#onto bigger and better things (staring at the wall for an hour)

[vivwritesfics]

Have to have her

Mafia Au! This will probably be a two parter, and the next part will be kind of dark

Oh my look at him 🥰

Masterlist

Max Verstappen was a powerful man

It was all due to the way his father raised him

When he wanted something, he got it

At first, it was an old Formula One car

One of those relics that gets hung on the wall

And then he wanted to sponsor a team, using his fathers only legit business

And then he wanted his own house just outside of Monaco

(That was where his father drew the line. If Max wanted a house in Monaco, he was going to have to earn it. For the time being, he could have an apartment)

For a while, Max was somewhat happy with everything he had

He had his apartment, his F1 car relic and enough money to do whatever he wanted

And what did Max want?

Well, for a while, he wanted nothing

He had it all

He even had his own inner circle to help him do his business

Which was less than legal, by the way

Drugs, guns and more criminal activity

Max was born into it

And them, he laid his eyes on Y/N

Max was simply driving around the streets of Monaco, stopped at a red light, when he saw her

She was gorgeous, sat outside of a café with her friends

She caught Max's eyes and he caught hers

When the light turned green and he drove away, Y/N thought that was it, but Max knew better

The next time they saw each other, they were in the club

Rather, Y/N was in the club and Max had his men report her every move to him

Next thing Max knew he was sitting in a both in the club, an expensive bottle of vodka in front of him

The it was a game

In his expensive suit, with his expensive alcohol, he was hard to miss

Many girls came up to him, but not the one Max wanted

She was too busy dancing with her friends

He was sat there for maybe an hour before he got impatient and gave up

So then he walked over to her

"Hey!" He shouted over the music

But Y/N couldn't hear him

She looked at him with a grin on her face and wrapped her arms around his neck

They were kissing

And then Max had his tongue down her throat

And then they were getting into his car and driving back to his house

His impressive, well guarded house

Not that Y/N noticed

She couldn't stop staring at Max

If he wasn't driving, she would have been in the back with him, tearing off his clothes

It didn't take long for just that to happen

Max parked his car in front of the apartment complex and led Y/N up the stairs

As soon as Max and Y/N were in the elevator, somebody came and moved his car for him

They didn't make it to his bedroom

As they walked past the sofa Y/N pushed him onto it

She climbed into his lap moments later and began unbuttoning his shirt

Max's hands started on her hips, but they soon moved down, holding her ass

Eventually they made it up to the bed

Not before fucking on the couch

And then against the kitchen counter

And then Max carried her up stairs

Her arms were around his shoulders as she sucked dark bruises into his neck

Her legs were wrapped around his waist

Max was still holding her ass as he carried her

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a pounding headache

Waking up, hungover, in somebody else's bed wasn't ideal

Other than her, the bed was empty

Whoever had brought her home the night before was nowhere to be seen

Slight panic set it

When the bedroom door opened, Y/N shut her eyes and rolled away, pretending to still be asleep

Whoever came in left something on the table beside her bed and walked away, muttering under his breath

When Y/N rolled towards the table, she saw a Red Bull Racing mug

Inside there was tea

When Y/N sat up, she realised she was naked, but that didn't come as a surprise

She kept the blankets against her chest and picked up the tea

Sipping, she looked around the room

It was grand, impressive

The bed was huge, bigger than a king

The television mounted on the wall looked as though it belonged in a cinema

Relics from old Formula One grand prix were displayed throughout the rest of the room

How rich do you have to be to afford stuff like this?

The door swung open again and the handsome man from last night walked in

"Good morning," he said to Y/N

"Morning," she croaked back, placing the mug on the table beside her

There was an uncomfortable moment where they realised they had never formally introduced themselves

It had been a lot of kissing, a lot of making out and then a lot of fucking

"I'm Y/N," she went to say as Max began introducing himself

"Well, I've got work to do. Feel free to watch television or something," he said and stood up

Before Max could leave, Y/N called his attention once again

"Do you think I could borrow a shirt?"

While Max worked, Y/N watched television

She didn't know what else to do, didn't know how to get home from here

So, the only thing she could do was stay were she was

And then she got bored

And hungry

And thirsty

Dressed in one of Max's shirts and sweatpants, Y/N made her way out of the room

She got one step out of the door before she was stopped

"Uh, Max said you have to stay here."

