#his head hit some staples hes fine

[yank-a-ton]

#a wip #unless.. #michael townley #michael de santa #trevor philips #trikey #my art #his head hit some staples hes fine #gtav #gta 5 #grand theft auto

[cosmosis]

based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you. 

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat. 

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.  

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy. 

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you. 

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do. 

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront. 

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say. 

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

 Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you. 

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person. 

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.” 

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission. 

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest. 

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears. 

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there. 

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it. 

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing. 

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you. 

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“ 

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates. 

You raise your eyebrow. 

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory. 

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.  

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article. 

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #lyla #atsv miguel o'hara #x reader #reader inser #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[laurfilijames]

Bulletproof

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of being shot through a bulletproof vest. Bruises and welts. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: After a close call in a gunfight, Jax turns to you to remind him of all the things in life worth living for.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't help it. This is a teeny bit angsty and full of feelings. I needed to write something "short and sweet" (it's neither of those 🤣) to get my writing back on track, and well, here's this... enjoy!!

---

The buzz of your phone that sat on the nightstand beside your head woke you from a decent sleep, taking you a few minutes to register it was happening for real and not in a dream, a soft moan passing your lips as you reached over for it and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice groggy and unable to disguise your sleep, your eyes too heavy and blurred to have read on the screen who was on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jax’s voice registered in your ear, making you become a little more alert and sit up while running your hand over your hair.

“I’m on my way over,” he explained, his tone short and wired, like he was on edge or adrenaline was pumping through him.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, you simply agreed, not asking any questions, knowing if he was calling you and needing to see you at this hour that something more than just sex was on his mind.

The roar of his Harley came through before he hung up, and flinging the covers off while swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you did the same.

You walked through to the front door, wearing only his Reaper t-shirt that had become your nightly staple, flicking the bolt to unlock it as you leaned against the frame, peeling back the curtain that covered the small window to look out onto the dark street as if he would be rolling in any second despite him having just left to get there.

Letting your eyelids close, you continued to lean, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to keep some of the lingering warmth from your bed on your skin, partly hoping that Jax would be tired and ready for sleep when he arrived.

The familiar rumble of his engine sounded in the distance and grew louder with each second, and an automatic smile tugged at your lips, your heart picking up pace just as his motorcycle did to quicker close the gap between him and you.

You watched through the window, your fingers toying with the thin fabric as you held the curtain aside, seeing him roughly push down the kickstand with his white sneakers before quickly standing up and dismounting his bike, unfastening his helmet at the same time.

The way he was rushing made your pulse hammer, his deliberate strides a clear display of his desperation, and you opened the door for him before he blew through it and knocked it off its hinges, his expression a mix of frenzy and relief as his blue eyes landed on you.

Gloved hands gripped your cheeks roughly, pulling you into him equally as much as he pressed himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so hard it stole your breath.

A slightly surprised gasp blew out of your mouth when he parted from you and gave you an opportunity to get air back into your lungs, your eyes searching his features with concern as you took in the sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks, his hair damp and darkened.

His chest rose and fell sharply, and tearing off his gloves, he raked his long fingers that held a home for his chunky rings through his messy tresses, exhaling a shaky breath as he looked down at the floor and then back up at you.

“Jax, what happened?”

He shook his head and chuckled falsely, pulling his bottom lip in his teeth before looking at you with what he must have thought was a convincing expression.

“I’m fine.”

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead and brought out the creases on it as he stared at you, and when you held his gaze almost challengingly, he blinked away the moisture that you caught building up in them and moved into you again, his sigh emptying out into your mouth as he kissed you slower this time, but with equal passion.

Your hands slipped up beneath his kutte, the heat of his skin pouring off of him as you rubbed his back in soothing motions, the act comforting yourself as much as it was him.

The familiar taste and smell of smoke assaulted your nose and transferred onto your tongue, knowing whatever stress he was under right now had caused him to light up one cigarette after the other to try to settle his nerves.

As your kiss faded out, Jax rubbed his nose against the side of yours, his breath hot on your cheek, the stickiness of his skin transferring onto yours.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing for a moment while he let his hands roam up over your bum and onto the small of your back, bringing your body even closer to his.

Swaying slightly on the spot, he nuzzled his face into yours even more, a moment of softness before he met your lips again, claiming you in another kiss that started slow and quickly increased in fervor.

His breathing became laboured, struggling to draw in enough air as he kissed you harder and with more desperation, his hands gripping at your flesh beneath his worn shirt.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into you as it strained against his jeans, making you rub yourself on it a couple of times with a teasing grind of your hips, your fingers moving down his stomach to work at the button and zipper while he shrugged out of his kutte.

It landed carelessly on the floor beside you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight wince on his face before it disappeared in his hoodie as he lifted his arms and pulled it over his head, immediately moving back to capture your lips again.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, walking forward to force you back and further into your house, your hand rubbing him through his boxers before diving inside the waistband to take hold of his cock, stroking the hot, velvety skin of his length that made you moan into his mouth and him push harder on yours.

Both of you blindly made your way toward your bedroom, only pausing your kisses briefly to peel the white t-shirt that clung to his body off of him, your breath knocking out of you as he slammed you against the wall and began lifting the hem of the shirt still covering your body.

Once your naked form was available to him, he trailed his lips down your neck and along your collarbone while his hands smoothed all along your waist, one moving to your breasts where his fingers plucked one of your peaked nipples, the other traveling downward to slip between your legs.

“Jax…” you breathed, your tone needy and filled with lust, the sensation of his fingers entering and withdrawing from your slick hole making your eyes close and your head knock back on the drywall.

After losing yourself in ecstasy for a couple of minutes, you refocused, needing him more than ever, your thumbs hooking in the band of his boxers to tear them down his legs.

Jax took your hand and turned to lead you the short distance to your room, giving you a view of his back where your eyes were drawn to different spots of dark colouring that weren’t part of the ones that made up the large tattoo that covered almost all of it.

Peppered between the image of the Reaper and letters that spelled out ‘California’ were round bruises, his skin raised with welts, and your heart sank in realization of what had caused them; the impact of the bullets that had hit him unable to be disguised even with the protection of kevlar.

You instinctively reached out to lightly trace each one, counting three in total, a mix of emotions rushing through you that were half grateful and half terrified.

“I’m fine.” He repeated the same lie as before, glancing back at you as he paused in his steps and turned to face you.

You dove into him, wrapping your shaky arms around him to hug him so tight you didn’t care if it hurt, feeling his arms encase you in return and his lips press multiple times on the top of your head.

A sourness crept up your restricted throat, your guts twisting almost painfully at the thought of one of those bullets striking a place the bulletproof vest hadn’t been covering, and you frantically began kissing him everywhere you could reach, starting on his chest and making your way up his neck, your hands moving to cup his cheeks where your thumbs smoothed back and forth on his blond scruff. Your lips met again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you transferred all your worry and grief into a display of love, his cock nudging at your core to remind you of what it was he needed right now.

The oncoming tears stung when you squeezed your eyelids together tightly, one slipping out and down your cheek as you retrained your focus on the feel of his tongue tangling with yours instead, the simplicity of needing to just be with him beginning to outweigh anything else.

You finally made it into your room, sitting on the bed and scooching yourself back to lay down with spread legs as he settled between them and sank overtop of you, continuing to kiss you with as much ardor that the skin around your mouth was already beginning to feel raw.

His knee pressed up on your thigh to guide it higher, spreading you out further as he covered your body completely with his, his fingers running along your scalp to send shivers across your skin.

You adjusted your hips, angling yourself to allow for his leaking head to push through your folds, lingering with just the tip of him inside you that somehow already made you feel full.

The skin on his back was tacky as you ran your hands gently up and down it, feeling his muscles flex as he began to move against you, his cock stretching you out inch by inch as he slowly pushed all the way in.

It was ironic; catching glimpses of the silver shell casing that hung from the chain around his neck in the light shining in through the window as it wagged and glided along your chest, filling the space between your hearts that hammered furiously and proved his vitality as if it hadn’t been threatened.

As soon as Jax had pulled into your driveway he felt better, the need to see you and be with you at the forefront of his mind, having bolted out of the clubhouse the minute he had changed out of his tac vest and clothes that were sprayed with holes from the gunshots he could still hear going off in his head.

Now that he had felt your lips against his and the softness of your skin beneath his palms, he was filled with an appreciation for you that he knew he took for granted too many times before, the relief he felt at being with someone who made him feel alive after a close call with death sobering him in a harsh bite of reality.

The way you made him feel was undeniable, giving him a vigor that was too often misplaced and diluted even though you showed him a brighter side to all the darkness that surrounded him, his lack of commitment to anyone but his club wrongly applicable even to you.

He thrusted harder into you, deepening his strokes as he peeled his mouth from yours to watch his cock pump in and out of you, the sound of your pleasure coming out in beautiful whimpers and soft moans while requesting more from him reiterating every reason why he came here tonight in the first place.

Jax dove against your lips again, needing to kiss you in order to stop himself from saying things that he feared may only be a result of how fucking scared he had been earlier, but deep down knowing the words that portrayed how he felt weren’t coming from a place of fear.

It felt different. Crazed and desperate and meaningful, the way he fucked you hinting at something more intent and unwavering than usual.

Sex with Jax was always mind-numbing and intense, but you never let yourself get too far into things knowing he could be gone before you even woke the next day and carrying on without thinking twice about it meaning anything more, his nonchalance always reminding you to take nothing from it other than pleasure.

Gone.

The potency of that little word had your eyes burning again, burrowing an emptiness in your chest that ached to be filled by anything he was generous enough to give.

There were never any labels put on what you were to each other or what this was, but the possibility of losing him at any moment made you desperate to show him what he meant to you, your fingers digging into the flesh on his upper arms so hard as if adding marks of your own on his body would make him stay with you forever.

You reached your face upward to press harder against his mouth, happy when he reciprocated and drove his tongue deeper inside yours, the long, rolling motions of his hips continuing, only now with more calculated force.

Heat bubbled within you, building up into that familiar tingle that taunted to be chased, every nerve in you warning of what drew nearer with each pump and drag of his long cock in and out of you.

The way his hands roamed your body in a calm, but needy way had your mind spinning, like the more he touched you the more it grounded and convinced him that he was still here to enjoy something this good; the gravity of today in no hurry to lose its effectiveness.

Jax paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over your forehead as he searched your eyes for permission or assurance or something more that scared even you, the sound of your panting breaths the only thing audible in the dark quiet of your room. He dipped down to brush your lips again, his scruff holding onto the sweat that had effectively coated every part of his body, lightly teasing with a softer kiss before resuming the purposeful tempo of his hips, the silence between you able to voice that you were both ready to find your high together.

Letting your bodies say what your words couldn't, you met his pace, grinding and rolling deliberately in time with him, the need to help him find his release with the use of your body seeming more important tonight than it ever had.

Jax gripped your face tightly, his fingers squeezing your jawline in an almost frantic way, groaning into your mouth desperately as a signal of his climax.

His thrusts never faltered, continuing to pound you while his hot cum filled you up in aggressive spurts, throwing you into your own orgasm as your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs on his groin. The feel of his cock sliding his thick seed in and out of you drew out your high, prolonging every blissful spark and shudder that tore through your body, the way his sweaty form laid heavily on top of yours a necessary weight that helped you stay rooted in the moment.

He remained buried inside you while you kissed, catching your breaths by sharing each other’s until he slipped from between your legs and crashed onto the covers beside you, his arm falling over his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Despite having just been as close to him as you possibly could be, you felt a vacancy and longing for him, glancing over at him where you watched him close his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he drew in sharp breaths.

His necklace fell to the side from where it rested on his pec, hanging in his armpit as he continued to breathe, and you carefully picked it up between your fingers, the silver cold against them and a stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his body.

Even though his eyes remained closed, you couldn’t mistake the pained look on his face, a sort of fear and vulnerability that was rare to see on his features, his mortality shattering the usual invincibility that was layered on falsely by his cockiness.

Your chest felt tight, watching him let everything the adrenaline had prevented him from feeling earlier course through him, and you leaned over and traced your fingertips along the creases beside his mouth before pressing your lips to his, relieved when he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

His arms came down to wrap around you, pulling your body to rest more on top of his, his hands carding over your back in a comfortable, soothing way.

You couldn’t recount the times sex with Jax had turned into a quick goodbye between smiling kisses and promises to see each other soon only to have days turn into weeks, convincing yourself and him that this was nothing more than a casual, fun fuck, having to disguise the way your heart ached for him and how many butterflies erupted at the mention of his name alone.

None of that mattered tonight, no longer caring if you let your cards show, the severity of tonight outweighing any need to try to stifle your feelings or bother denying that you felt more for him than you ever intended to let happen.

Jax remained pensive and quiet, his boisterous self clouded by his brush with a graver fate, but with the occasional kiss to the top of your head and the way his heartbeat had steadied in your ear, you knew he was comforted in your embrace.

As you laid entwined in your sheets, your leg hooked over his waist while he held your hand and played with your fingers, interlacing them and listlessly running them through his, you thought how you would never be able to control or guarantee if he would be yours to love forever, the way he lived his reckless life a threat to any sort of assurance.

A soft smile tugged at your lips when Jax shifted slightly lower on the bed to line up your face with his, kissing you slowly and clutching your hand in his where he brought it into his chest.

His nose rubbed against yours a couple of times before he settled his head on your pillow, a quiet hum sounding from his mouth, his blue eyes shining with a vitality and promise that for at least another day, he was yours.

---

Please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed reading this story! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #charlie hunnam #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy fic #charlie hunnam characters #jax teller fic #samcro

[sunshinevanfleet]

brat - d. wagner

pairing: danny x reader

a/n: hey y'all!!! i'm back again with another fic. i'm trying to keep up with the writing and avoid some writers' block, so here's another fic. i am hardcore in danny's lane rn, and planned to write some fluff and then ended up with the exact opposite lol. so here's some enemies to lovers, hate-fuck smut with our lovely danny. he's kind of an asshole in this one and it's very sexy so pls enjoy. let me know what u think!! luv you all. (p.s. this is unedited and not proofread so excuse me for any mistakes thx ok bye)

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), enemies to lovers

word count: 4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit sex scenes, unprotected sex, car sex, danny being an asshole, some light degradation, etc.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” 

You barely noticed the words leaving your lips as you stood by the bar, the plastic cup in your hand crunching as you gripped it. You glanced over your shoulder at your friend; she was still distracted by the hot bartender flirting with her. Nudging her with your shoulder, she finally glanced over.

