#i lose my train of thought every time it opens its horrible little mouth again

[calenos]

dog a couple buildings down wont shut up. devising a way to break in and give it a muzzle without getting myself arrested or the dog or myself injured. tips appreciated

#.txt #i hate my stupid brain that can't filter out noise this dog is driving me INSANE #i lose my train of thought every time it opens its horrible little mouth again #im trying to get as much white noise going on as i can and listen to music but #IT IS SO LOUD. SO SO L OUD #:(

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Could you do carol x fem!reader but like so angsty that I can cry myself to sleep even tho I’m on antidepressants and can’t feel anything but plz let there b a happy ending thank u so much love u

I'm not sure if this qualifies as angst but here's a draft I had that I edited a little to fit the request. I hope it does the trick :)

It Wasn't For You

Summary: A mission gone horribly wrong drives a wedge between you and Carol. Is the bond fixable, or are the things you both said unforgivable?

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,998

You weren't sure what that emotion was that was boiling in your blood as you stormed back to your apartment. Was it worry? Were you just upset? You let it sit with you a moment as you unlocked the door. It wasn't either one of those things. It was rage. It was hot, unbridled rage. The cause of it was a certain Avenger who you had thought loved you enough to not do what she'd done. Clearly, she hadn't.

She was right behind you, stepping through the doorway before you could slam it behind you. You growled under your breath as she invited herself into your home, closing the door only once she was in. You didn't even bother turning to face her. You went straight to the bar and poured yourself a drink, not offering her one and not planning to let her touch a single drop of your alcohol. You took a sip of the hard liquor.

"Would you listen to me for one goddamn second?" She huffed out.

"I listened to you for multiple seconds, Carol. It doesn't change any facts."

"I did it for you!"

"I don't give a fuck."

Truly and honestly, you didn't. What she'd done was immoral, infuriating, and wholly unforgivable. She could get down on her knees right there in front of the bar and you wouldn't have batted an eyelash. It wouldn't be enough. In fact, you were convinced that nothing would be enough for you to forgive her. It didn't matter how much you had loved her yesterday or the day before. It didn't how much you loved her today.

"I'd do it again," she assured.

"Then I would do this again," you turned to finally face her, eyes locking with the brown ones that could usually instill a sense of peace in your chest, but today seemed to have no effect. "We're done, Carol. I think it'd be best if you left, please."

You could practically hear her heart dropping into her stomach. There was a part of you that ached to bring her into your arms and soothe that hurt look off her face. You knew better. That piece of you would fade eventually. You'd learn not to love her anymore. In fact, you could probably learn how to hate her. The boiling rage that was flowing through your very veins could assist you with learning that.

"Please-"

"I'm asking you to go," you said, firmer this time. "Please, get out."

If she'd had a tail to tuck between her legs, she absolutely would have. She didn't even bother to protest again. The expression you'd plastered on your face made it clear it wouldn't have done anything anyway. She slowly made toward the door. Her hand touched the doorknob and she cast her gaze back to you once more. You didn't dare let your features soften. You could've sworn there were tears in her eyes as she turned the doorknob and left.

You breathed out as the door closed behind her, finally daring to let tears streak down your cheeks.

*

You stared down the super soldier, neither of you wanting to speak first. He was the team leader though, and basically your boss. You knew even if he was the first one to speak, you were going to be the one spilling everything. You didn't want to, not one bit, but you knew you were going to have to anyway. You wondered if you had the strength to talk about it. You wondered if he had the strength to listen to your recollection of events.

"I just need to know what happened so when they ask-"

"Fuck, Steve! Natasha fucking died and we're sitting here having this stupid conversation," you shouted, rising to your feet, tossing the papers in front of you off the table, and moving to the window. "I have a goddamn funeral to plan!"

"Look, neither of us wants to talk about this, but we have to!"

You sighed, clasping your hands behind your back as you looked out at the compound grounds. There were agents training, running laps around the building. Sam was the one guiding them, seeming to enjoy barking orders at them. You tore your gaze away from a sight that seemed to have lost its beauty now that Natasha wasn't there alongside the Falcon, chuckling with him as they watched the new recruits huff and puff.

"It was me or her and Carol chose me," you finally gave. "I was what would have been fatally outnumbered and Natasha was down. She was in the jet. Carol could have either gone and stopped the jet from crashing, or she could pull me out and neutralize the enemy. She chose the latter. That's what happened. Happy?"

"I need your report."

"I need to plan Natasha's funeral!"

You stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. You let out the breath that had been stuck in your chest, leaning your head against the wall and shutting your eyes. It hadn't been an easy couple of days. You'd have been surprised if you'd gotten more than three hours of sleep in the last three nights combined. Somehow, though, you still didn't feel tired. You felt a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.

As if losing Natasha wasn't hard enough, you were also grappling with crippling amounts of anger and guilt. Natasha should have been the one that was saved. She was the obvious choice, and yet here you stood, and Natasha was gone. The anger, though? That was all for Carol. She had promised you that her relationship with you wouldn't have affected her at work, but it had. She'd saved you when she should have saved Natasha and all of those people in the impact zone.

"Can we talk?"

Speak of the devil.

You opened your eyes, using your shoulder blades to push yourself away from the wall. Immediately your entire stance got defensive. You crossed your arms over your chest. You watched as she searched your eyes in hopes of being able to read them like she usually did, but knew it would be to no avail. You didn't want her to know anything about what you were feeling. She didn't deserve to know what you were feeling. All she deserved was to be on the receiving end of your rage.

"No. I told you we're done, Danvers. We don't need to talk anymore."

"I'm not letting you go that easy."

"You don't have a damn choice!" You laughed humourlessly. "You can't stop me. You don't own me, and you definitely don't own my heart."

With that, you stepped around her, walking toward the doors of the compound. You could hear her footsteps trailing behind you. You didn't bother to turn around and glance at her, or even open your mouth to tell her to go away. You just let her follow you as if she were going to get something out of you. She wasn't going to. The last thing you wanted to do was hear some sort of failed explanation as to why she'd decided to save you. You knew why. It was because she couldn't separate home and work. You never should have trusted her to be able to.

You stepped out into the sunlight, cursing the sky for being so bright and sunny when it felt like it should be dark and gloomy. A storm cloud and roaring thunder might appropriately match the way you felt inside. Instead, you were forced to pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as you headed back toward your car, feeling you could use the walk toward it instead of making it come to you- a feature Tony has insisted you needed. As you arrived though, Carol finally reacted.

"Jesus Christ, would you hear me out?" She said, anger in her voice as she grabbed your wrist.

"Let go of me."

"Talk to me."

"I already said no. Let go of me," you demanded.

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, glaring at her as she retracted her arm. You unlocked your car, getting into the front seat. You didn't even glance at Carol as you started the engine, put the car into drive, and pulled out of your spot, leaving her behind.

*

It was early when you woke up the next morning, and immediately your day went different than normal. Your eyebrows furrowed when you stepped out of your bedroom and found an envelope slipped under your apartment door. It was completely unmarked. You knew the danger of anything unmarked. You were an Avenger. You couldn't find it in you to care, though. Without Carol's arms around you, you tossed and turned. Losing Natasha hurt so much more without Carol there to hold you through it. But it was her fault.

You reached down and picked up the envelope. You sliced it open with the knife that was resting on the table beside the front door. What you pulled out was a single piece of lined paper. It had clearly been ripped out of someone's notebook, the torn rings hanging off the left side. You unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Carol's handwriting inside. You crumpled it up and prepared to throw it, but then you hesitated.

She wasn't there. You didn't have to talk to her. You didn't want to talk to her one bit, but you were dying to hear her side of the story. This way, you didn't have to risk breaking and losing yourself to emotion in front of her. You uncrumpled the paper and held it out in front of you. You took a deep breath and let your gaze drift over Carol's familiar handwriting once before you moved your eyes to the top of the page.

Y/N,

I really hope you didn't throw this out. I suppose if you're reading this, you didn't.

I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I might not want to talk to me either. Your best friend died and it is entirely and completely my fault. I know that. It is my fault. I could have saved her, and I didn't. I just need you to know why.

I know you think that I broke my promise. I promised you, Steve, and every Avenger, including Natasha, that I would never let our relationship affect our work. It must seem like I failed to do that. I didn't break that promise. I love you. I do. But I wouldn't do that.

I knew that saving Natasha was more likely to be successful than saving you. Saving her would have meant saving those three civilians too. Not saving you, though, meant that they would have gotten away, and it meant they would have killed dozens of our agents on their way out. There were so many of them. They outgunned our men by too much. I didn't do it for you. I did it for them.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't save her. If I could have given my life for hers, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. If choosing her over you had been the right choice, I'd have done it. I promise you that.

I love you, even if you can't love me back.

- C

*

Tears spilled from your eyes as the empty casket was lowered into the ground. When a hand brushed ever so lightly against yours, you stiffened. You glanced for a moment over at the woman beside you. Those brown eyes were locked on you as well, for a moment, before turning back to the burial. You took a deep breath before moving, threading your fingers between hers. You pulled a little closer to her.

Maybe you should have listened to her. That letter you'd received yesterday had been a lot to think about. You'd been so angry with Carol because she'd closed you over Natasha and you'd been selfish enough to think it was because she couldn't separate her feelings for you from work. When you'd found out that wasn't the case, it had taken away all your reason to be angry at her. What happened to Natasha wasn't her fault.

Once the red had faded, you'd realized how stupid you'd been being. Carol had obviously been hurting and you'd been gatekeeping pain because you'd been blaming yours on her. The guilt stewing in her gut was probably millions of times worse than yours. She'd had to make that choice out in the field. It was the right choice, you saw now, but that would never matter. You knew how that felt, and you'd pushed her away and left her to deal with it alone. You wouldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive you for that.

When the funeral ended and people started heading toward the reception, you stayed glued to the spot. You could tell Carol wasn't sure what to do. Her hand had tried to pull away to give you space, but this time it was you that didn't let her leave you. The hand that was in hers tightened enough that she got the message. You had to wonder if she'd stay to hear it. As always, though, she was better than you. Her efforts to move away stopped.

You stayed silent for a moment, standing in that position and wondering what to say. There might not have been words enough to express just how sorry you were. There might not have been anything you could say that would make her forgive you. You deserved that, though. You broke up with her. There was no obligation for her to take you back and you hadn't given her any reason to want to. You were the one who had pushed.

"I'm sorry, Carol," you muttered, knowing full well that wasn't enough. "I'm sorry for everything. I was selfish."

"I get it," she admitted. "It's okay."

She was better than you.

But it wasn't okay. What you'd done to her was far from okay. You'd taken one look at the guilty relief in her eyes after that mission and decided that she'd sacrificed Natasha for you. She was allowed to be relieved. You would have been, if the roles had been reversed. Just because you lost Natasha, didn't mean Carol wasn't allowed to be a little relieved that the love of her life survived. Now, you didn't get to be that.

"Baby... Carol, I just wanted you to know that I read what you wrote and I'm sorry for how I'd reacted. I'm sorry I didn't stop to hear you out before that and I'm sorry I pushed you away when you were obviously hurting."

She dared to pull you a little closer. "You can still call me Baby."

You had to let out a light chuckle at that, despite the tears on your face. You wondered if you were mourning Natasha or your relationship with Carol. Whatever the case, she reached out and brushed the pad of her thumb across your cheek. You couldn't resist leaning a little harder into her hand. She got the message, opening her hand and cupping your cheek, her palm pressing delicately against your skin and her thumb continued to trace your cheekbone.

"You were hurting too," she assured quietly. "You reacted that way because you were grieving. You needed someone to blame."

"It shouldn't have been you."

"I was easy," she said, hands sliding down so they were both in yours. "I could have saved her and I didn't. Whatever reasoning I might have had, that was the truth."

"I'm supposed to love you."

"You don't love me?" She questioned.

"I do! Of course I love you, Carol. But I haven't been great at doing that recently. I should have-"

"You love me and you were grieving your friend. That's it. And I love you too," she said, squeezing your hands. "Can we stop being broken up now?"

She was standing in front of you, a tiny smile on her lips, and forgiving you. She was asking you to take her back, like it wasn't supposed to be you on your knees begging for her forgiveness. You stepped forward, taking your hands out of hers so you could instead put them on her cheeks, and pulled her toward you until your lips had met. She kissed you back immediately, her hands finding your hips. She pulled away from you.

"So yes?" She said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Because Natasha got us together and breaking up for good over her casket would not be honouring her memory very well."

"No, it wouldn't," you said, leaning your head onto her shoulder. You looked down at the wooden casket. "I miss her so much already, Carol."

"I know. Me too, Honey."

Your heart felt the slightest bit lighter now. You would've given anything for Natasha to be okay. The fact that she was gone still felt like a knife through the chest. At least now, though, you had Carol to hold you at night and kiss the tears off your cheeks. She had you to do the same for her. That was all either of you could do. Now, only time could lessen the pain. Carol put her arms around you and held you closer.

Just as you went to tell her once again that you loved her, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the number that was coming from outside the country. She showed it to you and you took the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Did it work? Do they think I'm dead?" Said the so familiar voice.

You glanced up at Carol, sure the shock on her face matched yours.

"Natasha, what the hell-"

"We've got a new mission. Are you and your lovebird up for it?"

Carol kissed your cheek and then spoke to the woman on the phone. "Absolutely."

#carol danvers #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #marvel #mcu #wlw #lesbian #pride

[bestiesenpai]

Inamorata - Sukuna

You have no idea how much I like this idea lol ya know the meme ‘i got a boyfriend, yeah he kills people he’s crazy’ this is exactly what went through my head with this. Femme reader, I went for a...Sukuna is his own person and not attached to Itadori kind of thing? Like just a stand-alone demon. I had probably way too much fun writing this and would be down to write more for this concept

Content warnings: killing/murder/homicide choose your preferred noun, a little yandere?, size difference and Sukuna is in his four armed form, uhmm there’s a knife(main use to cut open readers palm in the beginning) and also licking blood from said wound, violence/gore at the end

Apparently there was a demon on the loose. From what you’d read on online forums and heard through the whispers of older people on the train, there was a foreboding presence terrorizing the city, preying on the weak and helpless and hoping to take over the world.

There were blurry photos and horrible sketches of what the creature supposedly looked like and the form it took, but none of them seemed to match up. The tattoos on the face and body were always off, the amount of muscle and the stature of the creature were all different depending on who you went to.

Which is why you decided, against all better judgement, to go looking for him. All the stories you’d heard about the demon, the kind of creature it was centuries ago in its prime, had intrigued you. With the mystique and terror surrounding this demon, you’d be a fool not to try and get a peek for yourself.

At first you’d tried a summoning circle, clearing a large space in your bedroom and drawing intricate patterns on the floor in hopes of his arrival. That method quickly turned futile as no demon ever came - but now you probably had a few ghosts watching you sleep at night.

The second method was to try and make a pact with the devil himself, slicing open your palm and dripping blood onto the pages of old scriptures. Attempting to sell your soul had worked even less than the first method and all you had to show for it was a bandage around your hand for two weeks.

“I’ll definitely see him now.” You mumbled to yourself, walking straight to where the demon was seen most: the red light district. Walking past bright neon signs and nearly naked women in shop windows, you took a peek into every alleyway you came across.

“Hey pretty lady, what’re you looking for?” A rough, scratchy voice sounded behind you as you walked past the umpteenth alleyway of the night.

“What do you think?” Not looking over your shoulder, you kept walking. The voice, while sounding absolutely disgusting, didn’t belong to a demon and therefore not worth your time.

“I think you’re looking for trouble.” Curling his fingers around your arm, the man you were trying to ignore snatched you back, making you stumble and fall into his chest. The nasty scent of body odor and cigarettes was wafting off the man, making you worry that his stench would cling to you for days.

“Not the kind you’re talking about.” Pushing away from him, you furiously wiped off your clothes. Looking this man in the face irritated you, he was wasting his time and you knew exactly what his intentions were.

“Don’t play so hard to get!” Forcing a less than charming smile on his face, the man made the move to grab you again.

“Don’t touch me!” Slapping his hands away, you took generous steps back from him. “You’re getting in the way of my search.”

“Search?” Quirking a brow at you, the man took a moment to think before his brows rose in surprise. “You’re looking for Sukuna, aren’t you?”

“That’s his name?” You’d never heard his name before, only seeing some people refer to him as a four armed creature from hell.

“Yup, and I’ve seen him a couple times.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the man smirked triumphantly. “You could say he and I have a kind of friendly relationship.”

“Do you now?” Your eyes trailed up from the man to the dark alleyway behind him where two glowing red eyes emerged.

“Oh yeah, Sukuna’s a great guy! Even offered to give me a position in his little army.” The more he spoke the brighter the eyes got and the fuzzy outline of a gigantic body was starting to take shape.

“His little army?” Slowly taking steps back as the figure came forward, you barely had time to react before the man was snatched up by two giant hands and yanked backwards. Lifting him into the air, it wasn’t long before a mouth with gleaming sharp teeth opened up and swallowed him whole.

As the eyes drew their attention back to you, a nervous laugh left your chest that you couldn’t force to stop. Every step you took back was now accompanied by a step forward from the creature until it fully left the alleyway and you saw exactly what you were dealing with.

Right in front of you, in full form and glory, was the demon you’d been searching for. The scrawling black tattoos along his entire body, the four arms, pink hair, second set of eyes and his impossibly muscular physique - all of it was exactly like you’d been hoping for.

“Hello, pretty little thing.” His voice boomed despite being relatively quiet, a slight echo to the deep timbre. It was almost melodic in a way, somehow soothing your racing heart just slightly.

“S-sukuna?” You squeaked out, back meeting the brick wall of a building.

“That would be me.” Chuckling as he stopped a few feet from you, Sukuna crossed his secondary arms and looked down upon you. The sheer height and width of his body easily dwarfed yours, your head only barely reaching his ribcage.