Tanned, tattoos and dark hair

He was gorgeous

But he was no Max

"Oh," Y/N said and went back inside of the room

Because, really, what else was she supposed to do

It was a full eight hours from the moment Y/N woke up until Max took her home

They talked on the drive, getting to know each other after such an intense night

"Do you think we'd be able to do this again?" He asked as Y/N climbed out of the car

To Max, this was intentional, methodically planned out

To Y/N, this was a random one night stand

She gave Max a look, an apologetic one

Oh, he didn't like that

Max drove off, pedal all the way down, speeding through the streets of Monaco

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel

He would have her, he had to have her

Max Verstappen didn't take no for an answer

Well, what can I say?

When he wanted something, he got it

And he wanted Y/N

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one scenario #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenario #mafia!f1

[delinquentfiction]

Dancing Lessons With the Radio Demon

Content: Alastor x GN!Reader, no use of y/n, size difference mentions, reader is sleepy, fluff

Word count: 2,076

No trigger warnings

The bed creaks slightly as you turn and wiggle on it, trying to get into a comfortable spot. Unfortunately, despite the pure exhaustion from your day of running errands for the hotel and essentially being the gofer, your brain refuses to allow you to slip into sweet unconsciousness. It has now gotten to that lovely part of restlessness where no matter how you lay, no matter how long you stare at your phone to distract yourself, you cannot get comfortable. At this point there is nothing you can think of but to get up and find something to do and hope that something is enough to help your brain calm down. You don’t care if you fall asleep walking down the stairs as long as you get a wink.

You wrap your blanket around yourself before leaving the bed, not willing to part with it. Once up and walking you felt like one of those edited cat memes with those dumb relatable captions. One of the good things from life that still made it down into Hell. Cats look different down here and look slightly terrifying with their shark-like 4-way opening mouths, but they’re cats nonetheless.

Once in the hall, you somehow feel like you’re stomping and floating at the same time. Not awake enough to be fully aware, but aware enough of how your walking is the only noise being made. At least in the part of the hotel you reside in. As you meander around and approach the grand staircase, you hear the faint sounds of piano and sax playing a slow jazzy tune. Right then you were reminded that there would be only one other person awake at this hour. A person a little too chipper for the state you were in, but at least it would be company.

You recalled how when you were alive people would say that sometimes it would be hard to sleep because your brain feels like it’s in danger and having someone there or having a stuffed animal can help. Things that trick your brain into thinking you’re protected. Would you feel safe around this ever smiling demon? Would the same logic even carry over now that you’re a demon? Well, you’re going to find out.

As you wander up the hotel floors the song becomes louder and the air seems to feel thicker. It’s not as if it’s never been ominous to visit Alastor’s room before, after all you never know what you’ll open his door to see him doing. There’s always that little fear at the back of your head telling you that you know better than to walk right into a lion’s den like this. The feeling that just walking into his room is asking for a contract you’ll regret later but can’t refuse in the moment.

Once you reach his door, everything comes to a halt. Your walking, his music, and even time, seemingly. Did he know you were standing here? Just outside his door? Did you make a noise you didn’t hear but he did? That wouldn’t be unusual for you. Maybe he was simply getting ready to play a different record. ‘Perhaps now is the time to interrupt, then.’

You softly knock on his door and almost immediately the door swings open which causes you to jump back a little in surprise. He looms over you, crimson eyes peering down over a practically glowing sharp grin. You stare up at him, a shy smile slowly creeping onto your face. “Why, good evening! To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late visit?” Alastor greets.

You stutter a bit as you answer. “Ah, good evening! I just couldn’t sleep and I thought that, uh, I should come say hi!”

“Well, this is a very nice visit! I don't get many late-night callers these days; make yourself at home!” He opens his door wider and gestures with a grand swish of his arm for you to come inside.

And you do. As you walk in you glance around his room, wondering what he was up to while listening to his music. Some of his furniture was moved closer to the walls and a fire blazed in his fireplace, growing ever bigger as a breeze came in from the forest half of his room. ‘Huh, didn’t know that there was weather in here. Noted and hoping it never rains.’ With the warmth of the fireplace it feels unnecessary to have a blanket on so you placed it on one of the couches that is pushed to the side.

“I didn’t have much to do tonight so I resorted to getting into the swing of dancing to pass the time.” The red head explains as he made his way to an awaiting record player that looked to have seen better days, but from what you heard on your way here, it did it’s job much better than appearance would lead you to believe. “Would you care to join me, my dear?”