“No way, is that–”

“It is,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’m going to fucking murder Josh Kiszka.”

Kara laughed at your words, just as shocked as you were. The bartender was forgotten, still chatting away distractedly as you two stared at the man in the doorway of the bar. The low light obscured him slightly, not to mention the blurriness of your eyes from the couple of drinks you had. But it was him, silhouetted there, all broad-shoulders and dark curly hair framing his face. 

“Daniel Wagner…” Kara shook her head, taking a long swig of her drink in front of her. “Josh totally did that on purpose.”

“You think?”

“I mean, I dunno.” She shrugged. “He knows you hate each other, obviously.”

You sighed heavily. You should’ve called anyone but Josh. You should’ve spent your last ten dollars getting an uber home. It would be worth sacrificing your pretentious cold brew from the coffee shop down the street in the morning in order to avoid riding home with Danny Wagner. 

“This is so fucked.” You turned around to face Kara. Danny was canvassing the crowded bar, obviously searching for you since he had been called to be your savior tonight. “I’m never calling Josh to pick me up again.”

“You should’ve expected this, Y/N,” said Kara. “Josh is always sending someone else to get you. Remember last time? He was taking fireball shots at home with Sam, so he sent Jake…”

“That’s the difference!” you hissed at her, trying not to call attention to yourself. You were beginning to panic. How were you going to survive a twenty minute drive in the car with a man you hated? “It was Jake! He’s not my–my arch nemesis!”

Kara snorted, covering her mouth as she began to laugh. “Your arch nemesis… I can’t with you. Sound like a supervillain,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m being serious.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” she waved her hand halfheartedly. “At least he’s hot.”

Your features screwed up into a scowl. It felt like all of your friends were setting you up for this. The two of you never got along; he always had some snarky comment any time you said anything, and the sound of his voice hit the wrong nerve with you. Something about him was just infuriating. But he was a staple in the Kiszkas’ lives, and so were you, so you tolerated each other. Josh, however, was always trying to get you to get along. This was another one of his plots, and you knew it. You were going to strangle him. 

“Oh, shit, I think he’s spotted us,” Kara said, eyes widening. She forced herself to look back towards the bartender, and sipped her drink aggressively. 

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands over your face. This would definitely be interesting. It took everything in you not to turn around and watch him saunter over, that stupid cocky look playing on his features as he realized the rest of your night was in his hands. There was no doubt in your mind that he was going to make every second a living hell. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” came his voice from behind you. You resisted the urge to scream at the pretentious nickname.

You turned to face him, your face curled into the nastiest smile you could muster. “Daniel,” you said, feigning politeness. “Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Kicking and screaming,” he agreed, nodding his head. You eyed him for a second. His hair was pulled back messily, stray curls fanning his forehead and cheeks. He wore a black muscle tee and a pair of gray sweatpants that were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He must’ve been in bed when Josh called him. 

“Where’s Josh?” you asked bluntly. Your two-second show of getting along was over. He was the last person you wanted to be face-to-face with right now. 

“Incapacitated,” said Danny. “You know how he loves a good Friday night drinking game.”

“And you weren’t playing?”

“Nope,” he continued, “I was all cozy in my bed, going to sleep early. Then Josh calls me to come rescue the princess, so here I am.” 

You rolled your eyes. With a huff, you decided not to push the subject any further. If you ignored him, maybe the next half hour would go by in a flash. Next time, you’d be calling your Mom before you called Josh to come pick you up. Unreliable little shit.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” you said under your breath.

Standing from the bar, you grabbed your purse and slung it over your shoulder. You shoved your phone inside, and said a quick goodbye to Kara. She smiled sweetly at the both of you as you left. Danny led you out into the warm night air, where his car was waiting. 

“Don’t look so miserable, sweetheart,” he said, a twinge of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, tone laced with venom. You had never met anyone with such a smackable demeanor, someone so hell-bent on pestering you until you broke. 

“What? Not happy to see me?”

You wrinkled your nose. Ducking into his car, you dropped your bag on the floor and kicked off your heels. In the back of your mind, you wished you drank a little more before you left. Danny’s presence was a wonderfully effective buzzkill. 

“Well, don’t get your panties in a twist. You don’t have to see me for too long,” he said, grinning.

“My panties are perfectly untwisted,” you said haughtily. “Can you just shut up for the next twenty minutes? It’d make my life a lot easier.”

He laughed. “I’m not here to make your life easier.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

You could feel the smugness radiating off of him as he pulled away from the bar. You wished you could hitch a ride with Kara, but you knew her boyfriend was picking her up and they would be nearly as insufferable as this car ride with Danny. It was quiet for a moment, but you knew he would be back to bugging you any minute now. You merely hoped you didn’t explode once it started. 

He reached between you, flicking the radio on to kill the silence between you. The station was set to something hard-rock. The drums and guitar blaring through the speakers were really starting to worsen the headache threatening to come on.

“Can you turn that off, please?” you asked, glaring at him.

“No, I like this song,” Danny said, reaching over to increase the volume.

Your face flushed with anger. 

“I have a headache, Daniel,” you said bitterly. “At least turn it down.”

But he was steadily cranking the volume up, up, up. The grin on his face was only widening. Your head pounded, both from the drinks and the immeasurable rage coursing through you. 

“What?” he shouted. “I can’t hear you!”

You half-groaned, half-screamed, and reached over to pull his hand away from the volume. You knew you looked like a crazy person, and you didn’t care. He laughed as you pushed his hand away from the radio. You muted it without a second thought. 

“My head is fucking pounding,” you hissed at him. “Asshole.”

“Oh I’m an asshole,” he added, chuckling. “That’s rich, coming from such a brat.”

You glanced over, and met his gaze briefly before he looked away. His eyes were dark, and slightly hooded with sleep. He really must’ve been sleeping.  Your heart thundered in your chest. If you weren’t so pissed off, you might have noticed the butterflies blooming in your stomach and spreading down between your legs. There was no way that Danny Wagner insulting you was turning you on. You ignored the feeling, twisting one leg over the other and flopping back against the seat. 

“You are an asshole,” you said.

“I am a perfectly nice guy.”

You snorted. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“You know it. You just don’t want to admit that you’re the instigator in this relationship,” Danny said.

“Instigator? Which one of us is constantly, intentionally, pissing the other one off?” You raised your eyebrows expectantly at him.

He grinned at you, shrugging. “Which one of us is constantly getting so worked up over absolutely nothing?”

“I’m going to ignore you, now,” you stated. You turned away from him, staring off into the distance as he drove you home. You couldn’t stand looking into those intense eyes any longer. Your thighs were clenched together so hard that they were beginning to shake. It was about time you got the hell out of this car, before shit got out of hand.

“Looks like I’m right,” he continued. “Poor little brat knows I’m right, huh?”

Brat… The word made you squirm in your seat, the brief throbbing in your core making you swallow hard. He was going to be the death of you, the gorgeous shithead sitting in the seat beside you. God, you hated how easily he could push your buttons in all the right ways. You hated to admit it, but underneath all of the outward animosity, there had always been some serious sexual tension. 

“I must be really getting under your skin, huh sweetheart?” 

There it was again, another one of his condescending nicknames. It felt wrong to say you were almost enjoying this. You squirmed slightly again, trying to avoid his attention. The sound of your pulse thundered in your ears. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he could tell. 

“I hate you,” you muttered. Your voice was hoarse, and so quiet it was barely audible between you. You were afraid if you spoke any louder that the shake in your voice would give it all away. 

“Doesn’t seem that way,” said Danny smugly. His car came to a stop at a redlight, and you turned to glance at him. He was looking at you, almost hungrily. He looked you up and down, shaking his head as the light finally turned green and he pulled off. “Can’t sit still over there, can you?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act all clueless,” he chuckled. “I see you over there, squirming and writhing…” His eyes flicked down to your legs twisted together. Your skirt had ridden dangerously high up your thighs, almost enough so that your panties would be exposed shortly. 

“I am not,” you hissed, uncrossing your legs and pulling your skirt down. Your face flushed red, and you prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim light. 

“Are too,” his voice was tinged with amusement. “Bet that little pussy’s just throbbing when I call you brat.” 

His words sent a jolt up your spine, and you knew he could see your red face now. Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. He laughed darkly at this.

“You know I’m right.”

You swallowed the planet-sized lump in your throat, trying to figure out how to breathe again. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? 

“I– Danny, what–” You were lost for words. You couldn’t take your eyes off him as you rode the last two minutes to your house. He seemed to be completely focused on the road, not paying you any mind as you sat there in complete shock. What the fuck was going on?

The car came to a stop in your driveway with a jolt. There was a short pause, where the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. Then, without a word, Danny leaned his seat back, and you caught the hint.

You climbed across the center console and straddled him with all the ease of a professional. He leaned up and caught your lips in a heated kiss. It was hot, and messy– all lips and teeth gnashing and saliva everywhere. His hands had fallen to your ass, bunching your skirt up around your hips and kneading the fleshy skin. Your own were tangled in his curls, pulling more hair loose from his bun as you pushed him down against the seat.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he groaned against your mouth. One of his fingers teased along your panties as he squeezed your ass. There was barely any friction, but still you sighed heavily. 

“Fuck,” you hissed as he dragged the finger up and down the fabric again, teasing you through your underwear. You ground your hips down against him, trying to get some kind of relief. 

“What got you this wet for me, sweetheart? Hmm?” His lips traveled down your neck, sucking the skin hard as he left bruises behind. You rutted your hips against him again, desperately as he continued teasing you. “This sweet little pussy loves it when I call you my brat, huh?”

His deep, silky voice sent a jolt through your body. You needed him so bad. To touch you, to taste you, to fuck you. Anything at this point. You couldn’t take the sound of him teasing you anymore. You needed him to destroy you.

“Fuck, Danny, stop teasing me, please,” you hissed through clenched teeth. Two of his long fingers swept past your panties and swirled against your soaking wet core. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head at the feeling of it. 

“Teasing you is the best part,” he said breathily. His lips skirted across your collarbones, nipping harshly at the skin. You were going to be fifty shades of purple come the morning, but you didn’t care. You wanted his mouth–his teeth– on you, everywhere. 

You grunted, swirling your clothed center against his bulge and fingers again. It was almost pure bliss, having two of his fingers prodding your entrance and his clothed bulge dragging against your clit. You knew you could cum like this, but you wanted him, all of him desperately. 

His fingers finally pushed into your soaked cunt, and you moaned loudly. Your face flushed with embarrassment; it had been so long since you’d been fucked properly. The desperation in your movements made you feel something like a virgin again. You didn’t have time to worry about what Danny would think– his free hand had snaked up your body to wrap around your throat.

You gasped, throwing your head back as his fingers sank into you to the base. 

“You like that? You like my fingers stretching that little cunt open?”

You nodded, clenching around him as he slowly began to thrust them in and out of you. He curled them slightly, the pads of his fingers grazing your sweet spot deliciously.

“Use your words, brat.”

“Y–yes, Danny, I–” a moan broke through as he curled his fingers more harshly, driving them into your g-spot. “Fuck, I love it.”

“Oh, you love it?” he asked, his voice amused. “C’mon, ride my fingers, then.”

You obeyed instantly, lifting yourself up and rolling your hips against his fingers. Your entire body seized as his fingers hit that spot over and over again. Your eyes were screwed shut, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as he held you up by the throat and let you fuck yourself on his fingers. Pleasure coursed through your veins; you were sure he was the best lay of your life, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. Stars bloomed in your vision, and your legs began to tremble.

He breathed sharply as your walls clenched tightly around his fingers. “Feels so good, doesn’t it sweetheart? You’re so close to cumming all over my hand, aren’t you? Yeah, that tight little pussy’s gonna cream all over my fingers, isn’t it?”

You whimpered at his words. You forced your eyes open and glanced down at him, and you nearly came at the sight. His lips were raw and swollen from his assault on your neck; sweat glistened on his forehead and cheeks, his curls plastered to the skin as he watched you with black eyes. His expression dripped with pure filth– no one had ever looked at you this way. You leaned down into him, pressing your open mouth against his. You breathed his air, tasting his breath and sucking it into your lungs as if it were your own lifeforce. Your tongue darted into his mouth; you throbbed at the wet, lewd sounds emerging from the two of your mouths together. It was disgusting, and you were loving every second of it. 

Chest heaving, you began to grind yourself down onto his digits, hard. You vision began to go black.

“Danny, oh my god, Danny,” you breathed, rocking against him. “I’m gonna cum, fuck me, I can’t hold on…” You were practically screaming, hoping that his car was muffling the sound of your shrill moans from the outside world.

“No, no, not yet, sweetheart…”

Your heart dropped as he dropped his hand from your throat, and grabbed you around the waist. You gasped as he pulled his soaked fingers out of you, your cunt clenching around nothing as he laughed darkly. 

“Danny, what the fuck–”

He grinned. “Relax, Y/N,” he said, amused. 

“But I was so fucking close,” you groaned, squirming above him as he watched you. Without saying anything, he brought his slick fingers up to your mouth and held them in front of you. You stared at him for a second, before he reached his other hand up and tapped you on the chin with his thumb. Opening your mouth, you allowed him to insert his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself. He groaned at the sight; you felt his cock twitch underneath you, straining against his sweatpants. You rolled your hips against him, and he bit down on his lip with a grunt.

“You’re gonna cum all over my cock, okay? Gonna be my good girl and ride me,” he said, watching as you nodded, bobbing your lips over his fingers. You swirled your tongue around his digits hungrily, your eyes widening as you watched him pull down the waistband of his pants. His cock slapped against his abdomen. You knew from feeling it that it was bigger than average, but you never would have expected this from Danny Wagner.

“Fuck, where have you been hiding that thing?” you muttered, incredulous. 

Danny laughed, taking his saliva soaked hand and wrapping it around his shaft. The tip was slightly purple, leaking shining clear precum. He spread your spit and juices over himself, groaning thickly. 

“Let me,” you replaced his hand with your own, swiping your thumb over the tip. He grunted, closing his eyes and leaning back against the seat. You leaned forward, letting a string of saliva drip from your mouth down to his cock. You bobbed your fist up and down over him, feeling his thighs twitch as you teased him.

“Enough,” he groaned thickly, his voice deep with arousal as he reached forward to grab your wrist. “Sit on it. Now.” He commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you said snarkily, lifting yourself up and positioning your hole over the tip. You dragged the tip through your folds for a moment, soaking it in your arousal. The two of you moaned in unison, and a deep breathy groan spilled from his lips as you finally sank down onto him.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the stretch of his cock; it felt as if you were being split in half in the best way possible. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted, rolling your hips slowly against him. You didn’t know how you were going to take him for very long. Your legs trembled on either side of his, and you could barely lift yourself above him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Danny grasped your chin as you stared down at him. “Need some help, baby? Need help riding my big cock?”