Your eyes couldn’t stay in one place as you looked at Sukuna. There was too much to take in and you could feel yourself quickly becoming overwhelmed trying to commit every detail to memory.

“You’re…” Licking your lips nervously, you could only meet his eyes for a moment before settling on the mark on his forehead. “You’re wearing womens clothes.” Tied around his waist and hanging off his legs was indeed a womens kimono, a surprising pristine white shade.

“That’s what you decide to say at our first meeting?” An echoing laugh bellowed from him and Sukuna shook his head, running one hand through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just...they never mentioned it online.” It felt a little silly to be explaining yourself to him when at any moment Sukuna could eat you like he did that man and you would have no way of stopping him.

“Little thing, I have a question for you.” Fixing you with a suddenly sharp stare, Sukuna lowered his brow and bent down, placing two arms above your head and two at your side, trapping you in against the wall with no possible outs.

“Yes?” Pinching your eyes closed, you held your breath as you waited for the inevitable bite of his teeth around.

“Are you scared?” Sukuna whispered, his breath fanning out over the top of your head.

“Yes.” It would be a lie to say no and you had nothing to lose by telling the truth. Sukuna’s eyes bore into you, the weight of his stare physically making your back bow.

“What did you think of me eating that man just now? Was that terrifying for you?”

“No.” Sukuna took a pause at your answer and although you couldn’t see it, his brow furrowed for a fraction of a second.

“What did you feel then? Surely you must have thought it was horrible.”

“N-not really.” Slowly cracking one eye open, you looked up at Sukuna, almost breaking your neck from having to stare directly above you. “I was actually quite happy you did that. He was getting on my nerves.”

The barking laugh that left Sukuna’s mouth made you flinch and throw your hands in the air. It was so loud it seemed to vibrate your entire body and a few windows on the building behind you shook from the force.

“You’re telling me you liked me killing that guy?” Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, Sukuna held you up in the air, eye level to him. You nodded, pitifully kicking your legs out to try and get back to solid ground. “Aren’t you a messed up little thing?” Still laughing, Sukuna took a proper once over of your body. “Pretty, but messed up.”

“P-please let me go!” You whimpered, hands desperately clutching Sukuna’s to try and not fall out of your clothes and onto the ground.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like how I hold you?” Shaking you for good effect, Sukuna smirked wildly at your scared little squeaks. “Tell me your name.”

“It’s (Y/N)!” Shouting into the air, you felt relief flood into you as Sukuna finally lowered you back to the ground and his hands released you.

“(Y/N)?” Sounding it out on his tongue, Sukuna shrugged to himself. “I like ‘little thing’ better.”

“I’m only little compared to you.” Fixing your clothes, you tried to regain your breath and stop your body from shaking so violently.

“So, what’s a creature like you doing out so late at night here? It’s not safe for a human like you to roam around these parts.”

“I was looking for you.”

“Me? You were looking for me?” Sukuna snorted, waving his hand dismissively at you. “A human like you looking for me? I’ve really seen it all.”

“It’s true!” Pulling out your phone, you quickly showed him all the data you’d compiled on him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Sukuna! I did a summoning circle, I’ve looked in hundreds of online forums - I even tried to make a deal with the devil!” Showing him the mark that was still healing on your palm, the fear that was in your body was slowly trickling out and being replaced with- hope? Excitement? It was hard to say, but as Sukuna grasped your hand between two fingers and looked at your palm, it would be wrong to say it was a negative emotion you felt.

“You really did all that for me?” His voice was much softer now but it still sounded like he was mocking you. Smoothing the pad of one finger across your palm, he felt the ridges of your palm and the wound.

“I did. I find you really fascinating and I- I just wanted to learn more about you.” You faltered when he looked at you, a fierce heat overtaking your cheeks at admitting out loud that you’d been looking for a demon because you found him interesting.

“Are you perhaps interested in me?” A smirk tugged one side of Sukuna’s lip up and he chuckled when your expression only grew more flustered. “Oh little thing, you’re more messed up than I thought.”

“Will you tell me more about yourself? Please?” The words tumbled out of your mouth desperately as you let Sukuna stretch out your arm and grasp your hand more firmly. He didn’t answer you or even acknowledge that you’d spoken, instead grazing the tip of one long sharp nail along the line of the cut.

“I find myself liking you more and more, why is that?” Sukuna’s tone sounded like he was addressing himself as he spoke aloud, turning your hand every which way as he kept scraping his nail against your palm. “Were you my lover in the past, back when I reigned as the ruler of this whole land?”

Racking your brain to try and remember any information on Sukuna potentially having a lover, you were ripped back to reality when Sukuna dug his nail into your skin, reopening the cut and making blood flow freely.

“Ow!” You couldn’t yank your arm out of his grasp and you watched in mild horror as Sukuna lowered himself to your hand, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth and drag across your skin. His tongue quickly became coated in dark red blood, his saliva starting to mingle with your blood.

“You taste so familiar, you must have been mine.” Lapping up your blood now, Sukuna didn’t stop until he could tell you were starting to get weak from blood loss. The lower half of his face was now covered in red, smeared across his skin like paint.

“Sukuna, that’s gross.” The mumble slipped from your delirious mind, making him laugh as he waved a hand over the cut and made it go away. Slipping your hand from his grasp it was like there had never been a mark there in the first place.

“A human telling me what’s gross?” Licking his face clean, Sukuna grinned down at you. The longer he looked at you the longer memories of a past you returned to his mind. The irresistible draw he felt to come to you tonight had been the same one that called to him centuries ago, making you the center of his otherwise cruel and empty world.

Placing two hands on the wall behind you, Sukuna leaned over you once more, this time grasping your chin and turning your face up to him. The saliva that had mixed with your blood had also given you new memories of the past as well, and as you looked at Sukuna you remembered all the things the two of you had done together.

“So, my pet, what shall we do first?”

Sukuna ended up carrying you home, having you tucked inside his kimono as he leaped on rooftops across the city. Opening your bedroom window, Sukuna shoved his body through, having to make himself slightly smaller to fit inside the house.

“Are you uh, hungry?” Standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom as Sukuna sat on your bed, you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

“I could eat.” Laying fully back on your bed, it creaked and groaned as Sukuna rested his weight on it. The thought of offering to take him to the kitchen came and went quickly in your head; just getting him into your room was a hard enough task.

Fixing him and yourself a quick meal, as soon as you were done eating Sukuna picked you up and rested you on his abdomen. Even after shrinking himself down your legs were still stretched as wide as possible in hopes of wrapping around his waist.

“As the memories of you return, I realize how much I’ve missed you, my pretty little thing.” Petting down your back, Sukuna looked at you fondly. Propped up on two of his arms, he could stare directly at your tiny body sitting atop him.

“What kind of memories do you have?” So far, the only thing you could seem to recall were memories of a more sexual nature. One’s of you and Sukuna wrapped up in each other's arms, both of his cocks stuffed inside you as you begged to cum.

“I remember giving you the world, whatever you wanted was yours for the taking.” The look in Sukunas eyes was surprisingly soft and you could feel the love coming out from him.

“Whatever I wanted?” Repeating the words, your mouth hung open slightly at all the possible things you could get.

“The world may exist to serve me, but I exist to serve you.” Fully sitting up, Sukuna held you against him as he leaned down, lips grazing your forehead. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I can get you anything in the world, I can do anything in the world.”

“Kill for me.” The whisper that left your lips was almost too quiet for even yourself to hear. But Sukuna nodded, having heard you perfectly. Your words made his body thrum with excitement and his nerves were on edge.

“Kill for you?” He repeated, kissing you on the forehead. The fingers that held you closely dug into your sides and if Sukuna wasn’t careful he could crush you completely.

“You love me, don’t you?” There was just the slightest hint of worry in your voice. What if you were overestimating your power over Sukuna? He could say no or even kill you himself.

“You have no idea what the things my love for you will do.”

Although it pained him to do so, Sukuna left you once the sun began to rise. He had other things to attend to, temples that worshipped him as a god to visit. Promising to see you once dusk began to settle over the sky, Sukuna leapt from your window and into the horizon.

“You came back.” Even though he swore up and down he’d come back, it still shocked you to see him back on your bed once it hit a certain time of night.

“Of course I did.” Sukuna almost seemed hurt you would question him. Holding out a hand, as soon as you grasped one of his fingers he pulled you to him and nestled your body into his side. “Did you do what I asked?”

“The list is in my pocket.” Before leaving, Sukuna had told you to make a list of all the people you wanted him to kill for you. The list had started out short, just a few people that had hurt you that you couldn’t let go of, and then it grew to others, politicians and corrupt people in the media.

“Quite impressive, little thing.” Reading over the list, Sukuna stood up. “Shall we go then?”

“Go whe-” As Sukuna threw open your bedroom window you were met with a strong gust of wind. “Sukuna, where are we going?” You asked him over the wind in your ears. Putting his upper arms into the sleeves of his kimono, he made sure you were nestled safely inside.

“We’re going to take care of the first person on your list.” Wrapping an arm around you, Sukuna jumped out of the window. Though this wasn’t your first time in this position, you hadn’t been fully cognizant when Sukuna took you home last night. Now, with a head clear and no lack of blood to distract you, you could see the lights of the city clearly as they whipped past you.

“It’s beautiful.” Carefully leaning forward, you gazed at the downtown area with all the flashing lights and swerving cars.

“If you say so.” Patting your hip, Sukuna pulled you back, resting your weight fully on his arm and clothes. He wouldn’t admit it, and despite knowing he would catch you in a millisecond, Sukuna didn’t want you to fall out and fall to the ground.

Coming upon the first persons house, he settled you on the ground outside. You were in a tightly knit residential area standing directly under a streetlight, with rows of houses that all looked similar. In a flash, Sukuna had broken into the house and grabbed the person you were after.

“This them?” With a tight grip on their ankle, Sukuna shook them side to side.

“Mhmm.” You didn’t need to look to know he’d gotten the right person, just the feeling you had around them was enough to confirm it.

“W-what’s going on here?!” They screamed, blood pooling in their head the longer they hung upside down.

“Don’t speak.” Sukuna barked, shaking them once again. “You don’t speak to her, or at all.” The person screamed again, a high pitched sound that quickly got shut off as Sukuna swung their body and smacked them against the ground. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

For a moment you thought they’d died from how hard Sukuna hit them against the ground, but a small whimper and breathless gasps sounded from where their face was crushed against the pavement.

“Do you know why I’m here?” You whispered, standing over their motionless body. Rolling over onto their back, they shook their head and started to stammer. “If you can’t answer my question I don’t want you to make a sound.” Pressing your foot onto their throat, you flinched when their hands came up to try and claw you away.

“Don’t touch her.” Instantly pinning their arms down, Sukuna glowered. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Let me think.” Staring down into their glassy eyes, a million options went through your mind. Sukuna’s power was limitless, there was nothing he couldn’t do. If you asked him to throw their body into outer space, he would do it in a heartbeat. “Rip them limb from limb. You can eat them if you’d like.”

“As you wish.” A sick grin curled Sukuna’s lip and he drug their body across the ground until they were directly underneath him.

“(Y/N) wait! W-wait please!” Their shrill cries fell on deaf ears, and the sound of the first limb being torn off their body was something you could get used to. “Oh- oh my god, my leg!”

“God I wish you’d shut up.” You kept your eyes on the person's face, refusing to look at where blood squirted generously from their now missing extremity.

“Allow me.” With the swipe of one claw Sukuna gouged out their throat. Hot, bright red blood spilled out onto the pavement, pooling and almost making it to where you stood. Throwing one leg into his mouth, Sukuna used a non-bloody hand to lift you up and place you onto a brick wall.

“Thank you.” Giving him a gentle smile, you now had a front row seat to Sukuna ripping apart this person's body and slowly devouring them. There was a mess of blood coating Sukuna’s skin, far more blood than when he had drunk yours.

As you watched Sukuna eat this person, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. It felt good to get justice in your own way for how this person wronged you. After being told to let it go, try and move and let time heal the wound, you could finally get closure the way you wanted.

“All done?” You asked once the last piece of their body was consumed. Standing up to his full height, Sukuna still looked down at you. The blood on his skin began to sizzle off, evaporating into the air and leaving the pungent smile of iron behind.

“Have I made you happy?” He responded, cupping your face and lightly squishing your cheeks. Smiling proudly, a warm flush washed over your face the longer you and Sukuna looked at each other.

“Yes, very.” Nuzzling into his palm and kissing it, you let out a breathless laugh as Sukuna did the same.

“I’m happy to please you.” Kissing you on the top of the head, Sukuna pulled out the list and crossed out the first name. “Shall we go to the others now?”

#tw: violence #tw: blood #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[sunder-soul]

first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy  💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic #dark tom #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter #Minific #Prompt #Anon #consume #ambiguous house #artsy reader #gn reader #afab reader #seer reader #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle imagines #rivals

[alixdelcourt]

Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours

Pairing Katsuki Bakugou x female reader x Eijirou Kirishima

Genre : angst to fluff and comfort at the end.

WC and warnings : 1.5 k / Polyrelationship, Angst, feeling down, abandon, injury, mention of hospital and sedative. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or sensitive, you'll just get hurt. Please be careful.

Note : Hey everyone, I am back ! I am sorry, I wasn't on hiatus so I didn't warned you, I was just sick and trying to recover. And now that I am totally healed, I promise that I'll catch all your requests up quickly ! Today's work is @d3nk1x's request. I am sorry it took my like forever to achieve it, really sorry. I hope that you’ll like it, please let me know, and feel free to ask anything else. I kinda like your requests :)

Requests are still open, and since my college year is over, I am totally free to write whenever I want. And I am bored a bit, so please send many requests if you want, I will be happy to oblige !

The heart has its reasons which Reason knows nothing of… What was sure is that you loved them, from the bottom of your heart. But it wasn’t enough for you to be completely at ease with the relationship that you, Eijirou and Katsuki are entertaining. Well, such relations aren’t usual and you prefer to keep it for you. What would it be if people, even your friends, discover this part of your intimacy and feel free to criticize, or worse to judge you and to deprecate it… Would your ‘couple’ survive all of this ? You prefer not to take the risk. A happy life is a discreet one.

But, your significant others are not on the same page. Like, for the boys, you’re all adults and old enough to make your own choices. You chose them, you brought them together, so why couldn’t you assume this decision ? Why three people in love would be so odd ? This subject was the only point of contention for you, that comes up more and more often. Like tonight.

The three of you were in Katsuki’s room, for the usual nightly cuddles. To have some affection before going to sleep, each one in his own dorm room. For the other students not to notice, Eijirou is the first to leave, and after a couple of minutes, you follow him. But tonight, the guys made a big deal out of it. You argue, explaining again for like the thousandth time your position.

“I just… I just don’t feel comfortable with people knowing that I am in love with two guys. Maybe it’s okay for you to share the same girlfriend, but this isn’t was girls do.”

“And who cares about other girls ? They just don't know what they are missing !”

Eijirou winked at you, trying to make you laugh and give it all up as a joke, but you weren’t laughing. He sighed, and let your mutual boyfriend try. And he did. Like Katsuki really tried. He took your hand, and made you look at his crimson stare.

“Please, Y/n. Let us love you in full view of everyone. I am tired, we’re both tired of paying attention to our reactions around you. We just want to give you all the attention you deserve and the love you generate at any time, not bottling it up or botch it between two training sessions. I don’t want to hide anymore, because this means we’re doing something wrong. And we’re not. So please.”

He’s meaning what he’s saying, and you know it. Katsuki Bakugou ain’t one to beg, for anything. But even if this was the sweetest and the most romantic thing he has ever told you, you can’t overcome your fear. Which deeply hurt the boys in front of you. The ash blond haired released your hand.

“Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours”

Usually, when he’s this rude, Eijirou stands up for you, but today he’s way too hurt and he agrees with Katsuki. Too many words jostle on your tongue, but none were sufficient for you to express how you’re feeling. With obvious teary eyes, you stand up and leave quickly before bursting in cries. You try to convince yourself that you’re feeling this way because they’ve been harsh on you, pressuring you like this, but you can’t fool yourself. Nothing hurts like the truth.

But you made it. You managed to sleep, and in the morning, you decide that you’re moving forward and as usual, leave the situation as it is. But you quickly notice that it’s not the case for Eijirou and Katsuki. When you went for breakfast, they were already done and heading to their own classes. Usually, you have your have your meals together and they accompany you before going about their business. Usually, Katsuki cooks in the morning, and you make the boys tea. Usually, Eijirou takes all of the bags on his shoulders because it’s manlier and ‘every little training helps’. But today was nothing like usual. You tried to avoid your paranoia during the whole morning, but you couldn’t anymore at lunch. They literally rejected you. In front of everyone. Maybe you finally ruined everything by yourself.

When you arrived to the cafeteria, you decided to wait for them before realizing that they weren’t late, but they didn’t wait for you. They were already eating with some classmates. Sero noticed you, lining up alone for your lunch and staring, with a troubled expression on your face.

“Why isn’t Y/n with you today ? The three of you are always together… Something happened ?”

“She decided that our company is no satisfying enough for her. We would not want to force her.”

You weren’t that far from them, and Eijirou’s hard words were sharp and loud enough to reach your ears. He said it that loud on purpose.

“I thought that you and her had a thing… Aren’t the two dating or something like this ?”

Katsuki growled at Denki’s curiosity.

“None of your business, you dumbass”

“I was asking Eijirou ! Of course, no one would date your rude ass”

“He’s right, Denki. Our love life is none of your business”.

No one could possibly ask anything after this, even if they took each other’s hand. They ain’t persons to take criticism. They just proved you that you can’t cut off people’s curiosity. You’re just not strong enough. So you ate alone, and reached the afternoon training late, sorrowed and unmotivated.