“Join you? Oh, I don’t really know how to-”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it right up! It does get so boring singing and dancing by oneself, and you seem like you need something to pass the time, yourself.” He looks over his shoulder at you, record in hand. His usual big grin had become more of a smirk, as if he knew about your tired wondering.

You nod at him, figuring he just wasn’t going to take a ‘no’ or an ‘I’d rather watch you dance and hang out on your couch’. You step over to the record player and pick up the sleeve the demon got the record out of. Judging by the title, it seemed to be a collection of old hits from the 30’s. None of which you were familiar with. There is a respect that comes with older music since more modern music couldn’t exist without it, however older music just tends to be a bit too slow for your liking. Perhaps you’ve been listening to the wrong songs though, since Alastor doesn’t entirely seem to be the type to enjoy slow music either. At least not on boring nights with guests like tonight.

As you set the sleeve back down where you found it, music started playing from the record player. A bit distorted at first but sounding just as clear and blaring as it was earlier once it had a second to do its thing. A much more energetic tune than earlier begins to play, confirming your earlier suspicions. Alastor leads you to the center of the room where it’s the clearest and stands next to you, offering his hand for you to hold. It was when you comply and take his hand in yours you begin to remember the sheer difference in size between you two. His clawed hand easily swallowed yours and at this closer proximity than normal it felt like he was a tower to you being a cottage.

“Now, all we’re gonna start with is moving side to side like this.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, keeping his hips loose and going with the motion. You stare for a moment before awkwardly (at least it felt awkward) mimicking the action. “Use the same foot I’m using on my count. 1, 2, 3, 4.” He kept count until you got it and were able to keep up. Simple enough. “Now we’re going to do the same, but vertical. Slightly more tricky, try not to tie your legs together, dear. Outside foot goes back.” It was trickier, and you did lose balance in the beginning, but luckily Alastor didn’t entirely seem to mind it. You guess it would be less bothersome to someone who could lift you with their pinky. You think you got it down and it seems that Alastor thought so too when he directs, “Now we’ll combine them. Bring your outside foot back up, there you go, and rock on your outside foot, inside foot, outside foot rocks back, then rock back to the front foot.”

As soon as you got that down Alastor was off, adding an extra tapping step, throwing in a few kicks for himself, even switching the position so you were holding hands in front of each other. Once in front of the other you could swear that Alastor is staring a bit too intensely. It’s like he is attempting to peer further into your being and get a better read on your soul. What is more jarring is you could swear his eyes flicker to your lips and stay there, but your tired brain isn’t able to confirm for sure that’s what you saw. Honestly, you had no idea what was going on. Trying to focus hard on his steps and mimic and predict them was difficult, especially in your half awake brain. Considering he kept going you figured you were somehow keeping up well enough; you haven’t been looking at his face much, trying to watch his feet.

Your focus retreats entirely once you hear him say something, but as you look up at him you are suddenly stumbling right into a twirl and then into the deer demons’ chest; one clawed hand now on your waist and the other moving your hand to his padded shoulder. Your nose suddenly filled with a pine and metallic smell and your face so close to the crimson fabric of his clothes, it took a second before you realized your feet had been dragged for a second before the both of you weren’t moving.

“I did try to tell you I was going to pull you in, my dear.” His radio filtered voice brought you fully back. You find your footing again and look hesitantly up at his ever grinning face. Alastor is leaning over you, face coming closer until his sharp teeth become a little too close. Just inches from your own lips.

“Sorry.” One of your feet tries to go back so you would be able to create a bit of distance so you could see him properly, but his hand on your waist keeps you solid against him. You instead opt to move your hand from his shoulder to his lapel to keep your stability. ‘Did he just freeze for a second?’

The demons’ grin widens impossibly more, eyes flashing with an unknown emotion. “No need to apologize, my sleepy friend. I’ve found your company to be quite pleasant on this eventful night. Perhaps it’s time to bring this evening to an end.” He suggests. The hand that is still holding yours let’s go and lands on top of yours on his lapel. “ You caught onto the steps very quickly. You do enjoy keeping me on my toes.”

“Thank you.” You reply a bit flatly, your vision starting to unfocus as you stare at your joined hands. You both were just dancing so it makes sense, but somehow the warmth was still causing cogs in your mind to stutter. As if you can’t believe this as anything but a dream. “I think it’s time I head back to my room. I think I’m at the point where I could go into a coma for the next few days.”