You nodded, “Yes, please. I can take it, please.” One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, and the other grasped his shoulder. Your nails dug into his skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you off of him a bit, and began to drill into you from beneath you.

You pressed your forehead against his, your mouth open in a silent scream. You couldn’t think as he set a relentless pace, barrelling into your swollen hole without abandon. Your thighs quivered and began to shake; if it weren’t for him holding you up, you would have collapsed on top of him. He was so deep, abusing your pussy as tears of sheer pleasure clouded your vision. 

You felt his hips stutter beneath you, and you moved your hand from his shoulder, to his throat. “Don’t fucking stop,” you moaned, your voice cracking. “If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed throatily, his breath fanning over your face. “Oh, if I had the willpower to torture you with my cock right now, I promise you I would, sweetheart. But I’ve gotta cum in this pussy, now.”

Tears swept down your cheeks as he maintained his rhythm. Sweat poured down your face, and mingled with the dampness of your tears. You squeezed your eyes closed, your entire body shaking as you approached your release. 

"Poor little pitiful thing..." he muttered. "I love seeing you cry over my cock. Feels good, huh baby? Splitting you open like that..."

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, I’m cumming, Danny– Oh, motherfuck–” Your voice was cut off by the heaving breaths breaking from your throat. Your cunt tightened around Danny’s thick length, squeezing deliciously as he fucked you straight through your orgasm. Your entire mind was blank, your vision cloudy as you slumped against him. But he wasn’t done with you; his pace was more relentless than ever as he chased his own high. You used the last of your energy to meet his thrusting, pushing him closer to the edge.

“Almost there,” he whispered, his features twisted in focus as you fucked down onto him. You rocked your hips, swirling around on his cock. His mouth fell open, and his features screwed up in pleasure. A strangled moan fell from his lips, and you felt his hot cum shooting inside of you, staining your walls. He came with a deep groan of your name, and you throbbed around him. 

You whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out of you, his strong arms still holding you above him. Gently, he released your waist, and you slumped down onto his chest. The two of you were covered in sweat, sticky and smelling distinctly of arousal. Around you, the windows of his car had fogged up enough that you could barely see out of them.

“You okay?” Danny asked quietly as you rolled back into your own seat, pressing your back against the door. You were still panting, your skirt hitched up around your hips. Your panties had been ripped to shreds in the process, threads dangling from your thighs. Absent-mindedly, you struggled to remove them.

“I’m good,” you nodded, taking a deep breath as you tried your best to fix your appearance. 

“Didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, sounding almost sorry.

“It was a good cry.” A laugh fell from your lips, and you were glad to see him smile. A real smile this time. Not the shit-eating grin you were used to. 

“Want me to walk you up?” He nodded towards the door to your house, slowly becoming visible through the fogged up windows. 

You nodded. “Sure,” you said. “Think I might need you to carry me after that.”

“I can manage that. If you can do me one favor in the morning…”

“And what would that be?”

“Tell Josh I said thanks for calling me,” he said cheekily.

“Oh, shut up,” you reached over and smacked him on the chest, then shook your head as he ducked out of the car. What were you going to do with him?

#danny x reader #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner imagine #danny wagner smut #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fic #gvf imagine #gvf x reader #gvf fic #gvf smut #my writing #greta van fleet #queue are my special

[phantasmiac]

au where dabi is happily living a normal life with you, until you get pregnant (don’t worry, only happy endings in this au). part of my phoenix quirk au expanded on here and here.

cw/tw: afab/fem!reader, pregnancy, abortion mention, alcohol mention, like one sexual reference ig but no smut

wc: 2.7k

when you find out you’re pregnant, touya isn’t happy. this was never part of the plan for either of you. with your guys’.. peculiar situation, kids weren’t exactly ideal. i mean fuck the situation, touya just wasn’t built for kids, period. raising one of his own was just a disaster waiting to grow up and explode in your faces. so, no, he wasn’t happy. but no big deal; you’ll get rid of it, problem solved, that would be the end of it; if only you didn’t get it into your head that maybe this was possible. cue the heated arguments where you’re all up in each other's faces, arms waving around erratically.

he’s been too easygoing, too compliant, touya thinks. now you think he’s some kind of miracle worker, a sinner turned saint. but you argue that you’ve seen how much he’s grown, how you know he’d do right by this… thing that’s growing inside you. eventually the arguments stop. you’re both tired and hit the bed. he turns his back towards you, because apparently you deserve it. but he doesn’t expect you to do the same, and gets a little pissed all over again. what’s even more agitating is how quick you are to fall asleep. how could you possibly be on the way to dreamland while he’s stuck wide awake with this fucking bomb you just dropped on him?

the next day he goes to work, clocks out and invites his friend out to a diner (no bar. he’s sure if he steps foot into one of those he won’t be strong enough to pass on a drink this time). his friend doesn’t know whether to be overjoyed or concerned at the fact that this is the first time touya is offering, but he doesn’t pry and touya doesn’t offer any explanation. he’s sure if he told the idiot about the news his first reaction would be to congratulate the two of you and that’s not what he wants to hear. he just can’t face you right now.

eventually it’s time to take his ass home. it’s late, so he figures he’ll walk in to see your sleeping figure on the bed, frown etched onto your features. and he really hopes you decided to be an asshole today, decided that he deserved to starve for being a douche yesterday, because he thinks he’ll have to kill himself if he sees a cold dish sitting on the kitchen table. but of fucking course the first thing his eyes set on as he opens the front door is a bowl of udon. his favorite? either you’re an angel (of course you are) or you really want that fucking baby. but you’re missing from the table, so he walks to the bedroom. his eyes screw shut and his hand freezes at the knob upon hearing your sniffles from the other side. how the hell does he go about this?

he loses a bit of his balance while he’s lost in thought, creaking one of the floorboards underneath the weight of his sudden movement. instantly, the door swings open. his eyes follow suit, and find your big, teary ones blinking back up at him. your face is all red and splotchy like you’ve been at this for awhile now. before he can even open his mouth to speak, you’ve circled your arms around him, burying your head into his chest, holding on like he’ll sprint if you loosen your grip. but he’s an idiot, thinking holy shit you really do want that baby. you’re really going to beg him like thi-

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have been so insistent yesterday. if you’re not ready now or — or ever! that’s fine. we can get rid of it. i’m grateful for what we have now. baby or no baby, it doesn’t matter as long as we have each other. that’s what’s most important to me. just….. don’t disappear, please?”

you and your fucking bombs. what the hell is he supposed to say to that? it’s simple, says the little devil on his shoulder, burnt and stapled together. tell her that sounds like a damn plan! and he’s about to comply, but he’s only able to get out a syllable; that’s enough to get you to noticeably hold your breath, anxiously waiting for his response, arms still keeping him caged. he can see your eyes trying to decipher his, attempting to see beyond them and reach into his brain and pull out his thoughts. you’re obliging him, hoping it’ll be enough. always obliging him.

touya will never stop feeling in debt to you for dabi’s sins. that therapist of his would probably have a thing or two to say about that, but as far as touya has noticed he doesn’t have a ring on his finger or any frames on his walls so what the fuck would he know (he doesn’t know anything, really, or else that confidentiality bullshit would’ve been thrown out the window a long time ago). touya has the god damn love of his life standing right in front of him, and if they want the sun then he’s going to fly and snatch it right out of the sky for them.

which is why, against his better judgment, he lets out a groan before breaking his silence. “forget it.”

his voice startles you, but once you’ve processed his words, your lip begins to tremble and your eyebrows furrow, and not in the good way; touya knows the difference. he quickly continues.

“forget what i said yesterday. i was being a pussy.” now you’re confused, he notes, and he can’t help but smile at how cute and dumb you’re being, so he ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“let’s have the thing.” he murmurs into your hair.

you gasp and perk up at that, eyes sparkling and ready to flood; in the good way, this time. as if afraid he’ll change his mind if you stare at him for too long, you plant your face back on his chest and remain there for a solid minute, basking in the comfortable silence.

he’s confused to see you frowning again when you finally separate from one another.

“don’t call our baby a thing.”

if he were being completely honest, touya wasn’t all that excited to meet the load he’d shot inside of you, even after agreeing not to exterminate it. he was just there for the ride, neutral faced, sitting next to you while you had your arms thrown up in the air and screamed with joy. but he was always by your side, nonetheless. want to paint stars all over the guest room-turned-nursery? you’re a real cornball, but sure, he’s rolling up his sleeves. going furniture shopping? he’s driving the cart AND he’s gonna start getting picky halfway through (especially when you browse through the baby clothes section. you’re just looking, you don’t know the gender yet, but if you pick up something he finds ugly he’s letting you know that no spawn of his is gonna be caught wearing that).

all your friends are so excited for the two of you when you break the news and it irks him. what the hell are they so excited for? you two are the ones that are going to have to deal with a brat running around the house until it decides to leave. they ask him if he’s hoping for a boy or a girl and he really doesn’t give a shit, it’s going to be a pain in the ass either way. and it’s as if the universe is swatting him on the back of the head for thinking such a thing, because at your next appointment that nurse he’s so excited to never see again says “you’re not going to believe this”.

twins. TWINS. oh fuck.

towards the end of your pregnancy, he’d randomly become hyper aware of the fact that you could just… BURST out of nowhere, anyplace, anytime and it freaked him the fuck out. if you made any movement that wasn’t very heavily-pregnant-person of you, you had him clutching at his heart. luckily he isn’t there when it happens. he gets a call from your co-worker and speeds to the hospital.

touya’s seen some crazy shit but watching you give birth has gotta be in his top three. and it sucks, because you’re in so much pain and he can’t do anything about it except let you break every bone in his hand under your grip. he hates seeing you like this. but it comes to an end, eventually.

you’re crying tears of joy, as you hold your babies in your arms and he feels a fire light up inside his heart, seeing you so happy. then you ask him if he wants to hold them and, well, what’s he gonna do, say no?

so he takes them, while everyone is watching him as if waiting for some video worthy reaction and it makes him want to scoff. and then he glances down at them, at their little faces that look so much like his, so tiny and vulnerable in his arms, and something so unexplainable and otherworldly happens inside of him that he genuinely thinks he’s been possessed. these are his children. how? how could a man — who’s sole creation was once the trail of ashes left in his wake — produce something so pure and innocent? and the nurses watching him are going to be real pleased because he feels a lump growing in his throat with every passing second, tears following suit. these children of his, they look so much like the baby in the photos his mother had shown him in that album once as a kid. and he can’t help but think to himself: if this is anything like what his old man saw resting in his arms the day he was born, how could he possibly think to bring so much pain upon that little face? he can’t fathom it.

there are tears threatening to fall as he looks back up at you, eyes shining as if to say we created this. and you’re looking at him, head leaning to the side, eyes droopy with exhaustion, but still smiling, like you aren’t surprised; like you expected this. like you’re silently telling him i told you so.

touya thinks his babies are the cutest; or rather, the only cute babies in the entire world. says it’s because they look like him, obviously. he hates when people learn you have kids and start talking about their own because he’s already heard enough; his are better, period. you have a boy, ryu, and a girl, yuki. they have all his features except his eyes and hair, and for that, he feels the universe cut him some slack. he absolutely hates when other people ask to hold them but says yes so you don’t give him a dirty look and scold him later on about being rude. smirks when they start crying and giving him the grabby hands to take them back, cooing at them innocently.

during the first month he was the equivalent of a college student binge watching crash course lectures the night before an exam; so much for “not caring” during your pregnancy. and you wanna tease him for it but he makes it work ???? he’s a super fast learner and doesn’t complain. but it does give you another reason to say i told you so. before kids, he could’ve slept through doomsday, now he can hear them blink awake from the next room. and he practically levitates out of bed and takes care of the issue like some sims character on autopilot. he finds it so easy to go back to sleep afterwards, and you want to strangle him for it.

you get a double baby carrier and he thinks it looks so goofy until he tries it once and never looks back. but you start to regret your purchase because he actually looks so hot wearing it. a responsible father of two with tattoos all over his yummy arms and piercings on his face? what a whore! but worry not because he absolutely loves referring to you as the mother of his kids and is going to brag about it at every given opportunity. thinks you’re the milf supreme.

even though he’s obsessed with his babies he gives them ugly nicknames like smelly and stinky. CRIES BACK IN THEIR FACES WHEN THEY WAIL. he also holds them in the most absurd ways (making sure it doesn’t hurt them, of course) and makes them dance to songs by moving their little limbs around, he thinks it’s hilarious. buys them silly little clothes like heavy metal onesies. your favorite antic of his is when he pretends like he understands their babbles and has full on conversations with them. they babble back like they actually understand him and it’s the cutest thing EVER, he’ll be like “oh yeah?” “and then what?” “I was actually thinking that too”.

yuki grows up to be a total daddy’s girl, has as much fervor and energy as he did when he was a toddler. they’re always bantering, but yuki always brags about how cool her daddy is and touya spoils his princess rotten. when she has her little temper tantrums, crying and throwing herself on the ground, he mimics her actions. it makes her laugh and quickly forget whatever she was mad about in the first place. she loves being the center of attention, loves being the best at everything and touya becomes a little afraid that she might be a little too much like his younger self. that she might share the same dream as most kids: to become a hero. but she doesn’t; everyone wants to be a hero and she doesn’t want to be like everyone else, is what she says. touya thinks that calls for a celebration.

ryu, on the other hand, is timid, sensitive, and loves to cling to his mama. touya always teases him by saying that they’ll have to compete for you. it gets ryu riled up and they always end up play fighting. he loves to draw and paint, and touya hypes him up every single time he comes to the two of you with a new “piece”, saying he’s getting tired of all the art museums begging to have them. he brings out a side of ryu that no one else can; the perfect father, just for him and his sister.

another thing he never gets tired of doing is purposely mixing up their names. “i’m not ryu!” yuki cries, and touya facepalms in faux embarrassment. “aw man,” he groans. “twins are so confusing”. the kids eat right out of the palm of his hand every time, spending the next five minutes whining about how they’re clearly different looking. eventually they get too old for the bit, but he persists, earning an eye roll from the twins while he chuckles in self satisfaction. real dad-like behavior.

as he watches his babies grow up, touya thinks about what could have been if he hadn’t pushed his siblings away. through the twins’ dynamic, he’s able to see just how broad the meaning of “hero” is; how he could’ve fulfilled his dream by just being the big brother he was literally born to be. because he thinks yuki is a hero when she protects her brother from the losers (her words, not his) who think he’s too quiet or too shy. and he thinks ryu is a hero when he gives his sister a hug when she’s struggling to be strong, and wipes her tears away when she finally cracks. if he couldn’t be a hero to the masses, maybe he could’ve tried being one to his baby brothers and baby sister.

so yeah, touya has regrets. but never about what the two of you have built together. and where touya has regrets about the past, he has a million more wishes about the future. they’re all about the prosperity of his little family. but the one he clings onto the most, the one he whispers into the night sky, is the wish for his kids to carry the image they have of him to their eventual graves. the wish that they’ll never find out about the horrors their beloved father was once capable of.