Since your two regular partners for training were sulking you, you paired up with Midoriya, who needed help for his frontal attacks. You were strong enough to repulse him sometimes, by putting all your frustration into your fight, and you were agile enough to avoid him when he was too strong. It wasn’t like your usual trainings, but it was instructive in that you were learning new things. And suddenly, just when your sadness has eased a little thanks to work, everything went so fast that you couldn’t understand. First, your eyes caught a familiar vision. Second, your turned your head to see that Katsuki was proudly and fiercely kissing a blushing Eijirou, that wasn’t ashamed to kiss him back. Third, your eyes went wide open, and your mouth in awe.

“… - SMASH !”

Fourth, everything faded away.

Before you open your eyes, you can tell that you’re in a hospital. The smell of disinfectant and the beeping of machines weren’t misleading. And when you opened your eyes, The memories came along with the severe pain. You remember… Izuku, Eijirou, Katsuki… Recovery girl… The hero trainer… The ambulance… The injury, the pain and the cries… The sedative… And then nothing. You got injured during the training, you weren’t paying attention and you received Izuku’s attack you were supposed to block or avoid with full force. If you were a villain, he would have neutralized you, which was the purpose of the training. He isn’t the one to blame, nor are the two who caught your attention. From the very beginning, you were the only culprit. And just when you were thinking of them, you heard Katsuki’s voice grunt behind the curtain that was surrounding your convalescence bed.

“We have to see her ! Oi listen you-”

“We’re in a hospital, quieter !”

“Please, doctor, let us see her. We are so worry, and we need to be by her side when she’ll wake up”

Eijirou’s pleading voice was trying to convince the relentless doctor.

“You’re not her family, I can’t allow you to do so. I am sorry, rules are rules.”

Someone, maybe Sero, intervened.

“C’mon, boys, there’s nothing to do but wait…”

However, they didn’t give up. Kirishima begging and Bakugou threatening almost made you cry. You struggled a bit, but managed to talk with a husky voice.

“Please let them in. They are my boyfriends. Please…”

The curtain was withdrawn in a hurry, and in a split second, the blond and the redhead were by your side.

“Y/N ! How are you feeling ! Is everything okay or are you-

“Don’t ever scare me like this again ! I might lose my mind if you ever-

They won’t let you get a word in edgeways, checking on you and their concerned eyes scanning you. You started crying.

“I am so sorry… I am so sorry that I was stupid enough to hurt you instead of overcoming my fear ! I don’t deserve you, I-”

Eijirou hushed to you, while carefully wrapping his arms around you.

“Shhhh… It’s okay now, sweetheart. We won’t talk about this now, and not anymore. Nothing is more important than seeing you happy and smiling…”

“Besides, all those who were waiting heard you… I am sorry…”

“What a plot twist ! Seriously, don’t be… I am not afraid anymore. Today was horrible, and I got more hurt by the truth then Izuku’s hit. I am not letting anything between us again. I love you, and nothing will stop me from doing so”

Katsuki took your hand in his, squeezing it against his heart and peppering it with kisses. Words aren’t for him, so he lets you know his gratitude in other ways. With a kiss on your forehead, Eijirou concludes.

“If it took you approaching death to realize it, you're more of a dumbass that he calls you so”

__________________________________________

Here is ! Please let me know if you liked it or not, and if you did like it, feel free to share so other people could enjoy it as well :)

@d3nk1x @i-heart-fictional-boys @skywalkerstyles (from which I drew inspiration for the polyrelationship, I totally love your work) @katsukichu @kirislilrock

Maybe I’ll try a real taglist… I just need to figure out how does it work…

#bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #bakugou x kirishima #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki angst #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima fluff #bnha kirishima #kirishima angst #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima ejirou x you #mha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima eijiro imagine #kiribaku #kirishima x you #kiribaku x reader #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima x reader x bakugou

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Yellow Lines

This was requested by @onechicagomayan who asked for this:

<He how are you? I hope so. I wanted to ask you if you could make a request with miguel? And if so, in which reader is a federal and falls in love with miguel, when he catches him she is forced to use the yellow raincoat but then she tells him that she is pregnant. In this story miguel is with emily, and if you could put some dialogue in spanish.

Thanks and sorry and if I made a bad explanation you can write to me.

I love your writing, a kiss.>

Hope you like this and its what you were looking for.

Warnings: Talks of cheating (I don’t agree with cheating, this is just for fic purposes). yellow rain coat and hot oil angst, does get a little intense and of course a mostly happy ending. I used goggle for the pinch of Spanish I used, so sorry if it's wrong.

WC: 1867

Enjoy x

Your palms were sweaty and the heat of dread raged through you fast, your heart beating out of your chest. It was only a matter a time before you were put into a situation that you could lose your badge, and here you were. The files on the Galindo’s built higher and higher and eventually it was time for you and Jane to be put in undercover when the opportunity arose. You had read every file back-to-back more than once; you were briefed on certain things and you had to check in once a week.

An ad appeared wanting a new personal assistant for the cartel boss and a nanny for his son. Everything had been set up, you applying for assistant, which you got and Jane for the Nanny which she got. Moving onto the grounds the following week to get as much intel as you could to finally get Miguel arrested and bring down his empire.

It was in the first week that you had realised that the Miguel you had read about and had been briefed about was not the Miguel you had started working for. He was just a business man in a dark world that sometimes did horrible things, but mostly he was a gentleman, easy to talk to and the stories he told you about his life before and after he started on this road intrigued you. Slowly over time, he started to open up about his marriage and how much they were struggling, he worried about business all the time and Emily getting involved with and in things he didn’t want her too and mostly how the lies had started to rip them apart.

It only took one over night in Mexico for the relationship to cross that line and although you both said the next morning it couldn’t happen again after waking up in each other’s arms, it did two to three times a week and now you were waiting for the timer to go off as you sat on the toilet of your bathroom, feeling like you were going  to be sick if that white stick showed what you thought it was going too. Your boss was already on your back about more intel, Jane having more than you and she just looked after the baby. But you were in love with Miguel, yes you were doing the wrong thing every time he laid on top of you, but now there was no turning back.

You reached for the stick on the counter, picking it up. You took a deep breath and turned it over, the word ‘pregnant 4-6weeks ’ in thick black letters on the tiny screen. Your stomach dropped and the tears fell, that was your career gone for 10 minutes of pleasure. You had to pull yourself together, you had a meeting with Miguel and one of the Galindo’s major buyers in 30 minutes. As you went to open your room door you were met with Nestor and Paco, both their faces cold,

“Y/N, you need to come with us”

“Is everything-“

“Let’s go, you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting”

You were even more confused when you saw Maria walk out into the backyard with Christobel instead of Jane. Nestor opened the car door for you and Paco got in the driver’s seat, he driving you towards the dress factory. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your stomach flip flopped as Nestor lead you towards the back room, Paco behind you. You had read all about this very room, but up until now, never been in it.

Nestor opened the door and you stepped in, fear filling you when Miguel whipped his head towards you, a look on his face that you had never seen before, Jane tied to his church pure and a portable stove with a pot on it next to him. You jumped when you heard the door slam shut and you saw the look wash over Nestor’s face when he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards Miguel,

“How long did you think it would take for me to find out?” Miguel raised his eye brow at Jane and then turned to you “Ven Y/N, ahora”

Nestor pulled you to Miguel and your body filled with fear when his hand went to your cheek, his eyes were filled with rage and you heard Jane’s sobs. Nestor walking to the set up turning on the stove and started to stir the pot,

“Miguel” you chocked “What’s going on?”

“Please, don’t treat to me like a fool. They put you in my house and you worm your way into my bed” his lips came to your ear and his hand left your cheek and went to your arm “You think because I had my cock in your mouth and I told you my feelings I would spare you when I found out” Miguel stepped away from you, walking to the pew grabbing the yellow rain coat that was hanging off the end of it and handing it to you “Put this on mi amor, show me how much you love me now” he barked.

Your hands started to shake and tears ran from your eyes,

“Miguel, please” you begged.

“Now” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. You quickly put it on and Miguel grabbed your arm pulling you towards the pot making you look at it and you saw the boiling oil “You’re going to pour that to her and then Nestor will take care of you”

“Miguel” you sobbed.

“What did you think was going to happen? I’ am Miguel Galindo. Do you think the FBI is smarter than me? They should have trained their agents better, to not leave flies laying around where they can be seen”

“I’ am pregnant” you cried out.

“Liar” Miguel snarl.

“Por favor Miguel, I’ am not”

Miguel looked down at you and then nodded at Nestor who left the room. Miguel told you the follow him after he ripped the yellow rain coat off you throwing it on the floor and whispered something to Paco on the way past. Miguel guided you to a small office in the back of the factory and locked the door, walking to the small fridge grabbing a bottle of water,

“Why?” Miguel had his back to you “I let you in. I trusted you”

“Miguel, you can still trust me. I read the files. On paper you’re a horrible man but when I got to know you. You know how I feel”

“Just words” You muttered back.

“No Miguel. I meant everything I said” you walked up to him putting your hands on his back.

“I need to know what you told them”

“Nothing” you kissed his shoulder.

“Stop. Tell me now. What did you tell them?” Miguel roared at you turning around to face you.

“Nothing” you screamed back at him.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, sitting the bottle of water on the table and opened your messages to ‘Mum’ who was your boss and you handed him your phone. You watched Miguel’s eye brows frown as he read message after message from your boss telling you to get information or you would be pulled from the case, and either you didn’t answer or just wrote back ‘Need more time’

“You told them nothing?”

“No. Have your people check it out”

“It’s mine?” Miguel nodded towards your tummy.

“Si”

“I want you to do a test”

“Anything you need me to do to prove it to you, Miguel”

12 months later

It has been a massive whirl wind and roller coaster from that day in the warehouse. You held Camila in your arms as you looked out over the ocean from your unit in Cuba as you thought about everything that happened. Miguel was there for the birth; a paternity test was taken as soon as she was born, Miguel wanting to make sure that she was indeed his. The rent was paid for and there was money in your account every month for food and anything the baby needed. Miguel had snuck you and Jane out of the US through the tunnels to Mexico, making you both disappear. You sent to Cuba and Jane sent to Puerto Rico, with new names and a new life. Jane told never to step foot back in the US.

You hadn’t heard from Miguel in almost a month, you weren’t sure if he was going to tell Emily, but you were grateful for being far away from everything. You had seen the US news how the FED’s finally raided the Galindo house and you crossed everything that there would be no paper trail to you for you to get caught out and be brought back to the US.

You had just put Camila down after she fell asleep in your arms, when there was knocks on the door. You went and looked through the peep hole and gasped in surprise, swinging the door open to Miguel, his face scruffy and he looking tired,

“What are you doing here?” you moved out of the way and he walked in “Can you be traced here? I saw the news” you closed and locked the door.

Miguel didn’t answer at first walking in dropping his bags and throwing himself on the couch,

“No. For now. There isn’t a trail to you. I have new documents coming here tomorrow and we move into the new apartment next week”

“We?” you raised an eye brow at him.

A cry broke through the apartment and Miguel jumped up rushing towards the cry. You gave him a minute and then walked to door, leaning on it, your heart melting watching him cradle Camila in his arms,

“lo siento, mi princesa. I stayed away to long, Papa is here now” he kissed her forehead, Miguel looked up at you, a tear running down his cheek “She has your nose”

“She has her Papa’s long fingers” you smiled back.

“What we did, what I did to my wife, my son, was wrong” he muttered “But, I loved you”

“We did do wrong Miguel” you walked into the room “I still love you”

“You won’t when you find out everything. What was in those files was nothing”

Miguel kissed Camila’s cheek, putting her back in her bassinet and sitting on your bed, his hands going over his face and you sat down next to him putting your arm around him. He told you everything he did and then looked up at you with a tear-stained face,

“A lot’s happened” you whispered.

“I’ve made too many bad decisions. They are catching up with me”

“That’s life Miguel”

“How can you not look at me differently”

“Because I saw that other man that you are. Just Miguel, not Cartel Miguel. He is a good man; he is the father of my daughter”

“Can we do this? Trust each other after everything?” Miguel looked over at you.

Your hand went to his thigh and his went on top of yours,

“It’s not going to be easy, but I want to try”

 Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @jemmakates @ben-c-group-therapy

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo smut #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo and reader #mayans mc #mayans fanfic

[wolfish-trickster]

Young Oak Sapling

Part 2 to this (I seriously need to stop writing accidental multichapter fics...)

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,7K

Warnings: typos (as always), angst, fluff (it's there, I promise!)

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @forevernthensome @kozkaboi

A/N: this is really messy, i'm sorry

'You have always been like a little sister I always wanted. I'm so sorry, we can still be friends'

For some unknown reason he kept having dreams about that one evening. 'Dreams,' he would scoff, 'more like nightmares.' They always end horribly. Either with you never talking to him again out of shame or him delivering those lines not so gently.

Loki couldn't understand why he kept dreaming about it. About her. How the light in her eyes slowly died when he told her. He told her the truth, right? It was the right thing to do, right?

*

She was hanging out with that soldier again. Loki's mouth twisted into disgusted grimace when he spot how he put his arm around her shoulders, how she held the single dandelion he gave her. A dandelion? Please, he couldn't really fall that low to give a lady some common weed, could he? A lady with such charm and class like Y/N deserves a dozen roses for every day she blessed this world with her smile and laugh.

Loki's eyes widened. Why was he thinking of her like that so suddenly? He never thought of her like that before. No. She's just a friend. Like his little sister. That's what he told her. She believed him. Now he has to believe it himself.

*

Sudden rain drove Loki away from his new favourite sitting spot in the corner of the garden. The oak stump. If only he kept a part of the tree. A twig or a leaf. He would've carried it around like a talisman. Or acorn, so he could grow another oak, even though it wouldn't be the same one.

His mind was on autopilot, he didn't even realize his legs carried him to your bedroom door. He stood there like a statue. Listening for any sounds. For any voices. He heard nothing. You must be somewhere else. That realization made him even more anxious. You could be with that soldier again. He can't have that.

He walked to only place he could always find you: library. As he wanted to open the heavy door you ran into him, colliding into his chest.

"Sorry-" your relax expression changed when you looked up into his eyes

"Hi," he smiled softly.

"Hello," you greeted, but without a smile. You tried to walk by him when he stopped you with his hand on your shoulder.

"Why are you running away from me?"

"I'm not. It's just.... this," you gestured between him and you, "it's awkward."

"Oh, so you avoid me, your oldest friend, and spend your entire day with Hofferson then," Loki crossed his arms on his chest.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date or something?" you pushed yourself pass him, poison in your voice.

"Aren't you supposed to spend some time with me too?"

"I can't Loki. I'm trying to get rid of all of my feelings for you! I can't be near you if I want it to work!" you nearly screamed in his face.

Those words hurt Loki more than he thought. "Getting rid of ALL feelings? So you're trying to hate me then."

"No! Understand that I can't be friends with someone I love!"

"Platonic love exists too, you know," Loki remarked.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever. I don't want to argue with you anymore, I'm going."

"Where?" he asked as you escaped him.

"To someone that cares about me, and not just platonicly!" you shouted behind your back and ran.

*

He hasn't had a word or a single alone time with you since then. You were always near that soldier, always talking to him, hugging him, hanging on his arm all the time.

Loki felt nausea whenever he saw Y/N with anyone but him. He wasn't used to seeing Y/N with other men, she was always near him. He missed her. Her laugh, her smile, her hugs. Everything.

No matter how many girls or boys he came across on streets, none of them could ever take your place. None of them smiled as brightly or as truly as you always did. Even when he was telling you about anyone he was interested in, you still smiled and wished him well with the person. You wanted him to be happy, even if it hurt you.

So why can't he do the same? Be happy you're with someone who will love you? Instead he grits his teeth whenever he sees the two of you together. Why does he want you all to himself? Why the thought of you being with someone else makes him throw up?

Loki sighed and held his head in his hands. It is true what they say. You'll realize you love somebody only after you lose them.

*

He felt like a coward. Standing in front of your bedroom door, with heart anxiously pounding in his chest.

Loki took a deep breath and knocked. No one answered. You must be out again. With him.

He shook the thought away and opened the door. If anything, he'll at least be able to give you a message without having to look into your eyes. While he was looking for a piece of paper and a pen around your room he noticed a new pot on your windowsill. It was brown and smaller than the rest with a single tiny green sprout sticking from the dirt.

Loki took the pot in his hand, it was small enough to fit into his palm. He smiled. It was so tiny and fragile. He wondered what kind of plant it was.

Before he could use one of the runes to find out a door creaked open behind him. "What are you doing here?" you asked. He was so startled by you catching him he couldn't even deduce if you were angry or surprised to see him.

"I-I wanted to talk to you," he turned towards you.

You looked at his hand. "Why are you holding it? Put it back, you might break it!" before he could even move you rushed to him, took the pot from his hand and held it close to your chest. Could one be jealous when a plant gets a cuddle but her oldest friend doesn't? Apparently Loki could.

"What do you want to talk about? If it's some noble lady I don't want to hear it," you turned your head away from him.

Loki shook his head. "No, it's not a lady."

"Some son of a sailor then?"

"No, I came here to tell you something."

You turned your head back to him. "And what is that?"

Loki took a deep breath. It's now or never. "I came to a realization. And not just a common one. I didn't think my life could be so lonely without you in it. Every single day I've missed you, longed to spend time with you again. Laugh with you. It pained me to see that Hofferson boy with you. Ever since I saw the two of you in the stables I wanted to rip you away from him. Just like I every boy you got close to in our childhood. For a long time I couldn't understand why I wanted you all to myself and no other man. But now I do. It's because I love you. Romantically. Just like you love me," he didn't look away from you. He didn't dare.

You shook your head in disapointment. "You're so selfish, Loki."

He didn't expect that answer. It was far away from anything he was expecting. All blood left his face. "Well, that's what love makes out of person. It makes them selfish, possesive."

"So how come I could let you go after your monthly interests without complaining like you did?"

Loki froze. "Y-you're apparently a better person than me," he picked on his palm.

