or your family.”

“Jihoon’s been busy.” She shrugs. “It’s easier for him to leave Eunha here than take her with him. Plus, you know the Terror likes her.”

Soobin chuckles. “That little horror of a brother of yours likes everyone.”

She smirks. “Okay, fair.” Then she waves her chopsticks between them. “But Eunha’s probably the reason why he’s going slow. We need to see if we’re compatible.” She meets Soobin’s gaze. “The man has a child.”

“It’s been months!” Soobin quickly cuts in before any interruptions. “Seven months to be exact. You would think that the next step at analyzing compatibility is whether you guys vibe in bed.”

She hums. She doesn’t want to admit out loud that yeah, she’s been having fantasies about Jihoon. However, she hasn’t gotten any clear signals from Jihoon that he wants to pursue anything further than making out on her couch after a date. And before she can broach the topic, he’s off to go get Eunha. If Jihoon never wanted to have sex with her, she wonders if that would be a deal breaker. But she really has no idea.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Sex? No.”

“So, what do you guys talk about?”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “You say that as if the only thing you and Jae talk about is sex.”

“Well, it came up a lot when we first started dating.”

“That’s because you guys started off having sex.” She sighs, turning her noodles with the tips of her chopsticks. “This relationship is really different. I don’t know how to gauge it.”

“Do you love him?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“But you do.”

“Yeah.”

“And does Eunha put you off wanting to be with him?”

She rests her cheek in her palm. “I honestly thought she would, but she only makes me love him more.”

“Then talking about sex, even if you’re not having it, is the next step.” Soobin gauges her friend’s reaction. “Even if Jihoon is the type not to want it. You should at least know that. He’s obviously done it at one point.”

There’s a pause before they both say, “The child.”

She nods. “You’re right though. We should talk about it.”

Seungcheol knocks on the studio door. “Hey. You needed me?”

Jihoon turns in his chair and nods. “Yeah. I need a second set of ears on this song. Bumzu hyung and Soonyoung are busy.”

Seungcheol nods and falls into the seat next to Jihoon. He notices the book on the desk. It’s been sitting there for a while. “You finish it?”

Jihoon glances at the book. “Oh.” Then, he resumes clicking through the excessive number of files open on his screen. “Yeah.”

And you haven’t returned it?”

“She reads it when she comes over.” Jihoon hands over the headphones and finally catches Seungcheol’s expression. “What? Is there some big meaning behind that too?”

Ever since he started dating, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and basically everyone in the building has found various meanings in his songs and life that allude to how ‘in love’ he is. He’s not about to tell everyone he’s in love—she doesn’t even know that yet—but not everything going on is about his relationship.

Seungcheol shrugs as he adjusts the headphones on his ears. “You seem to think there isn’t.”

“God.” Jihoon sighs and turns in his chair. He drops his cheek into his palm. “Enlighten me.”

“She’s a big reader and doesn’t like to leave books unfinished. If she’s letting you hold onto it for her, for when she comes over here, that says something.”

“So does leaving my daughter in her care, but we all have something we need taken care of.” He turns back to the screen. “Now, listen to this hook for me.”

Seungcheol settles back into the seat. He bops his head along to the melody until the lyrics play clear in his ears. Wide eyed, he turns to Jihoon and pushes one headphone off his ear. “We’re not putting this on the album, are we?”

Jihoon looks over at him with an eyebrow lifted. “Why not?”

“This is such a… a bedroom… sex song.” Seungcheol shakes his head. “We can’t put this on there.”

Jihoon frowns. “What?” He looks at the file name and feels his cheeks heat up. “Whoa. Not that one.” He quickly closes the file and makes sure that it’s closed. But his checking gives Seungcheol time to see a folder with her name. There’s one for Eunha that none of the boys want to ask about, but his girlfriend? She’s fair game.

“You have a folder of songs for her?” He acts horrified. “And that was one of them?”

Jihoon tries to think of any way out of this conversation and realizes that due to his carelessness, he can’t. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“How many songs are in there? Do they all sound like that?”

“I refuse to answer those questions knowing that everyone is going to know by tomorrow and it’s already embarrassing that you know about one of them.”

“Hey.” Seungcheol’s voice goes soft. He likes to tease, but he recognizes touchy subjects when he broaches them. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. You know you can talk to me, right?”

Jihoon side eyes him. “I don’t want to admit how I feel about her to you when she hasn’t even heard all the songs on there.”

“What’s the folder for?”

“Just… inspiration.” Jihoon leans back further in his chair. “The songs on the upcoming album have come out of there. At least the less… perverted ones did.”

“There are other songs like that.” Seungcheol tries not to sound too surprised.

Jihoon’s cheeks are so warm that he takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Lately… yeah.”

“Have you…” Seungcheol shakes his head. “No. How could you? You always come home for Eunha.”

At this, Jihoon looks at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… just that if you guys were having sex, you wouldn’t come straight home to your daughter, would you? Not when all of us would know.” Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “Right?”

Jihoon doesn’t even know how to respond to that except with the truth. “Fine. No. We haven’t yet.”

“Because of her or because of you.”

“Things are going slow. I don’t know… how to broach the topic.”

“Why can’t showing up to her door with passionate kisses be enough?”

“And what? Leave Eunha with you guys overnight?”

“Yeah, why not?”

So, Jihoon does just that and it turns out so much better than he expected.

“Why does this shirt,” he mutters between kisses, “have so many buttons?”

She giggles against his lips and steadies his hands in hers. “You’re excited. Like a child. Calm down.”

Jihoon hums, obsessed with the taste of her lips and her hands around his. She guides him through the motion of unbuttoning her shirt. Once they’re undone, he pulls away slightly. She tips her head. Jihoon is gentle with her shirt, sliding it off her shoulders. Her eyes watch him the entire time, watch him admire her body as the fabric falls to the floor. His hands start from the sides of her thighs up her body, skimming over her underwear, and holding her under the arms, hands right by her breasts.

“You’re really gonna tease,” she chuckles. She closes the distance between them, kissing him and fumbling with his shirt. His shirt is easy, his sweatpants he practically steps out of. It’s once they’re both just standing in their underwear that she stops him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jihoon kisses her shoulder and up her neck to the base of her jaw. “Why would I want to stop?”

“Eunha?” she hums. The child’s face is prominent in her mind, but becomes hazy every time Jihoon sucks a spot on her neck.

“She adores you. Which gives me permission to also adore you.”

She smirks, arms wrapping around Jihoon’s neck to force him back to her lips. “I’m glad I pass the test.”

Jihoon scoops her up and carries her to the couch. She gasps in surprise, which forces him away again. Spread along the couch are a lot of her art supplies. When she turns back to him, there’s a grin on her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to jump me tonight. I was planning to paint, so…”

“Do you want to clean first?” he chuckles.

She shrugs.

Jihoon snorts and picks her shirt up off the floor and hands it to her. As much as he wants to sleep with her, it seems tonight may not be the night. He finds his sweatpants and pulls them on then helps her move her art stuff. He sits on the coffee table while she manoeuvres her piece from the floor to the desk.

“Do you want to paint?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I want to spend time with you.” She moves some stuff to make space for her piece.

“Do you want to teach me to paint?”

She peers over her shoulder at him. “Really?”

“Well, I’m impossible to teach, but I don’t want to leave yet.” Jihoon glances at her bare torso, as she hasn’t bothered to button the top. “And I like the view.”

She rolls her eyes, an amused smile on her face. “Are idols allowed to say stuff like that?”

Jihoon looks around her home. “Unless you have a listening device and turn me in, I’m confident to say how I feel about you.”

A smile blooms on her face at hearing that. She pulls one of her watercolour pads off the desk and motions for him to join her on the floor. She flips past the first two pages, but Jihoon still catches glimpses of them.

He grabs her wrist to stop her. “Were those of Eunha and me?”

“Oh.” She tilts her head and flips back. “Yeah.” The first page is from the night he had come over to learn to cook. The second was their first date.

Jihoon looks to her expectantly and she can only shrug.

“I draw what I like.”

Jihoon doesn’t know why he finds that embarrassing, but his ears feel warm.

She tips her head back in a laugh. “Of everything that’s happened tonight, Jihoonie, I don’t think you need to be embarrassed to hear that I like you.” She returns to the one with Eunha on it and pulls the sheet. “I wanted to give it to you, but I thought maybe it would be creepy if you knew I was painting you and your daughter from memory.”

Jihoon stares at the paintings. He can see Eunha’s expression in them; how happy she had been with the meal and the dessert. If this is what he’d look like that night, he had been extremely relaxed. His finger traces over the skin, amazed at how seamless it appears.

When his eyes lift to meet hers, she seems surprised to see tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nothing.”

She slides closer to him and her thumb brushes his tears away. “You’re crying.”

Jihoon sighs and his head tips back, as he tries to keep the tears in. “I… it’s just that…” Jihoon’s gaze rests on her again. “No one else has seen Eunha like this. The members do, but they helped me raise her. Which is why sometimes she’s an absolute menace.”

She smiles.

“But…” Jihoon studies the painting, at his baby so beautifully depicted. “I don’t know. This kind of reminds me that maybe I’m doing okay if she looks like this.”

“Jihoon, you’re doing great. She’s happy and she loves you.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m failing her all the time, and…” The tears appear again. “And I feel like I lost some of who I am, because I had her.”

She eases the sheet of paper out of his hands. Jihoon uncrosses his legs so she can move between them, draping her legs over his thighs. Her hands plant on the floor between them as she leans forward to press kisses to his face. His eyes close at the sensation. “Jihoon, she is all you. Your music is who you are. You live and breathe Seventeen. Just because you became a father doesn’t mean you lost any piece of the Jihoon that was there before she existed.”

Jihoon lifts a hand to the back of her neck to pull her closer. Painting is put on the back burner, as they get lost in the feeling of kissing each other. Jihoon’s legs curl behind her to prevent her from moving away. His free hand slips inside her shirt and finds home on her hip. His thumb moves back and forth across the skin there.

Meanwhile, her hands have pulled him as close she can get him, her fingers tangling in his hair. When she gives the hair at the base of his neck a small tug, he groans. This lets her slip her tongue into his mouth. He tastes like her coffee, unsurprisingly enough. And she has to admit, it tastes better on his tongue than in the cup.

She can feel his growing hard on through his sweatpants. When she pulls away to breathe, she asks, “So we’re not painting then?”

Jihoon hums something incoherent, because she latches her lips against his neck.

“Wait,” he breathes.

She slows her assault on his neck, but doesn’t stop.

“No hickies.”

“Simple enough,” she breathes against his skin.

Jihoon finds himself falling back onto the floor as her kisses trail all over his body. Her hands explore every muscle and memorize them. Jihoon enjoys the treatment, his eyes closing while he lets his other sense take over. She wiggles him out of his sweatpants again and then returns to his lips.

“Bed?” She adjusts her body over his, putting pressure against him, which makes it impossible for him to reply.

Jihoon looks up at her and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. She sucks a spot on the soft skin near his jaw, but stops before it can leave a mark. He manages to roll them over.

“You’re making it really hard to think.”

She slides a leg between his, which seems just enough friction for him to grimace. “You’re thinking with something else.”

“Where’s your bed?”

Her eyes dart to her left. He helps her to standing and then lifts her. Her legs wrap around his waist. If there had been other objects in the way, he would have knocked into all of them, because she starts kissing him again. And it seems like his brain shuts off as soon as she does that. He presses her against her bedroom wall and when he ruts against her, her breath catches.

“So, you are needy.”

“Lee Jihoon, you are literally between my legs,” she manages between kisses. “Yes, I’m needy.”

Jihoon pulls away for a moment. “But you’ve seemed so calm and collected tonight.”

She rolls her eyes and gently kisses his cheeks before saying, “If I was ready to pounce on you when you walked in here, would you have wanted to fuck me?”

Jihoon jumps at the blatant term, but he pivots so that he can lay her on the bed. One of his hand sneaks between her legs, his other arm propping his body over hers, and drags his fingers over the fabric. When she squirms beneath his touch, he says, “Maybe not. But… I’ve wanted this a while.” He meets her gaze. “So I don’t think too much have scared me away tonight.”

Her head tilts back as he begins to rub his fingers in circles. He watches her carefully.

“Stop staring,” her breath hitches, “and kiss me.”

Jihoon smirks. “Make me.”

She snakes a hand behind his head to pull him down towards her. Her kisses stutter depending on the speed of his fingers. His kisses trail down to her neck and nibbles the soft skin on her collar bone. She presses her hands into his shoulders to try to keep her bearings. When he kisses back up her neck and sucks the soft spot of her jaw and she moans something beautiful, he knows that’s a sound he’s going to have in his mind long after this is over.

He slows his fingers down. “How close are you?”

Her breath is heavy; she can’t even answer him. Her rut up into his hand is good indication though.

Two of her orgasms and one of his later, he returns from the bathroom with a washcloth and gently cleans her off. Then he lies on top of her again, her hands go to massage his temples.

“So, you’re going to tell your daughter we… coloured when you came over today?” she teases.

Jihoon rests his cheek against her chest, listening to her heartbeat slowing down after the exertion. “I told her she was staying with the members because I was coming over here for a play date.”

She laughs. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Jihoon can’t help but smile as he falls asleep.

#woozi #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #Lee Jihoon #seventeen scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen imagines #Svt

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Liabilities Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for taking so long for this next update!! Warnings for this are the same as all other chapters. Beware this is heavy chapter! I promise it pretty much goes completely uphill from here. 

liabilities masterlist

Rowan Whitethorn had never been this bored in his entire life. Or at least since 8 o clock, when Aelin had kissed his cheek and abandoned him to suffer through calculus all alone. She had been bouncing on her toes all morning, nervous beyond belief about seeing Lorcan for the first time since they'd slept together. Rowan had tried to calm her nerves while simaltaneously trying not to vomit and the thought of his two friends doing ... well that.

Now, he was sitting in the back of Mr. Faliq's class, doodling aimlessly on the front of his textbook. Math had never been Rowan's best subject anyway. Infact, the only reason he'd taken it was so that he and Aelin might have at least one class together. With her wanting to be a doctor and him wanting to be a lawyer, their senior year courses didnt exactly cross over. Unfourtunately, it hadnt worked out, and Rowan had a whole semester to suffer through whatever this was without his best friend beside him.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the bell to signal the end of first period sounded throughout the room. Rowan was out of his seat and across the room before the rest of class had even begun packing their books. Once he was out in the hallway, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Rowan really needed to think about dropping that course, he'd even take art at this point. An image popped into his head of the last thing he'd tried to paint, a picture for Aelin that had turned into more of a brown blob than anything. Laughing, he walked down the hall towards Aelin's class. Students were beginning to pour out of classrooms and he spotted his friends down the hall.

They were standing by Lorcan's locker, the tall male leaning his head against the wall. He looked positively miserable as he toyed with the strap of his bag, doing practicaly anything to avoid Aelin's gaze. Still, she was looking right at him, gesturing wildly with her hands. Rowan hung back for a moment to watch, not wanting to interupt. After a few more seconds of talking to no one, Aelin socked Lorcan in the arm. Rowan could almost here him groan as he finally looked down at Aelin. She looked relieved as she launched into speaking all over again. When she was done, Aelin paused, apprehension shining in her eyes. Lorcan hesitated a moment before sighing and folding her into his arms. Her shoulders slumped with relief as she hugged him back. When they finally pulled away, Aelin was positively beaming and Rowan couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at his lips in response.

Still smiling, Aelin grabbed Lorcan's hand and pulled him down the hall towards Rowan. Just before they got withing hearing distance Aelin said something to Lorcan that made his head tip back in laughter. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached Rowan.

They stopped infront of him and Lorcan looked up at Rowan slowly. Aelin surveyed the two males tentatively, as if preparing to seperate a fight.

"Hey." Lorcan said at last, his low voice rougher than normal.

"Hey." Rowan replied, nodding his head slightly.

Just as the silence became unbearably thick, a cheerful voice broke through the haze.

"Hey guys." Fenrys said, throwing his arm around Aelin. "I haven't seen any of you since the party, how were your weekends?"

"Totally normal." Aelin blurted at the same time that Lorcan said. "Nothing special."

Fenrys brows narrowed but he didnt push it. "Um okay. What about you Rowan?"

"Shitty." He admitted, avoiding anyone but Fenrys' gaze.

"Aw sorry about that man. I saw you leave the party alone, that sucks. It's been a while since you got laid huh."

Rowan couldnt stop the blush forming. "Uh yeah I dont know, I guess it depends on your definition of a while."

"Wasn't the last one Remelle?" Fenrys asked. Gods sometimes he just wanted to punch Fenrys out.

"Remelle." Aelin blurted. "Rowan that was all the way back in July. Its been like three months."

He was definetly blushing now. Remelle had been his last failed attempt at getting over his being in love with Aelin. He’d thrown up as soon as he’d left their room and from that moment on just touching other women had made him feel slightly nauseous. 