#dabi x reader #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #dabi angst #dabi drabble #dabi fluff #dabi fanfic #dabi

[witchwyfe]

post practice - tik

I pairing: college soccer player! Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x female reader

I précis: watching your bf’s soccer practice!

I content/warnings: college au, college soccer player au, fluff

I word count: 858

I a/n: prob gonna make a mini series for college soccer player ice bc he’s sooo dreamy

You watch as Ice runs drills with his team. To you, it's a wonder that he can focus so well when you're in the stands. You can't even process one paragraph from your textbook when Ice studies with you.

He meets your eye quickly, but not so quick that you don't see his wink, or the light pink that rises on his cheeks. You stand corrected.

You don't normally find yourself in the stands when Ice is practicing. Games, sure, but you didn't want to be the overly obnoxious soccer girlfriend who came to practices--you aren't, all of his teammates like you and even the coaches, who suspect the boys play better when they have an audience, even if it's an audience of one. But Ice's game this weekend is away--too far for you to even justify. So you told him you'd come to one of his practices this week.

He does not force you to come to his games, he doesn't even ask you to. The only game he ever asked you to come to was before you started dating--that was over a year ago and now you try to be a regular at all of his games.

You absentmindedly run your finger on the chain of your necklace, the one that holds your small cube shaped--ice cube shaped-diamond. It was an anniversary gift from your boyfriend, and now an everyday staple to your wardrobe.

Your economics textbook is sprawled out on your lap, but you're not really paying attention like you told Ice you would.

"I don't want to distract you from your schoolwork." He'd said after you informed him you'd be attending his Thursday practice. 

"Okay, you won't." You smile evilly.

"You sure?"

"No."

He throws his head back and groans. "Angel, you shouldn't come then."

"It's fine Ice. I already finished my paper, I just have some econ homework."

He frowns, but doesn't protest when you lean on him to press a kiss to his chin.

And now, as you watch him run around in his uniform practice t-shirt and shorts, you close your textbook and shove it into your tote bag.

For the next hour you watch as Ice and his teammates run around and occasionally stop for water. When they break up and all head for the bench, Ice looks up and meets your eyes, you stand up and grab your tote bag. You make your way down to the fence that separates the field from the stadium, standing over Ice.

A few of his teammates linger, and you smile at them, reaching in your bag for the extra water bottle you brought. Ice frowns when he sucks the last of the water from his Yeti bottle, and you produce the extra.

“C’mere baby,” You coo, leaning down to pop a kiss on his mouth before handing him the water. 

“Thanks angel.” He grins, teeth gleaming, before pulling the bottle to his mouth. 

“Oh look, Iceman’s got his girl here!” One of his teammates, Nick, calls, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey Goose!” You call back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Hey,” He walks up to Ice, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry doll, had I known you were here, I would’ve played better.”

You snort, shaking your head. 

“Stop hitting on my girl, Goose.” Ice says, rolling his eyes.

“Yours for now,” He retorts. Ice’s teammates like to rile him up, and the best way to do it, is be involving you. Nick’s act is just that, an act. You know for a fact that he’s crushing hard on a girl in your friend group—Carole—he’s told you himself.

“Ooh, I don’t think Carole would like to hear that!” You tease, laughing when red paints his cheeks. He mumbles something about having to go, then grabs his stuff. You wait until everyone else has left before hopping over the fence, tossing your tote back to the ground, then sliding down right in front of Ice.

“Jesus baby, you gotta be careful.” He chides, giving you a stern look.

You give him an apologetic smile before sliding your arms around his waist. He can’t help the smile that captures his lips as he looks at you lovingly. 

“You did good today.” 

“Mmh?” He hums. “You a soccer expert now?”

You nod, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, the perspiration making the usual bright blonde locks, a much darker hue. 

“I should be at this point. With how many games have I sat through with you? Oh and those youtube videos, and old game footage and—“

“Okay!” He cuts you off with an embarrassed laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “You are definitely an expert. And thank you.”

You chuckle and grin up at him. 

“Wanna go get food?” You ask, hooking your arm into his. He nods, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. 

“Then you can help me with the econ homework I didn’t finish.”

You break away from his arm and jog ahead so you can pretend you don’t hear his exasperated groan of your name.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe writing #tom iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky x female reader #tom iceman kazansky x you #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky oneshot #tom iceman kazansky fanfiction #tom iceman kazansky imagine #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky fanfiction #tom kazansky oneshot #iceman x reader #iceman x female reader

[flame-resistant]

This was from my AO3 account, I will try to post on both accounts🧡

Content: Sometimes even villains need a bath time

It was a hassle, he fought you the entire time, threats of burning your apartment down if you so touched him falling out like venom from his lips. You were used to his threats and his hard glares though, not fazed by his strong diversion from physical touch. It was understandable, from what he told you about his past. Though today was not a day to be understanding, rather he needed this.

Dragging the adult male into the bathroom, you took brisk movements to lock the door so he wouldn’t escape, a glare was your only response as you looked back at your lover. After the few years, you knew him, this might have been the lowest he was in. Covered in soot and blood from his past battle with a few ambitious heroes, he looked more like the homeless man you encounter so long ago. A grunt and raised brow was his reply as he watched your eyes evaluate him, seeming displeased by your judgemental gaze.

“I know I’m handsome, doll, but you don’t gotta stare that hard. Might hurt my fragile ego.” A sarcastic reply to cover up his feeling of embarrassment, only becoming glaringly obvious when you walked away to turn the faucet of the tub on.

“Get undressed.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and he knew you well enough to know you were serious. He wanted to chide back a smart remark, but it would only annoy you. Though he didn’t mind seeing that fire in your eyes. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he did as he was told. He really did it this time, some of the surgical staples were loose, showing just a glimpse of the burnt skin underneath. Worry crossed your features once you noticed the irritated skin, would a bath be okay?

“I’m fine, let’s just get it over with.” As if reading your mind, he only eyed you from the side, a look that told you not to look down on him. He was strong after all, a little soap was the least of his concerns.

Shoving you to the side, the man stepped in, the warm water causing him to hiss a bit. You were quick to his side, a glare shot your way, once more reminding you to not treat him so weakly. A thought rushed in his head, the things he did for you, thank god you were good-looking. He crouched down slowly, letting his body get accustomed to the water. A bored expression graced his tired features as his turquoise hues fell on you. “Happy?”

Well, it wasn’t exactly how you pictured it, but you wouldn’t complain. Grabbing a washcloth, you lathered it up with soap, the villain only watching in mild interest, a hint of sarcasm on his tongue. “You gonna wash me up too? Wow, I hit the jackpot.”

“Don’t be pissed just because you got dirty, jerk.”

“Yeah, well you reap what you sow, I suppose.”

The washcloth touched the skin gently, still causing discomfort on his features as you went to work. It was unknown if it was from the soap on his skin or just the touch alone. Eyes looking anywhere but you at the moment, a wave of vulnerability hitting him as you washed his blackened skin. Silence crept through the walls, the only sound being the water splashing about as you cleaned the rag. A soft sigh escaped his chapped lips, turquoise eyes finally turning to watch you clean the washcloth, listening to you make a “tsk” with your tongue over the water blackening.

“It ain’t that bad, is it? I’ve seen worse.”

His smart reply left you to chuckle dryly, eyeing him with a sharp look as he grinned, knowing he got under your skin. It was probably his favorite pastime, watching you tick. “Yeah, I’m sure my landlord would love to know how I got the tub black.”

“A remodel? I heard black is the new bathroom thing, trust me.”

Eyes rolled at his words, going back to cleaning his arm this time. A concentrated look was plastered on your face as you were careful not to touch his opened wounds from the missing surgical staples. “Want me to stitch them after?”

He looked down at his arm, a half-hearted shrug was your reply, a quick hiss following after from moving his shoulder. Damn, he really should think his impulse control over. “Do what you want.”

“Fine, I’ll make sure not a single staple gets out next time.”

He raised a brow at your reaction, knowing you were annoyed with his dismissive behavior. His stare moved back to the bathroom tile on the wall, a hand going up to run over the design. Silence once overcrowded the room again as you continued to clean him up. Finishing up, you threw the dirty washcloth in the laundry basket, no concern about if it was salvageable after the bath. Leaning back down over the tub wall, you grabbed your shampoo and conditioner. A calloused hand grabs your wrist to stop you.

“You’ve done enough, I’m clean aren't I? Don’t worry about the rest.”

His voice came out a whisper, almost like a silent plea to stop spoiling him as if he couldn’t handle it anymore. A stare-off started, both of you too stubborn to back down from your apparent claims. Furrowing your brows once more, you tried to grab for the shampoo bottle again, his hand keeping you in place. “Just this once? Please?”

A look of hesitation flashed through his blue eyes, finally he let you go, huffing out as if it was the worst decision in his life. Smiling at his surrender, you quickly grabbed the bottle so he wouldn’t change his mind. Again, as gently as possible, hot water ran through his hair so you could lather it with soap. He closed his eyes as a soft sigh came out, shoulders relaxing just a bit from the water running down his sore muscles. A shudder soon followed after the moment your hands touched his head, the sensitivity of your hands running through his dark locks only making him want to close his eyes more. He shouldn’t have agreed to this.

Nails massaged his scalp, he gripped the tub to handle the new feeling. The concern is shown on your face, stopping to look down at him. “Are you okay? I’m hurting you?”

“No.” It was spoken harshly, not wanting to admit his weakness to your touch. He was stronger than this, he could handle having his hair washed. “Just hurry up, will ya? I want to sleep.”

Going back to work on his dyed locks, you mumbled something he couldn’t comprehend, probably a smart remark to his words, he didn’t blame you for that. Water ran back down his hair and back as you rinsed out the soap, fingers combing through the strands to make sure all the soap was out, he only gritted his teeth, wanting this sweet torture to end. Not wanting to feel again after this.

It was conditioner next, an annoyed sigh at the feeling of the thick cream being spread through his burnt locks. He was never agreeing to this again, hating the feeling of relaxation taking over him. Hated the soft feeling growing in his chest. Hated you.

Luckily it ended quickly, water once more rinsing out the dirt and conditioner from his hair, the man looking more like a wet cat than a villain. Eyes even slit in contempt as he stared at the faucet in front of him. Getting up, you grabbed a towel, calling out to him to get out. You didn’t have to call out a second time, he stepped out, ripping the towel from your hands to dry himself, not even caring if he opened his wounds once more.

“Stop acting like a child, you’re just going to get an infection if you irritate the skin.”

The dead stare at the ground was your sign he wasn’t in the mood, though that was never new. Walking over, you grabbed the towel from him, a glare your only reply as you got to work drying him off properly. Moving to his hair, you ruffled his head, fried hair poofing up a bit from the friction. A laugh escaped your lips from his non-villainous look.

“Cute.”

“You’re calling the wrong person cute, doll.”

A roll of his eyes entered your vision, though the trace of a smile was seen on his lips. Bath time didn’t have to be bad all the time, he supposed, though he wouldn’t admit that. Not to you anyway. Never to you.

#flameresistant #from my ao3 account #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi imagine #dabi my hero academia #dabi x y/n #dabi mha

[wildemaven]

Duality Of A Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader / AU

WC: 1379

Warnings: T; Mentions of food; that’s all.

A/N: I literally woke up this morning and threw this idea at @heythere-mel and @kteague and couldn’t get it outta my head. I’m calling this AU because of the nature of the plot, but there’s canon sprinkled through it still— I really tried to stay true to his character as much as possible. I don’t want to reveal to much and spoil everything. Not beta’d and mistakes are my own doing.

Masterlist / Part 2 / Part 3

You wake long before his blaring alarm. The fan’s oscillating buzz streaming through the dimly lit room.

You turn to see he is in fact still in his sleepy state. You leave him be, a few more hours will do him good— the long hours at his latest job site really doing a number on his tired body.

You take caution as you slip from the bed. Slow movements as your feet hit the cold floor, a jolt to your waking senses.

You swipe the nearest shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. A quick once over before you’re pulling it over your naked form— his shirts are always comfier.

The slow pull from your dresser drawer, it’s usual creaking undetectable as you sift through its contents finding your favorite biker shorts.

One last look at your boyfriend, his handsome face cradle by his lumpy pillow that he refuses to replace. His dark curls messy, suitable to his laid back nature.

He looks the most relaxed when he sleeps.

You make your way to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The old machine, another item Joel refuses to replace, takes nearly twice as long as it should to produce the amber liquid, thankfully your jumpstart on the day will get it made before Joel has made it downstairs.

Breakfast will be a quick task this morning, fried eggs and bacon are a regular staple when Sarah is gone for the weekend at a friends house.

Sarah is Joel’s daughter, but you love her as if she were your own. You and Joel got together a few years back and he was hesitant in introducing you to her, rightfully so. You told him to take his time and you’d be happy to meet her when he was ready. It took all of 6 months for that meeting and you had instantly clicked with her bubbly personality.

The low hum of the stereo drifts through the kitchen. The well-done bacon placed onto a paper towel covered plate, draining off the excess grease. The eggs producing their sizzling pops, the edges crisp and yolks just barely done— Joel’s favorite.

Two broad arms find their way around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck— you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Joel! You fuckin’ scared the shit outta me!” Your elbow sending a slight jab into his stomach.

“Ow!” His arms tighten up, pulling you back into him. “Mornin’ Babe.” His voice still raspy and low. A quick kiss to your temple before he starts to move about the space.

“Breakfast is done. Coffee should be ready— we really need to get a new machine” You mention as you set the plates of food down on the kitchen table.

“Nothin’ wrong with it. It’s still makin’ coffee. Ain’t broke, no need to go replacin’ it.” Pulling two cups from the cupboard and pouring you each a cup before making his way to the table to join you.

Your eyes roll in response. The man has a weird fixation with keeping worn out dilapidated items— his other charming qualities are what won you over.