You hummed. "So...what now?"

Loki took your lack of emotions as a rejection. He concluded he traded places with you. Now you were the one without romantic feelings and he was the one being rejected.

He couldn't keep looking at the love of his life rejecting him. He studied the pot in her hamds instead. "Now? I guess I will have to find a spell to erase all romantic feelings I have for you and wish you all the best with Hoffer-I mean Arne," he thanked all heavens above for his training that didn't let him fall apart in front of you.

You looked at him, fear in your eyes." Why would you do that?"

Loki laughed. It was a bitter one, filled with sadness. "Because you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true," you whispered.

Loki's head snapped up. "What?"

"I-I said that's not true. I never stopped, no matter how much I tried. I even saved a little part of our tree," you said softly and caressed the little sprout.

"That's from the old oak?"

You nodded. "For some reason I couldn't just cut it down and erase its whole existence."

Now Loki knows what it means when a stone falls from someone's heart. "So, that means you still love me?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded. "And you love me too?"

"Of course my love. Can we please start over again?"

"I would love to," you blessed him with your kindest, purest smile.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked a little too excited.

"No," his heart fell to the floor, "you have to kiss me."

Loki sighed from relief. He walked over to you and cupped your cheeks. From up close your eyes were even more beautiful than he noticed the first time he kissed you. He reminded himself to tell you everyday from now on.

And just like that, the history repeated itself. Loki gently placed his lips on yours in a loving kiss. Your head spinned once again just like so many years ago. And one oak tree witnessed it all.

#loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst

[harmonizingsunsets]

I'd Rather Go Blind & Let My Body Go Numb Than To Lose You Or The Weight Of Your Love

Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins. Fanart Credit here.

Read on Archive here.

Anthony never thought he'd be the kind of husband who needs to know where his wife is at every moment of every day.

(To be fair, he never thought about being a husband much at all until the season he'd pursued Edwina only to fall maddeningly in love with Kate).

But here he is, sitting on the couch with his feet drumming loudly against the floor, staring intensely at the door.

On the table beside the couch sits a cup of tea, cold and untouched. Anthony had someone from the kitchens prepare it for him, but his nerves made him unable to stomach anything.

Anthony looks a mess. He'd been raking his hands through his hair for the past two hours. He'd also slapped his cheeks once or twice to stay awake.

His jacket lay discarded and wrinkled on the ground near the door. He feels guilty, knowing one of the maids would have to press it. However, he can't gather the desire to move from the couch and retrieve it. 

Instead, he's glued to the couch as he considers where Kate is. A hundred different scenarios run through his mind—each scenario worse than the last.

For the past month, Kate has been disappearing at night. He hears her footsteps tiptoeing past his study when he stays up to work. He feels the weight from her side of the bed lessen as she stands and departs from their bedroom when she thinks he's fallen asleep.

At first, Anthony questioned her about it. Kate would always make up an excuse about needing fresh air or going to see Edwina. But he knows her well enough to know when she's lying.

However, Anthony hadn't ever called Kate out on her deceit. He feared the truth, especially how it might crush him to hear it.

But he couldn't take the not knowing anymore. So when he heard the door close after Kate told him five minutes prior that she was retiring to bed, he made his way towards the front of the house. Anthony watched at the window as a carriage rode away. A hole had formed in his stomach, making him feel hollow. He then sat down on the couch so he could catch her when she returned.

Finally, after what felt like ages passed, he hears footsteps approaching the door. He quickly jumps up from the couch and makes his way to the foyer. When Kate steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"Anthony!" she exclaims in surprise, putting a hand to her chest to steady her breath. "You're up late."

"So are you," Anthony says, crossing his arms and blocking her way.

"I was only walking around to get some fresh air."

Anthony raises a brow. "Really, for two hours?"

Her eyes shift anxiously from his stare. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yes," he answers through gritted teeth, anger rising within him.

"Oh well, it was such a lovely night the time got away from me." Kate stands on her toes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Sorry for worrying you."

As she tries to retreat, Anthony's hand lurches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him.

"I've had enough, Kate," he sighs tiredly. "Where were you?"

"I just told you, I was—."

"You've been going out for fresh air at odd hours of the day for the past month. You'd think you'd have your fill by now."

Kate fidgets. "Well, it hasn't just been out to get fresh air. I've been attending engagements. I have a life outside you and this household, you know."

"Oh, I know that, but your engagements don't usually take place after dark and don't require you sneaking out of the house to attend."

"Darling, everything is fine," Kate says, pulling her arm out of his reach and giving him a nervous smile. "You've probably been working too hard. Let's go to bed."

As she tries to walk away again, Anthony pulls her back. But this time, he holds onto both of her arms, forcing her to meet his eye.

"Kate, I know you—perhaps more than you know yourself, and I know when you're lying to me," he says, his voice turning softer—more fragile. It's as if he's a vase that could shatter at any moment. "What I don't know is why."

"I promise that what I have been going out and doing is not anything scandalous or dangerous." After letting out a long breath, a laugh bubbles from her throat in amusement. "Honestly, where I've been going to is nothing to fret over. You're acting as if I'm having an affair or something."

Anthony's heart sinks in his chest. No matter how ridiculous the prospect sounds, he can't help but whisper the question that's been plaguing his mind these past few weeks.

"Are you?"

Kate's mouth falls open, her face paling. "Anthony, how could you think that?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," he says, stepping away from her and beginning to pace. "It explains why you've been coming back so late and being so evasive these past few weeks."

"Anthony—."

His legs go weak at the affection in her voice. Anthony falls to his knees in front of her and takes hold of her hands.

"Just tell me, Kate, I cannot bear it," Anthony says, hating the way his voice wavers. "I cannot bear the thought of you finding pleasure in someone else's arms. I cannot bear you leaving our bed because you'd rather be in another's. I cannot bear the idea of someone else touching you, loving you, or kissing you."

He brushes his lips against Kate's knuckles, causing her breath to hitch. Anthony pulls his lips away, but just so his fingertips can swirl circles on her palm. When his thumb skims over her pulse, he feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Most of all, I cannot bear the thought of you loving someone else." Anthony swallows thickly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "I'd die right now if you told me all of this was true."

Anthony has always feared time. He used to compulsively reach into his pocket to grasp his father's watch. Each time a hand on the clock ticked forward, he felt as if an ounce of his soul got sucked away.

But since Kate came into his life, that fear has dissipated. Suddenly, he didn't spend each moment of his life calculating how much time he had left. Instead, Anthony began counting things other than seconds.

He counts the number of Kate's smiles. He counts the number of laughs they share next to one another at the table surrounded by his family. Anthony counts the number of kisses that were slow, stirring an aching feeling in his chest. He also counts each hungry and passionate kiss that sets every inch of his skin aflame.

Most of all, Anthony counts how many times he's lost count around her. He gets lost in the timeless and wonderful enigma that is Kate Sharma.

Anthony feels that fear of time creeping up on him again. But now, he's not afraid of time passing and leading to his demise. Instead, he's terrified that Kate's time of loving him has run out. Maybe, she's found a more deserving man to spend the minutes with than him.

When Anthony braves a glance up at Kate, he expects to see pity. But instead, he's surprised to see an entirely different emotion reflected in her eyes.

Love.

Pure, unconditional, steadfast love.

Kate gets down to her knees in front of him. But she doesn't let go of his hands, holding them tighter.

"None of that is true, Anthony," she says firmly. "I love you, have only loved you, and will only love you."

Her words release a breath of relief from him. But, he still can't help doubting this, not knowing how else to explain her odd disappearances.

Kate must sense his train of thoughts. She smiles gently, moving one of her hands up to graze his cheek.

"I love you so much that I've been waking up in the middle of the night so I can give you the perfect present."

Anthony blinks in confusion, feeling the room that had been spinning become still.

"What?"

Kate laughs, and she rests her forehead against his. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

It hits Anthony like a whip. All the clues that he'd gathered up to form a horrible conclusion were, in fact, clues that lead to a more justifiable and pleasant one.

"Our anniversary," he answers dumbly.

"Yes," she nods, her face beaming with a giddy kind of delight. Anthony feels lucky that he gets to see it. Her expressions are free without restraint only when she's comfortable with someone. He's glad to be one of those treasured few. "We've made it a year, can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday, I was stepping on your toes at a ball, and you acted like a madman when I got stung by a bee."

Anthony frowns, his forehead creasing. "I did not act like a madman."

"You did, but it led us to where we are now," Kate says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Married and happy."

"I'd like to think it would've happened with the bee or not."

"I'm not sure. You were quite thick-headed about how in love with me you were."

"Oh, I'm the thick-headed one?" he scoffs. "After the night you fell in love with me, you gave your approval for me to marry your sister. How thick-headed is that?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd ever feel that way about me," Kate defends, rolling her eyes. "But I know very well now that you do. You show me with every kind word, every touch, every…" her words drift, cheeks reddening, "Well, you know."

Anthony smirks. "No, I do not know. Please elaborate on everything I do to you that gives you pleasure in vivid detail."

"You're insufferable," she grumbles and puts her hands on her hips. "I have a good mind not to tell you the true reason for my disappearing and keep you stewing in jealousy."

"I don't think you'd like the result of my increased jealousy."

"I don't know, your scowl was fierce, and the fire in your eyes was quite the sight," Kate teases, tracing her thumb over his furrowed brows. "Very becoming, actually."

Anthony stands and pulls her up with him, leading her to the couch. "Why have you been disappearing?"

"As I said, our anniversary is tomorrow, and I was getting your gift ready," she explains. "It's almost midnight. Perhaps I can give it to you a little bit early. I had one of the servants waiting outside for my return. They came in through the back entrance and have already snuck it into your study to reveal as a surprise for tomorrow."

"How sinister of you, plotting with our staff against me."

"Nothing sinister about it. I asked, and they agreed to help me. Unlike you, they think I'm perfectly agreeable."

"Obviously, they don't know you well enough to fear the wicked inner workings of your mind as I do."

Kate stands, gracefully sticking out her tongue and making him laugh. Anthony follows her down the hall into his study. She makes him close his eyes. He feels like a fool, stumbling into the room with Kate chuckling behind him. But, he feels guilty for thinking Kate could ever be unfaithful and indulges her wishes.

He waits for a few moments, hearing her moving something across the floor, before he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Alright, you bloody impatient man, open your eyes."

As Anthony takes his hands away from his eyes, his heart stops in his chest. He gawks at the painting on a canvas stand in front of him.

"Kate," he utters breathlessly.

Kate chews on her bottom lip, hesitantly watching him observe the painting—no, "painting" doesn't seem like the right word for what it is.

It's a masterpiece, an almost perfect depiction of Kate.

The artist captured the exact fraction that Kate's lips tilt up when she smiles in amusement. Anthony often sees that expression pointed towards him when they're engaged in one of their bantering matches. The color of her brown eyes is just as deep in the painting. They're full of so much that Anthony still wants to explore even after a year of marriage.

In the portrait, Kate's shoulders are bare, the sleeves resting low on her arm. The bottom of the picture shows the scarlet bodice of her dress. But the most alluring part is how the brown curls of her hair flow freely down her neck, cascading like a waterfall.

Anthony has a strong distaste for her bonnets and how society demands she wears her hair up in public. Anthony loves running his fingers through her hair, which probably is why she posed for the painting with it down. That minx knew it would stir a feeling within him that no one else but her has been able to elicit.

"I hired Sir Granville to paint it," Kate blurts out, nervous from how long he's remained silent. "I wanted him to paint it in a private setting because it's a bit…."

"Breathtaking," Anthony answers.

"I was going to say suggestive, but breathtaking is a good adjective," Kate grins bashfully. She steps towards him, her eyes glowing through the dim light of the room. "It's a portrait for your eyes only, no one else's."

Anthony ducks his head. "I'm sorry that I thought you were...I just—."

"Foolishly got jealous of a person who doesn't exist? Yes, yes, you did."

He runs his fingers against the frame of the painting. "I have a mind to hang this in the common area, so everyone can see how lucky I am."

Kate's eyebrows snap together. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he asks playfully.

"It might encourage some men to meet the woman behind the painting," Kate notes with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pretending to consider his proposal. "Who am I to oppose admirers?"

Anthony's smirk fades. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah, there's that handsome scowl," Kate points at him in triumph.

He swoops forward, his arms going around her waist. "You're maddening."

Kate's smile widens as she looks up at him, looping her hands around his neck. "You love it."

"You're right. I do love you. And, I love this portrait," Anthony adds, bobbing his head towards the painting. "Perhaps I should hang it in here. It can serve as a reminder of what's waiting for me when I finish my work."

She leans up a bit on her toes, her hands traveling lower down his back. "You know, I could come down to your study to remind you."

Anthony begins moving his hands as well. As they skim up her body, brushing her breast, he relishes in the sound of her moan. Anthony leans closer, pressing kisses down her neck until he gets to just the right spot. Kate's fingers curl tighter onto his back as his lips apply pressure there, and her body gravitates further against him.

"You're far too distracting," Anthony murmurs against her skin. "Perhaps, the portrait is too dangerous to be in here. I'd get nothing done."

"Exactly." She leans her face back a margin, so Anthony can see that enchanting tilt of her lips the artist depicted. "Why do you think I commissioned the painting in the first place?"

"To torture me?"

"All is fair in love and war," Kate says, grinning at him. "And hasn't our relationship always been a bit of both?"

In response, Anthony kisses her deeply and thoroughly. The sound of his pocket watch ticking starts to fade away. It gets replaced with the sound of his heart, which beats for Kate more than himself these days.

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #katexanthonyweek #kate x anthony #kanthony #kathony #Katexanthonyweek21 #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #bridgerton series #bridgerton books #bridgerton netflix #Anthony x kate #simone ashley #fanfiction #Bridgerton #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

[vinciwolf]

Bruised but Not Broken

Pairing: Cody x fem!medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, violence, blood, gore, death, alcohol, depression

Tags: @sunburstcody​ I wrote this for you.

           You’re on the battlefield of war again. Covering your mouth with a gloved hand, your lungs forcibly expel the thick smoke. Blaster bolts whizz past your head as you crouch behind a fallen AT-RT walker. The clone trooper slumped against the machine groans in agony, head flopping to the side, as you try to ease his pain with a numbing injection.

           With a steady, confident voice, you say, “You’ll be alright.”

           But deep down, you tremble. Please, not another one, not another one.

           You didn’t want another trooper to die. He was just a goddamn shiny! You wave down a passing clone trooper for help. Both of you take the wrists of the fallen clone and drag him behind the thick vegetation where the rest of the wounded were placed.

           You take off the trooper’s helmet to assess his wounds. The damage is severe, like most wounds you have already become desensitized to. His neck looks like an unraveled mess of shredded muscle and tissue, jagged and pointing in unnatural directions. The blaster bolt that clipped him left his neck looking life a half-spere, bleeding profusely. While tossing backwards the flap to your medical bag, the absence of supplies cruelly laughs at your surprised face and sends a cold wave of dread over your skin. The entire bag is empty.

           Trying not to make it obvious to the soldier, you advert your gaze and swallow the hard clump in the back of your throat. This clone trooper is doomed and there is nothing your can do about it. Rationally, you decide to return to the battlefield to save other potential survivors. No time to waste on the already dead. Before you can run back into the fray, the clone trooper clasps your wrist. You pause for a second, then kneel back down and grip the clone trooper’s hand tightly. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

           “I—I don’t want to die,” he gurgles. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

           His face is a carbon copy of Jango Fett, but he has an intricate rose tattoo that stretches from his brow, over the side of his head, and down behind his ear. You also note his eyes to be a very rich earthy color, like when the soil is dark and saturated with water after a hard rain. But his beauty is short lived when ground-shaking explosions and echoing shouts from the other clone troopers sucks you back into reality. The clone’s eyes turn red and begin to wiggle with heavy tears.

           Deep down, the terrible pit in your stomach wants to lurch forward and trade your life with this clone. So, at least, he could experience life without fear, or missions, or being taught that he’s disposable in the grand scheme of this war he never asked for.

           “I won’t let you be forgotten—” your thumb brushes the tears falling form his eyes.

           Despite his pain, he weakly smiles at the thought that someone – somehow in his pathetically short lifespan – actually cares for him, then he shut his eyes forever.

           A single tear, heavy with thousands of memories like this one, burns the side on your cheek until in finally drops off your chin and absorbs into the blood soaked ground.

           You didn’t even get his CT number… not even his nickname.

           Blinking once, you bury these feelings into a deep place for another time. For now, you need to focus.

~

           You remembered the look Cody gave you when your battalion returned to the shuttle. The standard white attire you wore is stained with blood and soot. He is truly a sight for sore eyes. Halfheartedly grinning, shoulders slumping in relief, you are happy he survived. The thought of another innocent becoming a casualty of war turns your stomach. Luckily, the few clone troopers who managed to survive are either put into medical capsules or hobble into the arms of their fellow brothers. You shuffle towards the commander and plop your head on his shoulder. He squeezes you in his arms then helps you into the LAAT. This planet was devastating, but it was won. You should feel good, but all you feel is painful exhaustion in your shaky legs and feeble lungs. Not to mention the invisible weight creeping onto your shoulders.

           It is like this every time, all over again… and again… and again.

           Guilt fills your aching heart like an overstuffed balloon. It is like clockwork. This stabbing pang in your chest rises intensely and fades after every mission. You rub the unseen soreness with your palm as the refresher gushes hot water over your squatted, naked body, the steam cleansing your lungs. It is not enough to cure the pain however, but you need to rid your physical self of all the grime – all the evidence – of the soldiers you could not save today. The dense mist shields your vulnerable form and the heavy pattering of the water drowns out your whimpers as you cry away the horrible events that plague your mind.

           This… this small, private space in the refresher… had to be enough.

           It is your only fortunate curtesy in these dark times.

