#he doesn’t scream or try to escape anymore but he still isn’t a fan and there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll poop or pee in it

[ghostie123]

Link (top row of both slides) with his full older sister and his full littermate brother. I’m so grateful that his sister’s mom saw Link, his dna and where we live and put together that she probably has his sister. We emailed Embark to run a relative test to confirm and confirm they did

Link was found as a stray so for nearly 2 years I’ve known nothing about who or where he came from. But I even have a few pics of their parents now. Unfortunately the people these dogs come from are pretty awful and sell a 5 week wolfdog pups to anyone who shows up with money, no questions asked. They’ve also sold pups with Parvo, who died days after being brought home. I scoured my state for breeders trying to see where my dog was from but as it turns out, they don’t have a website, they only post their puppies on craigslist, nobody knows their names or exactly where they live because they only meet up to sell the pups in public. After his sister was bought, her owner said she saw several people on craigslist trying get rid of the pup they recently bought bc they couldn’t handle them, one sister even ended up at a rescue. So it makes sense why I couldn’t find his family on my own, and why I found a 6 week puppy on the side of the road. I assume he was bought and a week in his buyer realized they werent able to deal with, or werent ready for a wolfdog, since he was found dehydrated and full of worms and ticks. But not starving, luckily

And man am I lucky that the puppy I didn’t know was a wolfdog for the first few months we had him (though we quickly grew suspicious) is generally a great fit for our family of his humans, our other 2 dogs and the kitten. And we’re a good fit for him 💕

#make no mistake he can be rotten #but now that he’s almost 2 he’s typically a wonderful dog #he was a NIGHTMARE as an infant with crate training #I can see why people couldn’t handle him #he screamed all night while rattling the cage #he never settled and he would poop the crate EVERY night despite being taken out every few hours #but he was so worked up that when we let him out to go potty he’d just scream and try to climb up our leg and refused to go outside at nigh #every morning he and the crate were COATED in poop and pee and the screaming for months #he doesn’t scream or try to escape anymore but he still isn’t a fan and there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll poop or pee in it #even tho he’s fully potty trained (duh) #but that’s verbally his biggest flaw now. he occasionally shreds a pillow or something #he’s my bffffffff #i love him #link #wolfdog #malamute #german shepherd

[jimblejamblewritings]

Your Moniker Should Be Cruel | part 2.

Summary: How do you win a war between the Greens and the Blacks? Take what you want.

Warnings: 18+ THIS IS A DARK FIC. (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, for those who use this term) Non-con and violence and death. Do not read if that makes you uncomfortable (and do not hate on my readers that enjoy this escapism)

Pairing: dark!Aegon x reader, technically Cregan x reader (his romance doesn't really get focused on for any of the story)

Word Count: 2.8k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

You were dropped on the ground when Aemond reached the dragon pits of King’s Landing. Despite your attempts to take off your waist strap and legs straps, he was there in a matter of seconds. You cursed. If it wasn’t raining then you wouldn’t have used all of the safety measures. You didn't even like wearing leg straps. Aemond tied your arms behind your back and blindfolded you before he undid your saddle straps. You kicked as hard as you could, freezing when you felt something cold on your neck. 

“I’ll kill you like I killed your brother if you don’t quit moving.” 

You stopped, letting Aemond escort you. He took the secret route in the dragon pits that led back to King’s Landing. He left you in the Godswood, tied to the large weirwood tree. You shook like a leaf as you tried to undo your ties. There was nowhere to go but if you were able to run or at least hide then you could think properly. The voices stopped you just as you figured out how to undo the knot. A shrill voice made a noise between a gasp and a scream. 

“What have you done?” 

Aemond looked at his mother confused. “I’ve solved our problems. This is better than any promises from Lord Baratheon. Lucerys is dead and we have her.” 

Otto looked at his grandson. “You’ve killed Lucerys?"

"I didn't intend to. Vhagar mistook my commands. I simply adapted."

"So you took Y/N? The princess’ terms hadn’t come in. We don’t know what she might have done.” 

“They were at Storm’s End.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Otto lost his composure. “That is what one does with the threat of war. She didn’t know if we would invade just as we didn’t know about her. You have thrown that away. Even if she was willing to give up the crown, it would have been for her children. Do you know what she will do now? She will start a war! We ar— Aegon, what are you doing?” 

You shook when you felt a hand grab your cheeks. Warm breath could be felt as it fanned over your face. You felt fingers digging into your flesh, not enough to hurt but enough to make you squirm with discomfort.  

“Call the Septon,” Aegon said, turning to look at his family. 

“What?” Otto and Alicent were confused, too busy trying to think of ways to stop a war that was certainly happening now. 

“Call the Septon,” Aegon repeated himself. “I am taking a second wife. A prisoner isn’t enough, they’ll just come to rescue her. Killing her will cause a people’s rebellion. The bitch used to give bread to poor people when her family still lived here. No, Y/N Velaryon is going to give me an heir. There is nothing they can do about that without causing harm to her.” 

“You have children with Helaena.” 

“And our son will marry the daughter I have with Y/N. They’ll rule together like my father always wanted from his children.” 

You were left alone again. Or so you thought. Aegon was looking at you, enjoying the struggle as you tried to undo your ties. He waited until you were almost out before grabbing your hands. You screamed There was no use trying to escape anymore, not in your current state. 

Aegon tested you. He removed the tie around the weirwood tree before everyone else got back to see what you would do. A devilish smile crossed his face when you didn’t run. You simply stood there, trying to get a sense of your surroundings. The wedding was done right then and there. You weren’t changed. Your ties weren’t removed. You were still blindfolded as you said your vows. Vows you didn’t say so much as muttered under the stress of Aemond’s sword lightly pressing into your back. 

Otto and Alicent watched with lots of concern as you were pulled along by Aegon as he headed towards his chamber. Alicent pulled away when you jumped at her touch. She could do nothing but watch you leave the Godswood. 

Otto squeezed his hands out of stress. “We could send her back in good faith?” 

“Aemond has killed Lucerys.” 

“But she is still alive. They will want her back.” 

“Is Aegon to give up the throne? Do you think Rhaenyra will accept a surrender? She will kill Aegon a—” 

“Your son killed hers first! And he’s kidnapped the only daughter she has birthed. Your other son has taken light of her pledge to Lord Stark, wed her, and is about to ruin her. There is nothing to do now. We surrender and pray they are merciful enough to not take our heads. Understand when you have lost because of your own actions.” 

Alicent shook her head. “What mother sacrifices her children? I am sorry about Y/N, I truly am. But I will not kill my own children. Aegon has made this decision. We must support him until the end of war.” 

~~

Daemon had been on the beach in the morning. Lord Baratheon was more than likely to host the prince and princess for many days but Cregan probably wouldn’t care much for Jace without you there. Even if Jace and Cregan were friends. But Daemon wasn’t just waiting on Jace. He was waiting on word from his Goldcloaks about who was still loyal and would ride to Dragonstone. 

The King Consort waved as Vermax landed on the beach. His hand dropped when two ravens almost flew into him. Jace undid his leg straps rather lazily. Unlike you and Lucerys, he and Rhaena preferred leg straps over waist straps. He looked over at his stepfather who was picking something off the legs of the ravens. 

“Daemon, what is it?” 

The two papers dropped from Daemon’s grip, landing in the sand. Jace slid down his dragon and ran when his stepfather trudged towards the ocean and dropped into the water. He stopped to pick up the papers first. 

“We have to tell Mother, we ha—” 

Jace stopped when Daemon didn’t move. The older man looked out at the ocean. Daemon’s face turned hard. He returned his sword to its sheath and stood up. He and Jace returned to the meeting hall where everyone was gathered to discuss more plans. Jace went to Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, and the twins while Daemon went to Rhaenyra. He pulled her towards the fire and away from the table. Rhaenyra’s scream gained everyone’s attention. Daemon put a hand on her shoulder. 

“We will get her back. But we must plan.” 

Rhaenyra nodded. “I want you to get Cregan Stark.” 

Daemon was gone without another word. 

~~

You were pushed into a room. Aegon didn’t stop pushing until you were face first on the bed. You didn’t bother kicking or hitting as he untied you, already fearful of another knife to your back. Instead, you begged. Still blindfolded, you choked out sobs and whispered your pleas as you felt the bottom of your skirt get pushed up. Aegon leaned over you. 

“Keep begging. I enjoy it.” 

He was cold, not even trying to help you like it. It was all for his pleasure and giving him an heir. You had to listen to him take pride in how your mother and father would feel when they received the news. He took pride in the notion that you and Cregan were over by his own hands. You felt yourself get turned over.

For the first time that night, he kissed you. It wasn’t sweet or of passion. It was of conquest, another thing he bragged about. Living up to his ancestor’s moniker — Aegon the Conqueror. He tilted your head up as he removed the blindfold. Fingers grabbing the front of your dress, he tore it. 

“I think I’ll keep a bit of this to remind me of our night. I will see you in the morning when the family eats, dear wife.” He grabbed at your body one more time. “I will see you tomorrow night as well. We will make beautiful heirs. The maids will come by in the morning with clothes for you. Don’t think you will do anything without my permission.” 

He left. You laid motionless in your bed, only staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Eventually, you were able to sit yourself up. Your chamber was practically empty. There wasn’t even a jug of water. You coughed as you got out of the bed.

Carefully, like you were afraid of making any moves, you opened the door to see Kingsguards. They both turned, immediately looking above you when they saw how torn your dress was. You tried to cover up your chest as best as you could with the torn fabric and your hands. You looked at both of them, recognizing Ser Criston. 

“Can I get some water? And maybe something to eat, please?” 

Ser Criston walked away while the other Kingsguard stayed by the door. You stood awkwardly in your own chamber when he came back. He set down a jug of water with a cup as well as a small plate of whatever he could scrounge up from the kitchens. He set down something else. 

“One of the maids had a spare sleeping gown.” 

He left shortly after, not looking at you as he did. You made your way over to the small table, deciding to change into the sleeping gown first. The water felt cool as it hit your lips. You didn’t bother with the cup. The jug was only set back on the table when it was empty.

Your stomach rumbled as the reality of your situation hit you fully. You vomited all over the floor. You didn’t want the food anymore, choosing to just sit on your bed. It was early morning when the maids came in. The first maid stopped in the doorframe. 

“Oh my.”

The others nearly ran into her. They all focused on the vomit in between the bed and the table. Some of them moved to clean it up while others started a bath. They whispered under their breath to each other. You looked like you hadn’t slept at all. The food hadn’t been touched but the jug of water was drained.

Aegon’s behavior wasn’t a secret amongst the maids. They had lost so many girls who were given money by the Crown to get as far away from the Keep as they could. But they never thought he would do it to his own wife. You were basically a doll as they moved you from your bed to the tub. They washed you as gently as they could. Everyone froze when you pulled your leg away as a maid got closer to it. 

They decided you were done and helped you out of the tub. You were dressed with clothes that had belonged to Helaena. The maids escorted you along with the Kingsguard to the dining hall. It was just Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Alicent dropped her head in her hands when you sat down. You looked like a wreck. The only thing nice was your hair and the dress the maids were responsible for. 

The dark circles under your eyes were large. Your lip looked split. And some sort of bruise was forming around your neck. You just stared into the distance. She tried to pile food on your plate, pushing it towards you. You didn’t make any movement. The family ate and talked around you.

Your eyes glanced down when you felt something touch your thigh. A white hand scrunched up the fabric of your dress until the skirt was completely bunched around your waist. You looked over at Aegon who looked at you with dark eyes. Otto turned his head when he heard a squeak come from you. He saw his grandson’s arm moving rather vigorously. 

“Aegon.” 

“What? I came to the realization that I never gave my wife pleasure last night. If you don’t enjoy entertainment with your meal then you may leave, grandsire.” He looked back at you in disgust. “Did you just piss yourself?” 

He pulled his hand from you and pushed your upper body onto the table, forcing you to stand. 

“Aegon, stop this at once!” Otto threw down his spoon.  

“Why? She is my wife.” 

Everyone but Aemond and the required Kingsguard left as Aegon began flipping up your skirts. The Kingsguard averted their eyes, flinching at every sound that came from you. Aegon pressed you into the table more and more with each thrust. He and his brother made crude remarks. Eventually, Aemond grew bored and left after pouring the rest of his unfinished wine onto your head. 

Alicent paced outside the dining hall, stopping every now and then to listen at the door. She ran in when Aegon and his Kingsguard had left. The thin cotton that made your underwear was in pieces at your ankles. Your skirts were still flipped up. Alicent rushed over to you. You freaked out when you felt someone touch you. Alicent tried to shush you as she pulled down your dress and sat you down in a chair. She kneeled down in front of you, grabbing your hands. 

“I apologize deeply for his behavior.” 

“I want to go home,” you said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

“This is your home now. I will speak with Aegon about letting you out of the chamber.” She beckoned over Ser Criston. “I’d like you to take care of her as best as you can.” 

Alicent went to go find her son. Criston offered a hand that you shakily took. You thought he was gone for the day when you were returned to your chamber. Instead, he was back with water and food since you still hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. He approached you with another sleeping gown and a cup. 

“Mara made the tea for herself. She requested that I give it to you, Your Grace.” 

“Princess.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I don’t want to be Your Grace.”