“What are your plans for the day? Sarah should be back by late afternoon. Thought we could go get burgers and ice cream?”

He nods, as he continues to chew, fork preparing his next bite. “Yeah that sounds fine. Just gotta go grab some tools from Tommy. Mrs. Adler mentioned needin’ some help fixin’ a few things. Figured I could go after a shower. Should be done in ‘bout an hour or two.” He looks to you to make sure you’re okay with it.

You lean back in your chair, one leg perched up on the edge, your coffee cup on your knee. “Yeah that will work. I’ll give you that Tupperware container to take back over.” You take a slow sip from the steaming cup. “I swear I could eat myself sick off of her cookies. Those things are dangerous, but delicious.”

His dimple peaks through his grown out beard as he smiles at your statement. Gulping down the rest of his coffee, he places his empty cup on top of his egg yolk covered plate. “Thanks for breakfast babe! Delicious as always.” He says, wiping his greased cover fingers on his sleep pants.

“You’re welcome.”

The dishes clinking together as he sets them into the sink, then moving back towards where you’re still sitting at the table. Quick exchange of “I love you’s” and a sweet exchange of kisses before he retreats to take a shower.

Anticipating Sarah’s arrival in the next few hours, you make work to clean up the kitchen and get a few house chores done— remembering the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of your bed.

It takes you no time to whip through each task before you find yourself relaxing comfortably on the couch. Flipping through the home improvement magazine you’d picked up while grocery shopping the other day.

The house didn’t need much improvement. To an outsider it would seem in perfect order. But Joel being the handy man he is, you seemed to find ways to spruce up areas that needed the help. Just last year he replaced the backsplash to something a little more up to date, less drab and 80’s.

The ringing of the door bell catches your attention. Neither you or Joel were expecting visitors, and Sarah knows well enough to let herself in.

You fold the corner of the page you were on, setting the magazine on the coffee table before getting up to answer the door.

When you open it you’re met with a women you’ve never seen before. She’s beautiful, must be in her early 30’s if you were to guess. She’s looking around outside before she realizes you’ve opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?” You ask.

“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Kelli.” Her hand extended out to yours, you politely shake it hoping she’s going to grant you with a reason for stopping by. “I’m hoping you can help me out. I’m looking for someone and from what I’ve been told, he lives here.”

You’re not quite sure where she’s going with this. You’ve never seen this Kelli woman in you life and never once have you heard Joel mention her either. She must have to wrong house, and you’ll gladly point her in the right direction once she gives you this man’s name.

“Um, okay. Who is it that you think lives here?” You question her as nicely as you can.

She begins to dig into her purse, pulling out a worn picture. She looks it over briefly before turning and holding it up to you. “Have you seen this man?”

You were ready to say no you hadn’t. But the truth was you had. The man in the photo was upstairs at this very moment showering in your home. It was Joel staring back at you, just a younger version of him.

Your mind reeling as you try to figure out why Kelli is at your front door looking for Joel. She clearly knows him and sounds like she went through a lot of trouble to find him.

She explains straight away why she’s looking for him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the photo in your hands. Her explanation making zero sense to you. You get her number and tell her you will give her a call tomorrow, you need to still talk to Joel about it all.

The sound of the water shutting off signals Joel’s finished his shower, meaning he’ll be bounding down the stairs momentarily.

You sit back down on the couch, your fingers tracing over the photo. The sound of his boots hitting the steps break you from your trance.

“Hey, heard the door bell. Who was it?” He says as he enters the living room. He falls into his signature pose, hip cocked out and hands resting at his waist.

You stand, eyes still locked on the photo.

“Babe? Who was— What’s that ya got there?”

“Joel— Who’s Kelli?” His face drops instantly.

“Who’s Kelli and why did she say your name is actually Francisco Morales and that she’s your wife?” You spill as you hold the photo out for him to see.

“Fuck—“ Is all he manages to get out.

next

#Joel Miller #TLOU #the last of us #tlou au #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Male lui with a reader who helps out at the shop, maybe one day they're working the counter and a customer starts yelling at them and Lui comes out meat cleaver in hand with some blood on them

Watching the sun rise from the shop window, his arms hold tight around your waist; fingers locked with yours at your hip. A morning ritual for you both as your partner bragged about the scene your first day. Grey locks fall against your cheek as his lips follow suit.

"You sure you gonna be fine by yourself?"

"Been here a while already. I'm sure I'll manage."

The butcher plants another kiss to your temple, kind eyes cast down at you like you're the center of the world. "Still getting used to having you on board. Not that I mind. Just a lot to take in. Don't push yourself too hard, Cher."

He squeezes your shoulder, reaching down to double tie your apron as you flip the welcome sign to open. With everything else in order you part ways for the time, Liu heading to the back of the shop while you head over to the counter. It's been about a month to the day since he asked if you would like to work in his shop. He was hesitant at first with all the equipment and scars he got himself, but the business had always been family orientated plus it meant he could keep a close eye on you.

You got used to things pretty quick. Your job was simple after all. Manning the register and giving Liu the orders, sweeping before closing. With the size of your town, business was steady and you met your fair share of regulars and friendly faces. Though you had yet to tie the knot, Liu had asked you to wear the ring he bought you so you wouldn't get as many wondering eyes.

Today was your first encounter with a rude customer. Some guy you could tell by looking was from out of town from his clothing down to the way he carried himself. He seemed annoyed before he even walked up to the counter, face scrunching up at the red meats behind the glass. You throw on your best customer smile and turn to face him, the curtains behind you parted ever so slightly.

"Hello, what can I do for you today?"

"You sell this, right?" He lifts up his phone, showing you a picture of what looks to be Liu's noodle soup. A staple in your home when you got sick. Your smile wavers.

"Yes, but-"

"Give me four bowls of it, and can you change your gloves before you get it?"

"That I can do, but we... actually don't have the noodle soup today...." Your voice trails off as anger flickers in his eyes. Every day of the week was a different soup based meal on the menu. Just to have a little variety and use up the excess meats before they spoiled. Noodle soup was three days ago, and Liu's dishes were so popular in town they sold out that very day.

You scramble to pick up the conversation. "It's chili day, if you'd like that instead."

The man's face grows redder the more he raises his voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how out of the way this town is? I've been driving for three hours to get here."

You back away as he leans against the counter, thankful for the glass wall separating you. "I understand how frustrating that is, but we don't have it right now-"

Spit flies as the man begins to shout. "Well maybe you should make that clear next time! I swear, if I miss my boat I'm going to come back here and.....and.."

All color drains from his face, skin pale as a sheet in the face of whatever he was staring at. So used to the smell of blood and focused on calming the man down you didn't hear him leave the back. Looming behind you, clever in hand, Liu stares the man down. If looks could kill he'd be twenty feet under. The amount of blood drenched into Liu's apron dyed the pure cotton a deep maroon. It drips off the flat blade, hitting the floor with a wet splat. Liu's voice comes from his throat in a low grumble completely unlike him. Growling like an agitated animal in warning.

"And do what?"

The man tries to take back his words, flinching and ducking to the floor as Liu swings his arm outwards - planting the cleaver in the chalk board beside him.

"If you looked to your left, you would've seen today's special. It ain't polite to harass people for a simple error, but you won't do it again, right?"

The man nods.

Liu tears the cleaver from the board and points it at the door. "I know you won't. Leave."

The man picks himself off the floor and rushes for the door. Liu mouths something to him that makes his eyes go wide.

"See you soon."

You lean against Liu's chest, welcoming the stench of cold blood. "Thanks for the help...."

His eyes soften. Liu places the knife down and wraps his arms around you, leaving small kisses in your hair. "Nothin' to thank me for. Just doing what's right. Your safety will always be the most important thing to me, Y/n. Should we close up early today?"

"You don't have to do that for me.."

"No sweat off my shoulders. I got a few things to do back home too. Go get your stuff. I'll take care of everything else."

"... Okay." You take off your apron as you head out. Liu looks down at the register. The man's stench and his finger prints are all over it. Shutting his eyes, Liu can still hear his frantic heartbeat about two miles out. Still in town - likely at a gas station. If he hurried he could catch him on foot so you could take the car home. As you return, Liu offers you an apologic smile.

"Hey, would you be fine heading home yourself? I have more work out for me than I thought. I'll make it up to you as soon as I get home."

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere oneshot #male yandere

[lskisms]

olive branch (kitkat bar), s. adamu

syn. you've done your stint in high octane kitchens, so you hope a childhood favorite restaurant would be less stressful. when it proves to be simultaneously one of the best and one of the worst, there's only one person in your corner to keep you on board.

gen. romance (if you squint).

warnings. overstimulation, panic attack.

word count. 1.9k.

as a river north native, the beef had been a staple of your childhood (see: mostly your teenage years). with mikey berzatto at the head of the operation, you’d never had a more comforting dining experience at any of the other small businesses the neighborhood had to offer; even at your crisp fifteen years old, mikey had a way of making you feel like part of the family, greeting you every friday night when you walked in with your friends. he knew your name and your order by heart, showed you such courtesy that you couldn’t help but fall in love with food and community the way he had.

at sixteen, your guidance counselor had been almost appalled when you’d declared that you wanted to go to culinary school. you’d wanted to apply to the cia, dreams of bringing high class dining back to your quaint chicago neighborhood, making fine dining accessible to the people you’d grown up babysitting for, housesitting for, the likes, because to you, if anyone deserved it, they did. of course, she’d talked you down from that ledge; that’s… wonderful, but what if we aim a little lower?

with time, you’d realized that cia was, of course, a little (a lot) too out of your budget because pell grants and fafsa would never cover enough, and you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life paying off almost a hundred thousand in student loans. and when you thought about it, imagined what life would be like in new york so far away from home, you were hit with an acute feeling of homesickness; you hadn’t even left yet…

eventually, you’d settled on a school in chicago instead, happy to pay less in tuition and to stay close to your family. when you started your coursework, you learned quickly that it was kill or be killed. and while it stressed you out beyond belief, you had never felt more alive, working hard to stay afloat, answering call and responses, hearing feedback on your work. you were, for all intents and purposes, the top of the class consistently, showing true promise as an up and coming chef.

after you’d graduated summa cum laude, you’d had every intention of returning and working at the beef, but you’d never got around to submitting an application and with your reputation, you were getting job offers from prestigious, better paying gigs and you’d accepted one of them the day you graduated. you’d justified the decision by saying that you’d learn a little more and then go back, give back to the community that had raised you.

but you didn’t. not until mikey died, until carmy came back.

it’d been a few years since your graduation with honors and you’d spent them working in some of the most amazing kitchens in the windy city. though you’d always regretted not immediately returning to river north and the beef, you’d though the experience gained from working in renowned kitchens would help you contribute better to the one your heart belonged to in a sense.

when you heard mikey had passed and his brother, carmy, was returning to run the restaurant, you’d decided it was high time to return home. you’d had your turn gallivanting in high class dining; you wanted to get back to your roots, to that dream you’d come up with in high school, start paying mikey back for what he’d done for you, whether he knew he’d done anything for you or not.

carmy had brushed off your application with a “can’t really afford it, but if you can start now, then the job is yours.” you’d started that second, jumping in alongside tina with prepwork for the lunch rush.

and you’d come to learn rather quickly that mikey hadn’t left the beef in a good spot. loans and bills and no sense of organization in the office; the whole operation was a mess and you’d realized why carmy was so fucking angry all the time, why richie was such a complete and utter asshole. all the other kitchens you’d worked in had been high intensity, but not one of them came close to the level of hostility here.

but then sydney came and suddenly, you had a lifeline; a second one, really, because marcus had made quick friends with you. coming into work didn’t feel like a chore all the time, you had fun opening, closing, cleaning, what you’d imagined it would have been to work here when mikey was alive, what with his ability to brighten every single room he stepped into.

you with that’s how the beef felt all the time because right now, it is so far from that. because right now, you’re about to start crying into this pot of mashed potatoes. the dinner rush is worse than normal for some reason and it’s got everyone on edge. richie and sydney have been yelling at each other back and forth for what feels like hours, carmy’s done fuck all to try and break them up. the whole night is a trainwreck that you just cannot step away from because you aren’t allowed to, even if you want nothing more than to do so.

but when gary jostles you from behind and richie starts shouting at you to “get a fucking move on with the mash,” something snaps. suddenly, your heartbeat is going a little too fast, sounds start sounding farther away, your clothes feel uncomfortable. everything is too much. when tina rests a hand on your shoulder, you can barely see her through your tears; she looks like an abstract painting instead of a real person standing in front of you. somewhere, you can hear her ask if you’re alright, can hear carmy shouting something, but not a single word is landing.

“i can’t- i can’t be here right now,” you manage to get out, taking a tentative step back.

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” richie questions, voice too loud, too much. it feels like he’s yelling in your face, berating you, but you can’t help this, whatever it is. 

tina turns to tell him to fuck off and you almost slip in your haste to get away. you feel like you’re about to burst out of your skin, like a trapped animal; things are too close, too loud, too tangible and you can’t focus like this. carmy’s yelling at you, trying to figure out what’s going on, but all you can keep mumbling is “i can’t be here right now” because there’s nothing else you can say. you just can’t be in the kitchen this second, not like this.

when you finally burst outside into the chill chicago night air, you almost fall to your knees, you’re that relieved. the bite of the cold feels great against your skin, cooling you off after overheating for hours in the kitchen. as you lean against the brick wall, pressing your palms to your face, you can hear the muffled shouts inside and they feel like a world away. you sink to the asphalt, pull your knees to your chest, breathe deep to try and steady yourself.

you’ve known what it’s like to be in crowded kitchens, stressed kitchens, but this is nothing compared to that. maybe it’s how richie clashes with just about everyone, particularly carmy and syd, but it’s hard to be in there sometimes. honestly, you’re surprised this is the first time you’ve had to step out after working here for a few weeks because carmy and richie just haven’t stopped firing at each other since you started working.

you focus on your breathing, on willing your heart to slow down and eventually it does. eventually, you come back into your body, your clothes stop feeling so offensive against your skin, your blood stops pounding in your ears. unshed tears retreat from your waterline and you feel free of whatever it was that richie had set off.

the door creaks open and you hear rubber soles scuffing against loose gravel, the telltale creak of knees as someone bends to sit down next to you. you don’t need to look over to know that it’s one of three people who would check on you and based on the scent of jasmine and orange blossom, you already know who it is.

“are you… doing alright?” syd asks softly, awkwardly in that endearing way of hers.

you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your apron. “i’m doing… okay, maybe? sorry about walking out like that. i…”

she shakes her head, stretching her legs out and crossing her feet at the ankles. “i don’t think you need to apologize for that. it was getting pretty crazy in there. richie’s pretty pissed, but… i think carmy understands.”