~

           Your first mission was on Kashyyyk and you were absolutely mesmerized by how densely forested one planet could be. Given that the temperature here was nothing like what you experienced at home, by the time your squad rendezvoused at the main base, your cloths had already become drenched with sweat. Taking a swipe to your forehead with the back of your hand, you began to understand why none of the other medic graduates willingly chose this planet. The only graduate on the list was you.

           The commander glances at you.

           “So, now the Republic is sending anybody these days. Pathetic,” he scoffs, probably eyeing you up and down under his helmet.

           “I wanted clone medics, not greenhorns who’ll shit their pants the moment they land on the battlefield.”

           Taking a step forward, Shots, the head medic, points at the commander.

           “Oi! Watch it. She finished at the top her class at the academy and is one of my best trainees I’ve had on the field. She might not be a clone, but I’d entrust her with my life. Plus, the Republic needs all the help it can get.”

           The commander dismissively waves at the both of you while turning on his heel and mumbling an agitated ‘whatever’ under his breath. Letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes, you unclench your fists that you didn’t realize had formed during this rude confrontation. Shots turns towards you and pats his hand on your shoulder.

           “Don’t be intimidated by these guys—” he points over his shoulder at the clone troopers with his thumb “—war does this to us clones sometimes. Makes us hard inside—” his fist thumps twice over his heart.

~

           “Okay, when all hell breaks loose, just stay hot on my tail,” Shots whispers into your ear while your squad slowly proceeds through the thick vegetation. This was it. You first time on a real battlefront against the Separatists.

           Keeping your eyes ahead, your mind did not process the sudden explosion of brain matter that splattered on your face. You look to the side, towards its origin. Shots, the clone medic who had been your mentor since day one, the clone medic who never doubted your medical training, is flat on his back on the ground. The brain matter came from him. Shots’ face, a face you had conversed with just seconds ago, is now perfectly hollowed out by a blaster bolt. You crouch down and stare at the dead clone medic, hands shaking profoundly.

           He is not dead. This is not real. No way!

           No amount of medical training could prepare your for losing a loved one.

           Screaming grounds your focus. The blasters firing, the yelling, the smoke entering your lungs, the whole world rapidly woke up in your ears and everything is very loud again.

           “Where the kriffin’ hell are these blasts coming from?” a clone trooper hollers while shooting into the forest, his brothers scrambling to find shelter behind the trees.

           “It’s an ambush!”

           “We need a medic!”

           You run towards the clone troopers ducked behind a fallen log. Immediately, your adrenaline kicks in and you remember where you are, what you need to do. Pulling out supplies, you patch up their fallen comrade, but when everything seems to be smoothing out, a trooper bellows, “GET DOWN!”

           You look up and spot the missile flying right towards your face.

~

           You jolt awake with a startled gasp. Gulping down air, you realize that you are in your barracks. Safe…safe…for now. Looking down, you sigh at the state of your shirt. A dark stain in the fabric trails down your chest, sticking to your damp skin. You stand up and change into a clean shirt before heading over to the sink.

           After splashing your face with some cold water, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Exhaustion looks back at you. The purple bags under your eyes only seem to become worse as this war drags on. Nothing can make this night worse. As if on cue, the rapping at your door frightens you out of your thoughts.

           Stepping over to your room door, you click a button and it hisses open. You wipe your face with your hand, massaging the soreness out of your puffy eyes, and sigh a soft ‘what’ at the commander standing in front of you.

           “You’re needed in the med bay,” Cody states.

           Grunting in response, you turn around and begin to put on your uniform in silence. The commander steps into your room, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

           You face Cody while aggressively putting your hair into a quick, messy bun.

           “Did Kenobi put you up to this? Now he’s sending his commander to spy on a poor ‘lil, sleep deprived medic, huh?” you spit while adjusting your boots too tightly.

           Cody does not respond and a twinge of guilt shoots through your stomach. Looking over to the commander, he is gripping his helmet a little too firmly and his eyes are adverted… deeply hurt.

           “Oh, Cody… I didn’t mean that…” you confess, shoulders sagging.

           Standing up, you cup Cody’s cheek and lift his chin to look at you— “It’s just… I don’t know actually…” I’m actually tired of burying myself beneath all this death.

           “You haven’t been yourself.” He overlaps your hand with his large one, eyes softening.

           “None of us have—” you let go of his cheek and wrap your arms around his armored torso, nudging your head close to his heart with a long exhale “—I’m sorry that I snapped.”

           Cody’s free hand rubs slowly down your back as he pecks your forehead. Releasing each other, you gaze up at the commander and force a tiny grin.

           Cody’s eyes sag downwards. “I… don’t know what to say.” I don’t know how to make things better for us.

           “There’s nothing you can say.” I want to tell you that everything hurts.

           As you veer around his presence, you pat his armored shoulder before disappearing into the corridor of the attack cruiser. Your heart screams for Cody to stop you from walking away. It feels like magnets pulling you back into that room, tugging your body to turn around and go back to explain everything. Inside your mind, however, you are blank of thought and ignore your instincts. The only thing filling the void is the agonizing screams and last words from the clone troopers you couldn’t save.

~

           THE WAR IS OVER!

           GRIEVOUS DEAD!

           CHANCELLOR ARRESTED FOR TREASON!

           Coruscant is in the midst of wild and loud celebration. At 79’s, the clone troopers drink and sing until they fall over, but Cody merely sits and stares at his untouched shot of alcohol in a private corner. Somewhere in the background commotion, Rex dances on a tabletop with two twi’lek, which makes the crowd of clones howl even louder. The floor screeches when the commander abruptly pushes his chair back to leave the bar. Nobody seems to notice his absence in all the partying.

           Outside, confetti falls from the sky while rockets pop and squeal into the air, lighting up the night. Cody walks alone and passes the multitude of citizens embracing each other. None are the wiser about the commander walking by them – a soldier who helped end the war – as he navigates through the streets of Coruscant. He doesn’t mind though because there is only one person on Cody’s mind that he wants to see.

~

           Standing in front of your apartment door, Cody hesitates for a moment before finally unlocking it and treading inside. He places his helmet on the kitchen counter and looks around. So many memories reside in this small place. Your couch still remains were it was the last time he visited your home. That couch where he kissed you for the first time and decided that this is the only person he wants for the rest of his life. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he continues his investigation.

           Sliding open the door to your bedroom, the commander expects the worst when his eyes glance towards an empty bottle of wine abandoned on the floor. He scans the room and finds shattered pieces of glass littering the carpet, a red dot staining the nearby wall. The commander assumes that you must have obliterated the wine glass in your fit of drunken rage. Holding his breath, Cody’s eyes widen at the dried-up specks of blood accompanying the mess. He finally takes a step past the bedroom threshold and notices the outline of your body beneath the mattress covers.

           Your body becomes larger as Cody slowly advances closer to the bed, boots dodging the sharp pieces of glass. He notices your arm, hand wrapped in gauze, poking out of the mountain of blankets. His fingers gently brush your wrist. Sighing with relief, the commander relaxes from the light thump of your pulse against his fingers. You groan in sleepy annoyance from his cold touch and retreat your arm into the safety under your huddled-up covers. Cody grins slightly in amusement. Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he tenderly shakes your shoulder to waken you.

           Slowly but surely, you peel your heavy eyelids open with a throaty groan then glance up at the commander sitting close beside your bed. You say nothing and just await the reason why he is in your room on this particular night. Cody closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before finally breaking the stillness.

           “The war’s over. I thought I’d find you with the rest of the boys celebrating, but you never showed.”

           Looking at your damaged hand, you remark, “I was… busy.”

           “If there’s anything on your chest, you can tell me about it.”

           “It’s all over now. The war’s over. There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

           “No!” Cody snaps. “Somethin’s eating you alive inside. I’ve noticed! And—and—” his voice softens “— I want to help… Please… I love you.”

           That I love you stung.

           You give up hiding it. He already knows and there is no point keeping secrets from the man you adore… the man you trust.

           “This day isn’t fair! We won, so what? I’ve never felt less accomplished in my entire life—” your fingers dig into the bedsheets “—I couldn’t save them—” you blink away the squirming tears obscuring your vision “—they all died and never got to see the end.”

           Cody understands immediately who you are talking about. The clones. His brothers.

           “We were bred for this—”

           “Y’all are more than just stupid numbers, Cody! He had a name! They all did!”

           You scream in agony into your mattress as your walls come tumbling down. After a moment of letting go of the pain, small hiccups pipe from your aching chest as you slowly calm yourself down.

           “It’s hard being the one who survives. That’s a burden I – all my brothers – will have to carry. But not you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

           Not knowing how else to help you, he lifts his hand and slips his fingers beneath yours, helping you ease your grip on the poor mattress. His thumb rubs gentle circles into your skin while the atmosphere goes still again. Unspoken understanding passes between the two of you. No words had to be exchanged as you share this silent moment with the commander.

           Then, in the dead quiet, tears filter down your cheeks. You did not know where they came from, but you didn’t feel sick anymore.

           Cody is there. He takes off his boots and armor and slips into the bed, wrapping you with the most protective hug. This warm space inside his arms calm you, but the tears still fall. Peering up into the commander’s face, you giggle uncontrollably when he kisses your red, puffy eyes. He keeps kissing you until all the tears are dry and you stop crying, then he slows down and takes his time. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embrace the commander and the hands running up your sides.

~

           Cody's body rocks together with yours in slow, sensual movements. Your arms firmly grip around the commander’s torso as he takes care of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while warmly caging you beneath his weight.

           His strong arms bend backwards to hold your thighs with his calloused hands. The affection in his thrusts is unrushed. His hips roll in big, smooth circles to memorize your walls, to memorize the way you softly whimper and pant from the endearing pleasure he gives you.

           You are his world. He wants nothing more than to keep you here in this moment forever to show how much he loves you. Luckily, he'll have so much more time to do so now since the war is over.

           Your head lulls back into the soft pillow, mouth agape, as you allow yourself this moment to unwind. As Cody's cock delves rhythmically into your folds, you moan with each stroke. The tip of your ears heat up from the way this man above you tickles your neck with feather light kisses. He strokes your thighs with his thumbs, making sure not to buck too harshly into your hips. Tears begin to burn your eyes again.

           This man is making love to you.

           Cody – after everything he has been through in this war – still somehow retained his gentleness. But now he is sharing some of it with you in order for you to heal.

           The commander continues to whisper into your ear as you silence your whimpers in his chest, hands coming to rest on his pecs to feel more sheltered and secure under him.

           "Everything will be okay," is all that he repeats. "Everything will be okay."

           Smiling, you believe him while he gently wipes away your tears with his thumb.

#commander cody x reader #commander cody fanfiction #commander cody #commander cody x you #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

[howlingsaturn]

and in your arms, i will find shelter (1.9k)

i wrote a little hurt/comfort cause the tarlos hug wouldn’t leave my mind so here you go, i guess? spoiler warning for 2x02 of lone star even though no names are dropped. also minor trigger warning for panic attacks and death (always with a happy ending though). stay safe everybody. <3

as you pry the hurt

from my aching body

and the grief

from my shaking hands

i realise

there's nothing more powerful

nothing more healing

than love

When the realisation hits, the weight on his shoulders becomes unbearable. He's surprised it doesn't bury him right where he stands. He takes a look at the rest of his team, small and quiet in the usually so joyful firehouse, and he wonders how he's supposed to survive this, how Judd and Owen can still offer words of encouragement and touches of comfort after all the loss they've suffered. It's excruciating. The whole thing. Every second of it.

Every breath he takes sends a stabbing pain through his chest and his hands start shaking so badly, he can't even ball them into fists. He feels suffocated, like the walls are closing in around him and there's no way out. He feels the sudden, overwhelming urge to run, to get as far away from this place as possible but before he can move there's a hand on his arm and fingers squeezing so hard that he winces.

"TK," his father says alarmingly and his voice sounds so far away, so frighteningly inhuman, that it sends TK into a frenzy.

"I need to go," he breathes out between clenched teeth, his heartbeat echoing in his ears like a stampede. He needs to get out of here. Right now. TK pulls his arm free and turns around, ignoring the calls of his name that follow him out of the door and then he's running. He doesn't know where his legs take him, he can barely focus on the path in front of him through his blurred vision but it doesn't matter. None of it matters. They've lost one of their own today and TK doesn't know if he can ever fully recover from that.

His legs and chest start burning, begging him to slow down and catch a breath and so his frantic run comes to an abrupt halt. He's heaving now, seemingly unable to get enough air into his lungs and it doesn't help the feeling of panic that's been sitting in his gut all day. He fears he might pass out but he manages to get his breathing under control, enough so that he can keep walking. His mind is still too chaotic to rest and there's only one place he wants to be in right now, this one person who might be able to shoulder some of that weight he carries, and so with weak knees and his heart in his throat, TK makes his way to Carlo's condo.

It doesn't take long for the familiar building to appear in his line of sight, he's covered quite a few miles with that run, but it doesn't fill him with the relief he had hoped it would. He's overwhelmed all over again.

Is he overstepping? Should he even come here this late and pull Carlos out of his sleep? He's had a tough day too, shouldn't he let him rest? He can't pour all of this grief on him unnoticed, can he? Does Carlos even know what happened?

He doesn't know what to do, torn between wanting to seek comfort and knowing he will be a burden to Carlos. He longs for him though, his gentle eyes and warm smile and TK is too tired, too upset, to deny himself of Carlos' embrace. Eventually, TK pulls out the key Carlos handed him one night, for safekeeping, he had said with a smile, and TK knew in that moment, with a frightening clarity, that Carlos was his forever, his one.

He takes a few more minutes to collect himself before he opens the door, careful to be as silent as possible in case Carlos was already asleep, and when he lets the door fall shut behind him, he surprisingly finds those brown eyes he's been aching for already locked on him. Carlos is right there, sitting in the middle of the staircase in his pyjamas, looking at TK like he was expecting him all along, and TK feels his heart swell with gratitude. As he stares at him, the pain in his chest slowly eases and he suddenly doesn't know why he was so worried about coming here. He doesn't understand why he was so insecure about seeking out Carlos' presence and asking him to deal with a pain that wasn't his own. It's so clear now, in the way Carlos wordlessly opens his arms and holds out a hand, that he will gladly shoulder some of TK's pain.

TK's legs move on their own account and he all but stumbles into Carlos' waiting embrace, reaching for whatever warmth he can find and hoping it will fill the cold that has seeped into his heart. When Carlos' arms close around him, holding the broken pieces of himself together, TK feels safe.

They stay there for a long time, neither of them talking, and TK finds comfort in the silence Carlos offers. He focuses on the strong beat of Carlos' heart against his ear, matching his own to its rhythm, and when he feels like he won't fall apart with every breath he takes, he opens his eyes and raises his head to look at Carlos. Carlos reaches for him immediately, stroking his cheek with a sad but kind smile, and TK wonders, for the millionth time, how he got so lucky. He wants to tell Carlos how grateful he is and how much he adores him but the words are stuck in his throat. He only hopes Carlos can read some of it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Carlos finally breaks the silence, and the agony in his voice is evident. He doesn't know what else he can say, there's nothing that will make it okay. TK looks at him for a long time, eyes scanning over his boyfriend's face in a futile attempt to memorise all that he is. He's overcome with emotions, torn between gratitude and the fear of losing him.

He's lost someone today. He can lose someone else tomorrow. Time is not guaranteed, not for anyone, and he's hit with the sudden urge to create a bubble where time doesn't exist and lock the both of them in, if only for just a moment. Carlos swipes his thumb over TK's brow, seemingly having noticed his mind drifting, and TK falls back into his painful reality. He reaches for Carlos' shirt, holding onto him as if he's afraid he's going to disappear, and when he looks back into Carlos' eyes, he finds nothing but understanding.

I love you, he thinks suddenly, feverishly. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He doesn't say the words that are echoing in his head and his heart is yearning to hear, instead he pulls Carlos down and presses their lips together in a desperate kiss. Carlos reciprocates but pulls back quicker than TK would've liked, though he keeps him close, gently holding his face in the palms of his hands.

"I'm right here," he says softly, lovingly pressing a kiss to TK's forehead, and somehow that causes the dam to break. It catches TK so off guard that he can only hold onto Carlos as the waves of grief wash over him, drowning him in a series of uncontrolled and horrible sobs. He barely listens to the soothing words Carlos whispers into his ears, he's too focused on getting his breathing back under control and swallowing down the nausea that hits him. He feels the panic advance on him like a shark, pulling him back underwater and TK needs it all to stop, he can't do this anymore, his limbs are too tired to swim. He tries to tell Carlos as much but his throat produces nothing but broken hiccups. Carlos tries to soothe him, telling TK to breathe and assuring him that he's going to be okay, and after a few agonising minutes, the water finally calms.

There's nothing left of him then. TK feels wrung out and hollow and if it weren't for Carlos still holding him close, he probably would've passed out right where they sit. But Carlos is here, curling a strong arm around his back, and TK lets himself be cared for.

He doesn't remember much of what happened after his panic attack but he wakes up in a warm bed, Carlos wide awake at his side and a few strands of sunlight making their way through the blinds.

He blinks up at Carlos who's already looking at him, a worried frown between his eyes but he smiles upon noticing TK's gaze. He lets his fingers move through TK's hair in a soothing manner and something about that loving gesture makes TK feel less alienated. He's oh so thankful that Carlos is right here next to him.

"How are you feeling?" Carlos asks quietly, pulling TK out of his haze, and TK takes a few seconds to think about his question.

"I don't know. Tired, I guess. Like I've run a marathon. My head hurts. And I'm just…" he breaks off, lost in thought.

"Sad?" Carlos offers.

"Yeah," he agrees, "Sad."

"Me too," Carlos confesses and that's it. He too has lost a friend and co-worker, he too has suffered through a loss that isn't easily accepted, and all of the sudden TK feels guilty for not realising it sooner, for not being able to keep his emotions under control and checking in on Carlos. TK opens his mouth to apologise but Carlos raises a hand in warning, aware of TK's train of thought.