“Yes. Apologies, Princess. Please take the tea. Either Mara or I will be by in the mornings with more for you.” 

You recognized the scent of moon tea in the cup. Aegon had forbidden you from everywhere, especially the kitchens. You suspected it was for this very reason. You downed the cup before taking the jug on your nightstand and poured water into the cup.

After three rounds of water, you thought all traces of moon tea were out of the cup. Your eyes closed as you turned away from the food in favor of sleep. There was nothing to do but fearfully wait for Aegon to come at night. 

You were allowed out of your chamber after a while. The Godswood, the kitchen, and the library were the only places you could go. Kingsguard still escorted you everywhere. At first, Aegon only wanted you to have library access. Otto and Alicent convinced him otherwise when you still didn’t eat. You only ate stuff that you prepared and you only ate in the kitchens.

The cooks set a stool at the end of the large counter because that was where you stayed. You always got pitiful looks from them as they tried to add more food onto your plate whenever you came in with split lips or others matters. They looked at you with pity when Aegon came in. He set your bread down and yanked you off the stool. 

“You can eat later.” 

You were confused when you were led through the Godswood by a fully armored Aegon. He sat you on the back of his dragon and tied the leg straps before getting on himself. As his dragon flew on, you started to hear shouting. Pretty soon you came upon a battlefield. It wasn’t really. No one was fighting, not yet. But there were troops for miles. And there were dragons.

Your parents looked over you as best as they could. Your brother’s face couldn’t conceal his anger, neither could his dragon. You looked at them all. Jace, Daemon, Rhaenyra, Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenys. Every dragon-rider was there. Your grandmother was closest to you.

If you jumped, she might be able to catch you before you hit the ground. Aegon grabbed you just as you undid the second strap. He pressed his knife to your throat. 

“I will kill her if you ever try to come for her or the crown. Do you understand?” 

Aegon could tell they were calculating. He didn’t wait, choosing to prove his point. You cried out when he stabbed your right shoulder. Rhaenyra sneered but didn’t move for fear of hurting you more. Aegon began flying back without any more opposition.

Your family knew they had to go back to Dragonstone but they weren’t giving up. Unbeknownst to him, Aegon reignited the life in you. You hadn’t seen your family in months and it almost broke you. Now, you wanted to reunite more than anything. You landed in King’s Landing without a fight.

The Grand Maester cared for your wound while Alicent and Otto berated Aegon for what he had done. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying. You were too busy plotting how you were going to kill every last one of them.

(part 3)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

#hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fic #house of dragon fic #targaryen!reader #velaryon!reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #dark!aegon ii targaryen #dark!aegon

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Anxiety (2) Masterlist

part one

124º (ao3) - katesnotcool calum/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Ashton feels helpless to all that is bad. In his eyes, God doesn’t believe he deserves to live in a happy world. But if he can’t be happy, then why keep going?

All My Friends (ao3) - Headgehog_Louis007 michael/calum, luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: Having an anxiety attack on your birthday is less than ideal, but it helps when your boyfriend knows what to do, and spending the day with your favorite people makes you feel better.

a piece of peace of mind (ao3) - sparklyjimin T, 1k

Summary: it feels like forever since they performed for fans, and the prospect of going on tour feels a lot like coming home to luke.

then again, he's just spend two years struggling with being isolated from others, and maybe facing a crowd again all of a sudden is going to be a little much for him to deal with.

Breathe (ao3) - lucasshem luke/ashton N/R, 4k (WIP)

Summary: Where Luke and Ashton are soulmates, but Luke has anxiety.

breathe deep and hesitate (ao3) - mimi_reads luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Now all the view accomplishes is making him feel more depressed. He looks down and sees cars speeding by or shapes moving behind windows, watches the people 24 floors down navigate the streets. So many signs of life, of people who are enjoying their night and aren’t feeling like absolute and utter shit.  Looking up doesn’t offer Luke much more comfort though.

Coffee Eyes (ao3) - 1loulu5 michael/calum M, 1k

Summary: No one was stalking him anymore, everything was fine. It was just his anxiety acting up again.