“Yeah well I just haven't really clicked with anyone since I guess.” He stumbled over his words. Lorcan was shooting him a knowing look that Rowan pointedly ignored. 

“Whatever.” Fenrys said shrugging. “Where’d you two disappear off too. I could've used some help with clean up.” 

Instantly all three of them looked down at their shoes, shoulders tensed. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Rowan decided to put everyone out of their miseries. 

“They fucked.” He said, his voice carefully exempt of any emotion. 

Fenrys mouth fell wide open. “What.” He paused. “Um Wha- How?” At last he sighed. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK.” He half yelled. 

A few freshman walking by giggled and scurried down the hall. 

“Well we were both drunk and not really thinking and somehow we ended up in his bed. But we’re good now so let’s just all forget it ever happened okay?” The plea in Aelin’s voice tightened something in Rowan’s chest. 

Fenrys, who was still staring at Lorcan, his jaw practically on the floor, said nothing. Lorcan swore under his breath and grabbed Fenrys, dragging him down the hall away from Aelin and Rowan. Good, let Lorcan deal with his best friend and Rowan would deal with his. 

They walked down the hall in silence for a few seconds. Rowan fought to hold back everything he wanted to say. He could feel their friendship slowly falling apart, like a burning house. Yet he couldn't say or do anything out of fear that the whole thing would come crumbling down with one wrong touch. Instead, he allowed himself to focus on the pattern of footsteps against the school tile floor. He watched Aelin’s hands swing back and forth, shaking violently. 

“Aelin are you okay?” He asked tentatively. 

She jerked her head towards him, then down to her hands, and then back up again. Eyes still on him, she pulled her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. 

“Um yeah its just... well I stopped the drugs and everything very suddenly and it’s a little hard on my body.” 

“How hard.” He asked, concern shining in his bright green eyes. 

“Most people phase out of the shit I did slowly. Stopping it all at once is hard.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” He didn't raise his voice but his tone was firm in the way that demanded answers. 

She took a long breath in through her nose. “Some vomiting, cold chills and sweating, a pounding headache, shaking, a couple fucked up dreams.” 

“So you’re in withdrawal.” 

“Yeah from like three different things at once.” Aelin let out a small laugh, as if this was all funny for her. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” He offered. 

“What no.” She rolled her ankle around in a circle. “I’ll see you at lunch.” 

Then she was gone. 

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

Rowan Whitehorn had thought calculus was the worst class he’d have to suffer through. French, made that course look like a fucking summer breeze. Honestly this class wouldn't even have been that hard if he could speak the language at all. Aelin and him had always wanted to go backpacking through Europe, so when he said he couldn't speak French, she practically signed him up herself. 

“Rowan.” A voice snapped him out of his daze. The principal was standing in the class doorway, panting, as if she’d ran here. The look in her eyes made Rowan’s heart lurch forward in his chest. 

“Yeah,” He said, already walking towards her. 

“Come with me.” Then they were walking swiftly down the hall.

“What’s going on?” A part of him didn't really want an answer. 

The principal swallowed and began jogging down the hall. “It’s Aelin.” 

A part of him had already known. Had wanted it to be false, but known all the same. Still, it didn't stop the panic that seized him so completely, had him practically running down the halls now, feed sliding on the freshly cleaned tile. 

The rounded the corner and Rowan stopped dead on his feet. There, sitting against the wall just outside her art classroom, was Aelin. Her arms were wrapped around her petite frame, as if she could hold herself together. She was shaking uncontrollably, her head buried in her knees. Even from a few metres away, Rowan could hear how she tried and failed to gulp down air. There were no tears on her face, just blind panic. Fenrys was kneeling in front of her, a panicked expression on his face and he tried to calm her down. 

Rowan ignore the small puddle of vomit on the floor as he pushed Fenrys away and kneeled before Aelin. He was close enough now to hear her muttering something, words he couldn't decipher. 

Ever so carefully, he grabbed her violently seizing wrists and pried them from her knees. Her hands were freezing cold, and Rowan resisted the urge to drop them. Instead, he covered them with his own and waited for her to look at him. 

“Aelin” He said softly, failing to hide the pain in his voice. “Look at me love.” 

She didn't. Some of the shaking in her hands had ceased though, becoming more tremors than anything. 

“Aelin everything is going to be okay. I can help you alright. I just need you to look at me.” 

Slowly, so slow that he felt as though time itself had been warped, she lifted those blue eyes to his own. He stared at her broken face, letting her know that he saw every part of her and was not afraid. 

“Just breathe with me.” He took one of her hands and placed it against his chest. “Just like this.” 

He inhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. After a brief second of hesitation, Aelin did the same. 

“Good.” He murmured softly, and repeated the action. “You’re doing so good.” 

He continued to breathe in and out until Aelin’s own breath had steadied. Even then, he refused to remove her hand from his chest. 

At long last, she spoke. “I don't know what happened.” The words came out scratchy. “One second I was painting, green flowers like your eyes. Then someone spilled red paint on the floor. It looked like blood Rowan. Like his blood all over the tile. Suddenly the walls started closing in and I couldn't breathe. There was blood everywhere and he was dying all over again and I just couldn't fucking breathe.” A strangled cry broke from her lips on the last words. 

“We’re going to go home now okay? I’m going to take you home.” He paused to weigh her reaction. She tried to stand up but her legs were shaking so much that it didn't work. Instead, she collapsed back down withe another small broke sob. Rowan’s fucking heart was shattering. 

“Can I pick you up?” He asked. Her small nod was answer enough. Leaning down, he curled one arm under her legs and the other below her neck. Still shaking slightly, she buried her head in his chest, as if hiding from the rest of the world. 

The principal was still staring at them in shock. Fenrys must've gone to get Lorcan who was now watching Rowan and Aelin with pure devastation on his face. “We’ll be by later.” Lorcan said as they passed. 

“Alright.” 

When they reached Rowan’s car, he placed Aelin in the passenger seat before climbing in as well. 

“Thank you.” Her words carried some of that fearless strength and determination he’d missed. “For everything. You have no idea what it means to me. I honestly don't think i’d still be here without you Ro.”

“Anytime.” He tried not to focus on the deja vu of this situation. Tried and failed to forget that it was barely two days ago when he’d placed a shaking Aelin in the front seat of his car. He was always saving her, not that he had minded much before. But now, as they pulled out of the parking lot, Rowan wondered if maybe there was more out there.

--------

tags: 

@queen-of-glass

@courtofjurdan

@fictional-horan

@bamchickawowow

#rowaelin au #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin angst #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #highschool au #angst

[autumnsart22]

Oikawa x Reader ch. 4

I had no idea what to do. 

It had been three weeks since I joined Aoba Johsai, and things were starting to fall into a rhythm. I went to class, and although the school was larger than I was used to, I easily stayed on top of all the work despite getting extra to catch up. I visited Karasuno as often as I could, almost twice a week to see the whole team. Also, Kiyoko’s house was closer to Aoba Johsai than my own, so I used the excuse to sleep over there almost every night. 

But despite that, I was bored and lonely. Studying wasn’t enough to keep me occupied, and now that I wasn’t the manager of Karasuno, I had large amounts of extra time with nothing to fill it. 

Such was the case on the Saturday morning after the second week at Aoba Johsai. Kiyoko was at a practice game against one of the other schools in the Miyagi prefecture, and I had already finished most of my homework. I had decided to pull out some of my old sketchbooks from under my bed, which had grown dusty from me not using them, deciding to try and pick back up my old hobby.

I’d stopped all kinds of art a few years ago, after my parents had a sit down talk with me about success. Before that, I had imagined that maybe I could make a bit of money by designing logos or web pages for businesses and companies, but my parents made it clear that would never be an option. 

But I was bored now, so the sketchbooks were laid out on the table and the pencils were sharpened. Unfortunately, I was a perfectionist who was out of practice and without any inspiration. I ended up breaking two of my nice pencils out of frustration, and decided to go on a run to cool my head. 

It was pretty early in the morning, only 8:30, and mist lay heavy in the air. It was good weather for running, cold enough that I wasn’t overheating as I jogged. 

I definitely wasn’t the most athletic person, although I wasn’t out of shape either. My body was curvy, not particularly muscly in any way, but I wasn’t fat. I had major body insecurities like every other girl in existence, but I had been working on it to try and like myself better recently. 

Either way, I was out of breath after only a few minutes of running, but I kept a steady pace, and focused on the rhythm of the music pounding through my headphones instead of the pain in my side. 

After jogging for almost twenty minutes through town, I finally allowed myself to slow to a walk as I approached a street. The road was busy, so I hit the button for the crosswalk and gave myself a minute of recovery. 

I almost jumped out of my skin as a voice spoke from behind me out of the blue. 

“Hey there, are you the new student at Aoba Johsai?” 

I turned and felt my heart practically stop. The boy that stood a foot away was tall with messy brown hair falling around his head, his figure lean with muscle but not very bulky. He was one of the prettiest people I had ever seen. I guessed that he had been on a run too, but unlike me, he didn’t look the slightest bit out of breath. 

“Oh um,” I realized I had forgotten to respond. “Yes I am. Do I know you?”

“Nope. Not yet,” He smirked, and I fought a blush. What was with this guy? 

“Uh, ok. Well I have to go…” Thankfully, the light turned, and I awkwardly turned away. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him watching me as I jogged across the street and headed back home. 

That night, I sat on Kiyoko’s bed, legs across her lap. Apparently Karasuno had lost the practice match, but only by two points. The team was improving all the time, with every practice and every game. 

According to Kiyoko, the boys had been upset that I wasn’t allowed to come to the practice game, which made me feel a bit happy. It was nice to be missed. 

“What did you do today?” Kiyoko asked, glasses flashing as she leaned over to plug her phone into a charger. 

“Literally nothing. Went for a run, attempted and failed at drawing, finished my homework.” I sighed. I didn’t mention the boy I had run into while I was out, but I had been thinking about the awkward encounter the whole day, each time making me more and more embarrassed. I had definitely been rude. I hadn’t even asked for his name! 

He hadn’t asked for mine either, I reminded myself, but at least he had talked like a normal person. I had just stuttered, which I always did when I got uncomfortable. Ah well. 

“Y/n-san, you should become Seijoh’s manager.” 

At first I wasn’t sure I heard her right. “Huh?” Kiyoko sighed, pushing up her glasses. “You love volleyball just as much as me, and clearly you’re going out of your mind with boredom. I think it would be good for you.” 

“But-but Aoba Johsai is in direct competition to Karasuno! They’re our enemy!” 

Kiyoko rolled her eyes. “Y/n, honestly. That’s not an excuse for you not to join. Yeah, you’ll probably have to play against us, but it's not like you’ll become our enemy.” 

I sighed, shoulders slumping. “Maybe I’ll just go to a practice and see what the team is like, and decide from there.”

My friend shrugged and nodded. “That sounds good. You have to tell me how it goes.” 

    ✨✨✨✨

On Monday, I went to the front office to ask about Seijoh’s volleyball club. Apparently they met after school for two hours every weekday except for Monday, as well as every other Saturday. It was a lot, but Karasuno did even more, so I knew I would be able to handle it. 

I had to ask a few people for directions about how to get to the gym, but I managed to get there before practice had officially started. I could hear shoes squeaking on the floor when I arrived, which made me pause. I hated being the only new person, especially when entering such a tight knit group like a volleyball team. My social anxiety always made things awkward. 

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that the boys would most likely be too busy to notice me, and I just had to go talk to the coach. 

I shoved open the doors, sliding into the gym and quickly surveying the space. It was way bigger than Karasuno’s gym, the equipment clearly better quality due to their higher budget. 

I expected a few of the team members to be there early, maybe doing simple spikes against the wall to warm up. Unfortunately for me, the entire team was already dressed and gathered around the coach. As the gym doors slammed closed behind me, they all looked over as I walked in. 

I felt all the blood rush to my face, and I awkwardly crossed my arms and stood off to the side as the coach finished talking. I noticed a few of the boys muttering to each other and gesturing at me, which only made my stomach twist. Thankfully, the coach sent them on lunging laps pretty quickly, which kept them from hanging around. 

“Oikawa, not you!” The coach yelled, gesturing at one of the boys. “Your knee isn’t fully healed yet and I don’t want you to reinjure it.” 

Oikawa, the team captain and setter, I remembered. The arrogant one that Kageyama didn’t like. My mouth fell open when he turned around. 

It was the same guy from my run, who had asked me if I was the new student. I felt my entire body tense, and I quickly looked away from him. Damn, this had been a bad idea. 

“Aw coach, come on! At least let me do something,” Oikawa said, practically pouting. 

“You can do some stretches over there,” the coach said with an annoyed look.

The setter grinned, and then he looked at me. His eyebrows went up in surprise as he recognized me, and I smiled awkwardly before quickly turning towards the coach. No need to interact more than necessary. 

“Hi, can I help you?” The coach was looking at me imploringly, and I quickly bowed. 

“Yes, my name is Y/n L/n, and I was looking to see if you had any need of a new team manager. I have some experience from my last school, and I would love to get involved here.” 

The coach looked surprised, but then he smiled. “You have the most perfect timing. Our official team manager just quit, so we were looking for someone to take over. You would need to fill out some paperwork and figure out if you’re eligible, but if you want to stay for today and see how it fits, that would work out great.”

“Ok! Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I’m Coach Nobuteru, and over there is our team captain, Oikawa Toru. Oikawa!” 

I turned around, only to see the tall setter making his way over to us. He grinned down at me, eyes trailing over my body and back up. “Hi again, new girl.” “Oikawa,” the coach said. “This is Y/n L/n. She’s looking to become our new team manager.” Coach Nobuteru spoke for me, and I bowed quickly. 

“It’s nice to meet you officially, Y/n-kun.” Oikawa said, bowing back. He looked clearly surprised that I was looking into the manager position, which annoyed me a bit. I wondered what he thought of me. 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you as well, Oikawa-san.” 

“Oikawa, why don’t you get back to work?” Coach Nobuteru said after a moment.

The team captain nodded, smirking at me one more time before heading back over to where his team were finishing their laps. 

I watched the practice on the sideline with Coach Nobuteru, assessing the players and trying to determine who needed to work on what. I asked the coach a lot of questions about names and strengths, and he looked at me with new respect as he seemed to realize that I actually did have experience with volleyball. 

It was obvious that Oikawa knew his team extremely well, and I couldn’t help but admire the way he encouraged them, capitalizing on their strengths. They worked like a well oiled machine, unlike anything Karasuno had ever managed to do, even though I didn’t want to admit it. 

The strength between Iwaizumi Hajime, the team’s ace, and Oikawa was almost unbelievable. They knew what the other was intending without effort, and they seemed to work in sync to slam one quick attack after the other over the net. The only relationship I had seen that could compare was that of Hinata and Kageyama. 

At the end of the practice, Coach Nobuteru directed me to the club office, where I could get the paperwork to officially become the team manager. As I left the gym, I felt the best I had for a long time. The energy from watching the team play volleyball made me feel light and happy, like I had a purpose again. It was definitely nerve racking to have to learn the names, strengths and weaknesses, preferences, and relationships of the entire team, but it was also exciting. I would do my best to be as good a manager of Seijoh as I was of Karasuno. 

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa torū #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #fanfic #fandom #simp

[yusuke-of-valla]

face down in the carpet i feel safe

Gen, but you can read Shukita

TW: cursing, bleeding, self-depricating thoughts, mind control

[A/N]: @soniagiris​ welp. I stabbed the boy.

Wordcount: 1456

AO3

-

It’s almost like being in a dream. Things seem perfectly normal while you’re sleeping, but when you wake up you can’t understand how you thought the 8 foot tall bats flying down the street made any kind of sense.

It’s so funny, Yusuke can’t help but laugh while Makoto tries to staunch the blood flowing from his abdomen.

“Diarahan! Diarahan! Fucking diarahan!”

“Stop, you’ll just tire yourself out.”

“It- this should work! Why isn’t it working?”

It’s his own fault, naturally. He was too slow. If he’d just dodged that Marin Karin, if he hadn’t missed the shadow earlier and allowed Ann to finish it off before this could happen, he wouldn’t have gotten hit, and he wouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in a world where it made perfect sense to attack Akira, and Akira wouldn’t have had to stab him to get him to stop.

“We’ll just have to get him to a hospital. Skull, grab his legs, we need to get him into the bus.”

“Alright. Ya hear that, Fox? We’re going to get you help. Just hold tight buddy.”

If he’s being honest, he deserves this. Yusuke had barely slept the night before. He’d sat in his room in the dark trying to paint, just fucking paint— he used to be good at this didn’t he? He used to be able to make art that meant something, that reached people right?— and if he could’ve just done the one damn thing he’s done his entire life, if he’d just been enough then maybe he would’ve been rested and wouldn’t have been such a failure. He wouldn’t have let his friends down and gotten used like that and-

“I think he’s hyperventilating? Should he be hyperventilating? C’mon Inari you’re not allowed to die on us!”