"Don't even think about it," he says but there's kindness behind it. "I'm okay. You were not. And that's alright, it's understandable. But you have nothing to apologise for, Ty." He says it with such conviction that TK doesn't even try to argue with him.

"I'm always here for you if you need me," Carlos adds, "It's what partners do, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he admits, "I just want you to know that I'm here for you too. If you ever need me."

Carlos smiles at him and adjusts his position on the bed so that they're on eye level, his gaze wandering to the fingers that instinctively reach back into TK's hair.

"I care about you," TK goes on and he waits for Carlos to look at him before he continues, "I care about you a lot, actually. More than I can comprehend sometimes. And after what happened yesterday I-- I realised I'm terrified of losing you."

The confession catches Carlos off guard and his hand in TK's hair stills abruptly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Carlos says, a little dumbfounded.

"I could. It's not unreasonable considering our lines of work and I'm --" he breaks off, leaving his self destructive thoughts unsaid but Carlos knows. He always knows.

"No, it's not unreasonable," he sighs, "but listen to me carefully, I'm in this for the long run. I won't leave, not ever, not on my own accord and believe me when I say that I will do anything to come back home to you each day, unharmed. I can promise you that much."

There's a fire in his eyes that TK has rarely seen and he finds that it isn't difficult to trust his promise at all because TK will do the exact same thing. He reaches out a hand then, tightly clutching Carlos' fingers in his own, and there they are again, these terrifying three words. They're itching beneath his skin and tickling in his throat, desperate to be said out loud, but TK decides to keep them for himself for now. There will be a time for them, there will be a time to love and to hope. Right now, he needs to let himself heal. There is, after all, no safer place to do so than in Carlos' warm embrace.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #911ls #lone star spoilers #myfic #i kinda hate this but i needed to get it out #personal #howlingssaturn #howlingsaturnsfics

[devotedwaywardangel1]

The Night Guard

Arthur Pendragon x Male!Reader

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Word count: 1747

Warnings: Near death experience, little bit angsty

A/N: Yeah been working on this one a while, doing every Merlin character x male reader since there are barely any so request/suggestions are welcome.

~~~

Arthur is walking down the hall, Merlin not far behind, ready to head in for the night. He sees you wait for him by the door making him smile. You smile at him and wait patiently for Arthur to be standing in front of you before he began talking. “Good evening sire.” You greet.

“For the last time (Y/n) you can call me Arthur.” Arthur shakes his head.

“Of course Arthur, there is a matter of which I would like to discuss.” 

“Come on in then.” Arthur says as he deflates a bit.

You follow Arthur and Merlin into the room. Cracking your knuckles to relieve some of your nervous tension. Merlin was rushing around sorting Arthur out. “So… what is this matter you wish to discuss, (Y/n).”

“Yes, my sister is wedding her beloved and would like to inquire if I could spend some time with her and the rest of my family during this occasion.” You ask hopefully.

“Of course, give them my congratulations, how long are you thinking?” Arthur conceals his horror of the fact he may not see you for a few days.

“Three weeks.” You smile, excited at the opportunity to see your family for this long.

“Long time for a wedding.” Arthur blurts out.

“Well if you need me to not be…” You knew that for three weeks you were pushing it  mentally kicking yourself.

“No no that’s not the problem, it’ll just be odd since I have seen you everyday for a long time.” Arthur back tracks.

“Four years.” You smile fondly.

“Already?” 

“Yes, quite remarkable isn’t it, anyway I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon so I’ll be here tonight and I have found a temporary guard.”

“Okay, goodnight I’ll see you in three weeks.” Arthur nodded.

“Good Night.”

You leave the room to stand guard. While Arthur just stares at the door before Merlin nudges him and smiles knowingly. “Shut up Merlin.”

Merlin laughs putting out the candles as Arthur goes to bed.

True to your word you are gone by the afternoon, Arthur knows because he watches you leave from his window, he can’t deny that you look very appealing in civilian clothing. Enhanced by the fact it was a rare sight, unfortunately for Arthur, you were walking away from the citadel and he already misses you.

~~~

It had been a week since (Y/n) had left and everything seems to have gone into shambles. There had been a rise in assassination attempts, Arthur hasn’t slept or eaten properly and Merlin is so close to passing out in exhaustion its frightening.  Arthur could not walk around the castle with one of the knights escorting him which was frustrating him further. He honestly didn’t know how they could last another two weeks without (Y/n), if anyone had known how much he did around the castle and how important he was to the functioning of the kingdom he would have never been able to leave.

~~~~

You are walking back to Camelot after a horrible feeling washed over you a couple of days after the wedding, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head so here you were walking back a week early. Many horrible thoughts rolled around your head. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Arthur, the very idea made you feel sick inside. It would be your fault for leaving for so long despite your better judgement. After years of stopping assassins up to fifteen times a month unnoticed by the higher ups. You walked up a hill in order to glance at Camelot from afar, and to your horror he saw the castle with charcoal smoke raging above it. Then you started to run.

~~~

Well this has been a great two weeks Arthur thought to himself while magically bound on the floor with the knights, Merlin and Guinevere. While they were struggling to escape their bounds the sorcerer sits lazily on the throne with a smug smile on their face. They were droning on about Uther and his genocide of the magical population, Arthur sitting there thinking that its getting harder to convince the council to lift the ban on magic when this happens all the time. (Y/n) would urge for diplomacy at a time like this but Arthur had never been great with words. But he figures it's worth a shot anyway. “What’s your name?”

Well that was definitely a start Arthur thought bitterly. The sorcerer narrows his eyes at him but answers anyway, “Romulus.”

“Okay, Romulus, why do you think it aids your cause by attacking us,” Arthur asks, a little too bluntly for his liking.

This angers Romulus greatly as he continues his rant about all Pendragons being tyrannical rulers.

~~~~

It only takes you half an hour to get to the citadel, but there are enemy soldiers everywhere. Getting into the castle would be the easy part but finding Arthur significantly harder. You cut off your thought process, knowing you had to actually get into the castle first. Raising any alarms could hurt anyone trapped inside. So you sneak round to the servant entrance. 

Once you get into the castle the first you notice is that the people he brought with them are trained fighters and decent mercenaries by the look of it. This is not going to be easy you thought to yourself. Quietly dispatching as many as possible before anybody notices.

You take all of the servant shortcuts to avoid slipping into the great hall unnoticed and you see everyone in chains, you hear the sorcerer rant about freeing the magical people of Albion you roll your eyes. Not because he is wrong, nope you agree wholeheartedly just his methods of course you don’t blame the man though so you decide to interrupt. “Hey man.”

His head snaps to your direction. “Who are you?”

“The weirdo who stands outside the King’s door every night.”

“Oh you're the guard everyone tells me to worry about.”

“Yep.”

“You had the perfect opportunity to kill me?”

“Yeah, but talking to you seems to be a better option.”

“How would you know?”

Shit you didn’t think this through. “Well…”

“He doesn’t, let him leave.” Arthur growls.

You groan internally as a devilish smirk lights up the sorcerer’s face, “oh this is just too good to be true.” He laughs.

You gasp as you were flung into the wall and the sorcerer continued to torment Arthur swirling a sword looking ready to kill him urging you to get up and unsheath your sword to engage with him. Shocking him enough to make him stumble back a little, “Hey never got your name.”

“Why?” He snarls.

“I like to know the name of the person I’m fighting.” You swing at him.

“Romulus.” He blocks.

You both exchange furious blows, but you are the superior swordsman. You slash his arm and disarm him making him hiss and vanish. Smiling you turn to face Arthur seeing his tired smile in return sheathing your sword. “Are you ok-” you breath hitches.

You felt as though you got punched in the back so spin around to see Romulus with a bloodied dagger, you grab his wrist but it's weak so he easily breaks free and plunges the knife into your stomach . He smirks as he pulls it out and you collapse on the ground. The world around you goes fuzzy, screaming muffles, a face appears above you but you can’t make out who it is. The world turns black. 

~~~

Arthur picks up (Y/n)’s body, bridal style, while ordering the other’s to sweep the castle for anyone more intruders and to aid anyone who needs it. “Merlin, Gwaine come with me, we need to get (Y/n) to Gaius.”

They got to Gaius’ chambers with very few hassles and put  (Y/n) on the cot. “Please tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“Sire I’m going to need you to leave the room.” 

“But-”

“Please sire.”