...But what if it wasn't?

~~~

Michael has a stalker.

Days Like This (ao3) - LunaT2345 G, 2k

Summary: Ashton's having a bad day. Calum will always be there to help pull him out.

Empty Wallets (ao3) - gayrightsalec calum/ashton G, 2k

Summary: this is my first 5sos fic after rejoining the fandom for the third time since 2014. there are no major trigger warnings, but please note the tags. thank you for looking!

for the prompt 'Can you come pick me up?'

Hold Me Close (ao3) - LunaT2345 luke/ashton G, 5k

Summary: Five times Luke and Ashton took care of each other

I love the way you scream my name (ao3) - mlstyles257 ot4 N/R, 5k

Summary: The boys had purchased the Sybian months ago. But their lives were so hectic, that they haven’t gotten around to using it yet. First, they were working on their new album, then they were on the road on tour, before finally, after months of the toy collecting dust in their closet, they had free time. Michael was the one to stumble across the toy while…doing some research. He immediately sent the link to Ashton and Calum with a simple caption of ‘for Luke’. Safe to say, they bought it pretty quickly.

Luke is a little anxious to try out the new toy, but with a little reassurance from his boyfriends and a demonstration from Calum, he agrees to give it a go.

inhale it in the morning sun (ao3) - invisibleperiwinkle michael/luke T, 1k

Summary: michael and luke have been best friends for seemingly their whole lives and that seems to be how long michael has had a crush on luke while on vacation with luke's family michael needs and escape so what happens when luke finds micheal sitting on the roof

i've been wishing i could breathe underwater - bellawritess luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Okay, so the instructional video on scuba diving hadn’t been the most reassuring thing to watch for a group of novices. Ashton’s brave face had melted away as the polite lady narrating the video had informed them about how they could sustain permanent ear damage if they didn’t equalise enough. Luke gets that they need to understand the risks, but still.

Even the scuba mask isn’t enough to hide the fear in Ashton’s face, and that’s saying something.

Promises are meant to be kept (But its so hard) (ao3) - notgonnamessthisup N/R, 2k

Summary: The story about how Ashton chooses sobriety but is incapable of being vulnerable so he tries to keep it a secret. His friends find out

the situation is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: Luke is closeted and nobody outside of the band, and close family, knows that he has a secret husband. During promo for Youngblood, Luke suffers a panic attack when the interviewer asks a personal question. Cue, Ashton to the rescue and comfort.

The U.S. is for us. (ao3) - KaybeeBabee luke/ashton G, 376

Summary: Luke gets an anxiety attack.

Through The Wall (ao3) - tinyglitterrose luke/ashton M, 2k

Summary: "Ashton, you are aware that I fucking fucked you in the ass, right? More than once? I fucked you, Ashton."

or Ashton likes to let himself be taken by random men on weekends and Luke finds out by accidently becoming one of Ashton's customers.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #masterlists #tw #anxiety tw #anxiety #anxiety masterlist

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

#hslot!harry #hslotrry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles angst #husband!harry #harry styles huband #erodsafishtacos masterlist #file #Harry styles au #update #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing request #harry styles angst

[youandtom2]

would you ever consider doing a dark!tom in an abusive relationship? having to be smiles for the camera and the world thinks its a cute moment between the two of you but really hes whispering a threat in your ear as you both pretend to be happy at a red carpet, your dress hiding the bruises perfectly?? 👀

Big Brother’s Watching

Dark!Tom Holland x Reader

Warning: depicts physically abusive relationships!!!

“Stop fidgeting,” Tom grumbles into your ear. His voice his harsh and fuelled by irritation, but the gleaming smile on his face could fool anyone. And the sad thing is, it does.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Sorry that your hand is curling into the rib you bruised last night.

The crowd screams his name, the constant strobe of flashes pan in front of your eyes, and fans beg for his attention, and for all you care, they can have it. The world idolises the man you want so desperately to get away from, born none the wiser to the darker side of the infamous Tom Holland. You were once as naive as they were; a hopeless romantic smitten with the attention of the charming actor that first caught your sights working behind the scenes of his latest Spider-Man film. Now it seems unfortunate that you caught his.

Because he wasn’t all he seemed to be.

Last night’s temperament stemmed from an accidental spill of his coffee, splashing all over the bunkers and dripping onto the floor. It wasn’t even your fault, you were in the bedroom, as you usually were, yet somehow the blame still landed on you. Something as simple and mindless like a spill, easily fixed, triggers an angry man to bruise your rib, not easily fixed.

The bruised rib is one thing, but it’s hiding it and painting a facade that’s another. You stand by his side, forcing a smile while trying to stand in a way that doesn’t irritate your rib, or your back, or your hip., still recovering from previous episodes. That’s what makes Tom as clever as he is evil. He targets the areas that are only reserved for his eyes only, avoiding public exposure by the promiscuity of your dresses.

The paparazzi shout instructions, determined to fulfil their own agenda.

“Give us a pose!”

“Stand closer to Tom!”

“Over this way!”

“Kiss her cheek, Tom!”

Tom turns to you just as your hesitance begins to show, and your smile begins to drop. His lips come close to your ear and at first sign of intimacy, the flashes increase.

“Come on, darling. Let’s give the people what they want.” His patronising tone shakes your bones. You subtly nod and turn your head, releasing a sigh at this torment.

Tom tightens his hold on your ribs to pull you closer and you wince nervously, knowing he heard it as he plants a long, taunting kiss on your cheek. You don’t know how many cameras capture that small, momentary lapse of weakness, but time will tell when the press release the evidence.

“Smile, darling. Big brother’s watching.” He whispers close to your ear. He plants another kiss to your cheek, raised as you force a smile, offering a better option for the press to use in publishing. “Anymore of your behaviour and I’ll have to do something about it, whether it’s here or at home I don’t care. Show me you can be my good girl. Kiss me.”

You really can’t take any more pain, emotionally and physically. Surrendering, you swallow the lump in your throat and detach your eyes from the flashes to face Tom; a smug, devious grin plastered over his lips. The kiss is short, meaningless and empty, but your audience are convinced. Turns out, Tom isn’t the only one that can fool the world.

Tom murmurs quietly against your lips. “Good girl.”

Your attention turns back towards the red carpet as you walk further towards the theatre. Tom’s hand never strays far from your back, pressing into the bruise every now and then as a reminder but how could you forget? How can you forget that marks of blue and purple riddle your hidden body? How could ignore what he’s done to you?

Better yet, how can you escape?

#tom holland #dark!tom holland #request #anon asks #angst #tom Holland fic #blurb #peter parker #no way home

[cjsinkythoughts]

Inner Conflict

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Some Angst, Some Fluff, Sam and Bucky being idiots, Mentions of PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression

A/N: Here’s Part Three to my FATWS Series, which I’m making a masterlist for that you can find Here. 

Uh…it’s a little long, and I apologize for that. It doesn’t even encompass the whole second episode, only the first half, so a Part 3.5 will be coming out later today probably (it’s my day off work so I have all day to relax and write!) I tried not doing a line for line rewrite of the episode, but there are quotes from the show in here. Mostly it’s Reader’s thoughts and feelings towards what’s happening while conversations are going on around. Reader’s backstory is a bit more unfurled. It’s more action packed and more scene-for-scene of the episode than the previous two. Less emotions shared and less hurt/comfort type of thing, but that’ll be back in the next part probably along with more scenes not in the show. The next part I’m planning won’t be as long, it’ll mainly just be the Couples Therapy scene and a bit more angst with her and Sam and her and Bucky.

Because there’s four more episodes and I don’t know what’s going to happen in them, I’m kinda hesitant on spilling out exactly what is going on with the Reader and what her role was on the original team, but we’ll get there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to be writing multiple pieces for one episode, but if the other episodes are as packed as this one, prepare yourself for more parts than anticipated. We’re already on Part 3 and I’ve got Part 3.5 coming. Just bare with me as I don’t know what’s going to happen in future episodes! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it! 

(Not beta’d so excuse any mistakes.)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Walking out of the shower, ruffling a towel through your hair to dry it off, you froze at the sound of the TV. A sigh left your lips. It’s all he’d been doing the last few days - watching the news. Keeping up with the tour for the new Captain America.

You peeked out of the small bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the floor, brow creased as he watched John Walker talk to the Good Morning America hostess.

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” You spoke up, leaning on the doorway, still patting your hair dry. He glanced over to you, taking in the towel wrapped around you, before looking back at the TV. Seeing you like that wasn’t anything new. “Buck, I’m serious. Brooding over it won’t make anything better.”

“What do you want me to do?”

You let out a sigh, shifting your feet and biting your lip as you thought about how to respond. “I-I haven’t figured it out yet. But obsessing over the new guy-”

“Aren’t you mad?”

You frowned at his question, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I told you already that I am.”

He tilted his head, which he did when he was confused, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you show it? Why aren’t you screaming or cursing or crying or something? You, of all people-”

“Because it won’t help anything, Buck.” You shook your head, pushing off the wall. “I want to. But if I let myself go down that road…” Dropping your gaze to the floor, you take a breath, collecting your thoughts. “This is such a complicated situation, James. I’m being contacted left and right for a statement on the new Captain. People trying to see my reaction. Senators trying to get me to meet with him. I can’t let myself snap. I can’t.”

He scowled. “They’re still bothering you?”

A dry chuckle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Makes me miss the days when no one knew who I was; when I was the behind-the-scenes seventh Avenger. But I made that choice to come out, and I have to deal with the consequences now. Blowing up will only-”

“Even though I never met him…he feels like a brother.”

That one statement stopped you in your tracks. Bucky’s head whipped back to the TV, his jaw ticking, his nose scrunching up.

“Did he really just say that?”

Bucky merely nodded, his chest heaving as he tried getting his breathing under control. “Feel like snapping now?”

You purse your lips as you held in the tears stinging your eyes. After composing yourself, you moved over and grabbed the remote, letting out a tiny sniffle as you did so. You tentatively touched Bucky’s shoulder, silently asking him if he needed anything from you. His response was to open his arms, so you quickly got down besides him to hold him.

“He is my brother, doll.”

“I know, Buck.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head, which rested against your bare shoulder.

Your bare knees are pressed harshly against the wooden panels of the floor, and you’re twisted awkwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As long as he was comfortable, you would take the uncomfortable position. As long as he was being held, you would take the soreness it would leave. As long as you could help him be some sort of okay, you would take not being okay in this position.

 You two sat like that for a few more moments before your phone buzzed. You gave a sigh, pulling back and holding his cheeks in either hand. He wasn’t crying, although he was on the verge of doing so. You’d seen him cry before, so you knew he didn’t mind. For you it was a different story.

Bucky had maybe seen you cry twice since the whole Blip thing went down. And one of them was over the phone, so he didn’t see it so much as he heard it. You didn’t let yourself cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter. It was a part of you. The only person you ever felt comfortable enough around to cry in front of…wasn’t there. And you couldn’t change that.

“We’ll figure it out.” You told him, nodding gently and letting a small, sad smile quirk the corners of your lips up. “Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

The clench in his jaw loosened as your fingers worked circles into the hinge, making him relax and nod back. You pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before standing up, moving across the room to where your phone was on the counter. You assumed it’d be another government official or news reporter, so you were slightly shocked to see ‘Sammy’ flashing up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read his message, a slight pout forming on your face. 

“Doll?” Toned arms wrapped around you, warm and cool, his chin setting on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam. He needs my help with something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. “You might need help.”

“Bucky, you can’t go if you’re just going to yell at him.”

“I won’t.”

You studied his features. He was lying, you knew that. Of course he was going to snap at Sam for giving up the shield. He was mad and they got on each others’ nerves every chance they could find, so of course he was going to.

But you still found yourself saying yes and telling him to go pack a bag. You were never able to say no to Steve and it seemed that got passed on. What a nuisance it was.

****************

And you were so right. It was the first thing he said once Sam came into view coming down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“James.” You squeezed the hand he was holding, voice pleading for him not to do this right now. He huffed, stepping back to let you greet Sam properly, giving the man a hug. “Hi, Sammy.”

“It’s been a while.” Sam commented, pulling back and holding you by the shoulders. “You look good. Not that you’ve ever looked otherwise.”

You gave him a small smile. “You do too.”

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s short notice, but-”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really.” You insist.

Sam nodded, before eyeing Bucky. “Did you have to bring him?”

“Samuel-”

“This is wrong.” Bucky cut in, staring Sam down, falling into step besides him as the man started heading outside.

“James-”

“Hey, hey. Look. I’m working, all right?”

You rolled your eyes as the two started arguing, stopping your stride to take a breather. You used to joke about babysitting them, but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore and you were getting tired of it. All the bickering for no reason. The contempt they held for one another. Steve made you promise that you would look out for them, and you were trying, but they weren’t making it easy.

When you joined them again, you raised an eyebrow at the direction the conversation turned. How the hell did they get from arguing about the shield to what a wizard is?

“Ahh! Haha! A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat!”

You gave Sam a look as he babbled about how he was right. “Sorcerer Mickey has a hat. Isn’t that, like, how he gets his powers and everything?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Thank you!”

“Excuse you!” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “We were having a conversation!”

“Yeah. A stupid conversation I just ended. Now I’m gonna be in the plane. Feel free to join me when you’re done being idiots.”

They both spluttered, but you were already walking away, leaving no room for arguments. As you loaded onto the plane, you spotted the Lieutenant whom Sam mentioned who had been helping him out with missions. Torres, you thought, remembering his name from a previous phone call with your friend.

“You Lieutenant Torres?” You asked, walking up to him.

He blinked, before his eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. He seemed young, which you were perfectly okay with considering you’ve been working alongside old men for the past decade. It was always nice to work with a fresh face, which you found after you started working with Wanda and Peter.

The thought of the two youngest members made you falter, not having heard from either of them since Christmas almost six months prior, but you quickly recovered yourself, shaking away the worries you had for them.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N! I’m a huge fan! I’ve read all your files!”

Chuckling a little, you held out your hand. “Most of those are heavily classified.”

He ducked his head with a little blush, rubbing the back of his neck after shaking your hand. “I, uh, I might’ve…used connections.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, throwing him a wink. “I won’t tell. Can you tell me what’s going on? Sam didn’t exactly explain the situation.”