“yeah, i don’t know. i just… one second, i was fine and then the next, it felt like i was suffocating or something. i couldn’t be in there anymore. it was too much.”

you follow suit, stretching your legs out in front of you, wincing at how tight and sore your knees are. you let out a sigh, tip your head back against the brick, close your eyes against the light pollution of the city. you can smell the savory scent of the beef’s works, warm and comforting, and it makes you miss when this used to be a place you regarded as a safe haven, not whatever it’s become now.

“here,” syd says suddenly, plastic rustling. and then she’s holding out a piece of kitkat in front of you. you look over at her, confused about the sudden offering. she’s looking back at you softly, eyes wide and gentle; you feel warm under it, undeserving. “take it. i heard chocolate’s good for stress. milk chocolate’s not as good as dark, but something is better than nothing.”

you take the candy from her gingerly, snapping a piece off in your mouth. “why d’you even have this?” you ask between chews.

“it’s been in my bag for a few days,” she admits almost bashfully. “i bought some snacks on the way home from work the other day, but i kinda forgot i had it. when carmy asked me to check on you out here, i thought it might make you feel a little better.”

you nod, look down at your lap, let yourself feel grateful for someone looking out for you like this. it’d be nice from anybody, but it’s better coming from sydney, special in a way that is so distinctly her.

“it did. thank you.”

you look over at her and smile, something she returns, and you’re glad she’s the one who came out here. she offers you the other half of the kitkat and you take it with another thanks, let the chocolate and wafer melt in your mouth, savor the taste and the feel of the chill against your skin. you’re not back to perfect, but you’re somewhere close, you think. sydney stands, brushes her hands off on her slacks and then reaches down to you, pulling you up from the asphalt. 

“just an hour left of dinner rush and then we’re in the clear, yeah?” she asks, squeezing your hand gently.

you nod. “yes, chef.”

the girl lets out a breathy laugh and lets her hand fall from yours, nodding back towards the door. “get back in there then, chef. we got this.”

for all the awkwardness that syd carries with her, she is the most steadfast people you know, a great leader even if she doesn’t know it. you follow her inside, knowing you can make it out of tonight in one piece if she’s the person in your corner.

© lskisms 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

#sydney adamu x reader #syd adamu x reader #syd x reader #the bear x reader #.thebear #.syd #.fic

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Birthday Angst

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: T

Contents: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, getting together

At least he's not homeless this year. 

That's the first thought that he has when Dabi slips from his bed and heads towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. At least he's not spending his birthday freezing on the streets again. No, this year he'll spend it in shitty meetings, and then training some shitty recruits, and then finally getting to lock himself back in this room and avoid the others for the rest of the night. 

He's pretty sure he used to like his birthday. When he was little and his mom made a cake and his dad always took off so he could be home to play with him and unwrap presents. And then he went wrong and those things slipped away. Mom still made cake, always did for all of their birthdays, but it would be a quiet, dower affair as she got more and more worn down from her treatment in the house. And Enji was never home for any of them. Not until Shoto. 

And then there had, of course, been the coma. He missed a few birthdays. Pretty sure he missed two when he'd woken up afterwards too. The first couple of years on his own were so survival- focused that he didn't think much about the date unless he had to. This is probably the best birthday he's had in years if only for the fact that he knows where he's sleeping tonight and that he'll be able to eat today. Hell, this may be his last birthday if Shigaraki's timeline comes to fruition. He pauses as he brushes his teeth, that thought rolling through his mind and leaving something... strange behind. He's never been sad about his inevitable end, but there's a weight to the thought that comes now that he's never felt before. He finishes up, rinsing his mouth like he can send that unpleasant heaviness down the drain with the minty foam. 

Whatever. It's just a day, and just like him, it doesn't matter anyway. 

///

The first round of meetings goes fine. He's kind of already in a shit mood, and apparently everyone else is too. Not that he can blame them, it's fucking freezing, and apparently they're gonna get hit with a hell of a snowstorm starting later tonight that's likely to shut down their operation for a day or so. Geten, the freak, is blowing off training the new recruits with him to go deeper into the range and get some of his own training in, which clears up Dabi's afternoon. Compress and Spinner can't do anything with their work while communication and supply routes are down, Ujiko is apparently trapped at the actual hospital so Duster's treatments are on hold, and Toga and Twice are more than happy for any excuse to call it a snow day and find something more fun to entertain themselves. But that means that he's left with nothing to do for the rest of the day to occupy his time. 

He waits until the others have mostly filed out of the meeting room before he pauses Shigaraki, "Hey, boss?" 

Shig stops, giving a curt glance at Re-Destro and getting him to scurry out of the room before he turns to address him. "What is it, Dabi?" 

He worries at a staple for a second before sucking it up, "Don't suppose you have any side projects I could work on while things are slowed down?" 

Duster raises a brow at him. "Not off the top of my head, why?" 

"Just looking for something to do." 

He doesn't love the scrutinizing look that he gets from the other man at that. "You do more than enough around here, Dabi. I would rather you take the day off, to be entirely honest." 

Which, that is kind of weirdly nice of him. He's been weirdly nice to all of them since Kamino, and Dabi really, really thought that was just because he didn't want them all to scatter to the wind without AFO's backing. But he's come to the unhappy conclusion that being around AFO just made Shigaraki worse. He was so volatile and childish when he was under his thumb, but the second he was out from it, he'd immediately grown the fuck up. Started acting like a leader. Become someone worth following. Someone... he may feel a little bit guilty about abandoning halfway through this fight, so he tries to ignore that. Keep him and the others at arm's length as they all seem to get closer and closer. 

"...Fine." He grabs his laptop. He'll find something else to do today if Duster's not gonna be any help there. He's rounding the table, ready to head out when Shig catches his sleeve and pulls him to a stop. 

"...Is something wrong?" 

He bristles slightly. "Why?" He almost misses Duster wearing the gross hands everywhere, but especially over his face. Because he feels like a pinned insect with those red eyes boring into him. 

"You seem more agitated than normal." 

"Nothing's wrong, it's just shaping up to be a boring as shit day." 

"Why don't you go do something you like? It's not like we've had a day off since summer." 

Really hates that those eyes see how that kind of makes his brain stop working because, fuck, does he even have anything he likes to do? Training? Working? Surviving? That's all he's done for almost a decade. He's pretty fucking sure he hasn't cultivated any interests outside of that. 

"...Dabi, what's actually going on?" Hates himself more because a few weeks ago he probably would have just told him to fuck off, maybe with a shower of sparks for good measure. But instead, today, because he's stupid and childish himself, he feels his throat going a little tighter and can't quite meet his eyes. 

"...It's my birthday." There's a slight pause and Dabi pulls his arm free of the loose grip Shigaraki had him in. "Whatever. It doesn't matter, I just would rather be busy." He turns and heads towards the door. "I'll find something else to do." He gives a forcefully lazy wave over his shoulder and keeps moving. 

It doesn't matter. He shouldn't have said anything. It's just another day. Last birthday or not. 

///

Dabi, unfortunately, doesn't find anything to do. Hawks is MIA because of the incoming storm. Skeptic, like the other non-League lieutenants, doesn't live on site, and left with the others before the weather got too bad, so he can't bother him about hacking into Endeavor's servers again to see what his dad and brother are up to during his internship. The rest of the League seems to be settling into the common area for games, food, and movies for the rest of the day. Toga comes and invites him to join in with a big smile and bright eyes. 

"Come on, we're all gonna wear our pajamas and have like a sleepover! I'll paint your nails black." 

He ignores how her expression falls when he tells her, "Not interested," and shuts his door on her before she can try again. He's not even sure if he wants to be alone today, but he also knows he doesn't want to pretend to be personable either. The others will have their fun without him and hopefully Duster will keep his mouth shut about what he said earlier. 

So Dabi smokes his last joint, gets food brought up to his room for lunch, and then promptly burrows back into his blankets to shut out the rest of the world for a little while. 

///

He wakes a few hours later, but not enough. Only ten o'clock. Fuck, damn near slept through this fucking day that's doing something unholy to his head, but he still couldn't even get that right. Knows immediately from how high his quirk has creeped that he's not going to be able to get back to sleep without cooling off for a bit first. Tempted to just go take a shower, but after a glance out the window, seeing the heavy blanket of white that's fallen since he was asleep, he pulls on his boots, digs out his cigarettes from his coat pocket before leaving that behind, and heads out of his room, up to the roof. 

He puts footprints into the four inches of snow that has already accumulated, more falling steadily around him and blanketing the mountaintop in white, as he heads over to the railing. His skin steams in the frigid temperatures, but it's not an uncomfortable sensation. His broken body was made for the cold after all. Dabi leans against the railing and shakes out a cigarette. Only two left, he'll have to get more if he doesn't want to bum the nasty brand that Twice likes off of him. Dabi lights up, letting the flame flicker on his finger for a bit too long, until it feels real as it starts to sting, and then he lets the snowflakes douse it. Smokes as his skin slowly cools down to a more comfortable temperature and just lingers in the silence. The sky is that ambient dark of deep winter, of heavy clouds, that bounces around and diffuses the hidden star and moonlight all around him, reflected off the falling snow. It brings a false warmth that he can just see by and if he were a different man, maybe he'd say that this was peaceful. Today it just feels lonely. 

He finishes his first cigarette, mars the white snow further when he puts out the butt and leaves a gray ash streak in it. Then he lights up again. Halfway through that one when the door creaks open. There's a slight pause and then fresh footfalls crunching through the snow towards him. He spares his unwanted company a glance and finds Duster, bundled up in his big coat, making his way over. 

Shigaraki doesn't say anything, just moves to stand a foot or so away, claiming his own spot on the railing and watching the snow fall. Knows the boss doesn't sleep much, thought he just would play his games or something when he wasn't. Didn't know he came up here. They stand and watch the snow quietly for a few minutes before there's a slight rustling, and Dabi sees Shigaraki place a modest gift bag on the space between them without comment. 

He snorts slightly, seriously? He finishes his cig and flicks this one off of the edge, tempted to do the same with the bag for nothing other than spite. But he doesn't. Instead he rolls his eyes and peeks inside. 

There are three things swamped in the black tissue paper, the pack of his brand of cigarettes is an immediate and welcome surprise. The little velvet jewelry box is a bit more concerning though as he reaches in to see what that is. He flicks it open and finds a new set of ear cuffs, black titanium with what looks like three bands of sapphire that mimic his staples set into them. Which, that's a pretty pricey gift, but given the unlimited plastic they were all given, he supposes it's not really that much to Duster. And, at the bottom, so it stayed flat and unjostled, is a slice of cake with mixed berries and a black candle on top. 

"...Didn't take you for such a sap, Duster." He takes out the piece of cake, finding a fork attached to the side of the box. 

"I don't think it's particularly sappy to try and show my second that I value him being around." Shigaraki tells him in the same even tone. 

"You didn't tell--"

"No." 

Silence stretches between them again and Dabi opens the cake, after a second he lights the candle with his pinky, letting the flame flicker for a moment. Then he blows it out. He doesn't make a wish. He doesn't think there's a single force in the universe that would give him something he asked for, but he knows that those same forces have been conspiring to take away the things he wants throughout his whole life. He won't offer up something else they can tear away from him. He sinks the fork into the cake and takes a bite. The sponge is light and airy, the frosting a whipped cream that's not nearly as sweet as he was expecting, and the berries bursting with a pleasant tartness. He didn't know that Shigaraki picked up on the fact he hates sweets, doesn't know what to make of the fact he'd brought him the perfect cake. 

He takes a bite and then offers the fork to Duster. His boss hesitates only for a second before he takes it and has a bite of his own. And they pass the fork back and forth as the snow falls until the dessert is gone. It's colder, later, and the snow is thicker than it was when they first came out. Both of their footprints have a fresh layer of snow filling them in when Dabi caps the empty container and puts it back into the bag. He wonders if it's late enough to not be his birthday anymore. 

"...Thanks." 

It was hard enough to make himself say that, he's glad that Shigaraki barely acknowledges it. "What did you wish for?" 

"Nothing." He tells the other man, actually turning so he can see how that lands. 

Duster meets his eyes, and his are... too sharp. Dabi knows immediately that Shigaraki has seen right through him. That he knows why he wouldn't make a wish, why he didn't tell any of the others, why he hid away and tried to pretend. And it's not pity in his eyes, not something that turns his stomach and makes him wish he'd been able to keep his mouth shut earlier. It's just... quiet. Maybe something close to... acceptance. Though maybe, maybe there is a little hint of something mournful in that look too. Or maybe Dabi's deluding himself. 

Shigaraki starts to move away from the railing, but this time Dabi catches his sleeve. Moves, slowly, but sure enough before he can think better of this. Presses a kiss to the very edge of Shigaraki's lips. Soft and light, quick, before he's pulling away, a little worried he might have sealed his fate of having this be his last birthday. But when he pulls away and lets go of his sleeve, Shigaraki doesn't look disgusted or annoyed, doesn't look like he's about to tell him that was inappropriate and that he crossed a line. 

Instead he reaches with very deliberate slowness, and Dabi lets him. Settles a hand against his cheek, the leather of his gloves cold, the one uncovered finger stroking gently along his skin, just above his staples. Red eyes watching him to see if he flinches, if he backs away, but he doesn't. And then Shigaraki leans in. His kiss is pressed against Dabi's lips. He wonders if Tomura's mouth always feels like shattered stone or if it's just because both of them have been standing in the cold for so long. It's a light press of their lips, and he starts to pull away just as quickly as Dabi had, but he catches the other's wrist and keeps him there. Moves in closer and parts his lips with a soft sigh. Already let him have so much today, maybe Duster will give him just a bit more. 

And he does. He presses back in and kisses him firmer, deeper, his tongue flicking over that parted seam of his mouth and slipping inside when Dabi invites him in. They both taste like berries and Shigaraki kisses him like he knows he's never going to get another chance. Like he's wanted to. Like he'll be... sad when Dabi's gone. It makes that heavy weight that's been hanging on him all day focus itself and shatter his chest into sharp fragments of bone that are cutting into him with every breath and each increasingly rapid beat of his heart. But he doesn't stop. He tangles his hands into Duster's hair and pulls him closer, kisses him a little hotter, a little hungrier, and Shig meets him there. Kisses him until Dabi's body is steaming in the winter air as his skin steadily grows warmer, but both of their breaths are filling the air with steam when they part. 