He chuckled a bit to himself. “I see that. You look like you’re going to collapse as soon as I let go of you. Tell you what, I’ll send you back to your room if you agree to come back for lessons after supper tomorrow night. A time when you should be more awake. I am so curious to see how you fare fully awake.” You nod your head numbly, just wanting to allow sleep to take you. “Splendid! Have a lovely rest, dear.”

As he snaps the fingers on his free hand, you could feel the floor disappear under you. Before you could drop, Alastor allows you to essentially float for a second while he lifts your hand he had been covering and kisses the back of it. Next thing you know you fall into inky blackness before feeling the familiar softness of your bed. As sleep begins to over take you, you think back upon those final moments and let them sink in. ‘Oh shit.’ The radio demon just kissed the back of your hand. Not to mention, he also now has one of your blankets. Your eyes snap open, and suddenly you didn’t feel tired anymore. ‘God fucking damn it, Alastor.’

#radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #fluff #dancing #admin bear #hazbin hotel

[thought--bubble]

Let's Work it Out

Ettore X (Indifferent Crewmate Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Based on THIS request

Word Count: 1979

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Ettore, swearing, Smut, dub-con, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex (P in V), one brief line is a reference to previous non-con just a proper heads up. It's really quick, but yeah. Just in case.

"I hate this fucking ship." This is the thought that runs through your mind on a constant loop.

When you agreed to take this mission, you had thought it would be a good alternative to prison.But after months of floating around on this metal hellscape, you know you should have just stayed on earth.

Trapped in a tin can with a bunch of arseholes. At least in prison, the population was bigger. You had a better chance of finding people you could stand.

But here? Misery.

Boyse was fucking annoying with her constant bitching "this isn't right", "she can't do this", you know she's right but fuck, you can't change it and neither can she, so at least she could do you all a favor and just shut the fuck up.

Then there's Monte. The high and mighty one who thinks he is too good for the box. He walks around as if he is somehow morally superior to the rest of you, as if he wasn't a murderer too.

"You wouldn't be on this ship if you weren't asshat. Calm down."

Then there is the absolutely insane Dr. Dibs, who is apparently the only other person on this ship that is allowed to touch you and not in a fun way. Doing her freaky experiments knocking all the women up one by one and accidentally killing them off like some fucked up version of Russian roulette.

Then there is Ettore. He doesn't bother you as much as he bothers all the other female inmates, which actually makes him amusing in a way. He's definitely got the creepy staring guy role down, but who could blame him? There isn't much to look at on this stupid ship. Everything looks the same.

There are more irritating, annoying inmates, but you couldn't be arsed to learn their names. Fuck every single person on this ship, as far as you are concerned.

Most days, like today, when you have "free time," you just lay in your bunk. Trying to daydream and imagine you were back on earth before you irreparably fucked your life up.

Nansen is up on her bunk doing the same thing. She doesn't bother you much as she's quiet, and at the moment, Ettore is hanging off her bunk, literally sniffing at her.

"He's so fucking weird" you think as you watch him, trying not to laugh at the fact that this is what passes for amusement around here.

Nansen clearly gets fed up with him sniffing around her like some deranged dog and finally shoves him away.

The frustration on his face finally does you in, and you start laughing, no not laughing, cackling. He responds quickly with a flash of rage before quickly exiting the room.

"Thanks for that, that was actually fun," you yell over to Nansen before you roll onto your side, still chuckling to yourself.

Time moves slowly here and after what felt like hours Nansen left to go do something or other leaving you in the room alone still laying on your side and staring at the wall as if willing it to bring you some sort of escape from this place.

Your eyelids get heavier and heavier as you stare at the wall before they finally slide shut. Only the slight humming of the ship and distant voices can be heard as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

Until you hear it. The door closing. You open your eyes but don't move. Normally, it wouldn't be weird to hear someone enter the room. It is a shared space, after all. But no one ever closes the door. It's always left open.

You wait a few minutes while you continue to pretend you're asleep. Maybe one of the girls are douching after a visit with Dibs or puking up their sleepy time pills? Best to pretend you are asleep so they don't try to kick you out of the room.

So you wait. For movement, noise, or anything, but you are met with silence.

What feels like eternity passes with your heart thumping in your chest when finally, you turn around to see Ettore sitting on the floor next to your bunk, some of your long loose hair between his fingers.