He nodded, getting into ‘work mode’, something you’ve seen in most military men, informing you of their recent missions and the group known as the Flag-Smashers and giving you a file on them. He was in the middle of telling you about his solo mission in Germany when your two fellas came in, sending each other small glares, but remaining quiet.

Bucky caught your eye and sent an apologetic look your way, to which you just smiled at before turning back to Torres.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay.” You told him once he was done.

“Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad.”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure. You seem like a tough kid.”

He smiled, before looking around and jabbing his thumb behind his shoulder. “I-I’ve gotta go, but-”

“We can talk later.” You promised with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Of course! I have a feeling we’ll be working together more, and I like getting to know who’s gonna have my back.”

He beamed and nodded, walking backwards. “That’d be awesome! Talk to you later then!”

You giggled as he turned around and jogged off, pumping his fist in the air. You turned to a grinning Sam and nodded towards where Torres left. “I like him. Seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. Very energetic. A little reckless, but he’s got a good heart.”

You hummed, the smile falling from your face as you flipped through the file Torres gave you. “So…Munich?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry again for taking you away from the search, but-”

“Search is off.” You informed him quickly, not looking up. “Until further notice.”

The plane went quiet, before Sam cleared his throat. “So…no sign of Wanda yet, then?”

You shut the file, looking up at the men whose features were laced with concern. “I’m gonna go talk to the pilot. Behave while I’m gone. No pushing each other off the plane.”

“Doll?”

You were stopped by the hand that grabbed your wrist as you passed Bucky. You shot him another smile, knowing it wasn’t convincing enough for him, but it being the best one you had. “I’m okay. I’ve just gotta ask him some questions.”

************

Opening your mouth to stop him, you groaned when Bucky jumped out of the plane before you could speak. First Sam jumps without sharing the plan, then Bucky jumps without having a plan. Or a parachute. Or wings. Or anything.

Torres looked at you, but all you could do was shrug. “I dunno what to tell you, kid.”

“You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“No.” You reassured him, shaking your head. “I’m gonna wait ‘til we land like a normal person and take my bike. I just have to pray that they’ll wait to do anything stupid until I get there.”

They didn’t wait. You’re pretty sure they didn’t even think about waiting. By the time you got to them, they were fighting - and losing, might you add - to six really strong people on top of two semi trucks.

Because why wouldn’t they?

Oh, oh. And on top of that, the fake was there, throwing the shield. The shield that didn’t belong to him. The shield that meant so much more than he would ever know.

“Hi, doll! Sorry we started the party without you!” Bucky shouted from where he was hanging off the edge, that close to the street and getting his head torn off by the tire.

“I’m so tired of babysitting you two, you know that?!”

“Oh! Sorry we’re such an inconvenience for you! Blame him! He jumped the gun!” Sam shouted, coming to fly next to you as you rolled up your sleeves, standing on your bike, using one hand to steer.

“Can I get a little help already?!”

“Sam-!”

“On it!”

Knowing that no matter how much they pissed each other off, Sam would make sure Bucky was okay and vice versa, you focused on getting to the top, where Walker and a buddy of his were struggling a little bit.

You climbed up to the roof of the semi no one was on, wincing when you heard your bike skidding across the pavement. There goes half your salary.

You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, considering one of the guys appeared in front of you. You recognized the fighting - the strength - and faltered, a memory resurfacing at a very bad time.

~

“C’mon, honey. You can do better than that.” Steve grinned at you, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Excuse me for not having super strength, Rogers.” You huffed out, taking it and letting him pull you up.

“You don’t need to be stronger than me. You just need to be smarter.”

“That’ll be easy.” You teased, stretching your arms before getting into your stance again. “You’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, who chose to be friends with this dumbass?”

“Everyone needs a dumbass for a friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m your dumbass?”

“If you want.”

The grin he shot you made your heart skip a beat. “If you’ll have me.”

~

You blinked, but Steve wasn’t in front of you anymore and you weren’t in the gym in DC. 

The guy caught the punch you distractedly threw and twisted your arm, making you cry out, kicking him in the back of the knee and flipping him over your shoulder.

You went to kick him again, but he caught your leg and threw you against the side of the other semi. You were able to grab onto where Bucky had ripped through the side, but you winced as the metal cut through your palm. Sam had just flown under the trucks, taking Buck with him, and you knew when a fight wasn’t worth it, so you quickly moved around the truck, letting Walker and his pal distract the Flag-Smashers, before letting yourself fall onto the side where the grass was.

You wanted to lay there, to catch your breath and curse yourself for getting distracted. You hadn’t had a flashback like that in a while. But you didn’t let yourself. You had to make sure the guys were okay.

Standing up made you cringe; you could feel the throbbing in your shoulder from where it was no doubt dislocated and your leg was aching, the muscle probably pulled when the guy threw you.

“Doll!” You turned, seeing Bucky and Sam sprinting towards you a few yards down the road. “Hey, hey.” Bucky immediately had his hands hovering over you, scanning your body. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shoving his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“I think I dislocated it.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell happened?”

You gave him a weird look, starting to limp across the field to where you noticed a side road earlier. “They were super soldiers, Sam. And we got our asses kicked.”

“Yeah, but you know how to fight a super soldier-”

“It’s been a while.”

“Bullshit.” Sam side stepped in front of you, making you stop. “What happened?”

“I-I just got distracted, okay?”

“Y/N. Look at me.” Bucky took your face between his palms, eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. A tired sigh left your lips and you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hurting. My leg, I think I pulled it or something-”

“C’mere.” Bucky turned and crouched down, making you blink.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be walking. We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“But it’s just a strain, it won’t-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get on the man’s back, Y/N.”

You bit your lip before sighing and carefully climbing on his back. He shifted you gently, making sure to hold your leg with caution, leaning his head into yours when you hooked your chin on his shoulder. “You-you don’t have to talk about what happened. Just-just know that when you do…I’ll be here, okay?”

You nodded, moving to press your nose against the column of his throat. “Okay.”

But you could never tell them. How could you? How could you tell the world’s longest POW that you were having nightmares? How could you complain to an Air Force vet who served two tours in Afghanistan and watched his best friend get blown out of the air that you were having flashbacks?

You weren’t sure if it was PTSD or anxiety or depression. Maybe all three. It didn’t matter, though, because you didn’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t admit it. No one thought the Blip messed you up that badly. No one thought Steve leaving did that much damage. And you were okay with that. You were okay with them thinking you were healing - that you were fine - because they needed to see that it could be done. That they could be fine, too. Especially the men walking, Sam teasing Bucky per usual.

It wasn’t until a horn honked that you allowed yourself to be pulled out of your thoughts. A scoff left you when you realized who it was, switching the side you were laying on so your cheek pressed up against the cool metal of his left shoulder, facing away from the jeep.

You tried ignoring the guy as he talked about working together and shit, taking a shuddering breath, making Bucky squeeze your uninjured thigh. There was no way you were working with him. You couldn’t. It’d be like betraying Steve and you didn’t need that on top of all the other things you were dealing with.

You couldn’t deny the need for a ride though. The airport was 20 miles away and you were hurting pretty bad. You suspected that was the reason the guys relented, Bucky tenderly setting you down in the jeep between him and Sam, careful of your injuries.

You stared at your lap as Walker and Sam talked shop. You understood where they were coming from, you were always able to see both sides of the coin, but it didn’t mean you were going to willingly work with him.

“I got mad respect for all of y’all, but you were kind of getting your asses kicked till we showed up.”

You scoffed at that, finally raising your eyes to meet Walker’s friend’s. “Like you were doing any better?”

Bucky reached over to grab her hand that was resting on her lap. “You know, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.” Walker faced you, eyes raking down your form. Bucky shifted in his spot, but you ran your thumb over his knuckles before he could do or say anything stupid.

“Yeah. I know. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up for a week. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Walker frowned. “If you just answered-”

“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve been a little busy doing my job to blow smoke up your ass on national television. Sorry if my saving people’s lives has been an inconvenience for you, but some wannabe playing dress up isn’t my top priority.”

Walker’s brows furrowed and he was about to say something, when Bucky cut in, asking his friend who he was. You were already that close to jumping out of the jeep, when the guy, Hoskins, told you three that he went by ‘Battlestar’.

If the situation wasn’t so aggravating, you would’ve laughed when Bucky immediately told the driver to stop, opening the door before the car even stopped. “C’mere, doll.” He murmured, lifting you up into his arms bridal style, before walking off, tuning out Walker as he shouted after you two.

You pouted a little when you saw Sam still talking to the guy. “What’re they talking about, Buck?”

“Some nonsense about him not replacing Steve. Just trying to be the best Captain America he can.”

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest. “The best Captain America is Steve. He can never be Steve.”

“I know, doll.”

“Steve told me once that all he was trying to do was be a good man…it’ll always amaze me that he didn’t see he was the best.”

You missed the distraught look Bucky shot towards you, the look in his eyes almost heartbroken while you talked fondly about his best friend. The tortured scrunch to his features seemed to melt away at your next words, though, and he held you tighter as you curled into his hold.

“Just like it amazes me that you don’t know how important you are to me too, Buckaroo.”

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #cjsspoilers #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #fatws #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #❤🐦💙🦾 #💙🦾 #fatws series #fatws pt 3

[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

Chill Out

pairing: Jungkook x reader

premise: you thought you had the upper hand going to a BTS concert which was sure to be miserably hot for everyone else. that is, until you realized that things were getting a little...heated.

So. Much. Screaming.

Of course, you were right there with them. The pre-concert VCR was playing, signaling the beginning of what was sure to be an unforgettable night. Clinging to your sister beside you, the two of you watch with bated breath and already strained throats as the lights dim and a hush falls over the stadium. 

Over 40,000 people wait in silence for a group of only 7 men, the influence they hold making your eyes grow wide. 

When a flicker of warmth alights in your chest, gradually spreading outward to your extremities, you fail to join in with the deafening screams as the music begins and seven figures appear. 

Instead, you’re completely mute. A feeling as foreign as warmth has rarely graced your life.

Soulmates are everywhere, and no two soulmates are alike. To complement the variety of soulmates, comes a myriad of soulmate bonds. 

For example, your sister shares dreams with her soulmate. That particular bond has been on the rise for the past twenty or so years. 

Your parents share a rare bond: hearing the same music.

And you? The Goldilocks bond, as it has been so lovingly dubbed by soulmate specialists around the world, is fairly common. One out of every six people have it, which means that one of every six people are born with a lower internal body temperature than deemed average. 

Essentially it’s all just some glorified way to say one simple thing: you’ve been freezing your entire life. So much so, that you’ve grown numb to the cold. It doesn’t tend to bother you much anymore. 

Which is exactly why when earlier today you were waltzing down the sidewalk with your sister and felt a spike in your body temperature for all of thirty seconds, you nearly collapsed right then and there.

The two of you searched and asked all of the surrounding pedestrians if they had felt something similar, you were simultaneously dreading and hoping to meet your soulmate there on the corner of 6th and 14th. Yet nobody came forward, and you were left to accept the fact that you were on a busy street and chances are your soulmate had just sped by in a car. 

Now, as your internal body temperature steadily begins to increase you cling to your sister even tighter. She pays you no mind, she’s already clinging to you for dear life as she watches without blinking as BTS begin their opening number. 

As much as you long to not miss a single moment of their performance, your eyes begin to scour the surrounding crowd to see if there is anyone else that appears to be going through something similar. Your search is futile; everyone is completely glued to the stage. 

Little drops of sweat begin to drip off of your forehead despite your stationary position. Squeezing your sister even tighter, you make her look at you.

“Isn’t this amazing?!” She shouts to you. You give her a shaky smile in return. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “Look, I’m sweating.”

She laughs. “Same! It’s so freaking hot in here, there’s so many people-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sweating.”

It takes her a few more seconds to really understand what you’re trying to say, but as her eyes take in the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead, she goes utterly still.

“No way. Who...who?”

Shrugging your shoulders, a giggle leaves your lips. “I have no idea!”

Despite your happy attitude, your sister looks to be growing steadily more concerned. And rightfully so. 

Right now, it’s warm. It’s a strange, but not horribly unpleasant feeling. However, there’s a reason it’s called the Goldilocks bond.

All your life, you’ve been too cold. All the necessary precautions have been taken to keep you comfortable and alive: heating pads, heated blankets, coats, warm tea, you name it. Even now, being surrounded by thousands of people in what is sure to be a hot atmosphere is ideal for your body. You might not have been able to feel that heat, but it was doing a great job of keeping you warm enough to not let the cold take over.

Now, your body will begin to overheat. Dehydration and heat exhaustion will soon follow. 

You need to find your soulmate, and quick.

“Excuse me!” Your sister waves frantically at a security guard. “Excuse me!”

The smile is wiped off of your face as the reality of your situation settles in. You crane your neck now, beginning to frantically search for who your other half might be. 

The surrounding fans begin to notice your plight, and although they might not exactly know what’s going on, they can recognize an emergency when they see one.

Sweat is practically pouring off of you now in sheets, making you grit your teeth as the warmth from before turns into a raging inferno. 

Just as the security guard steps away from their post to address your sister, a hush falls over the crowd.

Glancing up at the stage, you’re shocked to see Jungkook on his knees, unable to get up as he pants. The other members instantly surround him, trying their best to buoy him up as the backing track plays on. A few seconds later has staff rushing out onto the stage while the music is cut.

A few girls around you seem to piece everything together before anyone else can, and are quick to steady you as you begin to sway on your feet. 

“It’s her!” They shout to the bodyguard and whoever else will listen. “It’s the bond!”

What happens next is all a blur. You feel as though your entire body is on fire as you struggle to breathe through your dry and scratchy throat. The smaller hands of your sister are replaced by larger hands that scoop you up, and the bodyguard looks down at you with a worried gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he attempts to comfort you as he gets someone to move the gate for him before beginning to ascend the stairs to the stage. The sound of a few random screams from the crowd barely reach your ears. 