Gwaine pulls him out of the room to leave Gaius and Merlin to do whatever they need to do.

~~~

The first time you open your eyes you are in a dark room and there are angry whispers at the foot of the soft bed you’re resting on. You lose consciousness again.

The second time you wake up you see Arthur sitting next to you asleep. Observing him you notice tears stained cheeks and dark circles around his eyes. He looks worse than he did when you came to save him. You decide against waking him up and close your eyes again drifting off.

The third time you woke up you were alone and felt disgusting, dry throat, gunky eyes, oily hair and sweaty. Thankfully there is a cup of water beside you, so you shakily grab it and take a few sips. It was dawn from what you could tell, you groan as you try to sit up, your back feels like it has been stretched and your stomach stings. Pulling away the shirt you had on you see stitches that don’t look all that appealing, definitely going to leave a scar, you wince as you twist in an attempt to see the one on your back. Then Merlin stumbles in and gawks a moment and you open your mouth to say something but he runs out. You hear shouting and next minute Arthur is in the doorway. He strides over to you but halts suddenly like he doesn’t know what to do. You look up at him and part of yourself say go for it, then he moves eloping you in a gentle hug as if he thinks you’ll break. You couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “I’m okay, Arthur.”

“You nearly weren’t.” He whispers back.

That’s when the gravity of what happened hit you, you nearly died, the idea made your head feel fuzzy and your insides sick. You shake this off to comfort Arthur. “I know but your safe, I’m alive so all's good.”

Arthur breaks away and smiles. “(Y/n) I have a confession to make.”  

You don’t dare hope. “And what would that be.”

“I might quite possibly be a little bit in love with you.” He looks so scared at this moment.

“Good cause I’m head over heels in love with you.” 

Arthur laughs and kisses you gently, smiling into the kiss you lift hand up to caress his cheek. Arthur pulls away and sighs “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bbc merlin #bbc merlin fanfiction #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #merlin #gwaine #guinevere #knights of the round table #sir gwaine #x reader #x male reader #male reader

[ashintheairlikesnow]

casuistry (n.) - deceptive or excessively subtle reasoning

CW: Implied potential future dubcon/noncon, assault of a survivor, NOCON TOUCHING AND KISSING, trauma response, fucking creepy asshole being creepy to Chris, Creepy Pet Lib Guy gets his own warning, gaslighting/manipulative language towards a survivor with some victim blame-y stuff

For timeline reasons, I should note that Chris is approximately 18 when Creepy Pet Lib Guy happens and has been rescued/free for seven or eight months. Takes place after this short drabble. 

Tagging Chris’s crew: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker

He doesn’t like the feeling of Kyle’s hands over his stomach, but he smiles and pushes his hips forwards anyway. His shoulder blades press back into the wall, his head cocked just so to the side, letting a little hair fall over his eyes.

The smile doesn’t reach them.

It’s not part of training to have the smile reach your eyes. No one cares if it does. What matters is that your mouth moves just the way it’s supposed to, shows the things they want you to show, does the things they want you to do.

His heart pounds so hard it knocks the breath from his lungs, and maybe the glitter in his eyes looks like interest and not tears, because Kyle doesn’t stop. 

“I-I, I, I... I-I-I, I, I don’t-... I d-don’t-”

“Sssshhhh, yeah you do.” Kyle laughs, leaning in close, kissing his cheek almost tenderly. Chris shudders, eyes closing, letting his head tip back into the wall behind him. “I mean, look at you.”

“B-But I don’t-... don’t, um, don’t want-”

“Chris, if you didn’t want to, why did you come in the room with me?”

You told me to-

“It was your idea, after all, remember?”

Chris’s eyes open again, coppery-light eyebrows furrowing over wide green eyes, turning his head but Kyle is so close, his hands are overwhelming and Chris doesn’t want them where they’re going, but... “It... it was? But, but, but I thought you-you... you said-”

“You said,” Kyle says, with a slight insistence, just firm enough to crack apart Chris’s faltering, delicate attempts to assert himself. “You said let’s go somewhere private, remember?”

“No, I... I didn’t-”

False memories are common in human pets exposed to new environments-

“I didn’t say I wanted to,” Chris whispers, but Kyle looks so nice, smiling at him. Understanding, almost. Then his hands slips down under the waistband of Chris’s jeans and Chris jerks back, smacking his whole body into the wall behind him, shaking his head. “I didn’t, I didn’t say, I, I didn’t, I didn’t say-say I want, I didn’t, I didn’t say yes-”

Kyle has one arm snaked around behind his back in a heartbeat, kissing Chris’s objections away, burying them with a tongue in his mouth and his hand pushing more firmly under Chris’s pants between his legs. It feels good, and he hasn’t had this in so long, and he doesn’t want it at all but he’s supposed to because you have to want what your owner wants, you have to-

“I don’t want to,” He whispers again, when Kyle lets his mouth free. He can’t seem to speak any louder than that - he can’t get the air. His head is spinning from shallow inhales and panic and fear, sparking inside his mind. He wants to tap or to hit his head or rock or do something something something with all the fear inside him but he can’t move.

Statue boys are still. They only move in the ways they are allowed to.

“I, I, I didn’t say yes.” A tear slips down his cheek but Kyle doesn’t notice, he thinks, because his hand doesn’t stop moving and the other one doesn’t stop holding Chris still, pressed against him.

“You didn’t say no, either,” Kyle points out. “And this was your idea.”

“It wasn’t-”

“What else did you think was going to happen, Chris? When you flirted with me?” Kyle’s lips are on his neck, down to his shoulder, nudging the neckline of his shirt to the side to bite down hard where the fabric will hide it later. Chris’s hips buck forward instinctively into Kyle’s hand and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t think he can’t do this he can’t he doesn’t want to he wants to scream-

Statue boys don’t scream. They only make the sounds they have been taught to make.

“Please-” 

“Of course, baby,” Kyle says.

“Please no-”

Kyle pauses, his hand going still but he doesn’t move it. It lays heavy and horrible over Chris between his legs, under his jeans, pressed against skin that can’t stop responding because it’s skin that only remembers how to respond one way. 

His eyes catch Chris’s, and there’s a hard look in them, now. It’s a fake-soft expression, understanding and sweet, but Chris knows the look in those eyes. He’s seen it a dozen times or more before - the look of someone trying to seem reasonable but he’s not going to be reasonable for long.

I give you choices, 223499, don’t I? You can be good, or you can be hurt. Which are you going to choose?

“What did you say?” Kyle asks. His voice is gentle. But the handlers used to sound gentle, sometimes, too.

I give you choices, don’t I?

“I-I said-... I said, um, I said-”

I don’t want you to touch me.

“I said please,” Chris says, in a voice somewhere between whisper and whimper. Statue boys don’t say no - they only know how to say yes.

“Good.” Kyle smiles and kisses his cheek again, and his lips burn where they touch, hurt like a lit match held to his jaw, cheekbone, lips. “I wouldn’t want to do anything you didn’t want me to, Chris, but you seem pretty fucking into it, you know?”

“D-Do I?” Chris doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. Is this it? Is everyone just scared, at first? He’s never been anything else. Does everyone else have to close their eyes and survive until it’s over, until their body turns on them again, until they hate every single inch of their skin?

Is that just... what it’s like?

How can Kauri do this on purpose so much, if he’s scared like this all the time? How do people ever want this, if all it does is burn his brain like a brand that says, you’ll always be made to spread your legs?

“Yeah,” Kyle murmurs. He shifts, pushing Chris hard into the wall, and pushes his way between Chris’s legs so their hips press hard together. Chris must make a sound, he can’t hear it over the static that is screaming in his brain for this to end, to be over. He must do something that eggs Kyle on, somehow, because Kyle laughs a little, sweet and loving and soft like Sir could laugh sometimes, and says in a low voice, “See? You fucking love this.”

I hate this I hate this I don’t want this I don’t want to do this it’s not my fault it’s not my fault I’ll be good don’t hurt me don’t hurt don’t don’t don’t don’t-

Chris blinks until the tear finds its way down his cheek, hitches in a breath, and opens his legs. “I’ll... be good,” he whispers. Slow and steady, each word chosen from the blur of his brain, dropped like a stone on the ground.

He relaxes the tension in his body all at once, slips into the space in his mind where things happen to him and he is there and not-there at once. His body will move and breathe and beg and Baldur is good for Sir, he has to be good, he hates it and he hates it and he hates it and he-

“Fuck yeah you will be.”

Statue boys are good boys-

There’s a noise, scraping shuffling footsteps, and then Kyle is wrenched back from him all at once, thrown violently back, and Chris drops to the floor in a crumpled heap, his tight black shirt under his t-shirt pulled up and his button and zipper undone to his jeans, looking up with blurry teary eyes to see a blur of black hair shoving Kyle off of him.

Kauri throws the punch and catches Kyle across the face, then drops his hand and curses, shaking it off, “Ow ow ow ow shit I don’t know how to punch-”

“Jesus Christ!” Kyle groans, putting a hand up over one eye. He’d unbuckled his own belt and undone his own jeans at some point - did Chris lose time, he loses time sometimes, when he has to be good - and he starts trying to hurriedly do it up despite the obvious difficulty. Chris pulls his own knees up nearly to his chin against the throb of heat he doesn’t want, hopes will go away soon. “What the fuck-”

“You piece of fucking shit, I knew you were up to something with him, I knew it! Get the fuck away from him!”

Kyle’s eyes move to Chris, and they’re cold the way Chris’s handler could be so cold. He flinches back from the expression, curling himself up even tighter. Fear and shame spiral, spark along the cage of his skin. He hates his stupid skin, hates all his fucking nerves, hates that he feels things he doesn’t want to feel and hates that he did something to make this happen. “I wasn’t up to anything. What, you can’t handle not being the one getting laid for ten fucking minutes, Kauri?”

Kauri’s eyes flare white around the edges, and suddenly Chris is more afraid of him than he is of Kyle’s disapproval and unhappiness. “What?”

“Like you don’t hit on everything that moves. What, you’re fucking jealous you weren’t the one getting all the attention for once? Besides, Chris is the one who asked me to come in here with him, you’re just the asshole interrupting what he wants.”

Kauri takes a breath, caught off-guard, turning to look at Chris. “Did you-... did you want to come in here, Chris?”

No. I said no. I tried to say no. I don’t remember how to say no they don’t let us say no we don’t know how to say no-

“I don’t know,” Chris whispers. “I don’t, don’t know, I don’t, I don’t know what-... I can’t... I don’t-don’t-don’t-”

Kauri turns back around, jaw set. “That’s a ‘no’, asshole. Leave him alone. Don’t talk to Chris again.”

Kyle spits on the floor somewhere off to the side, glaring at Chris until Kauri moves, putting himself directly between them, his own blue eyes furious and clear. “He’s not a fucking baby, Kauri. What, you get to fuck everything that moves but God forbid someone else does?”

“I don’t-... fuck off, this isn’t about who I-”

“Did they teach you to lead guys on in the Facility, when you took your Slut class?”

Kauri goes still. “My what class?”

“They teach you to be a tease when they were teaching you to spread your fucking legs at every bar in town?”

Kauri falters, then. Chris can see some of the angry strength bleed from him, replaced by something darker. Something like shame. Nearly numb. “Kyle, why the fuck are you here?” His voice is exhausted. Worn out, wearied. “If this is what you think of us-”

“I’m here to help the rescues who deserve help, but you don’t need help, do you?” Kyle spits again, and this time Kauri has to flinch aside not to get hit. “What you fucking assholes need is-”

“For assholes like you to walk out of this house before I rearrange your limbs in ways you will not enjoy.”

It’s not Jake.

It’s Nat.

Nat, arms crossed, no-nonsense brown braid, flannel over  t-shirt and jeans, the least intimidating person that Chris has ever seen standing like the paintings of angry goddesses in Sir’s mythology books in the open doorway. “Kyle, consider yourself no longer a part of this organization. And don’t bother to ask how much we heard, because right now you can just safely assume the answer is ‘all of it’. Get the fuck out of this house, forget its location, and I won’t make it worse for you trying to assault a trauma victim.”

Kyle snorts, furious anger warring with childlike embarrassment. A little boy caught coloring on the wall by his mother, only it wasn’t a wall, it was Chris’s body, and he wasn’t coloring, he was-

“I’m s-sorry, Nat,” Chris says, softly, after Kyle pushes past them and is gone, doors slamming until he’s out in the street. Gone, and all the tension in Chris collapses, pulled under the shame that breaks free in a sob. “I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I forgot, I forgot how to, to stop it-”

“Sssshhhh.” Nat drops to her knees in front of him, and Chris catches the wince as her joints crack a little. She bundles him into her arms and pulls him close, and he tucks his head under her chin and shivers. “Don’t apologize. You’re not to blame, honey. I want to take you home, now. Can we go home? I sent Jake to get out car from the parking lot where we left it, okay? Do you want to go home?”

“I-I... I forgot-”

“I know, Chris.” There’s a pause, and Nat says softly, “I’m sorry we didn’t see it sooner, Kauri.”

“Yeah, well.” Kauri’s voice is gruff. Chris doesn’t look up to see the expression on his face. “I knew he was fucking with him, I knew it. Next time trust me, okay? When I say some guy is bad news? I suck at this for myself, but I can-... I can tell when they’re like that.” His voice went quieter. “I just cared less when it was me he was fucking with.”

Nat is silent for a beat. “He did this to you, too?”

Kauri laughs, bitterly. “I’m not Chris. It wasn’t the same.”

“Yes. It was.”

“I said yes, Nat-”

“Kauri, you and I both know that doesn’t always mean consent for you.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about Chris! He was going to hurt him! I, I just, I know that look in his eyes-”

“I know you do. Because he hurt you, and he looked that way when he did it. Right?”

“Nat, I just told you, this isn’t fucking about me! It’s about not wanting Chris to get hurt!”

“You can be hurt, too, Kauri. You understand that, right?”

More silence, then a muttered string of cursing, a smack against the wall, shuffling steps. Whatever passes between them, when Chris opens his eyes, Kauri is gone. 

He looks around, a little frantically, but Nat soothes him, runs a hand through his hair. “Kauri decided to take the bus,” She says, gently. “He wanted some time to think. Come on, honey.”

“He’ll come... come home later, won’t he? Kauri will?” Chris looks up, and Nat looks away.

Her lips press together, as she looks in the direction Kauri went.

“I hope so.”

#whump #noncon tw #noncon touching #noncon kissing #dubcon tw #conditioned whumpee #trauma response #chris the strawberry blond romantic #erase to control #ptsd tw #victim blaming tw #degrading language tw #sexist language tw #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #gaslighting tw #assault tw #internalized victim-blaming #intimate whumper #creepy pet lib guy #fucking kyle #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues

[modern-vellichor]

Grief, is a Beautiful Thing

Stage Four: Depression

Warnings: Loss of a major character, depression, grief, suicidal thoughts.

Series Masterlist

Depression; feelings of severe despondency and dejection.

You ask Pepper for a few weeks off, she's more than happy to supply. She says you've worked to hard, you haven't had time to grieve. The others are going through it too, she says, she's seen Bucky crying on Sam's shoulder, Peter has come crying to her, Morgan can no longer sleep, she misses her dad. You have been grieving, just not like them, not in public. You are the piece of tape holding this team together, if you break now, so do they.

You tell Sam and Bucky that you're catching up on sleep, Peter is too scared to ask, and Thor, only god knows where he is.

You close all your curtains, your room is always dark and dim, always too warm, hot and heavy, humid. You wrap yourself in sweatpants and an old hoodie, Steve's old hoodie. It's far too big for you, comes down to your knees, the sleeves come past your hands. You curl up under your sheets, cocooning yourself away from a harsh and unfair reality.

The first few days, you cry. You scream and sob and shake, cries racking your body, your soul leaves through your tears. You scream into the nothingness until you can't cry any more, until your mouth is dry and your chest aches. You dampen your pillows, stain your sheets with mascara, you hug your knees to your chest. You breathe in his scent and you're thrown into a whirlwind of memories, happy memories, and it's like you can cry a million more tears, and you do.

"Y/N, baby, please", Steve cooed, his body wrapped around yours, his lips nipping at your ears.

You giggled in response, your gaze still focused on your book.

"In me burns the most Catholic of desires; to devour the divine", your voice was like honey in his ears, sweet and sticky, a melody that only you could play.

"what?", he asks, attention on your words, they resonated him. God, he wanted to devour you whole, absorb you, protect you from all the bad in the world, in a way, he wants to protect you from himself.

You repeat your words, he bathes in them, soaking them in.

"what do you think that means?", he ponders, into the air, you smile.

"I don't know. It depends on the person I guess", you whisper.

"what does it mean to you?"

"in my head, against all I was taught, burns a desire to do all that's unholy", you word it softly, slowly, in that moment Steve falls in love with you again, and this time, deeper, deeper than ever before. He's oceans away, meters below the surface, he just wants to keep swimming down, there's no hope for him now, you're it.

"You're the divine I wish to devour", he sings, to you and only you.

You sob into your pillow, fresh tears gracing your soft cheeks, not even the moon can comfort you know.

"honey?", he calls, playful and happy, pure joy dripping from his tongue. This is love, he thinks.

You round the corner, a smile gracing your angelic features. God, you're gorgeous, even more so than usual.

"Darling, I missed you", he says again. He always was one for pet names.

"Hey, Stevie. I missed you t-", you're interrupted by a yawn, your eyes drooping. You're tired, limp is his arms as he embraces you.

He carries you to bed, tucking you in before tucking himself flush against your back. You fit perfectly, you always did, he was always so much taller than you, you always fit so perfect in the palm of his hand.

You fall asleep again, hidden away from the outside world, the one that had brought you so much pain. Your mind is blank as you sleep, the only moments of peace it has allowed you since he left.

As you snooze softly, Bucky knocks on your door, calling out for you. He's worried, but you were doing so well. He decides you're just asleep, and you are, he leaves, but you're not well, you never really have been.

Its still dark in your room when you open your eyes, but its warmer, you know the moon is long gone. Sunshine filters in through the smallest crack in your blinds.

Sunshine.

Steve used to call you that, among other things.

Flower, doll, sunshine, honey, darling, baby. The usuals.

Sometimes he got more creative though, he always was artsy. He would come up with them while he scribbled a messy sketch of you into a beaten up journal.

"my goddess divine" "soul catcher" "maiden of my dreams"

Sometimes, in the dead of night, as the both of you were falling asleep. He would whisper a little poem, a mantra, for you, about you.

"my lady with honey skin and dew drop eyes"

"an angel stood at the gates of heaven, awaiting me with golden love"

Sometime over the week, your tears did dry out. You were left empty, broken, horribly numb. You hated it, you always hated silent emotion. You wanted to scream and shout and sob and cry, you wanted to throw tantrum after tantrum because it wasn't fair.

Because at least as sobs racked your feeble frame, you knew there was something there. You knew that a fire still burned deep inside of you, lightbulbs still flickered in your broken mind. Now, basked in miserable silence, and there was no life left inside of you.

There was nothing here for you now. Peter was growing up, he was graduating soon. Morgan was almost seven. Bucky was doing well on his own, Sam was filling Steve's shoes nicely. Even Pepper was running things smoothly, without you. Without you. Maybe, you've told your story. This is it, the drip finally stops. Not everything lasts forever.

You roll over, gaze landing on a photo you had framed on your nightstand.

You're sandwiched in between Bucky and Steve, both men pressing a wet kiss to either side of your face, and Sam is stood behind you, laughing his ass off, as usual. You smile, and start to stay your goodbyes.

You go through all your memories with your golden boys, happy, sad, angry, desperate. You whisper sweet words of sorrow into thick air as you choke on nothing. You save Bucky for last, he deserves the final kiss.

You remember when you first met Bucky, he was broken and bruised, Zemo had gotten to him. He nearly hurt Sam, his best friend. Bucky was only half there, The Soldier still present in every aching muscle.

Steve knew how good you were, how gentle and understanding you were, you could fix this. He knew you could hold your own, too, if God forbid something were to go wrong.

White walls. White. White. White. A metal table in the middle of the room, two chairs, a plain bed, which was considerably more comfortable than his cell at HYDRA. A mirror graced the wall of the door, double sided mirror, he knew that much.

Then you walked in, in a too-big hoodie and a pair of pajama bottoms, you were tired. Instead of staring at him with shock, or fear, or anger, you smiled. Big and warm and happy, teeth bared to the world.

"May I ask who I'm speaking to?", to you, Bucky and Soldat were two different people, in the same body. Classic personality disorder.

"I don't know you", he stated, voice low and gruff.

"My apologies", you smiled again. He liked that smile. "I'm Y/N", you stuck out your hand to him, no fear, no hesitation. "Y/N L/N, I work with Steve"

Steve. He knows Steve. Despite himself, he takes your hand, your skin is warm and soft, he loves it.

"Bucky?", you whispered, he shook his head.

"Soldat?", you spoke, tone normal once again. "Or would you preferred to be called otherwise?"

You were always so kind to him, you sat and spoke with him, made him feel safe while he fought to cage The Soldier once again. You weren't afraid of The Soldier, he liked you, you were soft, you were sweet, truthfully, you liked him too.

The Winter Soldier had fallen in love with you long before Bucky had. That love festered, growing, burning, constantly, brighter and brighter, taking over his conscience until he was feverish.

He was always there too, on the backburner of your whirlwind of a mind. He was the one you went to when Steve was away. Bucky remembers those days.

It didn't take Bucky long too fall in love with you. No, not at all. You were always there, angelic, ethereal, kind and otherworldly. So sweet and soft, poetic. He loved being your friend, the one you came to. He remembers laughing at you every time you knocked on his door.

"can you open this?"

"I need your help?"

"come train with me"

"I'm bored"

Even as you and Steve got serious, he loved helping you make him smile. You were always happy if Steve was, it was like you were one. You always knew if something was wrong, and you always made it better. If he was hurt, sad, happy, angry, so were you.

"Help me plan Steve's birthday"

"let's plan a game night for Steve"

"what's Steve's favourite colour?"

You and Steve weren't secretive, you just kept to yourselves. Maybe that's why only Sam and Bucky knew your relationship was falling apart. Bucky heard screaming through his ceiling, Sam through his walls. Bucky heard the soft pad of your feet and gentle knocking at his door, Sam got combat boots and broken hinges.

"he's angry again. mission went bad. he needs space"

"don't make me leave, I'm not ready to go back yet"

"can I stay here tonight?"

Then things got better, you never came to his door red faced and teary eyed. It was always with small smiles and propositions, always wanting to go somewhere. You were barely ever at the compound, barely ever with Steve.

"we're going on a mission, me and you"

"let's go out to eat"

"wanna go on an adventure"

Maybe it wasn't time for goodbye. Maybe there was time for just one more day. This is your chance. Live your life. This is your story. Your life does not end because another stopped. Maybe the greatest grief in life is losing another, but Grief, my dear, is a Beautiful Thing.

You threw your legs off the side of your bed, trudging quietly through the night. Soft feet cold on hardwood floors. You tapped your knuckles gently against his door, willing him awake.

The door swung open, he stood tall in the frame. You smiled sadly up at him.

"wanna go on an adventure?"

He didn't even bother getting dressed, neither did you. You just grabbed your shoes, running barefoot to your car. You slid them on as he was jumping in, starting the ignition.

Now, the early morning light was beautiful. The cool sting of pre-sun air, grey skies for miles, a blank canvas, waiting, yearning for the beautiful colours of a sunrise.

Neither of you had spoken a word since you got in the car, reveling in the silence, thick and heavy, filled with sadness and pent up anger, but it was still comfortable. It always was with you too, comfortable.