“Fox, can you hear us? Just focus on my voice, alright? It’ll be okay”

Nothing is remotely okay. Yusuke doesn’t know the last time he’d been “okay”, not really. There had been days where he could keep his head above water but he’s always been one mistake away from being lost beneath the waves. It’s only natural that his luck finally ran out.

“Is the wound… getting worse?”

“What?!”

“Shit, I think he’s right. It’s getting bigger.”

“How is it getting bigger?”

“I don’t know! We’ve been keeping him as steady as possible.”

There’s too much shouting. Too many bright lights, too much going on. He wants-

He wants to feel like himself again.

He wants to feel like a person instead of some useless thing that can’t even do the one thing he’s really good at.

He wants to feel stable, and like he knows what’s expected of him, and what he needs to do.

He wants to be back at Madarame’s.

He wants to not be so pathetic. That’s really the right word for it, isn’t? He’s a child trying to cling desperately to a lie.

It’s so fucking funny.

Yusuke isn’t sure if he’s laughing or crying right now.

“Panther, knock him out.”

“What?”

“Just put him to sleep! I’ll explain in a second, but I think he’s the one making it worse.”

“Alright. Carmen!”

~

Yusuke wakes up in a hospital room. He tilts his head to see Akechi in the corner, reading a book.

Yusuke considers saying something, but the thought of talking feels like too much effort so he just watches Akechi, until Akechi looks up.

“Ah. You’re awake,” Akechi says, putting the book down and taking out his phone quickly. “How are you feeling?”

Yusuke hums noncommittally. He feels like trash, but he’s not giving Akechi that ammunition.

Akechi nods. “I see.”

Suddenly, the door bursts open and the rest of the Phantom Thieves spill into the room. 

“Yusuke!” Ann gasps. 

“Holy shit dude, don’t scare us like that!” Ryuji says. He looks like he’s been crying.

Yusuke supposes he can’t keep quiet now.

“Sorry?” Yusuke says. His voice is shaky and hoarse.

“We were so scared you…” Makoto takes a deep breath, and steadies her voice. “You lost a lot of blood, and the doctors said you’ll have to be here for at least another week, but probably a little longer.”

“Oh.” is all Yusuke can say, and really isn’t that just the cherry on top? They’ll insist on putting off any future operations for his sake now. He really is useless.

“Can you guys give us some alone time?” Akira asks. The others share a look, Futaba especially looks like she wants to protest, but eventually they all leave the room. Akira pulls up a chair closer to Yusuke, and sits down.

“Sorry for stabbing you.” Akira says.

“It was mostly my fault.” Yusuke replies.

Akira stares at him, and Yusuke isn’t sure he’s ever seen their leader truly at a loss for words. Akira’s been known to pause sometimes, to think over the best thing to say, but Yusuke’s never seen him look like this.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Yusuke says.

“You do?”

“I’ll accept my removal from the Phantom Thieves graciously, you don’t need to worry.” Akira’s eyes widen, and Yusuke tries to keep his composure. Of course this would happen, he messed up, he caused problems, which means he’s out. There’s no use keeping around someone who can’t pull their weight.

“Yusuke, no.” Akira says. “I would never dream of kicking you out, why would you even-” Akira takes a deep breath. “Alright, I can guess why, but still. That’s not true. What I was going to say was, after I stabbed you, the wound didn’t close up, no matter what we tried. And Akechi said that maybe the problem was your cognition.” Akira bites his lip. “Like, you didn’t want to be healed, or you didn’t think you should be.”

Yusuke turns away so that he’s not looking into Akira’s eyes anymore. “I… suppose my thinking was along the lines of ‘I failed, so I deserve it’,” he mutters.

“Yusuke… you didn’t fail. It was just an accident, it happens to the best of us.”

“When the others get brainwashed, they're not relentless to the point that you’re forced to stab them to get them to stop.” Because if there’s one thing Yusuke’s always been good at, it’s doing what he’s told. He’d gone after Akira with aplomb, had his hands around their leader’s neck and squeezed until Akira was forced to lash out and-

“That wasn’t you failing.”

“Then what is?” Yusuke snaps. What does he mean that wasn’t a failure? Yusuke nearly killed him, then he worried everyone because Yusuke apparently can’t be healed, so now he’s a liability in battle and-

Yusuke wants to scream. Akira is too nice. He’s never bothered by anything Yusuke does and Yusuke’s sick of it. Someone is always bothered by something Yusuke does, Yusuke can’t not fuck up somehow. Eventually he crosses one of the ten billion invisible lines that everyone but him seems to know, so why won’t Akira just tell him which ones to avoid? Why does he have to keep insisting there isn’t a point when Yusuke won’t be enough?

“Nothing.” Akira says firmly. 

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes it is.”

Yusuke rolls his eyes. “Akira, that’s absolute nonsense. There has to be a line. I could get Futaba killed. I could reveal your secrets, I could-”

“But you wouldn’t.” Akira insists. 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I trust you Yusuke.” Akira places a hand on Yusuke’s. “Please, trust yourself. Trust that you are doing the best you can do right now, trust that you don’t have to force yourself to be better, and trust that you’re not falling short of some sort of cosmic prerequisite for people to care about you.”

“You are a magnificent liar, Akira.” Yusuke says, drawing his hand away.

“I’m not lying.” Akira says. “Yusuke please look at me.” Begrudgingly, he does, and Akira takes off his glasses and meets Yusuke’s eyes. 

“Yusuke, I promise you, there is no way you could fail me, or any of the others in a way that would make us leave. You’re not going to be thrown away the second you’re no longer useful, alright?”

Yusuke nods. 

“And I am going to keep telling you that until you believe me. The others too.” Akira says.

Akira’s words hang in the air, and Yusuke...

A part of him wants to believe Akira.

Another part reminds him of the last time Yusuke desperately wanted to believe someone.

“Can you please go?” Yusuke mutters. “I’d like to take a nap.”

Akira stares at him, and for a split second Yusuke thinks that Akira will say no, and demand his attention, but eventually Akira nods. “Yeah, sure. We’ll be here when you wake up.

#persona 5 #yusuke kitagawa #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #shukita #alto writes #blood tw #cursing tw #mind control tw #self-deprecation tw #wordcount: 1000-1500 #fun fact leaving comments or reblogging gives me serotonin ✌🏽

[mcwriting]

London boy

Hi guys! I’m back with a lil quarantine pick me up! It’s been sooooo long so it felt good to write again. I’m almost done with this semester so I’m hoping I can do more writing soon. All this being said, make sure to check my note at the end about a possible part 2 and let me know what you think! Love y’all!

*Also PSA I’ve never been to London unless Heathrow airport counts so I tried to do my best research but sorry if things are wrong*

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom Holland x y/n

Setting: Begins in Nashville, TN but mostly takes place in London

Word Count: 2299 (whew)

Warnings: Alcohol consumption? I can’t think of any others. It’s mostly fluff

Rating: Like a K or something

$

You were hanging out on Broadway St.

No, not the one in New York. The one in Nashville, Tennessee.

It was a place filled with great live music, dancing all night long, and lots and lots of alcohol. 

You and some friends had gone out to a particular bar that another friend’s band was playing at, all dressed up in ripped up jean shorts, riding boots, and a cute cowboy hat.

As you all waited for them to get on stage, you ordered a round to loosen up a bit, you getting some Jack Daniels on the rocks.

That local flavor would forever be your first choice, especially compared to the tequila shots some of the girls chose instead.

$

Tom Holland, Harrison Osterfield, and some of their buddies strolled down Broadway, too.

Tom’s newest project was set in the city and a long day of filming called for letting loose for the night and getting to know a little bit more of Nash culture.

They came upon one place where a band was playing a Bruce Springsteen song, so they headed in, beelining to the bar. 

As they waited for their own drinks, Tom turned his head to look around when he caught a glance of you, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

You were coolly half sitting-half leaning on a barstool, sipping your drink as you soaked in the music. Your friend’s band always sounded great, but you decided to scan the room to see how other people were reacting. 

You turned your head, the big curls in your hair flipping over your shoulder. As you looked straight down the bar you caught eyes with a brunette man laughing with his friends, face going slack as he stared back at you. 

You looked him up and down, not taking much time to study his face, then smiled and turned back to the band. 

Please come over here you thought, trying to not look again.

Tom turned to his group.

“Do you see that girl? That’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!”

“Well then go on you div, make a conversation,” Harrison said as the others gassed Tom up, too.

The guys pushed him around a bit as he bounced up and down on his toes, trying to hype himself up.

A few moments later you saw a male figure approach from the corner of your eye. You had planned to flirt with him, but the second you turned to say something, you froze.

It was Tom. Holland.

You both stared at each other silently for a second, both surprised, until finally he spoke up, his accent clearly British among the southern Nashville drawls around you.

“Sorry to bother you, but I saw you across the bar and couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and it took a moment before you found words to reply.

“I- thank you. You’re Tom Holland, right?” you asked incredulously.

It was his turn to blush and look at the ground. He nodded his head, a cute smile lighting up his face.

“That’s me. Now would you mind the honor of teaching me how to dance like the tennesseans?”

It took no thought to take his hand and tear up the dance floor that night.

$

It had been almost 3 years since you’d met Tom that in Nash. A night of dancing and drinking had led to you going back to his hotel that night. 

Nothing had actually happened between you though, because you were both too drunk and sleepy to do anything but crash on top the bed.

It had, however, sparked the beginnings of an amazing romance, where in the present, you were strolling down Camden Market looking at art, clothing, and jewelry as you tried to decide where to grab food.

Hands held tightly together, you both decided to stop for a moment to look over the canal, but you instead focused your attention onto his face that glowed in the sunlight.

He turned to you and did the same, both of you grinning like kids when your eyes met. 

“Oh how I love that American smile of yours,” he breathed.

“I fancy you too, darling,” you returned, heart full. 

$

On your first trip to London, he’d taken you to Highgate, where some of his childhood friends lived. Of course you already knew Harrison, Tuwaine, and Tom’s brothers (considering most of them had been there the night you met), but you’d been nervous to make a good impression.

It wasn’t long until you were jumping into their conversation and joking too, as if you’d all been friends for years.

You and Tom had only been dating about 6 months by this point, and had somehow kept the relationship secret from the public, so it felt nice to be introduced as his girlfriend.

You’d gone into the kitchen to refresh your drink when Harrison followed behind. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked out of nowhere, “at least, that’s what we all think.”

You paused to think.

I guess the rumors are true...

$

Another trip about a year into the relationship and you’d learned to love high tea, listening to stories from Tom’s days in acting and carpentry schools, and the West End.

It was hard to believe every time you went to a show that in days past, Tom had been on that stage, too. 

You’d also spent time at the pubs with him and the boys, sometimes watching rugby, other times playing pub quizzes. 

There were also times that you went out dancing. It was a whole different world from line dances and country music, but over time it felt just as natural.

$

In the present, your time around the market had been ended early as clouds darkened and turned to gloomy rain. 

It didn’t really bother you though, because as the cab took you through the city, you saw the lights glow and illuminate the glistening buildings you’d come to love.  

“I’m sorry we had to cut the day short, love,” Tom whispered, squeezing your hand with his. 

“Are you kidding?” you beamed, “I’ve had so much fun today! We got to explore the heart of the city, go shopping at the market, and eat great food. Plus, now we can go with everyone to that teahouse I love. What more could a girl ask for?” 

“God, I love you,” he grinned as you leaned on his shoulder to look back out the window, distracting yourself for the long ride back to his house.

$

About a year and a half of dating, and you’d come to visit Tom while he was filming a movie at the Warner Bros. studio in Watford. 

Since he was filming up north, you chose to rent a hotel in the heart of the city so Tom could stay closer to work (and therefore have more time with you).

Most of the nights he could, you’d go club in Brixton. Afternoons off were spent in Shoreditch trying restaurants and looking at art. You also got to see his buddies from Highgate again, joking and having fun just as before.

By now, your relationship was public and of course the paparazzi was often trying to photograph you, but you didn’t really mind it. It was nice getting to show the world just how in love you were with this boy.

$

For your two year anniversary, Tom had flown you out to the city for a romantic getaway, where instead of staying at his house like usual, he paid to have you stay in a royal suite at a 5 star hotel in the heart of London, overlooking the river. 

You spent the trip mostly to yourselves, not going out to the pubs at night like usual, instead choosing to have private dinners or go to nice restaurants. 

He took you shopping around Bond St, showering you with expensive things that you of course didn’t need (and had to buy a second suitcase to haul), but the gesture alone was the nicest thing a boyfriend had done for you.

Of course, you also visited with his family and had a nice time with all of them, but spending private time with Tom was the best of all.

The place you stayed made you feel like a queen (it was royal after all), and it fit the way he could never help but call you his Tennessee queen.

The lingerie he’d gotten you also came in handy, because when you emerged from the bathroom wearing only that, he would say in a husky voice, 

“Babe, don’t threaten me with a good time,” before you’d do exactly that.

$

In the present, you were back at Tom’s place, preparing for dinner with his family when he called you to the backyard.

The rain had let up, leaving a lovely sunset sky, which is what you were expecting him to talk about once you came to the back porch.

“Wow, that’s pretty,” you stated, snapping your hoop earring shut to complete your look for the night. 

Tom had said it would be a nice dinner, so you’d put on the soft pink dress he had bought earlier that day the second you said you loved it and some matching heels. You had also spent time curling your hair and doing some makeup, wanting to look and feel good.

“You look more beautiful than a thousand sunsets,” he whispered back, causing you to blush as pink as your dress. You gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“What did you call me out here for? Shouldn’t we head out soon?”

“Right, yeah. I got distracted there for a second,” he chuckled before continuing, “Y/n, do you remember the night we met?”

“Of course. I’ll keep that day burned into my memory until the day I die.”

“Well, that night I told my mates that you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and it’s still true. I don’t regret a single thing about the past 3 years of loving you.”

Your heart began to pound and you tried to steady your breathing. Was this it? Was this what you thought it was?

God, I hope so a voice in your head was screaming.

He took your hands in his and squeezed them. 

“Y/n L/n, I love you so dearly. I’ve probably loved you since the night I took you back to my hotel and I woke up to find you laying atop my bed and just didn’t realize it then.”

He began to bend his knees and reached a hand into his pocket, butterflies now rising in your stomach like nothing before.

“I want to love you for the rest of my life. Y/n L/n, will you marry me?” His hands held open a box with the most perfect ring you’d ever seen.

Tears welled up in your eyes and a watery smile rose to your face. You were speechless, so at first all you could do was nod, then finally you exclaimed,

“YES!”

Both of your hands were shaking as he slipped the ring onto your left hand, and then he stood up, pressing you into a deep kiss. 

You were on cloud nine.

You heard shouts behind you, breaking the kiss to see Harrison and Tuwaine cheering and recording on their phones. 

“Wait a second, where’s Harry?”

Nearby, a bush rustled and out stepped the twin, camera in hand.

“You guys all really planned this for me?” you asked, elated.

“Anything for you, babe. I was worried that it would be ruined by the rain, but it looks like things worked out just right,” he answered.

You stared down at the ring, still not quite believing everything, but your gaze eventually fell down to your watch.

“Well, I hate to kill the mood, but I’m so hungry I don’t know what to do with myself, and it’s time to go anyways, so let’s get out of here!”

$

You rode in Tom’s car while the other boys piled into Harry’s. They arrived first and were waiting at the door when you arrived. 

“Alright, follow us, we have a private room,” Haz said, the three boys leading you and Tom that way. 

You had a feeling the dinner was an engagement celebration, but had no expectation of what happened next.

The doors opened to tons of people yelling “Congratulations!” while holding cute balloons and champagne glasses. You scanned the room and were happy to see Tom’s family and friends from London and home, including the one’s that had been there that night in Nashville.

The most surprising thing, however, was your family. You hadn’t seen them in almost a month due to work and travel, so immediately you ran into their arms.

“She said yes, by the way!” Tom exclaimed happily, causing another round of cheers from the crowd.

“I can’t believe you all came!” you said to everyone, especially towards your US friends. 

“Well it wouldn’t be a real engagement if we didn’t celebrate with something special,” one friend said. 

“What do you mean?” 

With that, she plopped a hat onto your head. You pulled it off, confused until you got a good look at it. It was the hat you were wearing the night you met Tom. 

“We were gonna bring the boots and booty shorts, too, but I think what you’ve got goin’ on is a little classier,” another friend piped up, garnering laughs from your friend group. 

You pressed the hat back over your head, not caring if it squished the curls you’d gotten to lay perfectly not too long before.

“Well, then. Let’s get this rodeo started!” you exclaimed, gathering yet another of many cheers you and Tom would receive that night and for years to come.

$

A/N: Omg guys. I did it. I wrote something new. I’m thinking about making this a two shot, where the second part is more from Tom’s perspective and explores his visits to the US and I’ll call it Nashville Girl. Idk if any good songs exist that would tie in but whatever. 