Some part of you is aware of Jungkook being practically dragged to the lift, where he pants and looks down at his shoes. You remain in the bodyguards arms as you two stand beside Jungkook and the lift begins to descend below-stage. 

Your eyes are focused on the purple-blue sky of the evening as you descend, already beginning to feel a bit more focused and better at the close proximity to Jungkook. 

Below stage staff members are scurrying about and clearing space for the two of you as you’re set down on a couch beside Jungkook. You haven’t even had an opportunity to look at him yet before you’re slumped beside each other and a staff member that looks like they know what they’re doing grabs your hand and puts it in Jungkook’s.

Like jumping into a pool after sitting out under the blazing sun, you emit a long sigh at the instant feeling of relief. 

“Drink,” the same staff member says, handing you an open bottle of water and extending another one to Jungkook. 

You drain nearly the entire bottle in one go, but it’s the acute realization that you’re currently sitting on a couch holding Jeon Jungkook’s hand - your soulmate’s hand - that has you setting the bottle down and turning to look at the man in question.

Jungkook is still drinking his water, his eyes closed in pure bliss as a bit of water streams down his neck due to the fast pace. 

His long dark hair is clinging to the side of his face and forehead in damp streaks, a testament to the intense and painful heat the two of you just went through. The beautiful white costume he wears is now damp and sticking to him, making a small part of you feel guilty for ruining it.

Glancing down to where your hands are still joined, you swallow thickly. How embarrassing. He can probably feel your heart rate through your hands right now.

You go to remove your hand, but find that you can’t as his grip unconsciously tightens. 

At the feeling of you attempting to pull your hand away, Jungkook opens his eyes and sets the water bottle beside yours on the small table. 

You realize, as his eyes turn to yours, that where the expensive clothing, beautiful hair and sharp jawline make him handsome, it’s those warm brown eyes that have you falling in love before he’s even uttered a single word.

His eyes reflect the concern he feels for your sake in a single instant, almost making you rush to reassure him that everything is alright. The feel of his thumb running over your knuckles, however, leaves you speechless. 

Staff all around the room turn a blind eye to the intimate moment, allow the two of you as much privacy as they can provide. You hardly notice, though. Not as the smallest hint of a smile makes Jungkook’s lips curve upward. 

“How foolish of me,” Jungkook mumbles, his eyes committing your face to memory.

You furrow your brows, making his smile grow. “What?”

There’s a redness in his face now that isn’t from the heat, but you don’t point it out for fear of embarrassing him further. “It’s just...” he smiles completely now, his nose scrunching up as he chuckles to himself. “I memorized what I would say to my soulmate when I met them,” you heart skips a beat at the word soulmate, “but looking at you now, I can barely remember my own name.”

A giddy laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “Don’t worry too much about it, I already know what it is.”

masterlist

#jjk #Jungkook soulmate au #Jungkook soulmate #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook x soulmate #Jungkook x y/n #Jungkook request #jungkook oneshot #bts fluff #Jungkook fluff #bts soulmate au #bts soulmate oneshot #bts x soulmate #jeon jungkook #this is sooo cute #uwu

[zafirosreverie]

Can I request a Agatha x reader where there in west view and its the final battle (but let’s pretend there having it on the ground) and Agatha gets distracted by something and isn’t ready so human reader stands in front of Agatha and takes the blast so then Agatha goes full on witch and like almost kills Wanda and then goes a takes reader home and heals her. Happy ending please.

Sorry it took me so long dear! But here it is! Hope you like it <3

Harkness or Y/L/N? (Agatha x Fem!reader)

Where the fuck were they?

One second you were having breakfast and the next one hell exploded in front of your face. Agatha and Wanda broke out of the floor and quickly disappeared in the sky. Red and purple magic wrapping them. You blinked and looked at the giant hole in your house. You could see your basement from there. Oh no. Agatha must have revealed herself to Wanda. 

Oh shit.

You ran out of the house, looking at the sky, but you couldn’t see any of them. This was bad, really bad. 

“Y/N!” you turned to see Tommy running to you. 

“Tommy! What happened?” 

“Mom and aunt Agnes are fighting! There are soldiers and dad is fighting another dad but white” he quickly said and you frowned

“What the-”

“Billy said to come for you” he said, taking your hand and not giving you time to process it all. 

A second later you were in the park. You gasped. People were running away, soldiers were entering Westview, Vision flew away with White Vision, Geraldine Monica had Billy against herself, protecting him, and Wanda and Agatha were in the middle of everything, throwing magic balls at each other. 

Chaos.

You ran to Monica, holding Tommy’s hand. She sighed in relief when she saw you. She thought something had happened to you for a moment. 

“What’s going on?” she asked 

“The hell i know?” you said and turned to look at the two witches. “They’re going to destroy everything if we don’t stop them”

“How?” 

“Why is aunt Agnes attacking mom?” Billy asked and you frowned.

“She’s not. Mom’s the one attacking her” Tommy said before you could answer. See? This is why he was your favorite.

“It doesn’t matter” you said “We need to stop them. Now” 

“How?!” Monica asked again. 

You looked around, trying to come up with a plan. You knew that you could calm Agatha, convince her to take this fight to another place, somewhere with no people around. 

“Ok, here’s the plan. Do you think you could stop the soldiers?” They nodded “Good, I’ll try to talk with Agatha, maybe i can make them stop at least for a moment. That should give you enough time to take everyone out of here”

They nodded again and ran to fight. You took a deep breath and turned to the witches. Agatha was powerful, but Wanda was furious. You didn’t know what the hell happened between them in the basement, but it wasn’t good. 

“At least they’re not flying” you thought. It would have been harder to stop them if they were.

One of Wanda’s power balls made a building fall and you gasped. There were people under it! They could die! But a purple smoke stopped the concrete pieces in midair, giving people time to run and escape unscathed. You smiled to yourself. At least your girlfriend wasn't completely evil after all (Not that it mattered, you'd follow her to the end of the world even if she was). 

But it seemed that the other witch didn’t care, using the distraction to attack Agatha.

It all happened too fast. You saw Wanda’s angry expression and the giant ball of red energy forming between her hands. Agatha wasn’t paying attention. You ran to her instinctively, yelling her name. 

You screamed in pain as the red ball mercilessly struck your body, sending a wave of electricity through your veins and raising your body temperature significantly.

In other words, you were burning alive from the inside out. And hell it was painful.

Wanda gasped as you fell unconscious on the floor. Where the hell did you come from?! But she wasn’t the only one staring at you in disbelief. Agatha not only heard you yelling her name, she also felt your pain when you took Wanda’s attack. 

“Y/N!” She ran to you, kneeled beside you and tried to wake you up “Please, love, don’t do this to me” she begged you. 

Wanda was still in shock. She didn't want to hurt you! You weren’t supposed to appear out of nowhere just to help Agatha of all people! She knew you were her girlfriend, but she assumed you would change your mind when you discovered Agatha’s real colors. Little she knew, you were a huge fan of that color palette.  

“Ags” you whispered and the witch sighed in relief, hugging you close to her chest. You felt her heart racing. 

“Why did you do it? You shouldn’t have done it. I could have lost you” she was almost crying.

“Because I love you, silly” you smiled. You were too weak, but you managed to caress her cheek “Aggs..”

“Yes, love?” She asked, confused at the smirk that was slowly appearing on your face.

“Unleash hell” you said before closing your eyes again. 

The witch gasped and you knew she thought you were unconscious again, but you weren’t. You waited until she let you on the floor carefully, and heard her steps getting away from you, to open your eyes again. 

Wanda took a step back when Agatha turned to her. Her eyes weren’t blue anymore, not even purple like the first time she used her magic in front of her. They were completely black. There was no trait of white in her eyes, as if she didn’t have eyeballs at all. And then there was the purple glow again, coming out from the darkness. 

“What-”

“You shouldn’t have done that, little witch” Agatha interumped Wanda “You Really. Shouldn’t. Have.”

Before Wanda could do anything, a purple smoke swallowed her. It was strange, because she didn’t feel much power coming from it, but looking at Agatha’s lifeless eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

Vision, Monica, Billy and Tommy turned to the women when Wanda screamed of pain. Agatha was just standing there, your body lying on the floor behind her. Wanda was trying to attack her, but every time she threw a spell, it would hit the purple dome Agatha put around her and then hit her back with more strength. 

Monica took the twins away while Vision flew to the witches. She knew what was happening. 

Wanda was slowly killing herself.

You smirked. Damn your girl was hot. You felt bad for Wanda for crossing paths with an angry Agatha, but well, she tried to kill her, and that’s something you wouldn’t forgive. Nobody touches your witch.

When the younger witch fell to her knees, too tired and injured from her own spells, Agatha smirked. She felt Vision floating to them, but she didn’t even turn to him while she put a dome around him too. At least the android knew better and didn’t try to attack. He knew it would just come back to him.

“When your little wife wakes up” she said to Vision, but kept staring at Wanda “be sure she understands how lucky she is. Tell her how thankful she must be. Thankful that my precious Y/N has a bigger heart than any of us together and that she loves those children of yours. Because that, dear Vision, is the only reason i won’t kill her.” 

With that, she released the android. He just nodded and watched as Agatha made the dome around Wanda get smaller and smaller until the purple smoke was wrapped around her. She threw one last ball to Wanda’s head and the witch fell unconscious on her husband’s arms.

“If she ever places a single finger on my girlfriend, ever again, i’ll kill her without a second thought” she warned Vision, her eyes still black. The man nodded again and flew away with his wife. 

You smiled as Agatha approached you and took you in her arms. Her eyes slowly turned back to normal when she noticed you were awake. She couldn't believe you. You knew! You knew the power you had over her.

______________

Three days after that, you were still in bed. Agatha had taken you back home, your real home, and quickly healed you. It didn’t take much time and almost all your physical wounds were gone. But your head was still hurting like hell. So, of course you would make a drama out of it. Currently, you both were lying in bed.

“I love you” you whispered and took Agatha’s hand “Please remember that”

The witch smiled and kissed your temple. “I love you too”.

“Please take care of our beloved son. He might be a bunny, but he can take over the world, Aggie. He can”

“I have no doubt of it, Y/N” she giggled and rolled her eyes.

“You know what’s my biggest regret?” you asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to you

“What?” she asked, trying so hard not to laugh.

“that my gravestone is going to say Y/N Y/L/N and that’s unfair” you pouted.

Agatha lost it and laughed. God, you were so cute. 

“That’s your name, love” she chuckled and kissed you softly. You smiled against her lips. 

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be” you argued. 

“First of all, stop being so dramatic, you’re perfectly fine, you’re not going to die” she said “second, what in the world should your name be then?”

“Y/N Harkness” you answered without hesitation. 

That made her freeze and you laughed as her cheeks slowly turned pink 

“Or maybe yours should be Agatha Y/L/N, haven’t decided yet. It’s hard to take such big decisions on your deathbed”

“S-shut up” she mumbled and you laughed again, kissing her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead by now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be grateful I'm not?” you said, loving her grumpy face “besides, I’m not leaving this world until i make sure my gravestone will say Y/N Harkness” 

“Your name won’t change until i make sure you’ll stay with me forever” she said, taking your head on her hands.

“Deal” you said, kissing her again. 

__________

“Which one do you think he’ll like better? Señor Scratchy Harkness or Señor Scratchy Y/L/N?”

“Y/N, I love you, but it's 2 a.m, go to sleep, I’m begging you”

“Señor Scratchy Y/L/N is it then”

“The hell it is!”

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x you #agnes imagine

[blahkugo]

Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

#tendou satori #tendou x reader #satori tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #satori tendo x reader #hq!! #tw blood #tw knife play #tw death #tw dark themes #tw dark content #tw asphyxiation #tw blood play

[gnocchighoul]

The boys (+undateables?) reactions when they discover MC is actually a vampire?

....so I’m a dingus and didn’t realize that this was also for the undateables and just wrote it for the brothers, my bad ���� Part two maybe? 👀

WARNING: as this is about vampires, it’s a little bit morbid. I strayed away from being too graphic, but y’know. Vampires. There’s death and blood and such. 

Enjoy! :D

~

Lucifer

In hindsight, he really should have figured it out on his own.

But it’s not like he’s been around enough humans lately to know what Normal human behavior is. 

So he just kinda took your... quirks at face value.

So what if you’re far too comfortable with the Devildom’s constant state of nighttime? Solomon doesn’t seem to mind it either, so maybe humans are just more nocturnal now.

And perhaps your Very Strong aversion to garlic is a little odd, but Mammon wouldn't eat it either for the first 600 years of his life, so it’s not that weird.

You’re also not phased by constantly being surrounded by demons and monsters, which is a little strange, but maybe you’re just like the ancient greeks. A monster fucker.

You feeling right at home in the Devildom is auspicious for the exchange program, so he doesn’t bother dwelling on it.

Though maybe he does find it a little bit weird when you really insist that he start drinking cranberry juice.

(It’s just for health benefits of course, totally has nothing to do with you prepping your next meal)

So what, you may ask, triggers his big lightbulb moment?

You fall off the roof.

And you just get right back up.

Now he knows that humans aren’t supposed to be THAT durable, so he stops you from scaling the side of the fucking house with your bare hands, and very eloquently asks you, “What the fuck?” 

You shake him off. “What? Mammon and I are playing roof-ball.” 

Lucifer stares. “You fell. I saw how hard you hit the ground. You should be dead.”

You laugh. “Dead? Just from a little fall like that? Are you serio-ohhh wait. You don’t know, do you?” 

You give him your biggest, cheesiest grin and—oh. 

Fangs.

...And now he understands why you want him to drink cranberry juice.

Mammon

You are, by far, the weirdest human he’s ever met. 

Which is saying something, because Solomon is literally just a few blocks away.

Seriously, despite camping out in your room nearly every single night, Mammon has never seen you sleep, he’s pretty fucking sure that sometimes you don’t even breathe, you won’t step foot into the House of Lamentation unless someone invites you in, and who the hell hates garlic that much?? 

But you’ve also expressed your intense dislike for crosses, so he supposes that you’re not unredeemable. 

Just weird.

But it’s incredibly annoying how you wont sleep. Your tossin’ and turnin’ is killing him, why the fuck can’t you just settle down? You need to just put your DDD down and sleep already, dammit.

He sits up, ready to tear you a new one—and pauses. 

“Um,” his voice is high, somewhat uncertain, and your eyes snap over to look at him. “Why are you looking at coffins for sale?” 

You sigh, a bit wistfully. “I just can’t stand sleeping in a bed anymore. I didn’t want to be rude, so I really did try, but it's been a couple hundred years since I last had one and it’s just murder on my back. I think I’m gonna just have to get a coffin. They’re so much more comfortable.” 

Briefly, Mammon considers running. 

Instead, he says, “What the fuck?” 

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You do know I’m a vampire, right?” 

...What the fuck—

Mammon lays back down—crosses his arms over his chest with a huff and pretends that he isn’t totally freaked the fuck out. “‘Course I do, don’t be stupid. Now go to sleep already.” 

So that he can escape before you try to eat him.

“Mammon,” you sing, leaning over the bed to loom over him. He swallows hard—can’t look away from your sharp, toothy grin. 

You coo, “I can hear the scared little pitter patter of your heart, darling.”

He squeaks.

Levi

Honestly, Levi is so so happy to have another irl friend who’s into video games that he looks past your strangeness.

You like to stay indoors and play games!! That’s something he has in common with you that his brothers don’t, and that’s all that matters!