You instantly jump back.

"Piss off!" You yell while pushing back with your feet towards the wall.

Ettore grips your ankle and drags you across the bunk and onto the floor.

"Arse!" You howl as your back makes contact with the harsh floor. Ettore stares down at you, a predatory look in his eyes.

"Don't you touch me, you prick!" You snarl at him, slowly rising to your feet.

Ettore doesn't say a word. Just slightly tilts his head to the side as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

This guy isn't a dog, he's a fucking wolf and he is sorely mistaken if he thinks you're a lamb ripe for the slaughter. Yet you can't help but find him oddly enticing, the piercing blue eyes, his fill chest, and the fact that he keeps his mouth shut is a nice bonus.

As he moves toward you, the decision is made, you tackle him, wrapping your arms around his midsection, bringing him to the ground with a loud smack, and straddle his hips.

"Don't fuckin move you prick!" You hold his hands up by his head and are surprised when you see no anger, only unbridled lust.

And then you feel it. He is rock-hard beneath you, and suddenly, the fact that he isn't fighting you off makes sense.

Against your better judgment and any rational sense, you decide to tease him. It's been so long since you have been touched. Why not indulge for a moment?

"You like being under me, don't ya?" You tease as you rock your hips against him.

"Yea, nice place to be" his words are dripping in lust as he pushes his hips against yours grinding his cock against your cunt.

This boy is desperate.

You chuckle to yourself and grind back against him. His eyes roll back slightly as his jaw drops open.

He's so responsive, so much so that it drives heat straight to your core.

"You want me to apologize? For laughing earlier?" You continue to grind against his cock a sensation he loves, if the look on his face is anything to go by.

"Don't care," He grunts as he moves his hips a bit faster against you and closes his eyes.

"What if I said I would apologize by riding that big old cock you have stuffed into those scrubs huh?"

Ettore's eyes flash open, and he stares up at you, licking his lips.

"Would you like that?" You tease as you again roll your hips against him, but you make the mistake of closing your eyes and when you do Ettore wastes no time breaking out from the grips you have on his wrists and flipping you over onto your back.

You grunt at the impact. "Fuck, thought we were getting somewhere?" Your grumble in pain.

"Collectin my apology." He sniffs up the side of your neck before reaching down to pull off your scrub bottoms.

You want to correct him. Maybe explain. What riding him means, but again, you couldn't be arsed.

You push your scrubs down the rest of the way and bring your legs up around his hips.

It's been far too fucking long since you've been fucked and he's weird yeah but he's also hot and is most likely gonna fuck you silly.

Ettore leans forward to capture your mouth, but you turn your head to the side.

No fucking kissing dipshit.

Luckily, he is quick on the uptake and goes for your neck, seemingly unbothered by the subtle rejection.

He brings his hand to your heat, sliding his digits into your leaking wetness.

"Mmmmm" He groans eyes closed as he hovers above you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing small precise circles on the nerve.

You close your eyes and lean your head back, your climax getting closer as he continues his ministrations while gently biting at your neck.

You feel your body tense as you climb that hill, wanton moans slipping from your lips as Ettore slides a finger into your canal, his fingertips exploring, looking for the magic spot that makes a girl go wild.

You take a deep breath in and rock your hips against his hand, your labored breaths, and sounds of pleasure gradually growing in volume, and he knows he's found it.

Ettore gets to work rubbing at the spot deep inside you as he pulls back to watch your face contort in pleasure.

It's so primal. Emotions aren't necessary. Just basic physical need and gratification, one of the driving forces behind Ettore's every move.

He quickly removes his finger from you and grips your thighs tightly, pulling you up to him, and plunges himself inside you in one swift thrust.

The only thing he feels.

He audibly groans at the sensation, jaw hanging slack as his pace quickly increases.

He has tunnel vision. He wants that sensation and needs that sensation, and there is not a thing in heaven, on earth, or this damn ship that is going to stop him now.

In just moments, his pace is punishing the hard smack of his hips against your skin and the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain have you reeling.

"Fuck!" You bite your lower lip nearly breaking the skin as he bullies your insides, hitting all the right spots with each violent thrust.

He watches himself entering you memorized be each movement. He is practically drooling seeing your fluids building up on the base of his cock. Dampening the short blonde curls that grow there.

He can't help but think to himself how much better it is when they want it.