Anyways, love you all and thank you for your continued support! Please stay safe and STAY HOME!

#london boy #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland dancing #Harry Holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #spider-man #spiderman #spider man #Spider Man: Homecoming #SPIDER MAN FAR FROM HOME #sm:ffh #sm:hoco

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Ch1: Auction Block

Masterlist

 The Auction House Masterlist

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson X OFC

Warnings: Angst

Summary: The team works a black-market soldier trade disguised as a fine art auction organized by what remains of HYDRA. The key to the vault each individual is kept in is inside the antique sold. The soldier up for auction tonight is top priority, the Avengers can’t allow them with their kill count nor skill go to others who will use them. But to add to it all, they have also taken on Loki at the urging of Thor that his brother is on their side. Though Loki is having trouble shaking the feeling he should be the one attending the auction.   

A/N: A soulmate AU. (I know it's been done, a lot!) In my AU, you know your soulmate by dreaming of them throughout your life, and when it is time to meet you ‘catch them’ in the dream. I'm still working on the ins and outs of this AU as I go. This will possibly be heavy on angst and pining and all that lovey heartbreak stuff. Needless to say, Loki nor his soulmate take well to the discovery of what they mean to one another, nor to how they are to act towards one another. Set after the events of Endgame. Everyone survived, including Loki, Tony, and Natasha.

Words: +5,000

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Walking upon a woman standing out in the ankle-deep snow in a white gown was, new to say the least. What came as a shock was that for once they were alone. Had Loki not known who, or what she was, the god would have suspected the large framed woman a lost bride. 

The giveaway telling him she was no bride was the dagger she held dripping with blood, hand saturated in gore and staining the thin gown where it rested at her side. The wind whipped the gauze material around her bare legs and tossed lose, platinum blond hair around her stoic face. 

Platinum wasn't her natural color. Her hair was normally a dark auburn almost black when they met, but then again the setting around them wasn't the usual as well. The vast open, scraggly area of forest was filled with blowing snow and sprigs of dead limbs. Normally they met in calmer places such as the gardens of Asgard, but even then he had never gotten this close to her.

Bright violet rimmed irises bored into Loki’s own as he paused, studying her movements or lack thereof. Thick frame stood stiff, but oddly appeared relaxed, as if she was very familiar with the setting and circumstances. He sensed an air of defiance as she continued to hold his gaze proudly.

Strange enough the god noted though she appeared bold and proud she seemed ashamed of the gore that she glanced over before looking back to him. Loki had gotten close enough to note her skin break out in goose flesh as the wind picked up.

Venturing a step closer, the god was sure to go slow. Intuition informed him the woman was more akin to a frightened child. The look in her eyes told him she had been forced to mature well beyond her age at an unrelenting pace. 

Snow crunched under boot, breaking the silence but thankfully she didn't bolt. Cautiously he approached, steadily reaching his hand out for the dagger as he done so. This time there was a nervous flicker in violet orbs before she forced it back and glanced to the dagger as if having forgotten it. 

Like an obedient child, she lifted the bloody dagger away from her side for him to take. A small smile tugged at his lips, carefully taking it in hand to discard in a wisp of seidr. Noting her shifting on bare feet as he was finally standing before her, gazing into violet orbs. 

It was apparent to the god she wasn't sure how to judge his intent but stopped her fidgeting to still and puzzle at him. Reaching out a steady hand, Loki pushed the platinum hair away to get a better look at her eyes but paused his fingertips against her soft cheek. 

An explosion of chartreuse rimmed with bright violet was more beautiful than he ever imagined. Loki always found her in his dreams and nightmares, but never before had he been able to capture her.

She was like background noise when he slept. Even in nightmares this woman was a beacon of hope, a ray of light. Though always she had dark hair, he guessed the darker shade was its natural color, but now, he didn’t understand why it was white and he found her like this; lost. 

This was the first time he was able to lay a hand on her, to stand toe to toe with the woman. It was more comforting than he could have ever thought. Loki had chased this woman, his soulmate, through dreams and nightmares for as long as he cared to remember. 

Loki gave a kind smile, the woman appearing confused as to the meaning of it. She stayed still as he caressed over soft cheek, seen her wanting to give in and lean into the touch; but nervously she stepped a few inches back. Looking him over but remaining close so Loki could continue caressing over the soft flesh. 

A glimmer catching Loki's eye had him looking down to note the sparkling ring on her left hand, encircling the ring finger. Twined around the digit was a gold band encrusted with emeralds, golden snakes twisting around it in the form of his rune. 

There was only one other who had worn the ring and that was his wife Sigyn, who had long passed. Maybe Frigga had been right, this lost creature before him was his true soulmate. Meeting her gaze, Loki had known all along his marriage to Sigyn would be brief. 

“Loki,” a faint voice called out to him on the wind. 

Damn. Not now. 

Not now since he was finally able to touch her, see the woman before him for what she was. Frigga had always told him when the time was right he would get to catch her. That meant he was closer to finding her. That it was time they truly met. Fingers ghosted over her soft neck as the wind called to him once more and he caught apprehension flicker in her eyes. 

Preparing to tell her it was OK, Thor called out once more.

Damn.

Loki remained still, allowing her to step back towards a thicket he now noticed. Studying the woman close, he relished in the playful smile she gave before turning to dart into the bare limbs.

Taking a moment to look after her, though Loki felt a heavy heated hand on his shoulder shaking him, it gave him peace.

The god knew he needed to find her soon, he wasn’t sure he could wait much longer after finally catching her; as his mother put it.

Waking with a harsh huff. Damn oaf, knew how to ruin a good time.

Instantly Loki met Thor with a scornful gaze as he sat up to note the annoying alarm clock was going off. Waiving his wrist to shut it off, Thor stepped back appearing he was ready for Loki to fling harsh words his way as the young god stood to his feet.

Still the dark god didn’t break the glare he sat Thor with. “You hardly ever sleep. Is everything ok,” Thor finally ventured, studying his brother close as he clothed himself with seidr.

It was obviously time for them to get a move on. Since declaring Loki was on their side the Avengers had insisted he help. 

“Never better,” Loki huffed as if pained by having been woken but he had a feeling Thor knew better. Studying Thor’s own garb it appeared they were to possibly readying for a mission thanks to the do gooders. Though the team had taken to only briefing Thor who was left to brief Loki. “What is it this morning?” 

“Captain Rogers asked for us to stop a arms heist. The others are infiltrating some sort of auction-,” Thor explained, stepping out of the room for Loki to step next to him and follow the blond out to the kitchen counter, the area littered with papers and files.

“I believe I would be more suited to attend the auction,” Loki spoke up, having cut off Thor’s explanation as to what they were going to be doing. “I don’t see the others having the sophistication or know how to navigate the intricacies-,” the dark god spoke hotly only for Thor to cut him off.

“Are you sure you’re-,” Thor began, noting Loki seemed, off? Would one put it that way?

The younger god had been sleeping more as of late, and this was the first time he voiced being concerned over a mission. This wasn’t the first auction the others had tackled the past few months, but this was the first one Thor picked up an apprehension from Loki for.

“Just fine,” Loki huffed, more or less upset he had lost his chance to finally touch her, the one he had been led to believe was his soulmate, if there was such a thing. 

Honestly he had his doubts he had one as he looked to Thor, the oaf had found his own soulmate, the mortal Jane, so why would he not have one of his own? Holding Thor’s gaze, though he called the other an oaf he was far more perceptive then many gave credit for. Quickly Loki calmed his rage over not getting to speak with her and hinted to the files on the counter.

“Continue,” Loki huffed once more, trying to sound irritated, which he was but he had calmed some.

Though Loki couldn’t shake the feeling he should be going to the auction. He should be the one fetching the super soldier, as they called them. Loki noted Thor’s pause, damn oaf was putting details together, but thankfully he dropped it.  

“It's simple,” Thor spoke up, glaring at Loki.

Simple meant no casualties, protect bystanders, don’t make a scene, be a good guy. Pulling a face, apparently it was what the older god expected. “No casualties, they can’t question the dead,” Thor stressed.

“Well, they can’t question the dead, but I can,” Loki snipped, picking up the paper that had Thor’s scribbling all over it.

“Loki, alive,” Thor ordered, meeting his brother’s gaze.

The younger knew he was still being studied, knew Thor had an idea what maybe happening but if he was smart he would keep it to himself.

“Aye-. Alive,” Loki finally huffed in defeat, tossing the paper to the counter. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was the one needed to attend the auction, the one to fetch the soldier.

This was the last auction the team had waited for, meaning this was the one Bucky had been going over and stressing with the team they couldn’t allow out of their hands.

Having secured the last three assets auctioned off over the past few months was a relief but not as much as this one would be. In all the years he had been under HYDRA’s control, Bucky had never heard them call name to this one. A woman who, if he had to guess appeared in her very early thirties but it was hard to tell. Stasis and serum had an effect on one’s body that could make age determination hard.

Sitting on an elegant chase lounge with Wanda leaning in his side, the ex-asset ran over the stats they had been given on the woman being actioned off tonight. It appeared her ‘key’ was to be located in a green vase with a golden snake curled around it.

Tilting his head at the color scheme of the vase, it made him think of Loki, that pompous bastard was thankfully with his brother thousands of miles away. The shifting of Wanda getting his attention as she nodded to the auctioneer taking the stand. They had sat through several hours of ‘fake’ auction, but those in the loop knew what was next.

“Kill count is out the roof guys,” came Sam’s voice over the comm as Bucky nodded in agreement, Wanda settling closer while Bucky kept watch and she read people.

“There are several high-profile individuals here,” came Wanda’s meek voice next to Bucky who was looking several of them over.

“Yeah, looks like we may have some heavy contenders tonight,” Bucky spoke into his drink before placing it to his knee and focusing on the auctioneer.

Wanda shifted nervously next to him again. “I don’t like this,” she breathed, looking up to Bucky who had nano skin over his face to hide his appearance like her.

“We don’t have to like this. We just have to get the vase and were gone,” came Steve’s voice over the comms. Easy for them to say, they weren’t in the thick of the crowd as bidding began. 

The key in hand after almost an hour of bidding, Bucky and Steve stepped cautiously into the large warehouse. Steve at the ready with his shield while Bucky carried his go to riffle. The entire area an open, empty room but for a metal container towards the back and hidden in shadow.

It was, eerie to say the least as their boots echoed through the empty space. Bucky on guard for anyone about to jump out at them despite there was nowhere for anyone to hide. The sounds around them told them it was just them and the team outside, plus the one in the metal container.

Slowly they rounded the edge of the open steel box, a coldness pouring off of it that chilled them to the core. Shining the flashlight of his riffle into the container, noting it's only occupant was contained in a cryotube with flashing red lights all over the readout screen.  

The cylinder contained a white-haired woman in a black cryo suit Bucky was all too familiar with. The tube appeared to be thawing out, for lack of a better term, the vital readouts on the outside of the container showing she was waking. 

“She’s is waking up,” Bucky spoke over to Steve who was hot on his heels as he entered the container, placing the riffle over his shoulder.

Hurriedly Bucky looked over the read out, pressing his fingers over the touch screen before looking through the glass to note she was taking a breath every now and then. Unfortunately due to HYDRA, he had knowledge on how to bring others out of cryo, a sort of protocol he guessed. 

“What do we do,” Steve began, placing the shield on his back and watching Bucky as he moved his fingers over the screen, vitals and status of the containment slowly turning green.

“Best get her out. She will be semi-coherent, and easy to transport,” Bucky admitted as he stepped to open the container.

A few more presses and they both heard the vacuum lock on the door release with a loud hiss. Despite being tilted back, both men knew she would possibly fall forward due to being in a slightly lucid state. Looking to Steve as he wrapped his hand around the door handle Bucky nodded he was ready as Steve done the same.

Opening the door, the woman lurched forward into Bucky and Steve’s arms, both catching and dragging her to dead feet. Weakly she tried to look at the two who had her but was too addled as her head drooped back down.

“I got her,” Steve spoke up, taking her from Bucky to lift the addled creature in his arms.

Unfortunately Bucky knew how she felt as the two of them made their way out of the container. “Asset secure,” Bucky informed the team, hearing the quinn jet over the building move towards the exit they were headed to.

Stepping onto the waiting jet, Steve wasted no time in placing her to the gurney they had brought for this purpose. Hurriedly, Steve and Natasha pulled the nylon straps to secure her to the gurney, even placing restraints on woman’s wrists and ankles.

Looking her over, Natasha placed a small disk under the woman's ear to take a readout of all vitals. “They bleached her hair,” Natasha frowned, the braided mess of platinum blond not at all what she remembered.

“Yeah. They done it the last time she was out,” Bucky huffed as he looked at the woman’s vitals, glad they were steady, but-.

“Move,” Bucky barked the instant one vital spiked, metal hand wrapping around Natasha’s forearm to jerk the red head back from the table.

Ripping free of the restraints as if they were paper, the platinum blond fumbled drunkenly to be free of the gurney. Falling to the grate with a loud huff, she grabbed for the stable rail of the bed she had just fell out of and drug herself to shaky legs.

Leering at the others around her, trying to comprehend who, or what she seen exactly it registered she was on an aircraft of some sort. Numbly stumbling towards the cock pit to glare out to noting but bright blue sky and noting this wasn’t any kind of craft she had been trained on.

It did have similarities, but it was not registering. Pausing to squint out at the bright lit sky she steadied on the seats. Taking time to orient herself, this wasn’t a HYDRA ship. Turning carefully and supporting herself on the chairs, she surveyed the ones before her, hearing the blond man ask when the last time she had been out. 

“During the collapse of shield,” answered the red head who looked very familiar, violet gaze landing on the one she swore was from the Red Room.  

They group was made up of two read headed women, a blond man, and a brunet man.

Wondering her eyes over the group to immediately recognize Winter. “Hail HYDRA,” the woman’s unused voice rasped, it came out more as a question than a statement aimed at Bucky who held her gaze. Slowly the metal armed soldier stepped forward and shook his head no. 

They saw a light sparkle in her eyes, akin to relief. To her that meant HYDRA failed the takeover. There was no way Winter would fake that, no matter what. 

“They failed in their takeover,” Winter admitted, cautiously stepping closer, unsure what her mind was hardwired to do. 

In a mad scramble through her subconscious, the woman tried to think of what needed to happen now. She had no orders. No directions and no way off the craft. And there was no way she was in any shape to fight the group. 

Carefully she inched to the gurney, with the help of Winter who wasn’t as rough with her as he once had been. Gingerly she sat back onto the bed, leaning on Bucky for a bit of support. She noted the look in his eyes, he wasn’t the cold killer he once was, he had broken free, but that meant he knew the look in hers.  

“She’s too weak to fight,” Bucky began as she eyed them all. Bucky knew had she the strength she would have fought to get free; it was all she done when they pulled her out of stasis.

Stoically she studied them all as Winter remained close. The metal armed soldier was actually holding her up right, it appeared she was more addled than originally thought, but then again they hadn’t forced sludge through her veins either.  

“Wanda,” Steve spoke up hinting the younger red head step close to the woman along with him. The blond sure to keep close watch on the confused asset. “Can you help?”

Wanda looked the other over as it appeared the asset, who they still hadn’t a clue to what to call her studied the red head as well. The violet rimmed chartreuse irises were beautiful, but Wanda hated to think what had been done to the other to achieve them.

“If she allows me,” Wanda finally spoke stepping closer, slowly reaching out a hand towards the woman supported by Bucky.

This didn’t look faked, and dare they all think it, the platinum blond had an innocence about her. Violet eyes narrowed when red mist began to swirl around Wanda’s fingers. Truthfully, what choice did she have?  

Despite the over exuberant Shuri, the teen was sure to take it slow with the newest asset along with Steve. Shuri had been sticking around the compound to help out with the recovery of the other assets but had little luck with the other three that were now on the Raft.

They all hoped that it wouldn’t be the same with her, but from all intel, it appeared she had the same treatment as Bucky. They knew from Bucky she had trigger words, and always looked for a way to break free of HYDRA’s control, and that was a good start.

Thanks to Natasha, the red head had managed to coax the woman into a set of white scrubs in luau of the stasis uniform and got her seated in an exam chair that reclined a touch back. The entire room taking note it appeared the two women understood one another, Steve hated the red head had to leave.

Gently the techs placed electrodes through the tangled mess of white hair over her scalp at the direction of Shuri. Thankfully the asset seemed to understand they were all trying to help unlike the others brought from the auctions, or she was still too weak to fight. Either way, Steve was sure to stay while sending the others to debriefing.  

The young Shuri was sure to explain what they were doing to ease any tension. Steve speaking to the woman as well, reassuring her they were trying to help. They hadn’t gotten much out of her since Bucky left, the brunet leaving the things he and Wanda had been given at the auction on a table behind her.

Bucky had gotten a few things from her, explained about the fall of HYDRA and how Steve had helped him along with Shuri. Though all he got was a few jumbled words in Russian that amounted to her not knowing her own name, but the handlers had always called her Сокровище, or Treasure.