...Though he does find it a little weird how sometimes you just kinda sniff him. 

The first dozen times he nearly had a heart attack, and when he asked why you were doing it, he Really wasn't expecting you to shrug and say “I dunno, you just smell tasty” 

Seriously. Tasty? Are you Beel or something, what’s that supposed to mean?!

He’s not entirely sure why you’re a bit of a shut in gamer though, because despite your, ah, quirks, you’re still so much cooler than he is, so what’s the deal with that?

When he asks, you just shrug and say, “Old habits die hard, I guess. Real sunshine hurts, but virtual doesn’t, so I just got kinda used to living through games and staying indoors.”

“Oh.” Levi’s a bit surprised, but sympathetic. “So, you sunburn easily?” 

He’s not entirely sure why you’re laughing now, since that wasn’t a joke. He was just trying to be friendly :(

But then you hug him and he’s too flustered to be offended anymore jndcks

So, when does it finally click for Levi that you’re a vampire?

You guys are having a game night in his room.

He accidentally takes a sip of your caprisun and realizes, very quickly, that it is not the refreshing juice of a caprisun pouch.

He throws up a little bit.

And screams.

And maybe blacks out for a few seconds.

But when he finally calms down and lets you explain, he’s pretty damn enchanted, because this is just like Help, My Roommate Is A Vampire And I Didn’t Know Until A Vampire-Hunter Mistook Me For Them And Attacked Me!! :D 

Satan

Satan considers himself to be somewhat of a detective, y’know. His brain is just filled to the brim with Big Smarts

Naturally, he puts that jelly thicc thought tank of his to good use and realizes very quickly that you aren’t totally human. 

At first, he isn’t totally sure what you are.

And then a coffin gets delivered to the house, which upon seeing you cheer “Oh sweet, my new bed!!” aaaand he puts the pieces together.

You become somewhat of a case study to him. You’re the first vampire he’s ever encountered and he just wants to know everything and anything about your life.

He’s so intrigued by you.

But you frustrate him SO much.

He wants to know about how you were turned!! It’s not like he has any other vampires that he can ask about their experience!! And you fucking tell him a different story every day!!

“A cat jumped over my deceased body!”

“I was stabbed and the wound wasn’t treated with boiling water!” 

“On a dark and stormy night, I came across a palace and the owner, a hospitable gentleman, let me take refuge there. But then, I quickly realized that I was actually a hostage, and when I tried to escape, that fucker turned me!”

“Nobody put an obolus in my mouth to pay the toll of the Styx, so Charon the ferryman sent me back! What a great guy.” 

“A chupacabra bit me!”

Needless to say, he considers breaking the wooden leg off one of the dining room chairs and stabbing you with it, but the lecture he would get from Lucifer just isn’t worth the effort. 

He’s gonna pull the truth out of you one of these days.

Asmo

“My my, darling, what sharp teeth you have~” Asmo purrs, lifting a finger to brush against them, doe-eyes wide and curious. “The better to eat me with, hopefully?” 

You smile. “Something like that.”

And you fuckin’ bite his finger.

His scream is fantastic. If you actually draw blood next time, maybe he’ll even shatter the windows! 

He swats your leg sharply with a silk folding fan and cries, “What if you had broken my skin!? Do you have any idea how much time and effort goes into maintaining this soft, supple skin?! What’s wrong with you, you psychopath?”

“Don’t hit me,” you pout, scooting away from him. “I couldn’t help it! You just smell so sweet and I haven’t had any blood in a while, so—”

“Huh?” Asmo blinks, looking a bit confused. Then recovers far too quickly and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Oh, so that’s what you’re into! What a pleasant surprise~” 

You thunk him on the back of the head. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to tease a vampire?”

Asmo’s grin could rival the sun.

“A vampire?! Well why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

He’s already taking off his shirt.

“Get over here already and take a bite out of me~”

Beel

When he finds out that you’re a vampire, his first thought is to worry over if you can eat normal food or not.

He’s very relieved when you tell him that you can, so long as you’ve had enough blood, but that garlic is a very big no-no.

Naturally, you two bond over how both of you never quite feel full. 

It’s not uncommon for the other house members to find you two laying face down on the floor, tummies rumbling, whining about how you’re staaaaarving

You carry around snacks for him, and Beel makes sure that you’ve always got access to blood (whether that means stashing blood bags, letting you feed from him, or a combo of both ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

He’s probably going to be the least weirded out by your ~undead tendencies~

Honestly, he’s a bit relieved by how strong you are. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you or see you get hurt, and it gives him peace of mind when he realizes that you’re actually pretty durable!

But it does give him a fucking heart attack the first time he sees you yeet yourself out a second story window to crush poor, poor unassuming Mammon.

He also really loves how your body temperature naturally runs cold. He’s a space heater, you’re an icicle—it just works. Snuggle time is good :)

He totally compares the size of your incisors with his jkdcnkj

He just thinks you’re really neat!!!

But he is very sympathetic about how you cant eat good garlic bread :(

Belphie

Listen.

We all know this emo boy is a vampire fucker, probably even more so than Asmo.

(He read Twilight. He saw all the movies. He had merch.)

(Fuck Edward and Jacob though, he was Team Alice all the way.)

(If he can stay awake long enough, he reads really shitty vampire romance novels.)

He just thinks vampires are hot, okay? He can’t help that his soul longs to be a vampire fucker.

Just accept it into your heart. Belphie already has.

So needless to say, he’s THRILLED when he finds out that you’re a vampire. He tries to play it cool though and pretends that he isn’t immediately trying to jump your bones dfghjkjh

He overheard you telling Satan that you got bitten by a Chupacabra, and they’re known for going after cows right? 

He is a cowboy, y’know, guess you’re just gonna have to go to him now when you’re thirsty, y’know, since you were bitten by a Chupacabra. it just makes sense, really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(No it doesn’t)

(But let’s be real, are you gonna pass up the chance to snuggle the shit out of him AND get a snack out of it? No. No you’re not.)

(He totally makes you arm wrestle Beel to recreate the “Iconic” twilight scene with Emmett and Bella.)

(When he realizes that you’re strong, he’s gonna make you give him piggyback rides, just like Edward and Bella :) and no he doesn’t care how ridiculous you both look)

#gnocchicanons #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #swd obey me #obey me

[twinklelilstarkey]

Bad Day - Nolan Patrick

Words: 2.2k+

Type: Fluff and slight Angst

Summary: You and Nolan are very different. Your bubbly personality is something that does contrast with his own. Yet he finds himself lost when that so happy person loses her spark after a hard and sad day.

Warnings: A lot of crying over college stuff (negative grades, overworking, etc.). Affectionate reader. Slight mentions of blood (from falling).

You and Nolan have been dating for almost 2 years, now. Some people do agree that your relationship was quite odd when it began, but those who are the closest noticed how much you two belonged together.

The surprise behind your relationship is mostly around the topic of how your personalities are nothing alike. You are this loud, bubbly, excited and happy human being, and you’re dating this silent, introverted, deep-voiced man. He, obviously, isn’t so silent when he’s with his friends or you only, but people still describe him as so.

Sure, you understand the shock but you two truly love each other. And that should be the only thing that matters, right?

You and Nolan aren’t exactly very active on social media. Yet you post more pictures of yourself than he does. And just by your feed, people seem to notice how different you two are.

Some people find it cute, while others not all that much. So you two try to limit as much posts with the two of you together as possible. And even though that comes with a lot of rumoring of you breaking up, you’re just, honestly, trying to minimalize the hateful words you usually receive.

But, yes, you two are very different. 

You can notice that in how the two of you interact with each other. Nolan, being this more closed off person, doesn’t seek that much physical and affectional touch. Not as much as you, surely.

You hug him, cuddle him, snuggle onto him, kiss him, play with his hair, and so on. And you do that while battling his whines right in your ear of how he didn’t want to cuddle at that moment.

Bad thing for him, you look right through his shit. This man loves when you hug him, kiss him, play with his hair, etc.. He just doesn’t like to admit it.

Your affection doesn’t really leaves your apartment, since you two aren’t both two big fans of PDA. But, hand holding or hugging his arm close to you when it’s cold, is almost always happening when out of the house. Again, he doesn’t mind it at all.

And that’s literally how your relationship works - one whines and the other gives hugs.

Yesterday was a Sunday, and it went particularly well. It was Nolan’s day off, so he spent most of his day playing video games with his friends. You worked on an assignment while sitting next to him, and once when you were done, you sat in Nolan’s lap, ignored his protests - which lasted 10 seconds - and just fell asleep against his chest, completely exhausted with everything you’ve been doing for college. 

You honestly thought this week wouldn’t be all that bad since it doesn’t all that much going on. Weekend was good, and that usually was enough to set the mood for the rest of the days.

But, you thought wrong. Very wrong.

You went to college around the same time Nolan went to practice, you had breakfast together and everything was good. But that was until your teachers started to announce that they already had the grades of some tests and assignments.

In two of your 3 classes, today, a teacher gave you a grade. Both of them negative grades.

The worst part? You thought these were the two evaluations that had gone well and seemed pretty easy when you did them.

If this is your results to the ‘easy’ ones, what about the ones that you, actually, struggled with?

After college, you walked back to your apartment, eyes already covered with tears over your failed evaluations, and right as you’re about to get home, you trip over your own feet. 

Right when you looked down at Nolan’s text.

Even though nobody was in the street to see it, you felt more than humiliated. Your knee was now painted in dark red over the fresh wound, from your fall, and you were in pain.

This is just a whole recipe for disaster.

When you got home, Nolan was still not back. And that just helped you with wanting to break down more as you walked through lobby of your home. 

It’s usual warmth welcomed you home but it did not provide any sort of comfort.

You went into your phone to try and distract your mind by scrolling through social media or looking at pictures with your friends and Nolan. But from not the lack of social media in these last few days, you let your eyes focus on old notifications popping up, comments, which are a few days old. 

All of them negative.

From how you were using Nolan for his money or fame, to how unlucky he is to be dating someone like you. Insults were just scattered all throughout your feed. 

As if your day could get any worse.

After half an hour of crying, you were able to force yourself into taking care of your nasty wound. Yes, there were some more tears and sobs here and there. But you feel more calm than before.

You ended up not texting Nolan since you were too preoccupied after your fall to remember anything. And he found it strange. 

He had just texted you saying that practice was over when he got off the ice, and since then, he hasn’t received anything. 

He kept on checking his phone. He checked it when he took his gear off, after he showered, when he got dressed, etc.. He kept on doing it, and still nothing.

And now, you are laying on your bed, in way more comfortable clothes, and under your comfortable and fluffy duvet and a blanket over your head. Your lap top is right next to your head and only your face isn’t shielded from any colder temperatures.

Tears would make their way back to you in between every few seconds while you force your mind to focus on a random video of reality show highlights. It’s like you can’t really control your body anymore. 

Constantly reminding you of your failures as you keep on trying to focus on something else. But nothing. Nothing is working.

Over the loud background music and the dramatic screaming from your lap top, you don’t hear the front door of your apartment opening.

Nolan stands by the door, closing it behind him. He walks slowly to your living room, finding an empty couch. He checks the kitchen, still nothing. So he walks to your bedroom.

It’s awfully strange to not have you right around the corner to welcome him home. He had never noticed it before, but it had become apart of his routine already.

He opens the bedroom door slowly and his eyes finally find you. The slight creak of the door makes you look away from the screen and look up to find your boyfriend staring down at you.

To Nolan’s confusion, you didn’t do your usual ritual of when you spot him. You didn’t get up from your bed and gave him a kiss or a hug, you just continued to lay there.

Your eyes go back to the screen, fighting off your tears once more, and you hear Nolan start taking his shoes off.

He doesn’t say anything, filling the room in its natural silence, and walks to your side of the bed.

“Scoot over.” He whispers over the sound coming from your laptop.

You move your computer first, moving it to Nolan’s side of the bed, as you crawl to the middle. He slides under the duvet and blanket and you turn around, deciding to face him.

Nolan lays on his side, elbow on your pillow as he holds himself up and rests his face on his fist. His eyes are on you, studying your face, the way your eyes are slightly swollen and watery and how your lips seem to always curve in a small pout.

“What happened?” He whispers, not wanting to break the silence.

“Had a bad day.” You whisper back, blinking your tears away.

“Was it college?” He asks, you nod, “A test?”

You nod again and soon his face changes into a pitiful scowl. He feels bad for you, especially after yesterday, when you were so excited to finally have time for yourself. All of it ruined just because your grades are coming back to you as negatives.

“The other assignment I did, like, 2 weeks ago?” You ask him to see if he remembers, and he nods, “Failed that one too.”

Your voice is broken, your chin is starting to shake. You’re a blink away from breaking down again and Nolan feels so helpless. He wishes he could help you with college, but his knowledge in whatever degree you’re dating is close to nothing.

“-And I fell outside, too.” You break his train of thought.

A dry chuckle escapes your lips as you bring your hands up to wipe away your tears, as if you’re forcing yourself to laugh at your problems.

“On the way home?”

You nod and wipe your tears again, soaking the ends of your sleeves.

“My day has just been so awful.” Your voice breaks, making Nolan’s chest squeeze in pain at the sound of it alone.

Without knowing what to say, Nolan wraps one of his arms around you and pulls you in closer. The feeling that comes with not having you hug him back right away is strange. It almost makes him feel heartbroken.

As your face rests over Nolan’s shirt, it’s like your body just gives it all out. You start crying again, sobbing as you let all your worries out, mumbling some stuff you’re not even sure what they mean. And Nolan just holds you close, resting his head against yours while laying kisses over your cheek, neck or over your hair.

It’s so hard to see you like this. It has happened before, it has, but it’s never this bad. Which doesn’t make it that easy to deal with.

Your sobs stop after some time, your breathing slows down back to normal and your body stops to shake. Nolan still holds you, comfortably smoothing your back with one of his hands over your sweatshirt.

You, finally, wrap one of your arms around his torso and just rest your body against his a little, while in complete silence.

“When’s your next test?” Nolan asks against the skin of your temple. 

“In 4 weeks.” You answer.

“Any assignments between today and that test?” He asks and you shake your head, “Okay, so you have more than enough time to get prepared and do amazing on that test.”

A sudden warm, giddy feeling runs through you at his words, yet you only nod at what he says.

“I wish I could help you study, but I’m clueless with half of the words in your notes.” He jokes and your lips curve into a grin, “I can always be your reminder to go back to studying?”

“You’re going on a roadie next week.”

He shrugs.

“I can still call.”

You smile and lean your face back onto his chest.

“What about that fall? Are you okay?” He asks, lifting his head again to take a look at your face.

“I’m okay, now, yeah. It was just really embarrassing,” You answer back.

There’s a quick silence and you lift your chin to stare up at Nolan.

“Did something else happen?” He asks, just to make sure.

You do a quick shrug.

“No- I mean,” You correct yourself, “I did check my Instagram after getting home...”

“And... what happened?”

“Just- The usual stupid comments.” You whisper at him.