He brings his thumb to your clit working the nub in small circles wanting that clench he knows you can give him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your eyes fly back open as you hit your peak temporarily going deaf, body numb to all feeling other than the overwhelming pleasure.

Ettore smiles, not a happy smile, more of a victory smile. It's time to chase his peak, to take what he wants needs.

As you begin to float back down from your high, Ettore is climbing his. Every thought in him consists of reaching that goal. That euphoria.

His grunting grows louder, and his legs begin to shake as he pushes his body to its limit, determined to have the most intense experience he can create.

"If you ever want to do this again, you'll pull out." You don't know if he will heed your warning. He doesn't care about you. Why should he? You do hope that his needs in the future will outweigh his wants right now, but only time will tell.

He says nothing, his eyes closed as he groans loudly, you feel him stiffen, and just as you think he is going to ignore your warning, he pulls out shooting his spend onto your quivering thighs.

You both stay put a moment before you reach into your laundry and snatch up a shirt that's meant for washing, wiping yourself down.

Ettore watches you intently before finally opening his mouth. You see him debate with himself whether or not he should say whatever it is he is planning on saying.

You watch the gears move in his head moderately, amused as you start to put your bottoms back on.

"Good grief, just say it." You can't help but lose your patience. He is back to being the weird, staring guy, and it's irritating.

"Again?" He finally mutters.

You chuckle as you realize he is confirming that this is going to happen again.

"Sure" you shrug "Need something to do on this fucking ship"

To be added to taglist click here

#ewan mitchell verse #ettore x reader #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore #ewan nation #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewanverse #ettore imagine #ewan mitchell #jess fics #my red flag bf

[crucifiedfaerie]

Gibson Girl | Pt. 2 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: He can't possibly have feelings for you. That would make him weak... right?

➴ Part One | Part Three

➴ Word Count: 1.3k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, sooo much angst, kylo is really mean this chapter :( guys im sorry, bpd king !!, kylo is an emotionally stunted asshole, gaslighting, crylo ren, dubcon, SMUT (pure filth im sorry, again kylo is mean, inappropriate use of the force, oral sex m!receiving, rough facefucking, degradation, sadist!kylo, sorta dacryphilia ??, light bruising ??)

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: kylo is such an asshole this chapter and for that i am so sorry BUT BEAR WITH ME... i have plans and i pinky promise things get better. also as hot as i think facefucking is, i have a sinus infection rn and all i could think about while writing this chapter was facefucking with a congested, stopped up nose and how horrendously unenjoyable that would be LMAO. like.. thats gotta be a form of attempted murder.

"Sir, I just think she might be becoming too much of a distraction to you." General Hux paced the floor of the command room, as he spoke. "The Resistance is closing in and your mind is being clouded by a mere technician. I believe the best course of action would be to neutralize he-"

An unseen force lifted his body into the air by his neck. He attempted to find flat ground, the tips of his shoes grazing the floor as he choked on his words.

"Do not even finish that sentence General." Kylo boomed, his modulator struggling to keep up with his volume. "Unless you'd like for me to crush your skull right now, I suggest you keep your thoughts on my personal endeavors to yourself."

With a swift motion of his hand, Kylo slammed Hux to the floor, releasing him. "Now get out of my sight."

Filled with a rage that rivaled the fire of a thousand suns, he watched as the General scrambled to the floor and bolted out of the door.

Once the door shut, Kylo ignited his crimson saber and swung at the walls, the table, everything. He screamed as he shredded the durasteel, filling the room with the scent of molten metal and burning plastic.

When he was satisfied with his destruction, he slid down the wall and slumped to the floor. His head hung between his knees, and only a trained ear could have heard the sob that emanated from his mask.

You had been staring at Kylo's bedroom ceiling for hours, replaying last nights events in your head. If it weren't for you laying in his bed you would have thought it was just a really vivid dream.

You were pulled out of your daydream by the sound of his heavy boots making their way towards the bedroom. The door swung open and although the mask hid his face, you knew he was absolutely seething.

"Hi... are you- are you okay?" You tried to sound less terrified than you actually were, to no avail.

"Fine, actually." He said coldly, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

You are definitely lying.

You momentarily forgot he could hear your thoughts. With an outstretched hand, he used the force to pull you off the bed and onto the floor in front of him. You wince as your warm, naked body made contact with the cold floor of his bedroom.

He leant down to grab your face and make you look up at him. "You question me? On my own goddamn ship?" He yelled, any shred of the man who held your head in his lap last night was now gone.