“You can relax, we’re only trying to help,” Steve continued, though he had a feeling she really wouldn’t. The captain noted Treasure place oddly steady hands in her lap, as of it was unexpected. Calmly the woman looked her hands over before looking back up to stare off in the mid-ground, a thing Bucky done. 

Looking back to the table, Steve noted the leather-bound book, the cover dyed a deep green with HYDRA’s signature seal on the cover. It struck him as odd it was green, more so the color of Loki’s own leathers. Taking one last look at Treasure, Steve took a step back and hinted to a tech to hand him the book.

With a kind smile, one obliged the captain who thanked them before moving back to the assets side. Opening the book, pages littered in Russian just as Bucky’s was, the blond noted the woman look up, studying him close as Shuri worked around them. 

“I take it you know what this is,” he asked hinting to the book, noting the brightly colored violet rimmed irises study the worn manuscript close. Steve seen the urge to speak flit behind her eyes, to tell all, but she only looked away as the techs backed away, ready to run test.

Keen hearing picked up on the click of machines starting up along with the feel of a slight charge from the electrodes.

Clearing her mind, Treasure knew this was to help. They were gentle, not demanding, not forcing her to sit here.

Winter, no he was called Bucky, informed her, Treasure, her name is Treasure, that Shuri had helped rid him of the chaos HYDRA had caused in his mind.

This would work, this would work, this had to work.

A tickling at the back of her mind told her it may not be that simple.

A slight twinge at the back of her skull.

She wondered if she would dream again, if she would remember the thing, no it was a person correct?

Whatever it was it was a something HYDRA had worked so hard to force out of her mind. 

In moments of collecting information, Shuri noted a jump in activity when Steve uttered a word in Russian and Treasure’s gaze flicked to him nervously. It appeared Steve was to engrossed in the book to notice he had gotten her full attention.

The captain began to utter one more under his breath, but Treasure had heard enough.

This wasn’t going to happen again. 

There was a lot of commotion coming from the room Thor and Loki were passing. The two gods having finished with debriefing, much to Loki’s annoyance, to hear someone cursing and glass breaking. The two stepping into the infirmary to find Shuri and her techs scrambling to lock down a room with Steve assuring all were out as the sliding door sealed. 

“What happened,” Thor began as he and Loki stepped up next to the captain to note the stretched shirt splattered in droplets of blood. 

“Her,” he huffed out, hinting to the room and the woman standing in the middle of the cleared area.

The only thing left standing in the room was the exam chair and the woman, Treasure, while trays and IV stands were scattered in a chaotic mess of fluids and tools. They all watched as the hand not holding a shard of glass tugged the leads out of platinum blond hair to fling to the floor.

She felt so lost, panicked, but was sure to keep it hidden as she looked around the room. There had to be a way out. Bucky was wrong, he was possibly working with them to gain control of her, possibly the same with the widow, what did they call her? Natasha.

Her mind still felt addled. Stasis hadn’t been kind to her this go around, but neither had the circumstances leading up to her return to HYDRA either. Taking time to survey the room, it was obvious there wasn’t any rush at the moment, no guards running in, no gas filling the room to put her out.

What did these Avengers want from one like her? She hated to tell them she knew little of HYDRA’s plans, and like it mattered if she did, according to Bucky the organization was no more. Or maybe they wanted her to pay for crimes she had no control over, maybe they were looking for a scapegoat to pin it all on.

Loki froze, all else died away, not believing who he was seeing. The woman from his dreams, she was really here, clothed in white scrubs with a piece of shattered glass in her hand like a knife, blood gliding down the jagged edge of it. 

“Where did you find her,” Loki asked quickly, watching her tear the leads free and began to study the room.  

“She was the last soldier being auctioned off,” Steve huffed, motioning Shuri and her techs out of the area. That only left he and the two gods. “She’s been mistreated for a long time, so she has trust issues.”

Steve looked away from Treasure to glance over at Loki. The dark god had fixed the creature in the room with a gaze unlike any he had seen Loki take with anyone. It wasn’t the usual predatory stare he fixed problems with, it looked more alike intrigue or reverence even.

Getting Thor’s attention, Steve nodded towards the dark god who continued to study the woman over as she turned in the same spot surveying the room and not paying them any attention. Thor gave a shrug, though now the golden god knew why Loki was taking to sleeping so much.

“May I,” Loki began, hinting that he step into the room to calm the woman. Surely they wouldn’t care.

Finally tearing his gaze away to look at Steve, arms across his chest. “Be my guest,” Steve shrugged, curious to what it mattered to Loki. “Just don’t hurt her,” the captain was sure to emphasize. “She maybe dangerous but she didn’t ask to be shaped into the wild animal you see in there.”

“Obviously. No one would ask to treated that way,” Loki spoke quietly, more to himself and as if from experience. Turning his gaze back to the woman who still hadn’t moved from the spot but appeared to be surveying the door that led out to where they were. “What do they call her?”

“Treasure, though I'm pretty sure that isn’t her true name. There’s nothing in this,” Steve spoke, holding the book up for Loki to glance at then back to her.

That wasn’t right. Loki knew she had a viable name and not some pet name. Maybe he could coax it from her, noting her gaze lock his through the glass. The dark god felt a tremor of excitement run his spine that she was here before him, now he knew why he felt he needed to be the one to attend the auction.

Her, Norns it was her, his soulmate, his heart. Treasure, yes she was just that. Emerald gaze holding her own and he immediately noted the innocent, yet troubled look in her eyes. Loki knew she was panicked, afraid of what was to become of her and knew that for once, he could help.

Aching hand clasped tighter around the shattered piece of glass she had managed to procure from one of the tablet screens. It was eerily quiet, so much so she heard blood dripping from her hand onto the scrubs as she locked the man’s gaze on the opposite side of the glass.

Cocking her head, the burning emerald of his eyes appeared familiar. Studying him through the thick glass, she noted the black leathers, and felt the tug of a faint memory as he spoke to the one she knew as Steve and another blond man.

The back of her skull began to burn the longer she watched the black-haired man. Narrowing her eyes at the slight twinge of pain when she tried to force the memory forward. That had left her vulnerable and in moments the raven-haired man was entering the room with her.

Violet gaze bored into Loki as he entered slowly so not to spook her. She had the same look as his dream, glass crunching under boot as he moved closer. A lost child trying to understand what was happening to her and unfortunately Loki could relate. 

Inches from her, the raven-haired man reached out to her, hinting to the shard of glass. Cautiously she chanced a glance to note it had gored her hand and the leg of the scrubs was saturated in bright crimson. Violet rimmed irises were quick to snap back to study Loki in efforts of placing his lithe frame.

Mind running and assessing, this one wasn’t just any man or super soldier. The energy, the prowess she sensed as he came closer, told Treasure he had no fear of her. And it appeared she was just about to prove to him just how fearful he should be. 

Tags are OPEN! REBLOGS ALWAYS WELCOMED!

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#loki #loki x plus size reader #loki x reader #loki x ofc #Loki Laufeyson #loki lemon #loki odinson

[twilighthooves]

The Dead Mask Caper

This is an RP-turned-story I did with @sandiegosquadrp​ as my blog @rymccrimmon10​. in it, an alternate version of Ryan is their Carmen’s Player.

"Heya Princess how's it going this morning?" Player shouted. Carmen jolted awake with a start.

“HUH?! WHAT?!” She looked around her hotel room and settled back down, grabbing her phone.

"Carmen, you didn't sleep in did you?" Player inquired.

“W... what are you talking about?” She mumbled, grabbing her phone. “Am I late for something?”

"No, but you'd probably like to know I just hacked into a security camera and saw a young woman with white hair. And we both know we know only one person like that." Carmen groaned.

“I don’t want to get out of bed for a stupid ass furry...” She complained.

"You will when I say she's heading for...The Portland Art Museum."

“Uuuuggghhhh...” Carmen whined. “Why?”

"Y'know, the place where art of the Day of The Dead is displayed? I only assume if she doesn't steal something from the showing on the Day of The Dead, it's something from one of the other exhibits. Sorry Red, no sleeping in today."

“I know, I know...” Carmen said. She groggily got up and began to get ready for the day. “Call Zach and Ivy and tell them to meet me here.”

"No prob." Player switched over to his line to Zach and Ivy. "Yo twins, Tigress is on the move. Carmen needs you at the hotel."

“Right-io! Ivy wake up!” Zach shouts into the receiver.

“Uuugghhh!!! I don’t wanna fight no dumb ass furry!!” Ivy complained.

”Carmen said the same thing, but it's the Portland Art Museum. She could be stealing something from the Day of The Dead showcase." A few minutes later, Carmen and the Twins met at the hotel.

“Aw!” Zach complains. “What about breakfast?”

"Typical." Player scoffed.

“No time for breakfast, Zach. But, I do know that I’m getting a bagel later. But, right now, we gotta move.” Carmen says.

"Focus Z, food's the least of your concerns right now." Player added. "It's Carmen and Ivy you should be worrying about."

“Aw, but my tummy hurts...” Zach says.

“Whatever, Zach-Attack! You heard the boss! Let’s get movin’!” Ivy barks. They all head out the door. It’s the middle of the day in Florida, and it’s HOT. Ivy and Zach are dying on the walk over. “Cahmeh, how ain’t you DYIN’ of heat stroke?!” Ivy said.

“I guess the heat makes me feel energized,” Carmen said, tipping her hat. “Now come on.”

"Careful Red." Player warned. "I know you're probably sick of me saying that but we all know how Tigress operates."

“Relax, I got it. Any clue where she is now?”

"Looking now.” Player told her. “Ngh, either the museum's gotten smart or she jammed the security cameras. either way, you're unfortunately stuck going in blind."

“Works for me. After I’m done kicking her ass, I’m getting a nap in,” Carmen boasts, smiling. Smiles are rare in her line of work.

“Uh... boss?” Ivy says.

“Si?” Carmen replied.

“We’ve got a Mime, 12:00 o clock.” Carmen glances upward.

“There he is.” She hissed. “The furry’s little errand boy.”

”I’ll work on the cameras while you take care of him." Player assured them. It looked like Mime Bomb went out of sight while they were talking.

“Twins, split up, get inside.” Carmen instructed. “Looks like our friends in there are going to try to work in plain sight.” The Twins nodded and went in opposite directions while Carmen walked into the museum.

"Got it." Player said as the camera feed blipped . "Looks like I could be right. She's going in the Day of The Dead showcase. But take it easy Red, I can't tell if she's just passing through to another exhibit."

“I can’t just attack her either. It’s crowded in here,” Carmen observed. There were people everywhere. “I wonder what she plan to-“ Carmen stops, having spotted Tigress. She was wearing a trench coat and seemed to be loitering around the back entrance. “What is she up to? Waiting for Mime Bomb or something?”

"SHITE!" Player hissed. "She's not stealing anything thing, it's Mime Bomb!" Carmen was surprised to hear her buddy swear, even if it wasn’t really a swearword.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

"She's just waiting for him to pass the....whatever! Maybe...I don't know. Better find out Red." Carmen realizes what he means.

“I think I got it. Give me a second, I’m going to swipe it when he comes by.” As if on cue, Mime Bomb approaches. He does a little bow to her, which looks a bit dorky. Carmen bites her lip. “What is he hiding?” Her question is answered when he gives her a mask. Carmen reaches for it from her hiding spot, but she misses. She can’t risk getting seen. Tigress takes it.

“Thank you. I’m sure you can get back to your post now?” Tigress says to Mime Bomb, who begins to make all sorts of miming motions. Tigress giggles.

“Hold on a minute are they flirting right now?” Carmen whispers, in awe.

"Gross." Player stated.

“Aww...” Carmen cooed. But then she snapped back to attention once she realized Tigress was leaving with the mask!

"Focus Carmen!" Player whisper-shouted. "She's heading towards an emergency exit!"

“I know I know!” She whisper shouted back. She darted frantically back to the outside. “Ugh! Where did she go?”

“Boss!” Ivy shouted, from somewhere to the side. “We’ve got company!”

Carmen turned and... oh shit! It was Virus!

“Hehe. You didn’t think we wouldn’t take extra precautions with you around, did you?” Virus said, and with a loud CRACK!! her electric arm activated.

“Nope! I just was hoping you wouldn’t be here!” Carmen said as she backflipped out of the way. On top of the building, she could see Tigress getting away.

"Damn it!" Player swore, hitting a fist against his table. "Carmen, you'd better think of something!"

"Wait a minute!" He snapped his fingers. "Any police copters around?"

"Or anything related to the police."

“Uh, kind of preoccupied!” Carmen said, trying and struggling to keep Virus’s claw away from her.

“Don’t worry, Boss!” The Twins shouted. They jumped on Virus and pulled her off of Carmen, allowing her to escape. She sprinted after Tigress.

“Doesn’t look like it, Player,” Carmen panted.

"Ngh, I was hoping to send a signal to warn them about Tigress to a police car, but the station itself will have to do." Player stated. "Keep her in your sights for as long as you can while I rig up a code for the message."

“Good. Great. Gun wielding air heads,” Carmen said grouchily.

"At least it's something to maybe throw her off!" Player retorted.

“Ugh fine!” She began to run over the roofs of buildings, chasing the Tiger girl.

“Hey! Betcha can’t catch me!” Tigress yelled.

“How much you wanna bet?!” Carmen screamed back. “I say 100 bucks! Cuz I’m gonna get you!” Player scrambled to get the code up and running. Carmen quickly tackled Tigress and they fought over the mask. Carmen won. She starts to sprint away until Zach and Ivy pulls up in a car.

“Get in!”

"Phew." Player sighed. "Thanks Z, didn't want to actually send the message if I could avoid it. You know how Carmen is with cops.” Carmen suddenly started breathing heavily and sweating.

“Oh god not now...” she whines, as the heat takes over her.

“Boss?!” Ivy and Zach said with worry.

"She's fainting!" Player assumed. "GUN IT ZACH!" He screamed. Ivy gives Carmen some water, or at least attempts to while Zach NYOOMS the car.

"I swear it's that coat." Player scoffs. Carmen fell asleep, as Player can hear from her steadied breathing. Soon, night falls, and they are out of Florida, skull mask in hand.

Later....

"Carmen!? Carmen, you okay?" Player was trying to get her to speak. Carmen slowly awoke. “Hm... You have a... lovely voice...” That threw everyone for a loop.

“She’s higher than a seagull!” Ivy exclaimed.

“Speaking of, Mime Bomb and Tigress were flirting before she took off." Player said in disgust.

“What? Why?” Zach said.

“Aw! That’s cute, but not what we’re worrying about here,” Ivy interjected.

"Carmen, focus!" Player cried.

“Wha... what happened?” Carmen said, groggily. “Ugh, my head hurts...”

“Give ‘er water, Zach!” Ivy said.

"And now!” Player added. Carmen practically downed the whole gallon of water when Zach gave it to her.

“Yikes." Player said, hearing it all.

“What happened? Did we get the mask?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah! It’s here!” Zach said.

"What was that?" Player asked. "I think you flirted with me."

“... What?” Carmen asked.

"You said I 'had a lovely voice'." Ivy snorted.

“It’s true, ya did!”

“What?!” Carmen said, a blush flying to her face. “I did not!”

"It's okay, you were delirious." Player said. "You probably heard Crackle or something, who knows."

“Yeah, probably...” Carmen said, shifting. The Twins glanced at each other.

“OH MY GOD YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT HIM!!!” Ivy screamed.

“N-no! I wasn’t! I would never think of Player that way!” Carmen says, now desperate to defend herself.

"What?" He shook his head. "Guys leave her alone." Ivy and Zach are laugh and cheer loudly as they leave the room. Carmen is now pouting. “I can’t believe them... thinking I was trying to flirt with you...” She grumbles.

"To be fair, it did seem that way.” Player noted. “I was trying to get you to think straight after all."

“Well, I don’t have any feelings for you. You’re like, what 16?”  She realized that was incorrect. It’s been 3 years since she first met him when he was 16. “Wait, you must be 18 now?”

“Yeah, I’m 18, why?" Then he thought-. “Oh my god Carmen, seriously!?””

I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!!!” Carmen screamed.

"Oh, sorry." Carmen blushed deeply, her mind now racing with new possibilities. Possibilities and thoughts that disgust her.

"So....now what?” Player asked, mind still reeling. “Do we just let that go?" Carmen’s breathing was unnaturally slow.

“I... I’m uncomfortable...” She has always been so good at telling him how she was feeling. But, now it felt.... well, she didn’t know. Her face was burning and she wanted to cry, just a little.

"Should I clock out for the night?" Player inquired cautiously.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to...” Carmen says. Her voice sounds... shaky. Not like her. Player didn’t like it.

“I feel like you need to be left alone." He said.

”Do I...?” Carmen asked.

"You sound like it." Player noted.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I... didn’t mean to yell or any of those other things...”