He analyzes your face for a few seconds and brings his hand up, wiping with his thumb the rest of the tears under your eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have looked at them,” You scold yourself, “But I didn’t exactly do it on purpose. They were just... there, when I wanted to look back at some pictures.”

Nolan nods understandingly and rests his hand against your cheek, cupping it as his thumb caresses your skin continuously.

“What type of pictures?”

“Like, with our friends or just the two of us,” You shrug, again, “I was just looking for something to cheer me up, you know?”

He nods at you and a small grin lifts over your lips.

He doesn’t scold you in any way. Doesn’t judge you for being stuck in the middle of the hateful comments that don’t do nothing but bring others down. He sometimes finds himself in those black holes without even realizing, and when they do bring him down, you’re there for him to remind him who he really is. Not letting the comments get to him. He can’t do anything else but the same. Return the favor.

“Do you feel better now?” He says at a low voice, almost in a whisper.

“A bit, yeah.” You nod, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He answers.

In the comfortable silence and under his smoothing and loving touch, you prop yourself up with one arm, so your face is in front of Nolan’s, and you peck his lips. It’s a quick kiss, but one that makes you grin back at him.

“I love you.” You tell him.

“I love you too.”

You kiss again but this time, he holds the back of your neck, pulling you in closer to him, making the kiss longer and letting it actually evolve into something more than a peck.

You kiss him back as his lips start to move against yours and your, only vacant, hand find its way to his side, almost as if pulling him in closer to you, even though you’re already glued together.

Nolan pulls back and looks back at you for a second.

“Want to go get lunch and then watch a movie?” He asks and your smile finds itself back on your face.

“I would love that.”

Is this good? I wrote it in between classes, while bored, so I hope it’s not too awful.

*First time writing for Nolan... I just had to do it, okay?*

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick imagines #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick x you #nolan patrick fanfic #nolan patrick fanfiction #nhl imagines #nolan patrick blurb #nolan patrick one shot

[gentrychild]

BNHA chapter 290 reactions

Oh boy, just when I was saying that such a long arc was eroding my ability to hype myself...

Oh boy... I guess we finally got the answer to “Was that message for Rei or for the whole country?” and the answer is both. Dabi sent a direct message to his mom and we don’t know what he told her.

And since we have a big close-up on the flower “Enji” gave Rei without leaving a message, I am now wondering if it wasn’t a gift from Dabi.

Ah, the Todoroki pose of “I have no idea of what to feel.”

Also, I think we now have the confirmation that Dabi is a theater kid.

Okay, so first, it’s nice to have the confirmation that Izuku did make some damages.

What’s less nice is knowing that AFO can control Tomura to this extent. By accepting to become a guinea pig, he became AFO’s puppet and I am not sure of how long it will take before AFO erodes his will and takes full control of him.

Horikoshi, think of the fanfic writers. When you show cool attacks, explain stuff about them, please. Because of you, I will have to spend an hour trying to analyze three panels.

Oh, that’s a meme waiting to happen.

Endeavor when Nejire and Shouto fight Shigaraki: “RUN! HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU! RUN!”

Endeavor when Midoriya was fighting Shigaraki: “Welp, this might as well happen.”

I don’t know what’s the more terrifying, Gigantomachia channeling the Rogue Titan or AFO having fun with Forced Quirk Activation. Okay, probably the later.

There should really be a limit to how long those tentacles can get, thank you very much.

Bakugou is awake and if I was him, I would go straight back to sleep but no, not him.

Does... Does he still have a quirk, though? I would like to see some sparks flying. Just to be sure.

However, he is right in the sense that they need to kill Shigaraki now. If he manages to escape, they will have lost everything. That would mean that another cataclysm can happen at any time and society will collapse. I am not talking about the hero society. I am talking full Dawn of Quirks mess.

I do not want to witness what so many people with uncontrollable powers can do when they are scared.

I am going to believe that Machia assumes that the second “Master’s scent” also comes from Shigaraki because with all the smoke in the air, he didn’t notice Izuku and his multiple quirks who are right there.

Also, Izuku wasn’t using cough... all for one... cough several quirks when Gigantomachia arrived, don’t think I didn’t notice it.

I was robbed from my Little Lord moment!

Shigaraki, every bones of his broken and the only reason why he remained standing so long is probably because AFO was manipulating his strings: “Oh, do tell me about your problems. It’s not like I can go anywhere after I was INCINERATED THEN BEATEN HALF TO DEATH BY THE INCARNATION OF FERALNESS. But please, tell me how hard it was for you.”

The small green child with broken bones isn’t named Shouto, Endeavor.

More seriously, you see Endeavor’s hand on Midoriya’s back? He isn’t checking that he is alright, he is actually holding him back because he is scared he is going to yeet himself again at the villains and try to finish the job.

That’s why you never make promises on live television. Too many witnesses that will call you out later.

Shouto is so fucking done at this point. He just survived a decaying wave, he showed up only to see all the heroes and his friends half dead, he almost got slapped by Gigantomachia, this is NOT the day to keep messing with him, and here is this asshole, all happy during the worst time of Shouto’s life.

As for Dabi... This man is hilarious. Look at how happy he is. His audience is here, too weakened to kick his ass, and now is the time.

Also, you see the bottle he is shaking? That was in the pouch he has been wearing since his first appearance. He was ready from Day 1.

Now, the riddle for the ages, the thing that interests me far more than what happens one panel later: what the hell is this and how did it bleach his hair so fast?

What am I hearing? Oh yes, the sound of ALL THE DABI IS A TODOROKI BEING VALIDATED RIGHT NOW. CONGRATULATIONS, FUNKY LITTLE CONSPIRACY THEORISTS. MAY KNOWING THAT YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG MAKE YOU LIVE LONGER.

Whatever you’re thinking about Dabi, you have to admit that he knows how to use a narrative. He has been sitting on this for years, waiting for the right time to do the most damage, and here he is.

Let’s all appreciate this rare moment where Shouto and Enji have the same face of “What the hell is going on?”

But more importantly, let’s all appreciate Midoriya who was once again dragged into the Todoroki drama. 

This has nothing to do with him, and yet, once again, a Todoroki appeared and felt the need to announce his entire tragic backstory in his vicinity. All those jokes about Todoroki never meeting Izuku because he would have coughed up his secret in the second were true.

Dabi looks so soft here and some part of me wants to believe that’s because he knew Rei would be watching. 

And by that, I mean Dabi is a Momma boy.

I am bravely trying to keep a straight face as this guy is about to explain us why he killed 30 innocent people instead of his dad or some members of the Hero Commission. 

I mean, Fuyumi managed not to snap despite many reasons, so really, there is no excuse.

More seriously, I hope that he won’t only reveal what Endeavor did. I want to know why he was considered dead. And I want to know if my theory about Touya being in the same HSPC program as Hawks is true, because there has to be a reason why he knows his real name.

Of course, for the last one, I can accept that Young Touya found a drawing of Endeavor and a young kid with red wings sent by a little fan through the Endeavor agency.

But I would much prefer to see more about the HPSC and how horrible it is.

The real victim of this chapter: Can’t-You-See-kun.

Look at how happy he is. I am pretty sure this is the best day of his life.

@pocketramblr​ is the one who realized that Horikoshi had to knock Dabi unconscious in Kamino because that man would have jumped on the occasion of screaming to the world who he really is, only to see society freak out.

There is 50% chance that AFO would have killed him for being more dramatic than him but, man, what a way to go.

*squints* Is that his hair becoming white due to the strain?

I am... actually not surprised by it. Dabi doesn’t know Shouto. And he isn’t Touya anymore.

The only thing Shouto is to him is Endeavor’s weapon to become number 1 and the child that stole his place and who made all his pain meaningless.

Endeavor: “Redemption arc?”

Dabi: “Hahaha NO. Step 1 of my plan where you get everything you want right before I make you choke on it.”

This is nothing short of breathtaking and once again, Horikoshi steals my breath away.

Make no mistake: Touya is dead. He died a long time ago. Only remains a rageful ghost hold together by hatred and staples. He will not hesitate to sacrifice anything to destroy Endeavor, be it himself, others, and even members of his family.

I have about zero regret for Endeavor but the rest of the Todoroki family? Dabi just took a sledgehammer to that and now, they will all have to live with the consequences.

Kudos to Dabi, though. He did what All for One didn’t manage to do. He wanted to ruin the number 1, to show that he was a liar and how pitiful he was. All for One failed to do so when he revealed All Might’s true form but Dabi executed that plan perfectly.

The other really good point about this is that no one will care about Izuku using multiple quirks. With how Dabi stole the show, Shigaraki will be lucky if people still talk about him. 

#bnha 290 #bnha spoilers #bnha #bnha reactions

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

please tell me if you wanna be removed from the taglist so i can make space for other readers!

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

#ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #a favor #nessian fic

[cherienymphe]

What about a dark Joker? or is that redundant?

(Yes I would fuck Jared’s joker. No I do not take criticism 🥰)

You’re a villain in Gotham doing petty crimes here and there when you aren’t working, but you’re no Riddler or no Catwoman and certainly no Joker.

The clown king himself has never even heard of you until you get in his way one night while he’s trying to blow up a bank

You nearly ruin the whole thing, but he sees you as nothing more than a harmless fly so he orders his goons to stand down when they ready themselves to shoot at you

You’re long gone anyway so it would have done no good

You’re hardly a threat and you’re hardly competition. Until you almost ruin his plans to kidnap the mayor. Or the one to break a buddy out of Arkham. You do unintentionally prevent him from robbing a bank truck that was transporting money and now he’s mad

He’s rarely ever genuinely mad about anything. The worst anyone can be on the receiving end of is his indifference because then your life is nothing to him. Nothing valuable

So the next time you cross paths, he’s expecting it, and it isn’t long before he has you in a harsh grip, stolen money long forgotten as you begin to fight back

He thinks you’re trying to steal his thunder. Or even worse...a crazed fan. With a scoff, you tell him to get over himself and reveal that because you like to keep a low profile, you like to make your hits when he does because no one will pay any attention to you with him around

It makes sense. But he still doesn’t like it. Before he can kill you though, Batman swoops in just in time and you escape much to the Joker’s chagrin

Remember how I mentioned work? Yeah, when you aren’t stealing from the rich, you’re taking their money on the stripper pole

No one is more surprised than you to see the Joker waltz into the club, his posse mirroring his steps, and they make quite the intimidating team

You do your best to keep your head down and face turned away, but he recognizes you almost instantly. You blamed your hair

He requests a private room with you, and it’s not like you have a valid reason to refuse, so you swallow down your disdain and fear and do as your boss says

To your surprise, the Joker doesn’t plan to put a bullet in your head as soon as you’re alone. You know this because he’s too busy fisting his hand into your hair while his mouth covers yours

It happens so quickly and you’re not even sure how, but you find yourself moaning into the seat of the couch while he pins your chest down, thrusting into you while you’re arched against him

He’s righting himself as soon as he comes, and you’re still catching your breath when the door slams shut behind him

This quickly becomes a thing. You piss him off while he’s trying to pull off some heist, and he takes it out on you at your club. You’re not one to complain. He fucks you so good that your head spins and hey, he isn’t trying to kill you anymore

It’s just sex...to you

You’re unaware that you’re one of his toys. One of his little gadgets, and he doesn’t like for other people to touch his things

You’re doing your job, dancing on a customer when you suddenly find yourself covered in blood

Screams are filling the club as the place empties, but you’re frozen in shock. After all, you do petty crimes. You steal from the rich. You don’t kill people, but the Joker does, and he tells you he’ll happily do it again

With the club empty of everyone but him, yourself, and his goons, he roughly fucks you right there next to the stage, still covered in the blood of the man he’d just shot

You stay in your house for a long time after that. You take a break from your ‘eat the rich’ crusade. You avoid the Joker like the plague, but when things lull, the clown realizes that he hasn’t seen his little thief in quite some time

It takes almost nothing for him to find you, and he damn near gives you a heart attack when you return home from grocery shopping

You tell him that you’re done stealing for a while, but more importantly, you’re done with him for good

He laughs in your face. Cackles in that way that the police and citizens of Gotham fear

His hands are on you, tearing at your clothes, and he slyly remarks that all of your bruises have healed so he’ll have to make new ones

He fucks you against every surface of your apartment that he can think of, the sound of slapping skin and breaking furniture filling the space

When he’s done, you’re a limp mess, lazily sprawled along your torn sheets, panting as he gently trails his favorite knife down your trembling leg

He goes on some tangent about how adorable you think you are to think you could just hide away from him, tell him that what you have is over like you ever had a choice

He slips some gaudy diamond necklace around your bruised throat, more expensive than anything you’d ever stolen

His red lips brush along your cheek, green hair tickling your face as he comments on how pretty you look with his marks on you. He pulls away with promises of return, telling you to never pull anything like that again or he’d really have to hurt you

You believe him

#headcanon #joker x reader

[lebenspurpur]

fuck it, literally - Karl Heisenberg

Part one: let’s see what you’re really made of 

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x reader

Summary: Plotless smut :)

Warnings: unprotected sex, bondage, hints of kidnapping, metal trash man

********************************************************************************

The absurd mixture of grey, red and black around me. Low disturbing rumbling of giant gears working against each other. Blood and metal emitting a cutting pungent smell. Calloused skin trailing over yours, not necessarily touching yet definitely present. Sour smells turning to acerbity as soon as they meet wet saliva on your tongue.

The many, different stimuli are too much for your hazy mind. Eyes unable to focus, mouth hanging open and skin pricked with shivers - your body is at its limits. One obvious reason for that is the adrenaline slowly leaving your system, the other one is crouching in front of you.

However, even if the ladder cause knows about your troubles he doesn't seem to care.  His hands continue to stroke and worship every last inch of skin he can find. Access isn't hard to come by since your wrists got beautified by pretty silk ropes a few minutes ago.

Heisenberg seems to appreciate the fabric too, his eyes flick over them every few seconds humming in approval. "So pretty..", the man hums, thumb applying soothing pressure to your nude thighs.

You whine softly at the feeling, every single trace of dominance long gone.

Heisenberg chuckles. It's deep and you know that it'd rumble warm and nicely if your head was on his chest. His shirt flexes over his bicep as he leans back on one arm, taking in the view.

His coat and hat are long gone, presenting his self-assured grin. His grey eyes rake over your body, their gaze burning even more than his past touches.

His teasing nature makes you want to scream.

And he notices. Of course he notices. The worked up glimmer in your irises doesn't escape his inspecting preying eyes.

"Are we feeling worked up Y/N?" he asks tauntingly, grabbing his cigarettes of the drawer next to him. He wets his lips and you swear he does it on purpose. Heisenberg's tongue flicks over the skin slowly, trying to get you even more aroused. It works.

His fingers bring the cigarette to his mouth and as he lights it, silver hair falls over his face. Karl takes a deep breath, smoke slowly leaking from his mouth. His eyes close for a moment. They're darker as they open again, filled with lust and the known confidence that'll probably never leave him.

"You know darling.." he starts and his lidded eyes focus solely on yours, "...I could stay like this forever.". The eye contact breaks and he scans your naked form leaning against the headboard.