Stevie Nicks played softly through your speakers, keeping the silence at bay. Bucky never minded the silence, you, on the other hand, hated it. You always had something playing, someone speaking, some noise, any sort of noise playing in the background. Bucky didn't mind the noise either, at least you were happy.

The air warmed up as the sun rose, but you kept your hoodie on, opting to turn the AC up instead.

"So", Bucky finally spoke, "where are we going?"

"I don't know, nor do I care, darling", you laughed.

"I know a place"

Bucky knew a lot of places, so many of your conversations had gone like this. Once he took you to a farmers market in New Jersey, some old hidden bridge covered in weeds uptown, once, you had even ended up in Maine, only god knows how.

You don't know how much time passed before you spoke again, could have been minutes, could have been hours.

"do you think, Steve would be mad at us?"

"why would he be mad at us, doll?", he answered, without taking his eyes off the road.

"I mean, for us."

"I mean, he's not here to judge, but even if he was, I think he'd be happy. Steve was a good man, he respected people and their choices, he would have respected this one too", Bucky was so sure. Steve would always be a good man in his mind, the best man, America's hero. "Why, what do you think?"

"it doesn't matter what I think, just keep driving", you faked a smile for Bucky, and he dropped the subject, remaining silent until he stopped the car.

He had stopped at a field, parked in front of the old, rotting wooden gate.

The field was yellow and rolling, glistening under the rising sun. He hopped the fence easily, quick and agile, beginning his hike to the center of the field. You followed, with significantly less grace, climbing the rickety old fence with caution, almost falling over to the other side.

You walked a few paces behind him, hands outstretched, running through the tall, dry grass. You were almost completely surrounded by it, it was like suffocating in sunshine. Yellow, yellow, yellow, everywhere. And then there was him, tall and stoic and dark, clothed in black from head to toe, silver hand glinting.

You were so caught up in the magic of your surroundings, you hadn't realised Bucky had stopped, until you walked into his wide chest. Then his hands were on you, wrapping around your neck, tangling in your hair, cradling your face, exploring every dip and curve of your body. His mouth was on yours, breathing your air until you were both gasping.

He rested his head on yours, breathless, hands cradling your cheeks. You admired him, "where are we, Buck?"

He stood then, taking your hand and leading you a little to the left. And there, rotted and discoloured, stood an old gazebo.

"Before everything happened", he sighed. everything. HYDRA, The Avengers, Thanos. "I wanted to get married here, have the small wedding. Then the American dream, beautiful wife, two kids, a boy and a girl, a big old dog, white picket fence life, you know"

You nodded along, that had never been your dream. Once upon a time you wanted a wild and chaotic relationship, marriage and settling down was never on your cards, but you had settled down on your own.

"there was this one girl, she was lovely, I always had my eye on her, then she went off and married some abusive old drunk who was at least twice her age."

"I'm sorry", you whispered, not really knowing how to respond. This was something so intimate, so secret, and he was telling you, and it felt wrong, like you were invading his privacy, even though he had told you.

"What about you?"

"Pardon?"

"The dream life, what did you want?"

"I guess I thought it was always just gonna be me n' Steve. I didn't really care if we got married or not, I never really through about kids or a house. I always wanted a cat though, one of the really fat and fluffy, white ones, you know?"

He laughed at the blatant vagueness of it all, "Yeah, I know the ones"

You stood in comfortable silence for a while, until you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder blade as he breathed.

"I'm sorry", you mumbled.

He let out a dry, humourless chuckle, "for what, doll?"

"Everything that happened. I know I can't control it, it's just not fair, you deserve a break"

"you and me, both sweetheart"

You sat in the backseat for a while, holding each other like the world might end soon.

This was love , you thought.

You just want to sleep forever. If Sam doesn't stop knocking on your door you might just kill him. You pulled your covers further over your head, closing your eyes, and willing yourself to sleep. You hadn't been awake for more than twenty minutes at a time, for the last week. You were dehydrated, malnourished, and you were sure you had a bladder infection.

Eventually the knocking ceased and you drifted away.

Steve came to you in your dreams, holding you close and promising forever, just like he used to do. Forever obviously wasn't written in the stars, not for you two, anyway.

Bucky stands at your door. Its locked. He could get in if he really wanted too, and he does, just not that way. He's knocking gently and cooing through the thick wood of your door.

"doll, please"

"wake up, Y/N"

"pup, come on, open the door, for me"

You don't stir from your sleep, you're too far away. It's cool where you are, there's a breeze flowing through your hair, instead of being hot and suffocating and still.

Bucky slid his back down the door, the sun was setting in the sky. His head rested on the cool wood, and eventually, he, too, fell asleep.

It was 3 in the morning, you were hungry, and thirsty, and felt like death. You needed to go for a walk and punch the shit out of something and take a bath. It was overwhelming.

kitchen first. get a snack.

You pulled open your door, only to have Bucky collapse at your feet, now wide awake and in pain.

You stumble back, panicked, shocked, he's scrambling to his feet, reaching out to you. Your back hits the corner of your desk, you're tired, you're still half asleep. All you can think is intruder. run. run. run.

He's still coming for you, calling your name. "Y/N, doll, come here". He's mocking you. doll. Only Bucky calls you that.

Bucky.

You look, you see the familiar glint of metal in place of a hand. You calm. Bucky.

"Bucky"

You allowed yourself into his embrace, he was warm, furnace warm. He wasn't warm like your bedroom. He wasn't suffocating and humid, he was welcoming and cozy. You breathed in that signature scent of gunpowder and old whiskey, and it felt like home.

This was home. He was home.

"no", you mumbled at the innocent thoughts.

"Doll? what's wrong?"

This. This is what's wrong. You fell in love with Steve and now you're in love with his best friend. You cant do this. Steve would be so upset.

"Steve isn't here, pup", he said. You'd sweat that man could read your mind.

Bucky was right, Steve wasn't here, not physically. But he was in all your pictures, he was tangled in your sheets, he was buried in the ring you wore.

He was watching, and he was disappointed. This was wrong, and you were disgusted with yourself.

You felt it bubbling to the surface, hot tears and bile, sweats and empty heaving over a toilet boil. There was nothing to expel, nothing but water and acid that burned your throat and dampened your senses.

This was punishment. You did wrong, you deserved this. You deserved all of this.

you deserved being left, you deserved being toyed with, you deserved the tears and the pain and the grief. Love hurts, grief takes, and it takes, and it never stops, it will eat you from the inside out, because, darling, Grief is a Violent Thing.

@vicmc624 @dee-vn @soleil-dor

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #captain america x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky angst #marvel fic

[sparrowofsong]

Of Carrots and Cats

Whumptober No. 16 and Alt. 9

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Hallucinations

Memory Loss

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Janus Sanders (Sympathetic)

Summary:  After being forgotten and locked away in his empty room for longer than he can remember, Janus has begun to lose his grip on reality. He's also quite hungry.

...You could say he doesn't carrot-all what he gets to eat as long as it's food.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Blood, starvation, self harm, implied abuse, triggered arachnophobia

Note: This takes place in my What a Nightmare! AU. (@what-a-nightmare-ts-au) However, it makes no real reference to the main plot to avoid spoilers (since I still have yet to. y’know. tell it.), so it could also be a standalone fic. 

--

Something orange flashed across Janus's vision. Taken off guard, Janus furrowed his brow in confusion. 

Orange? Since when was anything orange in his room? 

He turned his head in the direction the thing went, and his eyes widened at the sight before him. 

A carrot.

His chest swelled with elation -- or maybe that was hunger. Either way, he couldn't care less what Thomas, and him by extension, thought of carrots. It was food. And it was right there. 

As he reached toward it, it started to run off, much to his dismay. "Nnh, nh, no, no, no, stop, come back! Please!" It halted and turned to him at the entrance of its hidey-hole in the wall. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.) 

He shook his head and focused on the sheer delight that it was listening to him, then began whispering gently. "Please come back. You're okay. Come on." The carrot didn't move. Wasn't there a sound people made for animals to come to them? He forgot which animals exactly, but there was something, he knew that much.

He absentmindedly clicked his tongue in thought, and realized that it sounded familiar in this context. He clicked his tongue a few more times. The carrot took a few more steps closer. Grinning from ear to ear, he stifled a gleeful giggle. "There you go, bud. That's it. Just a lll... lihh...." 

He paused. What was the word again? It felt like it should be easy to remember. Why was he having so much trouble remembering things lately? He was losing track of relative time more and more often. He was forgetting words, simple and complicated ones alike. He was always forgetting his train of thought (not that it was ever important, of course). A while ago, he-- no, it was more recent than "a while," wasn't it? How recent? Was it today, yesterday, a few days ago? How long even was a day these days? Huh. Day was a weird word. It was pronounced like there were two vowel sounds, even though it was treated like it had one. Deh-ee. Dee. Deceit. God, how he hated that word; just the thought of it made him shudder. If only he could forget--

Oh, right, forgetting things. He was thinking about that for some reason. When was he doing that? It must have been a few hours ago. Or a few minutes? Which one was longer, again? He hadn't thought about it in a few years-- weeks-- months-- decades? He couldn't tell you. He didn't exactly have a calendar available to him. But it didn't really matter anyway, did it? After all, time was meaningless in the face of eternity.

As he lay his head down in exhaustion, he spotted something orange out of the corner of his eye.

Orange? Since when was anything orange in his room?

He strained his neck to get a better look without exerting himself too much, and was elated by the sight before him.

A carrot!

Food!!

His eyes widened in excitement. Who cared how gross carrots were? At this point, he'd take anything he could get.

He forced himself vaguely upright once more, preparing to drag himself toward it, and he could almost feel his heart split in two when it ran inside its hidey-hole in the wall. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.)

Knowing all too well he'd never be allowed to reach the wall, he decided to try and coax the carrot out to him instead. Maybe it was like a cat! They had the same letters, after all. Right? Probably. They sounded similar at the very least. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he saw the two written down. Or anything written down, really. When was the last time he read a book? When was--

He noticed a bit of orange peek out of a hole in the wall. Right, the cat! Wait, that was too small for a cat. Unless it was a kitten. Ooh, that sounded closer to the word he was using before, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There must have been two syllables for sure. What was orange with two syllables and a "cuh" sound at the beginning?

Coral.

Construction.

Traffic cone.

Kayak.

Cantaloupe.

Cantaloupe sounded delicious right about now. Anything did, if he was being honest (like he was supposed to be). Even carrots would be--

Carrot!

Relieved to see that it was still there, he clicked his tongue a few times to coax it out of its hidey-hole. (What Janus wouldn't give to be that carrot. The lucky bastard could have a hiding place but not him? Unfair.) 

"Tut, tut, tut, tut, come on out little guy! You're okay!" he whispered. The carrot took a few tentative steps toward him, and Janus was nearly overwhelmed by sheer delight. It was listening to him! Janus couldn't remember the last time something listened to him. "There you go, bud. That's it. Just a little bit cl... c.... more.. here? Nearer!" He mentally congratulated himself for remembering the exact word so quickly. "Come on. You can do it. Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut..."

As agonising a wait as it was, Janus made sure the carrot was a mere few inches away from him before he pounced. To his amazement, it only took one try to snatch it up! Tears of joy began to well in his eyes as he laughed triumphantly.

He did something right!

He succeeded!!

Janus held it closely to his chest for a few moments, savoring this rare victory, before carefully opening his hands a teeny tiny bit to peer inside. His heart dropped when he saw that the carrot was gone. In its place was something black that was rather unpleasantly squirming around. He opened his hands more to get a better look, and noticed first that it was not, in fact, one thing. It was many things. He noticed second exactly what things they were, and had only a moment to register the information before they began escaping his grasp. 

He screamed in horror as countless spiders crawled up his arms, down his neck and back, in his hair, through his wounds and into his veins, through his mouth and into his lungs and stomach, through his ears and into his brain. They were biting him, poisoning him, choking him, eating him alive from the inside out and the outside in. They were everywhere. 

The welled up tears of joy now fell as tears of anguish. He clawed at his skin to tear them out, but every spider he removed revealed two more in its place, and they seemed more than happy to infest the newly-created wounds as well. He yanked his hair to pull them out of his head, but only succeeded in transferring more from his hands. He hit his head against the floor to knock them back out of his ears, but they only latched more tightly onto his brain. He began hacking violently to clear them from his lungs, but every inhale between coughs drew more in. 

There was nothing he could do. He was helpless. As usual. 

Couldn't he just have one success? He knew he didn't deserve it, of course, but still, not even one?

It didn't take long for him to lose the little energy he'd spent so long trying to stockpile. Trembling with fear and exhaustion, his breaths unsteady and faltering, he managed to curl into a ball, clutching his head with now golden, bloody hands as though he could somehow protect himself. 

What wishful thinking.

...Hopefully it didn’t count as a lie.

#whumptober2020 #no.16 #hallucinations #memory loss #sanders sides #fic #ts sides #ts fic #ts fanfic #deceit sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #deceit angst #janus sanders #ts janus #sympathetic janus #janus angst #what a nightmare #what a nightmare concept art #fishing for art #starvation #starvation tw #blood #blood tw #implied abuse #ask to tag

[kurosarium]

genuine

request: Can you write about a second year girl (or gender neutral person) waiting by Aoba Josai's gym for Oikawa, and the team thinks it's another confession, but when Oikawa walks over to them she asks him advice on how to get loyal/good friends? Like she has a friend group, but they're toxic towards her and she feels alone? (I'm going through something like this rn and this would really help 😅) It can be slightly romantic or strictly platonic, whichever is easier for you! I love your writing!! 💕💕

character: oikawa x reader

words: ~ 1.7k

a/n: Here you go, I’m sorry you had to wait. I made it platonic, becausemy goal was to create a comforting feeling, and romance didn’t suit what I had in mind, does that make sense? 😳 Still, I Hope you can enjoy it! And I wish you all the best, hopefully you’ll be feeling better soon! Sending you all the good vibes, and feel hugged! 💕

You could already hear the faint cheering and swooning from a distance, and as your feet carried you closer to the boy’s gym you could finally see them, as well. Around the entrance of the gym was a small crowd, consisting of about two dozen of girls, some you knew by name, and others you hadn’t seen on campus before. With a sigh you decide against joining the chattering flock of obsessed girls and instead opt to place yourself several feet away from them, putting enough distance between you and their ecstatic chatter, but not too far away to lose the gym’s doors out of sight.

The increased squealing and the high pitched out cries indicated that the boys’ volleyball team’s practice must have come to an end, and so you slowly turn yourself towards the small crowd, not moving any closer to the source of excitement, though.

It doesn’t take you long to get a glimpse of the brunette setter, who didn’t only stand out because he, as most of his team mates, were noticeably taller than the girls that were surrounding them, but also because of his undeniably rapturing aura.

Several minutes go by with you just standing awkwardly at the edge of the building, watching him interact with his fans, handling their loud and incoherent squeals, their awkward confessions and slightly obsessive attitude as if it was nothing. A few more minutes go by, and slowly but surely your patience begins to fade, with crossed arms you start debating with yourself, if it would be better to approach him another time, maybe somewhere else, too.

You get pulled out of your train of thought when Oikawa’s voice was increasing in volume, bidding and bowing goodbye to the flock of fans surrounding him, who, in turn, groaned woefully, but made way for their idol to pass through anyways.

Passing through the crowd Oikawa joins his friends, and team mates, who were waiting for him a bit farther away, and you can already hear them teasing and clowning him from a distance.

Taking a deep breath, you decide that the timing was right, quickly collecting yourself you turn yourself towards the group of friends, ready to approach, but you stop in your tracks when you see them coming to a halt a few feet away from you, their gazes curious, yet intense. At a loss for words, you just stand there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, with wide eyes, warm cheeks, and stiff body posture.

Luckily Hanamaki takes the initiative and nudges the brunette’s side, gesturing into your direction with his head, adding a few words you couldn’t make out from your position. Oikawa quickly glances into your direction, then back to his friends, and excuses himself, before he starts walking towards you, a kind smile sitting on his lips while he gleefully waves at you, his previous encounter with a flock of excited and unruly fans seemingly not having any effect on his mood.

Meanwhile the rest of his team mates make their way up the stairs to the club rooms, disappearing out of view.

The closer he comes the clearer becomes your view of his face, his smile looks forced and his body language screamed exhaustion.

“Hey there, you couldn’t possibly be waiting for me, could you?”

His voice is dripping with kindness and playfulness as he asks you that question while pointing to himself with his index finger.

His aura makes you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, his gaze intense and definitely not helping your racing heart. You lower your head, trying to escape his piercing eyes, and nod you head.

“Yes, I would like to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

Most people, especially those who were head over heels into him, would have believed the exaggerated curiosity in his voice, but you knew, you could feel,  that he was clearly expecting you to confess your feelings to him, wanting to get over with it as soon as possible. He believed he knew your intentions, and for that reason he was talking to you like he talked to his fans, high-pitched, coy, and just too nice for your liking.

“I wanted to ask you for advice, actually. Advice on friendships.”

He goes silent for a moment, and his forced smile is replaced by confusion that visibly spreads over his facial features. When no answer follows, you lift your head to peek up at him curiously, watching him as he puts one hand on his hip, and places the other below his chin, seemingly thinking about what you just said.

“Hm. I’m flattered, but why would you come to me for that?” All at once his façade was gone, and he was looking at you with genuine curiosity and interest.

“Well, you seem to be getting along with just about anyone, and you’re pretty close with the other third years on your team too, aren’t you? I thought you would maybe know what to do in my situation.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Oikawa hears you and nods thoughtfully.

“Then, what exactly is your situation…”

You notice his hesitation, but keep your head low, giving him your name.

“Right, then, what exactly is your situation?”

His eyes don’t leave you as he awaits your response, instead he even leans forward a bit, unintentionally intensifying your nervousness.

“Well, I- I don’t know. Just, how do you get good friends? How do you create friendships that last? And how do you know your friends are really your friends?”

At this point the frustration that had build up inside of you over the last couple of months came crushing down on you, hard, and you could feel your eyes tearing up just a little bit.

“It’s just… There are people I call my friends, but they exclude me a lot, and it feels like they’re constantly looking down on me. It doesn’t feel like I’m their friend, at all. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I- I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. Alone and sad, and like I’m undeserving of kindness and love.” With every word your voice grows shakier, and more desperate. It ultimately cracks at the end of your short speech, only realizing afterwards that your emotional outbreak might come across as inappropriate or childish. Your hands shoot up to your mouth immediately as you try to keep in your sobs, and they soon move to cover most of your face, trying to hide yourself in embarrassment.

Completely lost in your thoughts you fail to comprehend Oikawa’s words as he responds to you, you’re only brought back to earth when you suddenly feel a warm hand gently touching your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m a hundred percent sure there’s nothing wrong with you. Your friends sound horrible, though. You should get new ones.”

His attempt to lighten the mood fails miserably, and you lift your head only to glare up at him, huffing at him in an irritated tone.

“You make it sound easy. Not everyone attracts people like flies, like you.“

Oikawa looks a little surprised at your bold answer, though, his surprise quickly turns into contentment, the playful smile returning to his face.

“Let’s sit down somewhere before we continue.”

He squeezes your shoulder affectionately, and lightly nudges you into the direction of the nearest building, where he swiftly sits down on the lower part of a staircase and pats the space next to him, motioning for you to join him.

„So, how do you want me to help you? I mean, what could I possibly do for you?”

The intensity of his gaze remains, but so does the genuine smile that sits on his lips, a smile that is laced with understanding, a smile not many get to see, you imagine. You feel the tension slowly leave your body, and you sit back, leaning on your elbows with you head in your neck, watching the clouds above as a hopeful smile makes its way to your lips.

“I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t really think this through, but I thought you would know how to be a good friend. Does that make sense?”

He looks at you in confusion when he spots the slightest hint of a smile on your face.

„Well, the way I see it, your friends are really shitty, you should totally dump them.” The way he says it sounds matter-of-fact, and out of the corner of your eyes you can see him nodding to himself, like a proud child would.

„I don’t want to be all alone, though. I know they’re not good for me, I know they’re toxic, but I’m afraid I might feel even worse, if I’d be all by myself, you know?” A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you change your position, leaning forwards with your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands, your gaze wandering off into the distance again.

You were ready to strengthen your point of view, already drawing a breath, but before you could say a word Oikawa abruptly stands up, rising to his full height with his hands on his hips, smiling brightly at you as if the two of weren’t just talking about something severely depressing.

„You can spend time with us, then! Me, Iwa-chan, Mattsun, Makki, and the others. You seem like a sweet girl, I’m sure they would be delighted to meet you. “

„Huh?!“

Staring at him with wide eyes and open mouth you try to comprehend what he just said, not sure if you imagined it. You get your answer when he reaches for your hands and pulls you up, beaming with joy.

„You heard me. Dump your friends and spend time with us instead. We’re nice, we don’t bite. I promise.”

„Alright. “You agree, maybe too fast.

„Great. Let’s exchange numbers so we can keep in contact. “He suggests, his hand already reaching for his pocket, only to realize that he was still wearing his gym clothes. He stifles a laugh and turns to you with an apologetic grin.

„I’m sorry. It’s in my bag upstairs, let me get it real quick. You wait here, okay? “He exclaims while pointing to the clubroom building behind the two of you. He’s already halfway up the stairs before you can answer him, so you just nod, not realizing he wouldn’t be able to see it.

You would wait there, anyways. You would wait for Oikawa to return to seal the deal on your new friendship, and you would do it with a smile on your face.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #hq!! x reader #haikyuu #it's almost 7am goodnight #I didn't read over it again I hope it's okay