"I know." Player stated. He looked at his map screen blankly, trying to think of something to change the topic to. "Hey, did you know blood isn't actually red? It's clear, it's just that the red cells make it look red." He knew it wasn't a good fact, but he was desperate to distract Carmen.

“Heh... did you know that red is my favorite color?” Carmen asked. Her stomach hurt. She hadn’t eaten all day.

"Huh, remind me to wear my red t-shirt if we ever have to meet in person." Player quipped. Realizing something, he spoke again. "For once Zach was right to complain about food. You should eat something."

“Actually, I’m tough so I don’t get hungry...” Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to curse herself for it.

"C'mon Carmen, we've known each other for a long time." Player stated. "I've kinda learned how to read you.”

“Have you...?” Carmen said, through grit teeth and rubbing her stomach. It suddenly hurt to move.

"CARMEN!?" Player yelled. “Something's wrong!" There is no answer for a few seconds. Then...

“I’m fine I’m fine!”

"ZACH, IVY, GET IN THERE! SOMETHING'S UP WITH CARMEN!" Player wasn't buying it. The Twins rush in and they’re trying to shovel food in their mouths.

“What?!” Zach screams with a mouthful of peanut butter. Carmen looked at the nice bagel Ivy was holding and her mouth watered.

“I’m... I’m fine! Don’t worry, guys.” She was a bad liar to her friends at the best of times, but especially now that Player had deducted what happened.

"Carmen hasn't eaten anything." Player said. "Force-feed her if you have to."

“Oh, really?” Ivy said, a mischievous look on her face. Carmen’s eyes went wide and she shot up.

“NO! That’s not happening again!” She screamed.

"Then eat!" Player insisted. Carmen looked like a kicked puppy.

“You heard the man, “Princess”,” Ivy teases, mocking Player’s voice.

"Hey, I thought we agreed only I get to call her that! Wait...Shut up!" Player realized too late how what he said could be taken out of context. Zach handed Carmen a plate and dumped food on it. Carmen was visibly grumpy. Ivy was snickering.

“Eat up, pretty Princess,” Ivy teased.

“Stop or I’ll chop out your tongue,” Carmen growled.

"Maybe for me Red?" Player asked. Ivy and Zach both laughed loudly as they left the room.

“If she calls me a “Pretty Princess” again, we’re going to have an issue,” Carmen said, before taking a bite out of a everything bagel.

"Yeah, only I get that right.” Player said defensively. “Wait...no...not like that." He flushed with embarassment Carmen finds herself grinning.

“You do. You have that right.”

"Stop it, I can't explain how I know, but you're grinning." Player grumbled.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re still here.”Carmen told him.

"Thanks?" Player didn't know how to respond. Carmen sighed and continued eating. She started to feel less pain in her stomach "Maybe I should've listened to Zach for once and let you eat.” Player said guiltily. “I feel like this is my fault for rushing you into the job. Well, you did, but I enforced it." Carmen felt herself flinch.

“No. It was my decision, Player. It wasn’t your fault. I’m glad, because if we hadn’t left at that time, Tigress would have gotten away. And who knows what Virus would have done to those poor people?”

”What about that new recruit?" Player asked abruptly.

“What new recruit?” Carmen asked.

"Biohazard, remember?" Player clarified. Carmen breathed a little awkwardly.

“Right. Biohazard...”

"You okay?" Player asked.

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine.” Carmen insisted.

"That's what you said about being hungry." Player teased.

“Christine Greater isn’t with VILE anymore, Player.” Carmen told him. “I think you know that.”

"Carmen, you do realize I meant the new recruit for us right? She helped us when you first met her in Austrailia?" Carmen’s eyes went wide.

“Oh... oh! I’m sorry, I... I’m not thinking straight tonight...” She muttered

"Clearly.”Player stated. "Okay, I'm gonna clock out. I'll let you and/or the twins know if something comes up."

“Wait! Player!” Carmen cried.

"Huh?" Player had just had just been about to turn his computer off when she’d shouted.

”C-can you... stay? Just until I go to sleep... please?”

"Huh. Never asked me to do that before." Player stated.

“Is it odd?” Carmen asked, uncharacteristically worried.

"No, just...unusual." Player mused.

“So... is that a yes?” Carmen asked tentatively.

"It's not a no." Player said. Carmen sighs and lays down in bed. She gets comfy under the covers.

"Need a lullaby?" Player joked, struggling not to laugh. "Sorry, I couldn't help it."

“Do you sing?” Carmen asks, after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, I made up a song, but I'm not sure I'm good." Player had answered without thinking. "Wait, what?" He realized what he said.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carmen giggles.

“All I have on hand is my ukulele." Player said. "My real guitar's in the other room. Do you mind? I think the ukulele's more soothing in this case anyway."

“Of course not,” Carmen says sleepily.

"In that case..." Player picked it up and started playing. "Well she sneaks around the world from Kiev to Carolina, she's a sticky-fingered filcher from Berlin down to Belize! She'll take you for a ride on a slow boat to China! Tell me where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? Steal their Seoul in South Korea, make Antarctica cry Uncle! From the Red Sea to Greenland they'll be singing the blues! Well they never Arkansas her steal the Mekong from the jungle Tell me where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? She go from Nashville to Norway, Bonaire to Zimbabwe, Chicago to Czechoslovakia and back! Well she'll ransack Pakistan and run a scam in Scandinavia, then she'll stick 'em up Down Under and go pick-pocket Perth! She put the Miss in misdemeanor when she stole the beans from Lima. Tell me where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? Oh tell me where in the world is, oh tell me where can she be? Ooh, Botswana to Thailand, Milan via Amsterdam Mali to Bali, Ohio, Oahu!” A pause, then-. “Well she glides around the globe and she'll flimflam every nation! She's a double-dealing diva with a taste for thievery! Her itinerary's loaded up with moving violations! Tell me where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? Oh, tell me where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?" Player stopped. "That's the first time I've ever sang for anyone." Carmen was smiling like a dork and small tears fell down her face. “You... you should pitch that and make it big.”

"Only if you buy my albums...or steal them." The last part was a joke of course. Carmen smiled wider than she has in a while.

“You should sing more.” She insisted

"That was the only one I got.” Player admitted. “Anything already written you like?"

“Well... do you know “Pretty Lies” by Written By Wolves? I like that one.”

"I'll try. I don't mean to brag, but these fingers aren't just good on a keyboard." Carmen blushes, but she knows what he meant.

“G-go for it then...” Player did.

“I’ve been starting to accept that, maybe this is all there is and dreams that I've held in my head. Should be forgotten just forget…That you thought you were bound for greatness; rock and roll could be a savior. Keep that to yourself and just fit in. Don't stand out or they'll destroy you…Words are sharp and filed with poison. Every step that you take forward, they'll pull you back a thousand more. So give up your imagination. Take the pill it's just sedation. Be a member of society..That's not worth living for. I won't be afraid anymore. Like a thief in the night, armed with their pretty lies…they will haunt you, consume you. But you can't let them win, Let the fear be your friend. Let it guide you, fulfill you. Like a thief in the night, armed with their pretty lies…They will haunt you, consume you…But you can't let them win. Let the fear be your friend. Let it guide you…Fulfill you. You close your eyes and dreams start racing…Feels so real that you can taste it, See the crowd and all their faces. Hear them screaming out your name and wish this was more than a vision, you could break out of this prison! Taking back control defiantly. Feel the fear and let it guide you. Let the fire burn inside you. Think of all that they've denied you, Remember and use the drive you've always had but buried deeper. You give up they get what they want; Don't let them win. Like a thief in the night, armed with their pretty lies They will haunt you, Consume you. But you can't let them win. Let the fear be your friend; Let it guide you, Fulfill you. Like a thief in the night. Armed with their pretty lies. They will haunt you, Consume you…But you can't let them win. Let the fear be your friend. Let it guide you, Fulfill you…I’m sick of all their pretty lies, They sparkle like a blade. But I will make damn sure that I will not die wondering What could have been…I’ll take nothing to the grave! That's not worth living for…I won't be afraid anymore! Like a thief in the night, Armed with their pretty lies. They will haunt you..Consume you. But you can't let them win. Let the fear be your friend. Let it guide you, Fulfill you. Like a thief in the night. Armed with their pretty lies..They will haunt you..Consume you…But you can't let them win. Let the fear be your friend…Let it guide you…Fulfill you." Player smirked when he finished. "Of course you like it. It mentions a thief." Carmen was fast asleep. He can tell from her heart rate and breathing. "'Night Carmen." Player sighed, content. He put down his ukulele and went to get ready for bed.

END

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen sandeigo netflix #Carmen Sandiego #fanfic #Playcarm #where in the world is carmen sandiego?

[sarahwroteathing]

Last Minute Laundromat

Word Count: 3318

Summary: Your laundry ritual is disrupted by a late night arrival

Warnings: None

A/N: I have no idea what this is. I was walking home from doing my laundry a couple nights ago and this just kind of... happened. Let me know what you think?

Last Minute Laundromat at 2am was a very specific experience for a very specific sort of person. Usually that consisted of only you. There was the occasional exception of a frantic stranger with a laundry emergency who you’d see once or twice, then never again, and that suited you just fine.

Initially, you’d made attempts to filter in with the more “functional adult” crowd in the daylight hours and early evening. But your days were largely taken up by work and world class procrastination, and you came to appreciate the odd ambiance that went hand in hand with realizing the potential of a 24-hour laundromat.

To cut back on power use, the guy running the desk during the day usually shut off the bright main lights when he left at 8:30, leaving on the dim emergency lights and the flickering neon signs in the windows. It was good enough for you. Bright enough to see the buttons on the machines, to determine the difference between the washer and dryer tokens, and to sort your laundry into lights and darks. Bright enough to see the faces of the people who walked by the windows or came inside. Dim enough to hide the scuffs and stains on the polished concrete floor, the streaks of detergent dried on the front of machines from unsteady hands, the dust and corrosion on the pipes above your head. Dim enough that you could probably hide in one of the shadowy corners behind a machine if you needed to.

Not that you felt particularly unsafe here. No more or less than you would in any other 24 hour establishment in New York. But still, it was nice to have some options. Just in case. In this city, you never knew what could happen, who could walk through the door.

Could even be Captain America. Apparently.

The daytime lights snapping on was your first clue that tonight would bring an alteration to your usual routine. It startled you more than you’d care to admit, and you jerked in your seat enough to make the metal legs give a grating screech against the floor. Your first thought was that some form of law enforcement was responsible, and to be fair you weren’t far off.

You recognized him from the news, of course, and your history classes in school, but it took you a minute to reconcile the national icon with the figure in front of you. He seemed distinctly different from the sharply-cut noble symbol you were often presented with. This man wasn’t a public figure at all.

The smile he shot you was shy, apologetic. His blonde hair was ruffled and damp with the rain that had been pattering against the windows since early evening. The way he walked, the way he held himself indicated a large man trying very hard to be smaller, to pass unnoticed. So you waved off his silent apology with a smile of your own and tried to focus back on your phone.

You told yourself that your curiosity could stand to go unsatisfied. After all, hadn’t you come in at 2 am to do your laundry in peace and solitude? It was only fair to extend that same courtesy to him.

And so you really truly tried to mind your own business. You adjusted the headphones in your ears, turning up the volume of your music volume once, twice, three times to block out the noise he was making. But on glances up to check the time on the dryer you were using, you caught on to your new companion’s mounting frustration.

The creases between his eyebrows were growing deeper. His restless fidgeting grew more pronounced. After sitting through five minutes of his failed attempts, you shut off your music and stood, taking a tentative step in his direction.

“…Sir? Is there something I can help you with?”

Though his head shot up in surprise, he quickly settled into a grateful smile that encouraged you to approach.

“Steve,” he corrected. “And uh… I don’t suppose you work here?”

“No,” you said with a laugh. “But I’m willing to bet I can tell you what you need to know.”

You offered him your hand and introduced yourself.

“Can you tell me how much it costs for a load? I thought it would be posted somewhere, but I can’t find anything.”

“Oh, God, you didn’t put quarters in, did you? We run on tokens here,” you said, wincing when Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I thought I’d put quarters in until it turned on. Bad plan, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” you said kindly, digging through your pockets until you produced a small handful of laundry tokens. “Here. This round’s on me.”

A proud smile overtook your face when he gave a beautifully undignified snort.

“I’ll have you know that line doesn’t exclusively apply to alcohol,” you said defensively. “I’m trying to be wholesome. Here!” But Steve ignored the hand you offered him.

“You really don’t have to,” he protested. “Just tell me where to buy some. Or at least let me pay you for these.”

You let the tokens spill out onto the top of the washing machine with a loud clatter, sorting them quickly into two different piles.

“You’re out of luck. You can only buy them from the person working the desk, which is only covered from 8 am to 8 pm, sometimes 8:30 if they fall asleep. Theoretically, you can buy them from the machine in the corner, but it’s really more of a modern art installation at this point. It hasn’t worked in like six months.”

Steve’s eyes flickered over to the machine you gestured towards, eyebrows raising at the trash bag fixed over it with blue painters’ tape.

“So when they say twenty-four hour service, they mean…”

“Twenty-four hour self service, and only if you’ve planned ahead,” you finished with a nod. “So you’re left with accepting my donation, sorry.”

“Not if you tell me how much I owe you for them,” he countered, placing his wallet down on the machine beside the tokens.

“You don’t owe me a thing. I like helping people. Just pay it forward or something. I’ll pass the torch of laundry guardian angel to you. But first pay attention so I can train you properly.”

Steve cracked a smile, shaking his head with a sigh as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. First of all, the small tokens are for the washing machines. The big ones with the holes in the middle are for the dryer. Do not pay right away. Normally I don’t ascribe to conspiracy theories, but in this case, it’s warranted. If you don’t follow the right steps in the right order, the machine will eat your token without actually activating a cycle. If that happens, there’s no way to get it back, and there’s no refunds.”

“And there are no signs to tell you the right way to do things,” Steve noted, pursing his lips.

“Of course not. They get more of your money if you have to go through trial and error until you figure it out,” you said with a sardonic smile. “So first things first. This sad little label-less button turns on the machine. And this sad little label-less button opens the door. But on most of the machines, the doors get stuck, so unless you’re a nationally ranked thumb wrestling champion, you have to be very-” You jammed the heel of your hand against the orange button, barely catching the violently-swinging door before it hit you. “Persuasive.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Steve said with a crooked smile.

“Glad you stopped arguing with me about paying for the tokens now, aren’t you?” you joked, making a show of raising your fists in front of your face.

“Oh yeah. You’re terrifying,” he agreed, and you narrowed your eyes at the clear sarcasm in his voice.

“Alright, punk. Less sassing, more laundry. You can load up the machine now.”

You’d second guessed your teasing the second the words left your mouth, but the brightness of the smile that overtook Steve’s face more than made up for the moment of anxiety. The tension that you hadn’t noticed lingering in his shoulders melted away, and his little grin stayed firmly in place as he set about sorting his clothes.

The strength of his reaction made you giddy, so much so that you didn’t think twice about catching his hand to stop a stained shirt from being loaded without pretreatment.

You hardly even noticed that smile slip, the tension creep back up his frame. It wasn’t until you had spread the shirt on the folding table that you recognized the deep reddish-brown stain for what it was. By then, you figured it was too late to back down from your course of action. You’d let him explain, if he wanted. But you wouldn’t ask.

“You’ll have a better chance of getting this out if you pretreat it before throwing it in the wash,” you said, and you were proud of the steady lightness of your tone. “I have some stuff with me. Just give me a second.”

You plucked the correct bottle from the laundry supplies nestled at the bottom of your basket and set about working out the stain. The sound of footsteps, slow and careful, reached your ears, and you felt his eyes on you.

“You know who I am?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, but you caught it easily enough. Your dryer must have reached the end of its cycle at some point during your demonstration.

“That’s an odd thing to say to someone you’ve just met,” you answered carefully.

“You’re handling a blood stained t-shirt like it’s no big deal. One that belongs to a stranger who you’re now alone with at 2 o’clock in the morning. You probably should be scared, or at least concerned, but you’re not. What other reason could there be for that?”

“Maybe you’re just a guy who had a nosebleed. I’m sure it’s none of my business either way,” you said. “And you’ve given me no reason to be afraid of you. A grown man who has trouble working a washing machine doesn’t exactly have me shaking in my boots.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him before turning fully, offering him his shirt back with an uncertain smile. He watched you carefully for a few moments before speaking again.

“Just admit that you know me. Please.”

“I’ll admit that I’m… familiar with some aspects of Captain America’s work. But Steve, the guy who does his laundry at 2 am? I’ve only just had the pleasure of meeting him. So, no. I don’t know you.”

The two of you stood in silence again, staring at each other contemplatively, and though you were a bit nervous, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be scared.

“Okay,” he said with a little sigh. “Thank you.”