"Your pretty body all for me on display." Heisenberg praises, "And those cute thighs all opened for me. My own little slut. Fuck.". He groans at his own words and eagerly puts out his barely used cigarette.

Heisenberg leans forwards again, knee in-between your opened legs, his face now hovering above yours. He breath fans over your face and you gasp breathlessly, silently pleading for release.

Apparently you wouldn't have to wait long anymore. The lord groans once more and crashes his lips on yours. It's all teeth and tongue, lust the only emotion you can pick up.

Your hips buck at his leg, trying to get the long awaited friction. His big, scarred hands simply find your sides and hold them in place as he kisses you.

"No cheating Y/N." he pants above you, smirking through the obvious arousal. His fingers rake up your body, tickling along your chest and waist and Heisenberg bends forwards. His criminally hot lips attach to your throat, working wonders on your abandoned skin.

They form their own little trails, each one torture to your touch starved skin. You moan shamelessly as his hands find your nipples, abusing the sensitive buds while his mouth sucks marks into your cleavage.

A trail of saliva connects your chest and his tongue as he stills. He quickly unties your hands from the bed, skilled fingers working comically fast.

"On your knees." .

He is demanding now, every inch of playfulness repressed as his need for release increases.

You do as he says, ass facing him and fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Heisenberg trails his hands over your rear, massaging the plum cheeks. Suddenly he slaps it and you yelp, pleasure immediately surging through your veins.

Warm hands pet the red, stinging skin until they start traveling again. Heisenberg's fingers circle your entrance now, teasingly slow and yet so pleasurable. You can't help but moan as you feel your muscles clench around nothing.

The man above you groans as he feels the wetness between your legs. He sweeps a bit on his fingers and then pushes it back inside. You moan loudly, eyes clenching shut at the sudden swiftness of his fingers. Your reaction enlarges his lust even more and he doesn't waste any time working his fingers inside your body.

His pupils are dark and big, filled with desire and never leaving your body as he fingers your fluids back inside you again. You're groaning and pleading for him to continue and he obeys adding more fingers to the place above your twitching legs.

He knows your close, he can feel the pretty, little walls tighten around him and so he speeds up. His fingers drill into you relentlessly and you cry out as the coil inside of you snaps. You clench around him so hard, he has to stop moving his fingers and helplessly admire the blissful state of ecstasy you're in.

You groan in exhaustion as the last aftershocks of need surge through you. Your legs are quivering and you'd like to lay down but you stop upon hearing a zipper open.

Heisenberg's clothing hits the floor and seconds after that his chest is pressed against your back. His breath tickles your neck, hot blows of air making you shiver as he presses his mouth to your neck.

His hand wanders to his cock, fingers wrapping around the painfully hard sex. A string of curses is audible and he starts pumping his shaft up and down, all while being pressed to your sweaty naked body.

You can feel his hot erection against your ass and can't help but get excited again. Grinding your ass up against him, you moan heavily upon feeling your fluids coat his hands and cock.

"Fuck, come 'ere." he suddenly swears and his hands find your hips. With one fast movement he pushes inside you, the sudden stretch making you yelp out in pleasure. Even though the sensation is painful you urge him on, the need to release embarrassingly big again. Your hips push against his ones, the lewd sounds of your bodies joining only adding to your desire.

Karl grunts and tightly grabs your ass as he starts moving. His cock drags against your walls in all the best ways, eliciting cries out of you. He moves faster yet still a hundred percent on rhythm as he hits that one spot inside you with nearly every movement he does.  

"You're doing so well, taking my cock so good." he praises, hands easily lifting your torso up against his chest. He acts as if you weigh nothing, fingers rolling and pinching your nipples as he rolls his hips upwards.

You gasp and before you even know how to stop it you cum again, walls fluttering against his hard cock buried deep inside you.

He doesn't stop. His hips still drill inside you, if anything he increases the speed.

Tears prick in your eyes and you sob out, reaching out to find something to hold. Karl grins, offers his hand and you gladly take it, crying at the extreme pleasure your body is in.

His face presses against your shoulder. "One more for me, c'mon." he pleads as his fingers find your nipples again. Karl's thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy and he throws his head back, "Fuck yeah.". His hand wraps around your hair, pulling on it to make your back arch more.

Your eyesight turns black and you scream while you cum again. Pleasure floods your body like a train, tears are trailing down your sobbing expression.

Heisenberg swears and stiffens as he fills you up. His semen leaks out of your entrance and down your thighs but you're way too tired to care. As soon as Karl's grip on you changes, your body caves in, twitching while it falls on the sheets.

You cry out at the sensation of the fabric, body too stimulated to function properly. You whimper for him to stay while you bask in the afterglow, pleading eyes taring back at his.

The silver haired man laughs at your fucked out expression and sinks down next to you. He lifts the covers up over your sweaty back and then his arms find your shoulders.

You fall asleep with a soft kiss to your forehead.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #Heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #re8

[jackie5656]

We’ll Be Alright

With; Newt (TMR)

A/N: Beware, it’s a sad. Anyways, it’s more Thomas and reader than anything else, both trying to overcome their grief. I also recommend sad music lmao. ALSO I do condone Teresa slander and yes I have read the books. I acknowledge the character development BUT AT WHAT COST?

You rub your fingers across the zipper of the jacket over your shoulders, glaring at the boy in front of you. Blood boiling as he carves her name onto the rock that potrudes from the sand. Each scratch of the knife against the stone, each letter makes your stomach churn in rage. Why the shuck would Thomas even consider putting it there, not after all she’d done. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest, pumping the hot blood throughout your nbody as your mind is flooded with the hate-

“Y/n, just breathe alright? You need to calm down.” Minho’s deep voice instructs softly beside you. Despite his soothing tone, the burning fire in front of the group of you does nothing to relax you.

This isn’t like you, you’ve never been one to get this angry. But it’s different now, you’re different. A lot of times there are moment when everything seems fine, but not when Thomas is carving her shucking name right where-

“Y/n, you’re practically seething just-” Minho’s cut off when you scramble up from your seat between him and Frypan, not bothering to listen to their protests as you March towards Thomas. Tunnel vision making the wide distance between you collapse in only seconds. He’s only halfway through carving out the ‘R’ when you shove him out of the way. No doubt catching him off guard as he looks at you with eyes wide in bewilderment.

“Wh-what the hell-”

“How dare you put her shucking name next to his! You have no right!” You shout instantly, voice raw with anger and hurt as the taller boy straightens himself out.

“Y/n, what are you-”

“You don’t even see how messed up it is, do you? She’s the reason Minho still can’t sleep at night, the reason he does all he can to escape sleep to avoid the awful night terrors. She’s the reason the boy I loved is dead! It’s her shucking fault. And what, because she assisted us the tiniest bit before shit hit the fan she deserves to be on that rock? That’s a load of klunk, Thomas.”

“I lost him too y/n!”

“Then how could you possibly love her Thomas? After all she did to us!” You shove him again, but the boy doesn’t move back this time. He steps to you, eyes filled with anger and confusion at your outburst. His next words tear you apart, and suddenly all the pent up anger you’ve been pushing down explodes as he speaks.

“WCKD took her too! The flare took all she had, she was only trying to make things right!” Without thinking, your fist crashes against the brunette’s cheek with a terrible thump. Pain immediately sears throughout your knuckles and up your arm, but it’s nothing compared to the never-ending ache of your heart.

“You slinthead! How dare you try and justify what she did to us! Does what she went through make her actions right? Does her pain excuse torturing thousands of kids for the sake of what WCKD felt was necessary? It doesn’t Thomas, and no amount of her regret or guilt can take it back. Or bring him back, bring him home!” Your voice cracks as you cradle your fist, warm tears streaming down your cheeks as Gally, Frypan, and Minho come rushing over.

“Take a walk y/n.” Gally yells once the others help Thomas to his feet. He holds his chin, dazed and shocked at your actions.

“Th-Thomas I didn’t-” You struggle to find the words as you slowly back away, stunned and terrified by your own force as you try to come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“I said take a walk!” The muscular blonde repeats, standing in front of you and nudging you toward the edge of the beach. You don’t protest this time, stumbling hurriedly toward the water in a fit of emotions.

****************

When you’ve finally calmed down, your blurred vision can just make out the large rock that stands a few yards from the crashing waves. You don’t hesitate to climb on top of it, settling down against the cold stone and wrapping the corduroy jacket around you even tighter. It still smells like him, and sometimes when you close your eyes you can still feel him.

“Hey, I know you’re scared. But we won’t hurt you, I promise you’re alright greenie.”

“Greenie?”

“That’s what we call all the newbies, I’m Newt by the way. What do you say you get out of this thing, lemme show you around? You’ll be alright greenie, I promise.” Without thinking, you take the stranger’s outstretched hand. You can’t remember who you are, where you’re from, or how you ended up here. Still, his kind eyes and warm smile draw you to him. You don’t know him, but you will.

“Newt, I know we have to save Minho but there’s still time for-”

“Darling, please. We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it! You can’t make this decision on your own!”

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too.”

“You don’t get it Newt, I won’t-I can’t do this without you.” He offers a soft smile when he wipes a tear from your cheek, but you can tell it’s not genuine. You grip onto his jacket, pleading with your eyes for him to reconsider. But the way he cups the sides of your face with blood-shot eyes makes the small bit of hope in your hear fizzle away. He’s already decided, he’s gonna leave you.

“Please, please don’t leave me Newt. Mihno’s gonna be here soon okay? He’s gonna bring the serum and this will all go away just...Please don’t go baby, please don’t leave me here. Thomas, Thomas he won’t stop bleeding! Go find Minho! Thomas, get up! We have to do something!” You’re screaming at the boy who only stares blankly ahead, tears streaming down his face as he meets your eyes. Your body wracks with sobs as he only shakes his head, getting up and walking towards the building ahed of you. You don’t attempt to get his attention anymore, grabbing the collar of Newts jacket and shaking him. “Wake up Newt, please wake up...” You throw your arms around him as you sob, hiding your face in his neck when Minho and the others reach you. It’s too hard to look at them, knowing their expressions will only make this moment more real. Is it real? This couldn’t be anything more than a nightmare. You can only mumble out protests when you feel Minho pulling you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist when you desperately try to get back to the cold body laying on the floor. “We can’t leave him here! We can’t just leave him!” Minho’s own cries are drowned out through white noise as he drags you back to the jet, Newts fluffy-collard jacket crumpled in your arms as you succumb exhaustion and defeat. He’s gone

Waves crash against the large rock in a rythmic dance. Bringing your knees up to your chest to fight the cold, you rub the stained sleeve of the brown jacket wrapped around you. The deep blue stain reminding you of that horrid night, the lifeless, black eyes that stared up at the sky as you were whisked away from your only love.

“Mind if I sit?” The solemn voice interrupts before you can spiral once more. You nod, not turning around to watch Thomas climb onto the Boulder and shuffle to sit beside you. The brunette looking out at the night sky with an thoughtful expression.

“I think about that night a lot, what we could have done differently. And I think somewhere out there, there’s a different ending for all of us. Where he’s here, and we don’t have to pretend there’s not someone missing at the bonfires or dinner table...I didn’t want to love her y/n, not after what she did to us. But you and I know it’s not something we can control. No matter what I do, I love her.” His voice cracks as he speaks, but he avoids your eyes when you look to him.

“What I said Thomas, what I did...That wasn’t fair. I should have never hit you. It’s just, I’m so angry Tommy. I’m so mad all the time and it’s so scary. Sometimes, I feel like I lost myself that night and I’ll never get her back. It’s like, I don’t know...Like whoever I once was, was left laying next to his body. I can’t imagine how scared he must have been, how alone he must have felt. To feel himself and all his memories slipping away all over again. He never deserved it, he didn’t deserve any of it. A lot of times I wish it was me-”

“D-don’t say that.”

“I do though, I wish it was me. He was too good for this world. He deserved a happy ending Thomas, damnit we all did. I feel like I can’t breathe when he’s not with me, I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I mean, I punched you for gods sake! Same girl who wouldn’t even slice a pig her first day at the glade...” He lets out a small laugh, nostalgic smile pulling at his lips when he looks over at you.

“I remember Newt telling me about that, said he’d never seen a greenie tell Gally to go shuck himself until you.” You let out a pathetic chuckle, shaking your head and rubbing another oncoming wave of tears at his words.

“I miss him so much Tommy, it hurts all the time...I guess I’m still trying to forgive the world, forgive myself. I just wish I could talk to him one more time, hear his voice. I’m still trying to grasp he’s never coming back to me. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings sometimes, all this pain.”

“You could punch me again. You have a mean right hook by the way.” You meet his gaze with forced smile, tackling the taller boy into an embrace when you notice the fresh tears on his cheeks. He falters at the contact, but immediately wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I’m sorry Tommy. He loved you so much, I know he’d hate to see us fight. You didn’t deserve what I did, I know that. I should never taken my anger out on you.”

“It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. And I also know he would never have wanted you to blame yourself. He wanted you to be able to move on, to look back on all of it and know it was all meant to be. The shank also told me to take care of you, I guess I’m doing a pretty shuck job at that huh?” Your laugh is genuine this time, a little giggle that reassures Thomas he’ll be able to make sure of that promise some day in the future. He’d make sure Newt would have someone to look after you, always.

“He told me the same thing. I think you and Minho are doing all the work though.”

“Not a chance, I think I needed a good punch honestly. Who taught you how to hit like that?” You swat at his chest, pulling away from the hug to lean against his side.

“Gally, I think. Didn’t you get flashbacks from when he kicked your ass at the glade?”

“Hilarious, I could totally beat him in a fight now.”

“Right.”

“We should head back, the others might worry you were jacked enough to finish what you started.”

“Give me a couple minutes? I’ll meet you there.” You mutter softly, offering the boy a soft smile when he kisses the crown of your head and heads towards the firelight in the distance.

You let out a deep sigh when you look back out at the waves, stuffing your hands in the pockets of the jacket to warm them. Movements faltering when you feel something like twine wrap around your fingers. Pulling out the small item, your heart swells when you finally see what’s blocked your hand. It’s a strand of braided leather, a bracelet you recognize as the one Newt wore back in the glade. The frayed ends of the tattered leather warm your heart, surveying his tedious handywork with moisture filled eyes. Suddenly, a wave of assurance overcomes you. As if the boys’ finnally been able to communicate it’ll all be okay. You wrap the fabric around your fingers, pressing it against your lips before heading toward the campfire in the distance. Everything’s gonna be okay.

#imagines #fanfic #fiction #death cure #minho x reader #newt maze runner #newt x reader #scorch trials #the maze runner imagine #thomas maze runner #maze runner gally #gally x reader #tmr fanart #tmr fandom #tmr alby #tmr frypan #tmr minho #tmr newt #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #benny watts #the maze runner #tmr thomas #tmr teresa #thomas x newt #newtmas #minho x newt