Red eyes on him again, a question in that look. Dabi pulls him back in. 

Okay birthday, he supposes. Though he was wrong about knowing where he would be sleeping tonight. 

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction #fanfiction #mha dabi #bnha dabi #touya todoroki

[supernatural-hunter1]

“Me and the LOV” Part 3.

⚠️ small mention of blood due to Toga😅⚠️

Hours went by Since the league left the safe house I was listening to some music on my phone while I was cooking dinner. Luckily, this place had some ingredients that I need to make whatever meal I had planned? I was singing along to ‘Good Girl’ by Carrie Underwood. But mid-singing I heard the vehicle pull up and the front door open meaning the others must be back from their mission, Toga’s voice was raining through the hallway as the entered through the door, “Y/n, We’re Back!” She called out, “I’m in here.” I called back. They made their way to the living room, and I paused my music so I could go out to greet them as I entered the living room from the kitchen. “Hi, everyone welcome ba….” my ghost almost left my body the minute I saw Toga covered in blood and praying that 20% chance it’s not hers? “Oh My Gosh! Toga, why do you look like Carrie?” I said, as my tone changed to a bit more concerned seeing the state she’s in.

As she was about to approach to hug me, I took a step back and told her to go clean herself off and then come back to hug me afterwards she nods, and then disappears out of the room. I told the others that dinner would be ready within an hour, which gave me plenty of time to help them patch up any of their injuries if they have any? I go back into the kitchen and opened up one of the cabinets and pulled out the first aid kit I said it on the counter Real quick to check on the dinner I was making and it was ready, I grabbed the aid kit and my phone and headed to the living room to help the others.

The first person I went to help was Mr Compress, I let everyone know that dinner was ready and to go ahead and serve up after I got through with treating their wounds. I helped Compress with his injuries, “Y/n?” he Spoke, “hmm?” I hum softly in response, “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from. i noticed a little accent you let out whenever you speak?” he asked. I shook my head and gave him a soft smile, “Not at all, I’m from (whatever countryside) in America.” I said. As I finished up with him, and moved on help Spinner who only had a couple of bruises.

“Here, let me take care of those for ya.” I said, approaching him. Sitting the aid kit beside me, as I pulled out the things I need to help take care of the bruises, as I treated his wound, I noticed he was looking down at his hand, slowly moving his fingers. “what’s wrong?” I asked. And he looks up at me “Oh.. it’s nothing i punched one of those ‘heroes’ during the mission, but at least I made him cry though.” He nervously laughed while rubbing the back of his neck, when he said about punching the hero. “here let me take a look.” I said softly as I gently take his hand in mine, his hands are a little bit bigger than mine as I take my thumb and gently press down on each of his fingers. “does it hurt?” I asked?

He shook his head and rubbing the back of his neck, with his other hand “not really, I didn’t hit him that hard. Although I wished I did, so I think I’ll be fine.” he says nervously, while trying to hide a slight blush, I slightly glanced up at him with a small smile. “well, I don’t feel anything that’s broken which is a good thing so it should be okay for now.” I said, letting go of his hand as I looked back over to the aid kit, I noticed a small box of staples. I picked it up and looked at it for a minute before lifting my head up to look over at Dabi’s direction. As he was on the other side of the room. “Yo, Dabi are you good over there I can bring the aid kit over if you need it?” I asked, And he shook his head, “Don’t worry about me I’ll live but thanks for the concern,” he said, waving his hand off I just give him a light nod. as he was about to walk out of the room, he glanced down at his hand, and noticed one of his piercings (staples) was missing?

He goes over to a broken mirror that’s hanging on a wall and also sees another piercing (staple) also missing he turns back over to me as I was helping out Twice with his injuries. “on second thought y/n, maybe I could use your help for a minute.” Dabi said, I look over to him and nodded. I pick up the aid kit and walk over to help him replace some of the missing staples, and even replacing the loosen ones, once that was done, everybody help themselves to dinner, and after I cleaned up everything I went and joined the others. to a bit of my surprise But yeah, uncomfortably concerned Shigaraki made a spot for me to sit beside him so I walk over and sit next to him.

I was talking to Shigaraki, Toga comes walking up to us, and she stands right in front of me she reaches into her pocket pulled out a small vial of blood and hold it out to me “here Y/n it’s some of the blood that I collected off of you, after we brought you back with us when you were half-dead.” She said as she hands me the vial I shake my head “No you go ahead and keep it, besides, i’m 15% sure that’s not even my blood? so It probably came off from one of Demming’s goons when I was trying to escape from them.” I said, a wide smile Appears on her face and her eyes light up. “Thanks you, Y/n!” she said excitedly.

“Oh, and fair warning Toga?” I added. Stopping her in her tracks before leaving the room Before turning her head towards me, “even if that really is my blood? Just don’t come crying to me if you get possessed.” I warned. She tilted her to the side, was a confuse expression “what do you mean by that?” She asked? I sighed “because of my demon blood.” I shrugged, Shigaraki also looked at me in confusion? “Wait, demon blood? I thought your quirk was a combination of both Werewolf and Vampire?” he asked?

I nodded, “that is true, but I was also born with demon blood so technically that makes me a werewolf/vampire demon hybrid or a ‘supernatural hybrid’ to make it less confusing?” I said, Now that got everybody’s attention Shigaraki asked me about what my true backstory I sent my bowl of goulash on the coffee table in front of us, and I took a deep breath and explained about my origin. (I’ll do a side story about explaining readers origin story relator.) “wait a second, it all makes sense now. You’re the daughter of Aleena Von Helsing and the MMA fighter Drax Vanghoul?” Compress said.

“I read in a newspaper article once about how they adopted all of the rescued children from an orphanage that burnt down many years ago?” he added, I nodded “Yep, that’s mi mama and Papa, my mother’s quirk is ‘supernatural hunter’ and my father‘s has a ‘monster based’ quirk. And as for all of my siblings, they also have ‘supernatural based’ quirks” I said, shrugging my shoulders I continued explaining to the others about my family history and my quirk abilities and how I somehow ended up with the combination of both my parents and my siblings abilities as well, sometime later it was starting to become time for everyone to get some rest before the next day comes, after saying, good night to everyone, I headed into my room Once I got to the door of my room turning the handle to open it and head inside.

After changing into comfier clothing, and getting ready for bed, I immediately flopped down on the mattress sighing with exhaustion from the day, I reach Over two the nightstand, grabbing my phone and turning it back on, scrolling through the notifications, of every missed calls, text messages and voicemails, from all my friends and family as I clicked on one of the voicemails Tears start to swell up in my eyes. as i listened to my sister Delilah’s voice I can tell by her tone that she was trying not to cry, as she was talking about the news about what was happening and praying that I was okay? Turning the phone back off, I turned my face to my pillow letting out tears as a quietly cried myself to sleep.



#dabi x reader #lov x reader #league of villains headcannons #shigaraki x reader #spinner x reader #league of villains x reader #spinner headcannons #shigaraki headcanons

[conundrumoftime]

2023 fic round-up

Total works: 26 plus two old fics I uploaded from 2004 and 2008, across 6 fandoms

Fics I started writing on the power of irresistible vibes hoping a cohesive plot would turn up and it did:

Banquets have burned for you - Haladriel, M, written for eastwynds for the Haladriel fic exchange. The second time I have leaned heavily on Aeschylus for fanfic (first was years ago for Battlestar Galactica which lends itself very well to Greek myth and tragedy, but it worked for Numenor too). I am slowly coming round to writing a sequel for this one next year some time.

Say it like the sunrise when it’s talking to the fog - Celeborn/Glorfindel, Silm-LOTR, written for @yletylyf for the Trick or Treat exchange. Saw the pairing on a pinch hit list and the vision struck me like some sort of revelation. This was so much fun to write!

Things I wrote this year that I would not have seen myself writing:

Longfic: Shadow-Bride, Haladriel, now at 30 chapters and nearly 170k words. I have always been a shorter fic person and haven’t done epics and I am so pleased this one’s still going fine. It’s helped to have the basic plot already planned while the space around that structure has let me develop it as it’s gone along. This fic is my beloved precious baby.

Mpreg: technically (because it’s a shapeshifting Sauron taking the form of Galadriel), in To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark, TROP, Celeborn/Sauron. I am pleased with how much this one stayed ambiguous w/r/t whether Sauron was indeed doing this to get to Galadriel or whether he started off with that intent but just got more into it than he'd planned, one thing led to another, etc etc. I think probably the second one.

Favourite AO3 tag used this year:

'Sapir-Whorf hypothesis as a metaphor for the pain at the heart of your marriage' on Softest of Tongues, Silm-LOTR, Galadriel/Celeborn.

Things I couldn’t get enough of writing this year:

Noldor-Sindar drama. I just. It’s so compelling, and I think all? of the elf/elf pairings I’ve written use it as background somehow.

Celeborn/Sauron - like @liminal-zone I have gone fully off the deep end with this one. It’s been a speed run from “haha what if THIS crackship?” to “please be seated for the 57-slide Powerpoint presentation on how It All Makes Sense.” Started when I wrote a Twitter Haladriel promptfill where Sauron referred in passing to “your pretty Sindar prince” and, well, here we are.

Galadriel and Celeborn’s marriage: I have many thoughts about established relationships as fandom ships which are for another post, but, this one’s got a lot of intriguing hints in the canon plus Noldor-Sindar drama plus more ways to write about Galadriel so I am very into it now.

Trying to fit Celeborn into Rings of Power canon, which led to the whole series offics with half-Maia Celebrían being raised by a Celeborn who knows that and is a good dad to her while working through some things himself.

Individual bits I was really pleased with:

Description of Annatar, the only time I’ve written him: [Celeborn] thinks of tiny, whirring cogs, all turning in perfect precision; of fine metal filigrees making up each fibre of Annatar’s hair, of his skin as some kind of silk stapled into place at the seams. Rarer gifts than gold, Celeborn/Sauron, Silm.

Maedhros in my Third Kinslaying Elwing/Maedhros fic knowing how to do a double hip carry for baby twins: It would make every nightingale sing, Silmarillion.

Modern-day Sauron in Blood Sugar (Haladriel) having a print of Caravaggio’s ‘David with the head of Goliath’ on his wall - the painting in which Caravaggio, in exile and facing a death sentence for murder, painted the severed head with his own face as a gift to the cardinal who could grant him a pardon.

Sauron in Tar-Mairon of the Shire (TROP fluff) as the Lord of Gifts giving away presents on his birthday, Hobbit-style.

Strangest anon hate comment:

Among all the “ugh kys freak” comments which do get a bit repetitive after a while, the one that accused me of ‘pretending to be a multishipper’ stands out. Wut.

Fandom resolutions for 2024:

I’m staying away from goals around fic completion or targets because that doesn’t work for me. Instead, I’m making more of a conscious effort to write and enjoy the things I like the way I like them. This is a pretty basic fandom tenet and I shouldn’t need reminding, really, but sometimes in polarised, fighty corners of fandoms or places where there’s a lot of fanon it can feel like anything outside fandom norms will come across as starting discourse, and there’s nothing more stifling to writing and generally having fun in fandom than wondering “what’s it going to sound like I’m saying here?” all the time.

The other fics:

The Stars My Destination, Babylon 5. Bester thinks about the nature of death.

Life After Death, Alias - wrote this in 2008. found it in my old LJ archives and uploaded it this year.

When all the leaves are gold, Silmarillion, Galadriel/Celeborn. Everything is fine in Doriath. Everyone is happy in Doriath. No you can't leave.

All that Glitters, TROP sequel to that - where Celeborn has been for the past several centuries.

Civil Twilight, TROP, Haladriel and Galadriel/Celeborn, continuity fits with the previous two fics, I love this one and am so pleased with how well it worked.

Changeling, Silmarillion, Fourth-age Maglor. Wrote most of this in 2004 (it's old enough to vote!) and never finished or posted it because the Tolkien fandom used to be terrifying to me; finished and uploaded this year.

A green thought in a green shade, TROP Galadriel/Celeborn, another 'where has Celeborn been?' angle.

Made of sterner stuff, TROP, Disa, motherhood, ambition, dwarf culture.

So Wide a Sea, TROP Haladriel and Galadriel/Celeborn. Wrote this near the beginning of the year and then said afterwards that it was kind of fun to write Celeborn but I probably wouldn't be doing it again. [comedy trombone noise]

All the kinds of alive you can be, TROP, and it's Celeborn/Sauron but Sauron in the guise of Galadriel so - pairings are messy. I was playing around with doing a longer 'what if Sauron took the form of Celeborn' thing which I'd done a bit in Shadow-Bride and then thought "wait..."

I have loved flowers that fade, TROP, Haladriel, went in a bit heavy on the Athrabeth.

Suo Gân and Arda Sahta, TROP, baby half-Maia Celebrían being raised by Galadriel and Celeborn. I got so yelled at for writing these and at one point I had multiple anon hate comments on AO3 and people self-righteously condemning Those Haladriels on Twitter, which given it's G-rated fic about a baby which was all correctly tagged and not compulsory reading was I feel a bit of an overreaction.

As little might be thought, a followup to those with Celeborn talking to Elrond about fatherhood.

Weighed against our future, TROP. Haladriel 'missing scene on the road to Eregion' fic.

The turn of the tide, TROP, 4th-age Haladriel angst.

Though I sang in my chains like the sea, TROP, Haladriel, gapfiller for ep2 and their time on the raft.

And white winter, on its knees, TROP, little Haladriel 'what if she accepted the raft proposal' fic.

#eyeofacat fic #eyeofacat writing process

[neattequila]

Harry's Style Evolution (by an actual stylist) Part 3: Fine Line Era! Part 1 of 2*

Hi hi hi. First of all thanks for all the love on Part 1 and Part 2 which are linked. I highly recommend reading them first as I'll be referencing some of his past style.

This one took me so long to do because Harry's Fine Line era is when he really develops the personal style that he's now known for, and I have LITERALLY SO MUCH TO SAY. So without further ado!

*LOL I HIT PIC LIMIT before we even got to 2020. This is officially HS Style part 3 but Part 1 of 2 for the Fine Line Era.

HERE'S THE LINK TO PART 2

We left off in 2018, Harry was still touring his first album and was dating Camille Rowe (as far we know) who was beginning to influence his style.

After Live on Tour ends there's a period where we don't see him for a bit. Later we'll learn that him and Camille have broken up, and he jets off to Japan for some much needed hermit time.

2019

January, Harry's spotted in Japan. He rings in the new year with a ragtag batch of famous people that are for some reason all in Japan at the same time.