And you weren’t entirely sure, but you had the feeling the sentiment extended past your help with the t-shirt. You followed him back to the machine where he finished filling the drum and turned to you in silent question.

“Soap in the drawer,” you advised, pulling out the trey. “Then you can close the door. Give it a little kick so it locks. Choose your settings, then put in the token. Don’t change the settings after you’ve paid or it’ll reset, and you’ll lose credit for the payment. Press start, and wait. Washer runs for 34 minutes, dryer runs for an hour and fifteen minutes. Got it?”

“What goes in here?” Steve pointed at a separate compartment with no label.

You smiled and trailed back over to your table for your fabric softener, setting it down in front of him when you returned.

“Fabric softener. You can use some of mine if you want, to see if you like it. It just makes your clothes feel a little softer and smell a little nicer. It’s up to you. But if you’re thinking about turning it down because you feel bad for taking more of my stuff, consider that I’m not in the business of half-assing my niceness.”

You caught the hint of a grin that curled his lips as he picked up the bottle, unscrewing the cap to smell the contents and reading the label curiously. He gave a little shrug and poured some into the drawer before pushing it closed again, carefully following the steps you’d recited and sighing in relief when the machine rumbled to life.

“Congratulations, 2am Steve, you are now on your way to clean clothes.”

“How did I become 2am Steve?” he asked with a laugh.

“It’s not that great of a creative leap. Your name is Steve. I met you at 2am.”

“You could just use my full name. It’s not like you don’t know it.”

“Not officially, I don’t. You haven’t told me. And I haven’t told you mine either. Besides, 2am Steve has a ring to it. Makes you sound like you’ve got a reputation.”

“For what? Public intoxication?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a laugh. “Your catchphrase can be ‘it’s always 2am somewhere.’”

“Well, I can’t actually get drunk, so we’ll have to come up with something else,” he said, rolling his eyes though you could see the amused glint in his eyes.

“Uuum… Being a public nuisance? Through very well-scheduled streaking.”

Steve choked out a surprised laugh, a slight blush coloring his cheeks when you couldn’t stop giggling.

“What’s the matter? Not your style?” you teased, moving back to your dryer and pulling the still-warm clothes into your basket. “I feel like you could probably run fast enough that no one would even see anything.”

“I don’t think that’s a theory I ever want to test,” he answered. “Maybe we should just let my 2am reputation be failing at household chores.”

“Just because you needed a little help doesn’t mean you failed. The clothes are getting washed now, aren’t they?”

“I guess so…”

You fell into a companionable silence as you went to work folding your laundry.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asked suddenly.

You looked up at him in surprise, setting down the shirt you had been folding and leaning back against the machine.

“Fire away.”

“You can probably guess why I’m here this late… But why are you?”

“Normal reason, I guess. My apartment doesn’t have a laundry room,” you said with a shrug.

“But you could go during the day. With everyone else,” Steve challenged.

“How do you know that’s not what I normally do? Maybe tonight is an anomaly.”

“You looked comfortable. Before I came in. Like this was your usual routine.”

“Perceptive,” you complimented, earning a shrug in return. “I just don’t like crowds much. People make me nervous sometimes. I feel like they’re watching me, judging me. Even when I know they aren’t. It makes me self-conscious, and I make stupid mistakes like turning my towels pink or forgetting to add soap. I’d just rather do it on my own. I like my solitude.”

Steve nodded solemnly, his eyes a little distant, and you worried you’d hit a little too close to home with your confession.

“Plus I don’t like strangers seeing my undies,” you added, laughing when your words shocked him out of his brooding, glad to see it embarrassed him more than it embarrassed you.

“Understandable,” he muttered.

“You know, what you said before? I actually don’t know why you’re here so late. I mean, the crowd thing probably affects you too, but… I mean, I assume they’ve set you up with a nice place to live, right? Don’t you have your own machines? Or at least a laundry pick-up service or someone who does it for you?”

“I do… Both, actually. But, I don’t really sleep much, and I was feeling a little too… in my head. Had to get out of there. Figured I’d do something productive with the time away.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?” He was eyeing you carefully again, and you suppressed the urge to squirm under his watchful gaze.

“Yeah. I get like that too sometimes. I think everyone does. And I always think night air does some good.”

Steve had an odd look in his eye, one you couldn’t quite decipher. But he smiled at you in a gentle sort of way that made you feel appreciated, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

When he didn’t ask any other questions, you dropped your eyes back down to your basket and started folding again. Normally you didn’t fold anything until you got home, but tonight you were reluctant to leave.

“So I… guess you’re done for the night, huh?” He was still watching you, had noticed the lack of effort in your movements.

“Umm… Yeah. Pretty much. But I can stick around if you want. Would hate for the dryer to kick your ass in my absence,” you joked weakly.

“I think I can handle it. It’s the same steps as the washing machine, right?”

“Pretty much. Oh, and the same door process applies at the end of a cycle too. Because apparently these machines think they’re bank vaults.”

“Have a lot of experience with breaking into bank vaults, do you?” he asked, smiling when you rolled your eyes at him.

“If I did, would I be washing thrift store clothes at a laundromat?” you laughed.

“I guess not,” Steve said, and his teasing grin turned soft again. “Anyway, you should get home. Get some rest.”

“It’s a Sunday. I’ve got nowhere to be. I’ll be alright,” you assured him. “I really don’t mind staying.”

“I’d feel guilty for keeping you up later than you have to be,” he pushed.

“Alright,” you sighed, unable to find a good excuse to stay. “If you’re determined to force me to sleep like a normal human…”

You shuffled awkwardly, arranging your laundry and supplies in your basket and balancing it on your hip for the walk home. As you passed him you paused, shifting the weight of the basket again to offer him your free hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said quietly, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Of course. Honestly, it was kind of fun... Which is not something I’ve ever said in this building before. I must be dreaming already.”

He smiled and released his grip on your hand. “Another reason for you to get home as soon as possible.”

“Trying to get rid of me, huh? Fine, I see how it is. You may win for tonight, but I’ll be back.”

You walked backwards to the door, keeping your eyes on him in a playful glare. Steve bit his lip hesitantly, fighting with something on the tip of his tongue.

“When would that be?”

You blinked owlishly at him before your surprise softened into a smile of approval.

“Same time every week,” you answered, all traces of playful energy traded for hopeful sincerity.

“Maybe I’ll… stop by again,” he said, fiddling with the tokens you’d left to avoid meeting your eyes. “If I’m…”

“Conscious?” you supplied, and he met your eyes again with a self-deprecating smile.

“That’s – yeah. That would be helpful.”

You answered his nervous laugh with a reassuring grin.

“Well, I’d appreciate the company. If you find yourself with nothing better to do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards when your back finally hit the door, drawing a surprised huff from you. “Get home safe, okay?”

“You too.”

Fixing Steve with one last smile, you maneuvered your way out the door, adjusting your basket on your hip and fighting the urge to glance back as you set off for home.

..................

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff

[yeswillxpoulter]

Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is a bit long, sorry not sorry.  I’m also very sorry that this took so long, school has become very hectic and I couldn’t find much time to write. Also, this chapter contains adult content. So enjoy :) Also, use protection silly.  Also another thing, I’m not good at writing smut so I tried my best. ~Admin Kay

*June 17, 2013*

    Today was one of our off days for everyone. We have only had maybe 2 or 3 because Wes wants to fully finish the film soon. Which sucks a bit, because I’ve made good friends with everyone here. And I have become closer to Will, which made me extra happy. I found him very attractive, like he’s so sweet, so nice, very caring and he is super gentle with everyone. He’s so down to earth and it is the greatest thing in the world. Over the past couple days, we seem to have gotten closer and closer. Today was a day that Will and I plan to spend most of the day together and I’m pretty excited. I got dressed in a simple white tee and blue jeans with some black converse. Simple enough, but hopefully cute still. There was a gentle but loud knock on the trailer door, I rushed over and opened the door. I was greeted by a smiling Will, “Well good morning gorgeous.” A blush came across my cheekbones and I smiled back, “Good morning.” He held out his hand to me and helped me down the stairs of the trailer. “So what are we going to do today?” I asked, as we started heading out of the lot. “Well first, breakfast. I had found this breakfast bar with the guys one day.” he explained. I nodded as we continued our walk. We started talking about random things: school, his acting career, my makeup career, personal hobbies, even some weird things. I guess we have become that close to where we could talk about anything, which makes me happy.

    We got to the breakfast bar, Will opened the door for me and we walked in. We got seated and started looking at the menu. “What looks good?” I asked him. “Really the entire menu looks and sounds amazing.” he said with a laugh. I giggled, nodding in agreement. It was true, the menu did look great, but also somewhat expensive. How would I even afford this...I do have money, so I may just get the cheapest thing on here. After a while, our food had arrived. Will got a platter with bread and avocados, bacon, sausage, eggs, and a fruit bowl mix. And I got a stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon. We talked more while we ate. After we ate, Will had paid for our breakfast, as he always does. I understand that he’s a gentleman, which I enjoy if I’m honest.

“So, tell me something Violet,” he said as we walked out the door, “do you like anyone on set?” That was a question I didn’t want to answer. Of course I didn’t want to tell him that I liked him of course, but I also really wanted to. “I do,” I admitted, “But I won’t say who.” He chuckled that adorable chuckle, “Do I at least know them?” I nodded. Well, I would hope he would know himself but hey, that’s not everyone. “Is he nice to you at least?” He asked. “Funny thing for you to assume it was a guy” I giggled. His face turned a bright shade of crimson and started stuttering. “I’m only messing. He is nice to me.” I said, playfully hitting his arm. He nodded and we continued our walk. The walk was pretty much silent, even when we got to the lot. Out of nowhere, he blurted out, “Is it Dylan?” My eyes bugged out of my head as I turned to him, “No way! He’s literally like a brother to me.” “Thomas?” He asked and I shook my head. “I might give up, there’s a lot of people.” He laughs. That laugh could actually cure depression. He’s utterly clueless, but I’ll keep it that way for now.

**

The night was full of drinks, food, excitement and pure entertainment. I felt like I was on top of the world, like I could do anything. Maybe even tell Will that I like him. Let’s see how the night will be before that becomes an option. Will walked over to me, red cup in hand, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. His face looked slightly flustered, hair moved slightly and lips pursed out. He looked magnificent for not even doing much to look like that. “Enjoying the drinks?” He asked, looking down at me. I nodded, “You look like you are too.” My eyes glanced to his lips and his eyes glanced to mine. 

I feel like I should kiss him….think Violet think. Screw it.

I leaned up to him and pressed my lips against his. It was quick, I didn’t really expect myself to actually do it. Will looked down at me, cheeks becoming flustered. I guess he didn’t expect me to do that either. He then placed a hand on my cheek and leaned down to kiss me back. I could hear some of the guys whistling around us as we both pulled away. Will leaned down to my ear and whispered, “Do you want to go somewhere private?” I nodded, he grabbed my hand as we made our way to the trailer. We walked into the trailer and when he shut the door, we both just looked each other. He slowly made his way to me, backing me up into the wall. He looked down at me, tracing his thumb on my chin. “Can I kiss you again..? I nodded as he leaned in to kiss me. The kiss felt electrifying, I didn’t want it to end. He placed his hands around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I dug my hands into his hair and gently tugged. He groaned as his hands traveled down further to hitch my legs up as he picked me up. He made his way to his section of the trailer, sitting on the edge of his bed. He moved his head down and began kissing my neck. Holy shit...he’s good at this. He moved his head up and looked at me dead in the eyes, “Do you want to continue?” I nodded my head as I pulled him back for a kiss. Maybe I was getting more confidence, or maybe it was the alcohol that was giving the courage. But I was sure that I wanted this.

Will picked me up and laid me down on the bed, carefully getting on top of me. He took off his shirt then took off mine. He kissed my neck again before moving down to my chest. He expertly massaged my breasts through my bra, as he placed open mouth kisses on top them. I groaned out as I pulled on his hair again. He got me out of my jeans and began to kiss lower and lower. Cheeks became flustered as I kept my hands in his hair. He looked up to me, asking if I still wanted to continue. Piece by piece, clothes scattered across the room as we both lay naked, admiring each other. He was beautiful, literally like a piece of art where only the finest art was stored. He made everything seem so...easy. “Ready love?” he asks as I nod. He levels himself down, taking a long lick to my pussy. At that moment, I could’ve just came on spot. It was too much for my body to handle. I threw my head back as he worked a number with his tongue. Hands gripping the bed sheets, cheeks flustered, and light moans leaving were leaving my mouth. He kept his hand firmly on my hips, because I could tell it was from my hips moving so much. “W-Will.” I breathed out. The sensation was beginning to get too much for me. He just kept going, attacking my core with his tongue. His tongue swiped across my clit as I jolted up and moaned loudly. He kept his tongue there as he increased his speed. “W-Will please..” I whimpered, moving a hand from the sheet to his head. He slowly pushed one finger inside as a loud whimper left my mouth.

My god, he is good.

He works that finger at a slow pace, just to make sure I was ready enough. Moan after moan came out of my mouth as he quickened his pace after a while. “How does that feel huh love?” he asks, lifting his head adding another finger. “Fuck….it feels r-really good.” I said, throwing my head back again. I swear I could be seeing stars. He quickened his pace again, earning another loud moan that came from my chest. “Will, I think I’m..” I started to say, but was interrupted by another moan. “Come on darling, cum for me.” he said, using his thumb to rub circles against my clit. My legs began to tremble as my orgasm came over me. I let out another loud moan as I tugged hard against his hair. My chest was heaving as Will came up to my face and kissed me hard. “Do you want to continue love?” he asks again, slightly biting his lip. Of course, I nodded as we both lay down. He pumps himself for a minute and lines himself up with my entrance. He looks back up at me and I give him a nod of approval before he pushes himself inside of me. Whatever air that was in my chest was knocked out of me as he kept pushing. “Fuck,” he mumbles, bringing his head closer to mine, “You feel so good darling.” He stops when he feels that he’s all the way in and glances at me. I could tell he was holding back from the way the veins in the side of his neck began to pop out. My quiet whimpers didn’t go unnoticed as he dipped his head back into my neck, “Let them out baby...I want to hear you.” He slowly pulled his way out and pushed back in as I quietly moaned. He began a steady pace as I placed his arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed me back with a passion as he rocks his hips into mine. Our lips molded together as so did our hips, finding a pace that was comfortable for both of us. He pulls away, lets out a groan as he buries his head into my neck. “Will.” I breathed out again. “Darling, I’m close--oh fuck you’re so tight.” he moaned out, quickening his pace. I moaned even louder as his hips slammed into mine. He was buried deep inside me at this point, and I didn’t even know how much longer I could last.

I tug at his hair, which granted another groan from him as he snaked his hand between us and started rubbing my clit. I choked on my breath slightly as I gasped from the overstimulation I was feeling. I clenched around him as he started breathing heavily and his hips started to become sloppy. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” he whispered, placing one hand on his waist while the other still worked on my clit. I moaned out as I felt another orgasm come over me. That triggered his orgasm as he shoots his load deep inside of me. He rolls to lay on his back as we both breathed heavily. “That was, just amazing.” I breathed out, turning my head to look at him. He smiled tiredly as he leaned over, kissed my head and wrapped an arm around my waist, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I didn’t object when he picked me up and took me to the bathroom. He started the shower as he held me up.

I leaned my head against his shoulder as we both entered the shower, the warm water greeting us. He set me down but my head never left his shoulder. He gently washed my body while I washed his. We stayed in the shower for a couple of moments, just enjoying each others presence and enjoying the warm water. After the shower, we both got ready for bed. We both laid in the bed, Will throwing his arm around me as we spooned. “Thank you, for tonight..” he mumbled, placing a kiss behind my ear. “No, thank you. You made my day today.” I mumbled, snuggling closer to him. He smiled to himself, “Good night darling, sleep well.”

#will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter fanfic #will tmr #tmr gally #the maze runner #themazerunner #We're The Millers #dylan o'brien #dylan x oc #will poulter x oc #thomas brodie sanger #gladers #fanfiction #fanfic #the death cure #tdc #gally imagine #the scorch trials

[doomedandstoned]

SÂVER: Raging At Darkness, Stepping Into Light

~By Billy Goate~

When I heard that former Tombstones members were forming a new band called SÂVER, I knew it was going to be doomy, but I don't think I was prepared for an album of such immense breadth and ferocity. You think Slomatics or Conan can command a hall? Well, let's just say with S VER you're in the Hall of the Mountain King. As I listen, it's not hard to imagine an apocalyptic scenario where the SÂVER's powerful strains break out in the dead of night, echoing through nightmarish forests, over majestic mountains, and into the impenetrable dark of Norway's wild. I can't believe how perfectly this recording captures size, scope, and grandiosity of their sound.

They Came With Sunlight by SÂVER

A deep, quietly percussive bass note opens up "Distant Path" and is joined in short order by menacing reverb of the synth. Two minutes in, the guitar and drums join in the layers of crescendo. At last, Ole Christian Helstad joins the fruckus of this brewing storm, ever building, building, building towards its inevitably violent release. Five minutes into the song, a torrent of rain swells down, accompanied by a hail of steady notes on guitar. At the eight-minute mark, a terrifyingly grandiose symphony of raging vocals and the combined force of Helstad's explosive bass, Markus Støle's drums, and Ole Ulvik Rokseth's guitar brings us the apocalyptic moment we've all been waiting for. Simply put, it is jaw-droppingly huge. 'They Came With Sunlight' (2019) has officially begun.

The following track, "I, Vanish," would make a fine companion to Yob's "The Screen." It ticks and tocks and grinds its gears like the mechanical clock of some mad horologist, who watches each finely tuned movement closely to see if we are nearer to Doomsday. This and the succession of tracks that follow take us on an ethereal journey of sorts. The music gives a continual sense of flow -- whether with the echo of chords, the precise rhythms of repeated notes, or the fury of blinding tremolos, we are always moving, moving, moving. The complexity of movement may find some drawing comparisons with Black Cobra, Mastodon, perhaps even Tool and Meshuggah.

They Came With Sunlight by SÂVER

"Influx" breaks with this form just long enough to make us question what we thought was real. Are we awake in the real world or in some kind of a dream where the rules still aren't known? It feels like we are floating in a state of suspended animation. The lyrics throughout the album are obscure, making it hard to get a straight answer one way or another. Perhaps the point is to ponder the larger themes exposited by these opaque words, to free our minds to wander and explore the possibilities. I will say the interview that follows helps to clear up at least one or two mysteries for us, but overall the material remains high concept, abstract, and surreal.

They Came With Sunlight by SÂVER

"How They Envisioned Life" is the most heart-wrenching song of the lot. There is real pain here, as the singer lashes out with some of the purest rage on record at everything he believed to be true and faithful about his reality. There's also what appears to be a tug of war. The light wants him, the dark wants him. Is this a near-death experience? I'll let you be the judge.

"Step out of light!" - Dark Frozen by fright, left to survive Under the sky Leave!! Leave my soul to him!

They came - They saw How they envisioned life Embrace the warmth that I have left you with

Please let us stay Through depths and stone I see light

Leave – Leave my soul to him

They came - They saw How they envisioned light Your rage - minds covered This ancient hollowed out fight I have left you - Light

"Dissolve To Ashes" gets even stranger with references to "cosmic shuttles" and panicked attempts to find a path that will lead to light. Come to think of it, this is actually is starting to feel like the kind of things I dream about on the regular!

They Came With Sunlight by SÂVER

The ancient archetypal struggle between light and darkness comes to a head in the album's longest track, the twelve-and-a-half minute "Altered Light." There are hints that maybe the light isn't quite what it seems and that a little sleight of hand is involved when some people promise to show us the way.

I'd like to point out something I've not mentioned up to this point: melody. The riffs on this album are, for lack of a better expression, very "hummable." This means these little earworms will be working their magic on you long after you've walked away from the record. I've found myself humming or tapping the theme to this song at the grocery store, at work, while doing laundry, you name it. Look, I don't have the answers to the riddles presented by They Came WIth Sunlight. What I can offer you is SÂVER. Oh, and if you dig this kind of sound, be sure and check out Markus Støle and Ole Rokseth's other project HYMN.

Photograph by Adrian Kraakefingar Vindedal

Interview with SÂVER's Ole Rokseth

~Photographs by Pål Bellis~

“It sounds like war.”

Congratulations on a successful album launch via Pelagic Records and for debuting at the #10 spot on the Doom Charts with 'They Came With Sunlight' (2019).

Thanks, Billy! The response has been overwhelming. We are super stoked.

The last time we checked in, Tombstones had just disbanded and then I think I lost track of the story for a good two years after that. What was going on in the backdrop leading up to the formation of SÂVER?

We spent a year, more or less, in our rehearsal space after Tombstones, just writing new material without having a plan. I don't think it took that long before we knew we had to make something of it, so we talked alot about what type of band we wanted to start and what type of music we wanted to play. We all knew we wanted to do something different. So it's been a lot of experimenting with sounds and gear to get to where we are now.

What does the band’s name signify?

It means "sleep" or "sleeping" in an old Norwegian dialect, from out in the woods where Ole Helstad is from.

“We wanted to just leave.”

The opening line from “Dissolve To Ashes” starts with: “They came with sunlight” -- it’s also the title of the album. I’m used to song and album titles that refer to the menace of darkness and those that prey in the shadows, but here you’re anticipating the arrival of something with the dawn. Can you illuminate this?

I think that line, in particular, is spoken through someone or something else “on the other side.” The clean singing sort of amplifies that. At some point during the writing process, I painted this picture in my mind of three dudes just leaving the earth towards a better destination, in search of “The Light.” So most of the lyrics is based around that journey. I think people relate to that and that's why it's equally heavy as the typical “metal lyrics.” It's just about life, man.

“It's just about life, man.”

So much of metal is focused on pain, misery, death, subjugation, and very little is written about “the light” -- especially not in a style as heavy, so it really intrigues me.

Yes, well, I don't think there is any point in writing about stuff thats not from your own experiences and thought. We just sort of turned it all around and wrote about our journey away from death, shadows, and battleaxes. It was really about what all of us went through at the time. We wanted to just leave.

The tracks on They Came With Sunlight are huge. This and the recent Yob album are among the few that have been successful in writing cohesive long-form compositions that carry an effective dramatic arc. How does a piece like “I, Vanish” come together?

That song is based on a bass riff that Ole brought to the table one night. And I guess we just wrote it the way we know best. Weed, beer, and a sweaty rehearsal space with low lighting. We are all believers of repetition in music, and that song is all about that for sure. This whole album really came together naturally and I think it's because we all had a need to express ourselves in a different way than in other bands and we had a clear vision of what we wanted to do early on.

The production value is very high on the new album, capturing the depth, range, and power of your sound admirably. What have you learned about recording your sound now that’s different from when you first started recording albums with Tombstones a decades ago?

I always have all of these different ideas and thoughts on how to record the next album to make it better than what we have done before. But we always, at least in these types of bands, conclude that recording live is the only way. And having a studio tech that can provide good recordings of all the instruments is key. So we basically just do what we have been doing at rehearsals and know that the guys behind the desk just captures it at that moment. Joona Hassinen at Studio Underjord in Sweden was that guy, and he couldn't have done a better job. Everything sounded really good straight out of the mixing board, so we knew early on that this was gonna be a super heavy experience. That being said, we had a lot of weird accidents on this album, as well, that Joona decided to just leave in. Art by accident, dude. Always cool. We obviously added stuff after recording it live, but it's not really that far from it.

“Three dudes just leaving the earth towards a better destination in search of The Light.”

If nothing else, doom is surely infamous for its “low ‘n’ slow” approach. How in the name of Hades did you get such a damning sound on this record? What did you tune to, for example, on “Distant Path”?

It's that whole year of continuously hitting the rehearsal space, practicing and trying out different sounds. We knew we wanted to try and distance ourselves from all the other “doom” bands that are out there, but yet not losing ourselves and what we think sounds cool.

We tune in drop A, and the guitars have pretty thin string gauges to get that open, heavy sound. Not that much distortion either, to be honest. Most of the fuzz comes from Helstad's 215 bass cabinet. A Lot of the sound also came together after I bought a Fender Telecaster Deluxe and combined it with an older Peavey transistor head. Bringing a synthesizer to mix also opened a lot for us. I inherited a real passion for old and new synths from my brother. His collection of synths is out of this world -- thanks Pål.

As Joona said after re-amping the fuzz bass, “It sounds like war.” I will never stop trying out new gear and trying new weird shit, and that's a big part of me evolving as a musician.

Picking up from that last question, the level of tonal depth you were able to capture on this recording is truly remarkable. Without ever feeling muted or distorted, you’ve managed to capture the grandiosity and rumbling low-end of those bruising chords.

Joona basically just recorded -- with great technique and experience -- what we played then and there. If the song is heavy, and you believe in it, it's gonna come out heavy. No matter what amp you use or what pickup you have in you guitar. I'm pretty sure Jimi Hendrix would make a shitty B.C. Rich Warlock from 2009 sing and penetrate your soul in the same way he does with his Stratocaster.

What amps and gear did you use in the recording?

We recorded it live with the same set-up as we use at gigs and rehearsals. I won't get into all the pedal details. On guitar, I played through a stereo setup with 412 cabinets. Peavey Century Bass Series and and old Simms Watts 100. Well, bass was actually reamped, but Helstad uses his Rickenbacker 4003 through a Ampeg SVT Classic with an 810 cab and a Peavey Standard with a Peavey 215 cab. Markus, of course, can make any drum kit sound amazing, though I don't remember the particulars of what he used in this recording.

To record the synth parts, I borrowed his brother's Korg MS10 from the '70s. One of our all time favourite synthesizers, but it's old, rare, and not cheap, so recently I bought a Moog Sub Phatty that I bet you will hear more of on our next record. If people want to know more, we love talking gear. Come check us out live and have a chat.

How did you arrive at the decision to use synthesizers in these compositions, anyway?

I've been active in two other electronica-based bands: Gundelach and Hubbabubbaklubb. I got inspired by these two acts and my brother, who plays synth in those two bands, as well. As mentioned, he's got an enormous collection of vintage, kickass synthesizers. All of us love the sound of it and also electronic music, and we wanted to use that as a tool to divide our sound from the common doom band. You can expect more synth on the next album.

"Art by accident, dude. Always cool.”

How have your live performances gone so far? We’d love to have you back to the States sometime!

Really good! Again, the response has been overwhelming. As a band, it's really important to set goals, and we have met almost all of our goals to this date. It's crazy. We are really looking forward to next year! Playing the US has been a goal for all of us forever and is something we definitely want to make happen with S VER. Hopefully next year, Billy, we can meet up and have a beer.

The Great SÂVER Giveaway

The band has been kind enough to offer 15 free downloads of their new album to 15 lucky souls. Redeem one code below at pelagicrecords.bandcamp.com/yum.

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[favficarchives]

Cheeky Bastards (One-shot)

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x American Kingsman!Reader

Request: Do you think you could write a Eggsy x american Kingsman! Reader with "That's not where I would hide the body." , "I wasn't listening to you. I was undressing you with my eyes.", "That's starting to get annoying." & "Here take my blanket.", please ? That'd be amazing ! Put on some sock was so great ! ❤

Summary: You’re an auxiliary Kingsman agent stationed in the US, and you’re an all-around professional. Eggsy, on the other, isn’t... Genre: Fluff, I guess? IDK. There’s some fluff, some angst. Just generally a light fic to help us all fill our Eggsy withdrawal until September Warnings: Some cursing, but you should really expect that of me by now :p Word count: 1,266

[Masterlist]

A/N: I rewrote this three times because I couldn’t get it just right. And now that I’m reading it again I’m thinking of 5 other directions I could have taken the request, but here we are! I hope you like it, anon!

“I just want you to know, I’m not a fan of you right now.”

Galahad scoffed at your comment.

“How do you feel about me otherwise?” He asked, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

You glared at him from beneath the bundle of scarves and hats you wrapped yourself up in. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone on missions in the northern border states before, but after a 6-week stint in New Mexico your tolerance for the bone-chilling cold was at an all-time low.

“I don’t think that’s a question you want me answer right now.”

The young agent beside you laughed at your bitter response. You wanted to offer another snappy retort, but the burning in your throat and lungs forced you to keep your mouth shut.

As the two of you approached the front door of the Kingsman safehouse, Galahad reached out and opened the door for you. You trekked inside, stomping the snow off your boots and depositing all of the equipment you lugged through the forest. You moved out of the way to let Galahad in and went over to the living room fireplace.

“I’ll get some fires started,” you told him, “you start setting up the equipment and get in contact with Merlin. Tell him I hate him.”

“Gladly,” he laughed.

You and Galahad sat across from each other in front of the fire place, each working on your own laptop and passive-aggressively bickering back and forth about the results.

“That’s not where I would hide the body,” you stated plainly, trying to disguise the frustration you felt. “It’s too heavily traveled. Maybe an amateur would think to use a state park, but we’re not dealing with amateurs.”

Galahad shot you an annoyed look.

“And where would you hide a body, in all your wisdom?”

“Up in the mountains,” you said, shifting a little closer to the fire. “This isn’t really a popular climbing destination, and the only workers who ever really go up there are SARs officers, meaning if anyone does stumble upon a body, it’ll most likely be classified as an accidental death, notanintentionalone.”

You rushed the last few words out as a power shiver overtook you, rocking you whole body and causing your teeth to chatter. The fire was roaring and you were wearing two pairs of socks, but you couldn’t shake the chill from your earlier hike through the woods.

“Here,” Galahad said, removing the thick sheet of wool from his lap and wrapping it around your shivering frame, “take my blanket.”

You blushed in embarrassment and sent a grateful smile his way. While you’d heard many rumors about the new Galahad that painted him as a wanna-be James Bond – a flirtatious playboy who easily found friends on his missions – you’d also heard quite a few rumors depicting him as a kind, sweet guy with a heart of gold. In the few hours since the two of you met, he’d embodied both of those characters seamlessly. The drastic dichotomy was giving you whiplash.

“Name’s Eggsy, by the way,” he said suddenly as he reclaimed his spot by the fire. “Thought you’d like to know.”

You shot him a confused look.

“You’re not supposed to tell me your name,” you said simply. “There’s a reason you guys have codenames.”

Gala- Eggsy shrugged. “It didn’t seem right for me to know your name and you not know mine.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“You know my name?” you asked, not believing him for one minute, seeing as he had yet to use it.

“Well,” he said, a smirk on his face, “I’d know if you told me.”

You sighed and rolled eyes. Here we were, immediately back to the wanna-be Bond. You didn’t want to give in to his ridiculous request and potentially invite more flirting, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t stop pestering you until he got an answer.

“It’s Y/N.”

Eggsy smiled at you.

“That’s a beautiful name, Y/N,” he said, and you almost convinced yourself that he was sincere. But men like him were never sincere. You’d known that since before you joined Kingsman, and years working alongside the buttmunchs confirmed those hard-learned lessons.

“Get back to work,” you snapped, diverting your eyes back to your laptop and ignoring how much more comfortable you were with his blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“Well that was a waste of time,” Eggsy grumbled as the two of you began stripping out of your climbing gear.

You’d gone in the morning to check out the most probable dumpsites within the nearby mountain range, but found nothing. You were both desperate to get a hold of the body, hopeful that it could give you some information that you didn’t already have. You, in particular, were apt in the art of profiling, which is why Merlin put you on this mission. With as little information that the Kingsman had available, they needed as much of an edge as possible.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, shaking out your hair as you took off your knit cap, “We figured before that they didn’t want the body to be found as much as anyone with a corpse doesn’t want it found. Now, however, we know they’re going to great – even excessive – lengths to keep that from happening. Before we just thought they were cautious, but now we can firmly say they’re paranoid.”

You turned to face Eggsy, awaiting his input, only to find his distant gaze affixed to your body and not your face. As much as you were able to stand your own, your thermals felt a little too tight under his steady gaze.

“Eggsy,” you shouted sternly, bringing his attention back to you instead of your body.

“Sorry, love,” he said, his signature cheeky grin in place. “I wasn’t listening to you. I was undressing you with my eyes.”

“I figured,” you spat. “You know, that’s starting to get annoying. I mean, I knew you were a flirtatious fuck, but if you can’t get it under control to complete this mission-“

“Woah woah woah,” Eggsy said, eyes wide and hands raised in defense, “I didn’t mean to piss you off. I thought… Never mind, it doesn’t matter what I thought. If you want me to stop, I will.”

“I want you to stop,” you said firmly. “I’m here to do my job, not flirt with one of the knights.”

“Alright,” Eggsy said with ease, walking up to you and placing a soothing hand on your arm. “No more flirting. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to overstep your boundaries.”

You nodded, silently accepting his apology. He gave you a restrained smile before turning away and walking to the work station you guys had set up the night before. Your heart – which had begun racing in preparation for the fight you expected – slowed down almost immediately. You couldn’t remember the last time you confronted a man – even a knight – about his behavior and was met with a sincere apology instead of a defensive argument.

“You know, you don’t have to stop altogether,” you told him, nervously wringing your hands as a smile tugged at your lips. “I mean, it might get a little too quiet if you had to stop talking entirely.”

Eggsy’s gaze shot up at you, confusion and offense written across his face as he prepared to defend himself against the accusation. His angry expression, however, quickly melted into a smirk and a roll of his eyes when he saw your impish smile and the teasing twinkle in your eyes.

“Cheeky bastard,” he muttered.

A/N: Ayyyy, there it is! I hope you enjoyed it! And for reference, requests are always open, though I can’t promise a time frame for turn over. I try to work quickly, but life gets in the way and I don’t want to publish anything I’m not at least 90% happy with  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy x reader #kingsman fic #request