Here we see the debut of the custom gold Gucci rings that will become a staple for him (they retail at $470 each incase you were wondering.) We also see him in some Gucci jeans, and this vintage army jacket that I still have dreams about.

By March he's back in London and we get some more hints of his evolving personal style. He's back in jeans but he's over the black skinny's he previously coveted instead opting for a light wash straight leg. He wears this Raf Simmons jumper I'm obsessed with an looks oh-so-cozy. We'll also see the athletic outfits that he still wears today.

Also in March he introduced, and preforms with, Stevie Nicks as she's inducted into the Rock n Roll hall of fame.

He wears a gorgeous blue Gucci suit with white Gucci boots. We'll actually see him in this exact same Blue suit later in an ad campaign for Gucci for their Fall 2019 collection. (P.S. his hair is so delicious here I love this length on him.)

The next time we publicly see Harold is in May for the MET GALA! Y'all do not understand how hard I screamed in my living room when I found out he was going to be one of the chairs.

We first see him in a Gucci ensemble at the pre-gala dinner which he hosts at <3 Stonewall Inn <3 I literally remember when these pictures dropped me and the girlies were going stupid on Tumblr.com. It's hard to see in this picture but this is the first we see the EARRING! (May she rest)

I do remember being slightly disappointed with Harry's gala fit at the time. I wanted it a little campier and brighter, but as his style has evolved into the Harry's House era (we will get there when we get there lol.) I feel like in retrospect I can appreciate her much better.

She was delicate, she was sexy, and she was camp and queer in a much subtler way. The pearl earring really was everything not to mention the way he looks in the sheer black. YUM!

For the after party H changes into another Gucci ensemble which is very camp in an Orville Redenbacher way. He Gucci drop cross earring is a slay.

Also in May Harry attends his first (can you believe it?) Gucci show and wears one of my FAVORITE outfits he's ever worn.

It's head to toe Gucci of course, but the white suit with the white tank underneath it. Paired with pink sunglasses and pink soft loafers and a WICKER bag! Honey, THIS is styling!

He looks like he's about to ask if I wanna do a bump in the bathroom and my answer is YES!

Harry started working with Harry Lambert towards the end of his time in 1D, and so it's safe to assume that Lambert also had something to do with this outfit (and every other outfit he wears during this era.) How we fell from grace I still can't place in my head.

Anyway we also see his soon-to-be signature Fine Line pink and blue forever nails.

In August and September he appears on a myriad of Magazine covers. Most notably Rolling Stone, but my personal favorite The Face.

So what if I think about his photos for The Face in the night time sometimes, what're you gonna do sue me?!

Left he wears Bode shorts, middle a Gucci shirt and right a gorgeous Martine Rose jacket that he pairs with acid wash jeans.

In October the music video for Lights Up drops out of no where (fun fact when it dropped I was drunk in a club and went in the bathroom to watch it, when I woke up the next day I thought I'd dreamed the whole thing.

The Lights Up MV features a variety of looks. Including what will become the official Fine Line outfit: suspenders over an open shirt with high waisted trousers. This graphic is from Harry Fashion Archive which I did get a lot of these pics from so go check them out.

In November Fine Line the album is officially announced! (See how much there is to cover! We haven't even gotten to album release yet!)

On the cover Harry wears a custom Gucci ensemble of an open shirt, suspenders, and high waisted pants. Featuring Tom Walker's hand in a Gucci glove.

In November he hosts and is the musical guest on SNL where we get some great looks.

He preforms the soon-to-be smash hit Watermelon Sugar for the first time in a custom Watermelon-coloured Gucci suit. He also preforms Lights Up in a sequin Gucci suit.

On the show he wears another Gucci suit from their Spring/Summer collection (left). This look (right) is another all time favorite outfit of mine. A custom Bode shirt jacket paired with the iconic Christopher Kane "Sex" shirt, and brown Gucci trousers. This is another example of styling at its finest.

Off the show he wears a few sweater vests, most popular of which is this one by Lavin (left.) At a Spotify party for his album in December he will wear another Lavin piece, this time a cardigan, paired with baggy chinos and vans and the soon to infamous pearl necklace.

A few more fashion moments happen in December. He collaborates with Alessandro Michele for the first time to create this limited edition "Fine Line" t-shirt (left) that retails for $75. (Did anyone actually buy these?) He also goes through a Marc Jacobs sweater/shirt kick seen here on the Ellen show (right) but he wears them a few more times as well.

He preforms "Fine Line Live" in Los Angeles wearing the Gucci suit from the album cover paired with socks that say Fuck It (left.) Right he wears another Gucci suit to preform "Fine Line Live" in London.

*LOL I HIT PIC LIMIT before we even got to 2020. This is officially HS Style part 3 but Part 1 of 2 for the Fine Line Era.

LINK TO PART TWO HERE!

#fine line #harry styles #fashion #style #stylist #fine line era #Camille rowe #gucci #idk #other tags #part 1 of 2 I'm so sorry #blame Tumblr.com

[e-wills-afterhours]

Pretentious Coffee, Chapter 2

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Modern college/coffee shop AU

----------

Astrid tapped her mechanical pencil against her desk, rattling the lead inside. She knew how obnoxious the clicking must be—she had nearly throttled a girl for doing the same thing during the last course exam—but a day and a half’s cram session left her feeling anxious and unprepared.

Upon reflection, she could not recall what possessed her to go to that party with Ruffnut. It was so unlike her, the weekend before any kind of test. She usually was a much better student than she had been over the past week: sleeping in, procrastinating, and spending lectures ignoring the buzzing of her cell phone, seething over everything she imagined the texts and voicemails would say. It was not her normal behavior, and it had nothing to do with her recent breakup…or so she told herself.

There was no possible way he could still get under her skin. She had excised him from her life, regardless if she was the one who had actually been dumped. If he didn’t want to be with her anymore, fine. No point in pining away or wallowing in self-pity. That kind of behavior was pathetic, and there was a perfectly logical explanation as to why her academic motivation had dwindled.

There had to be.

Burnout was perfectly normal, even if it was only halfway through sophomore year.

She stiffened as a stack of exam papers hit her desk, feeling the sickening twist of her stomach that was usually milder on test days. Her leg began to shake in addition to her clicking pencil, and she noticed the sidelong glance from the girl adjacent to her.

Screw her.

Astrid took a deep breath.

The Scantron sheet was tucked inside a dense packet of questions, stapled together. There were seventy-five questions worth of political science theory, and she ran once more through the base philosophies of Plato, Aristotle, and Machiavelli, feeling marginally better she could remember those flash cards  verbatim.

She twisted in her seat to pass back the remaining tests. For no particular reason, other than curiosity maybe, she quickly scanned the room, wondering if anyone else shared her nerves—

There, two seats behind her to the right, was a tall, lanky face she had only just committed to memory: the barista. There no mistaking him, even without his beige apron and black slacks. The dark green hoodie pulled over his head, framing that same bored, unimpressed face—not arrogant, just disinterested—only made him look more apathetic than he had been behind a cash register. It was as if all of it—school, his job, and surrounding peers—were inconsequential to him. It was as if the mundane world of what was normal and expected was merely an inconvenience.

His eyes met hers and he smiled, bright and lopsided, like he was happy to see her, but still uncertain if she was worth reconnecting to the world.

“You may begin as soon as you get your test,” the professor announced pointedly.

Astrid tore her gaze away from that oddly engaging stare, turning back to her exam and finding the nuggets of political theory growing fuzzier in her brain. Bubbling her name into the appropriate field had become cumbersome. Her attention was suddenly divided between a GPA-determining test, and the utter shock that the skinny, snarky coffee barista had been in her class for half a semester without her noticing…

Yet, his face had been deemed worthy by her subconscious to file away so that bumping into him for the first time set off frantic bells to a tune she couldn’t quite name.

Well, now she knew.

The midterm exam seemed to simultaneously drag on and speed by in some bizarre time paradox. When her mind reluctantly wandered to freckles and sarcastic wit, it was like substantial blocks of time simply evaporated. Minutes of the clock were magicked away. It was disconcerting.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she flipped to the last page. A quick glance at the remaining time confirmed she hadn’t burned it all fixating on a guy she had no business thinking about, after a break up she definitely was not still hurting over. She was glad to be unattached, frankly. It gave her the freedom to focus on what mattered—like the final three questions her pencil had been hovering over for a good few minutes

What was wrong with her?

Movement caught her eye, and she hazarded a glance at the back of that green hoodie striding to the podium. His bag was hanging off one shoulder in a manner as careless as the rest of him. The professor glanced over his Scantron to make sure it was properly filled out, nodded, and the barista was gone—off somewhere, to whatever gave him purpose.

Astrid snapped back to her own test, breezing through the last three questions with more urgency than she had felt since she started—perhaps more than was prudent. She nearly sprinted up to the front, holding her test out with one hand, purse and coat clutched in the other. She was already on her way out the door before the professor gave her answer sheet an approving nod.

It was baffling, even to herself, why she felt compelled to chase down this relative stranger who was nothing to her, if not irritating. Hiccup was his name, she remembered; and he had served her bland, over-priced coffee with complimentary sass. Jerk. He was also some quiet, distracted soul who sat behind her in her political science course, apparently. They had no connection, no real conversational starting point other than, “Hey, remember when you were a total dick to me the other day?”

Maybe she wanted an apology? Maybe she was finally alert enough to give him a piece of her mind?

Or maybe, after years of the same old thing—muscles and swagger—she was intrigued by something different. The feeling was not a willful attraction, if “attraction” was even the correct word for it. She would describe it as more of a pull, a gravity; it was something that had her rushing out into the snow, squinting against the blinding white expanse.

But Hiccup was gone, disappeared into the flurries like a phantom. She would not see him again until the next political science class the end of the week.

Or maybe she could, again, pay just a little too much for unsavory coffee, sprinkled with sass.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid modern au

[aces-and-angels]

Hii, congrats on the milestone!! If you don't mind, I want to request an Abel x F!MC fic with No.14 prompt hehee. The MC's name is Julia and is using she/her pronouns. Thank you so much!!!💖

give it up for take 3 of the impromptu shower series 🧼🧼🧼 ty anon for your patience- please enjoy your blurb!

14. Showering together, Abel x Julia (F!MC)

—

A pitch-black screen- only the sound of leaves crunching under the weight of each slow, agonizing step can be heard. There's a flash to the right. Some sort of figure, too quick to see more than a silhouette.

"I don't like this," Abel whispers, breaking the silence between them.

Julia snaps her head up. "Shh, this is the best part!"

"But-"

"Shh!"

Abel reluctantly shuts his mouth and forces his attention back to the laptop in front of them. You're fine. It's only a movie, he told himself. Yet his heart matched the increasing tempo of the background music. He winced at the loud crash- a tree falling, perhaps. He'd never stick around long enough to find out, but the woman on screen was all too eager to investigate. "Why do they always go towards the noise?"

"It's the staple of the genre, babe," Julia answers while shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

He instinctively catches the few kernels that escape her buttery fingers, chuckling under his breath. "Is missing your mouth another staple of the genre?"

"Only when the movie is good," she retorts. An all too haunting creak of a wooden door pierces through the air. "Oh, you're gonna love this."

"I highly doubt that," he mumbles, tightening his hold on her ever so slightly. The only source of refuge he had was hiding behind her hair during the worst bits of the film. Notes of lavender and rose were a familiar comfort along with the gentle, unconscious caress of her thumb over his scarred hand.

In his head he knows it's not real. The gore, the sinister grins, the blood-curdling screams- all of it merely a convincing performance. That unfortunately didn't stop his stomach from lurching at every jump scare. It was a miracle in itself his heart hadn't given out from the stress.

After two long, harrowing hours, the credits begin to roll. "Oh thank God," Abel breathes, his shoulders sagging with relief.

Julia can't help but giggle. "Oh, it wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?! Were we watching the same movie?"

"I don't know if I can call what you were doing as watching, but yes. Yes we were."

"I watched it!"

"Barely," she added, shifting from her seat to kiss the pout off his face. "Thank you for indulging me, baby."

Abel's face softens. "It was nothing, really."

"I'd say it was a little more than that," she hums, a smile playing on her lips.

"I'm picking the movie next time."

"Deal."

—

It was easy for anyone to see that Abel was on edge- for Julia, especially. Every little noise made him flinch. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if something were following him. A pang of guilt hit her chest knowing it was partially her fault he was like this.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Completely fine," he answers all too quickly. The forced smile- the slight fidget of his left hand- it all said otherwise.

"Abel."

"Julia," he says, matching her tone.

"You know you don't have to hide anything from me, right?"

"Of course I do. And I'm not hiding a thing," he reassures her. "Like I said, I'm fine. So fine that I'm gonna go ahead and get ready for bed. Like someone who is totally fine would do."

"Uh-huh." She folded her arms. "You go ahead and do that then."

"Okay, I will," he declares, straightening his posture as he walks towards their bathroom. The door shuts behind him with a soft click. There's some faint rustling- then the muffled sound of the shower running.

She leans in closer, waiting for the familiar clang of metal rings to fill the room. Only it never comes. Her face breaks into a smug grin. She counts down in her head. Five... four... three... two... one...

The bathroom door cracks open. "Baby?"

"Yes," she replies, covering her smirk behind her hand.

"Willyoushowerwithme," he mumbles incoherently.

Her grin only widens. "What was that? I can't hear you."

Abel sighs loudly, defeated. "Will you shower with me? Please?"

She's next to him in three strides, her shirt already off and scattered behind her. "Only because you asked me so nicely." The rest of her clothes soon find their way onto the tiled floor along with his. She confidently steps into the porcelain tub, then holds out her hand. "C'mon, I'll protect you from the big bad monsters," she teases.

He rolls his eyes fondly, taking her hand. "Very funny."

"Thank you, I'll be here all week," she jokes, pulling him in close. Warm water cascaded over them both. Her fingers glide over his skin, lingering on the x-shaped scar on his chest. "See? It's not so bad in here."

"You just had to pick the horror movie, didn't you?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Are you really complaining about how things turned out?"

"Not at all," he says, giving her hips a playful squeeze. "Now pass me my loofah."

—

#ilw #it lives within #abel flint #abel x mc #100 follower special #playchoices #choices #ilw fic #ilw fanfic #my fic #it lives in the woods #ilitw #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives series #it lives anthology #and they said coming up w three different shower scenarios was crazy lmaoo #hope yall enjoyed the journey with me #taking every opportunity to remind the world that abel is a scaredy cat #really liked how this one turned out #sound off in the replies/dms/anons if yall read through the whole impromptu shower series #abel x julia