The lump in your throat grew bigger, your voice trembling. "You j-just seemed upset Kylo. I-I don't understand what I did wrong."

He sighed in annoyance, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "What you've done wrong..." his grip on your face tightened, leather fingers digging into your jaw. "Is get into my fucking head."

You didn't realize you were crying until a warm tear hit your hand. "I d-d-don't under- s-stand!" You sobbed.

He wiped your tears away carelessly with his glove. "Stop! Stop crying! If sympathy from me is what you're looking for you won't get it."

He let go of your face forcefully and stood straight up, towering over you before working to undo his belt and free his cock from the confines of his trousers. The heat that grew in your core betrayed you, despite your tears and anger.

He grabbed your hair and pulled. "Open." He demanded, his tone cold and stripped of any emotion that wasn't anger. You obliged and without a moment's hesitation, Kylo shoved his cock so far down your throat you saw stars.

More tears ran down your face as he held you there, gripping your hair and forcing you to breathe through your nose.

Kylo began to move, speeding up his thrusts and hitting the back of your throat with each snap of his hips. He was unrelenting, unmerciful on your pretty mouth. The pleasure you were getting from him simply using you mouth was downright sinful. You looked up at him, moaning around his dick and silently pleading with him through teary eyes to just give you a break.

Please-

He took pleasure in listening to the noises you made. He looked down at you, a mixture of spit, tears, and his precum dribbling from your mouth. He laughed at you, "Pathetic little thing, getting off on my cruelty towards you. And you think I'd give you a break? Fuck no."

Nearing his climax, his thrusts became erratic, almost animalistic. With one last thrust and zero warning, Kylo groaned as he came down your thoat. You noted how warm and salty it was as you swallowed, hands hitting the floor and gasping for air when he finally pulled away.

He just just stood there, staring down at you and watching intently as you breathed heavily on the floor, broken. There was a small shred of goodness left in Kylo that knew this was wrong, that knew you didn't deserve to be treated like a piece of meat. He wanted so badly to drop to his knees right there and hold you, to say he was sorry and that his feelings for you ran much deeper than wanting to use you as a fucktoy. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it. If he loved you that meant he was weak, right? And under no circumstances could the First Order have a weak leader. He wouldn't listen to that part of himself, even if it absolutely killed him inside to do so.

He grabbed your clothes from the night before off of the floor and tossed them to you. "Get out." He spit.

"Kylo-" You breathed, fighting the tears that threatened to resurface. "I don't understand-" Your voice broke into a sob as you dressed yourself.

His heart shattered at how badly he was hurting you. He was angry with himself, not you. But he couldn't tell you that. "I said get out! Don't make me have to ask you again."

You cried, tears blinding you as you left his quarters, slamming the door behind you. You winced at his modulated shouting and the shriek of his saber crashing through things in his room as you made your way down the hall.

I don't get him, I don't think I ever will.

Two weeks had gone by since your last encounter with Kylo. The morning after, he had left on a mission without a word. As time passed, the bruise he left on your jaw faded to a yellow-green and you vowed to yourself by the time the bruise was gone you'd forget about Kylo and that any of it ever happened. Deep down you knew that wasn't true, time wasn't as merciful on the aching emptiness in your heart.

As you worked through a tangle of wires, a notification buzzed on your datapad.

"Command Shuttle arriving at 15:30."

In ten minutes. Great.

You ignored it and went back to work, attempting to rewire a control panel in the Command Center, that who other than Kylo Ren had apparently destroyed with his saber a couple weeks prior. Despite your yearning, he was truly beginning to piss you off.

After a while of tinkering, another message buzzed on your datapad. When you looked to see what it was your heart sank. It was him.

"My quarters. Now."

You groaned, letting out a long sigh.

Gods- Can that fucking man make up his goddamn mind. Please.

#kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #starwars x reader #kylo ren fanfic #ben solo fanfic #starwars fanfic #kylo ren #ben solo #star wars #fanfic #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #crucifiedfaerie #saint writes !

[miserable-sarah]

Impressive 18+

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader Warnings: Smut, NSFW, rough Steve, Dom!Steve Summary: You and Steve go on a mission together, he's impressed with you but doesn't want to admit it.

"Captain on your six" You say, catching his attention. He does his normal super soldier moves.

"4 down"

"I got 3 down"

"One more" He loves to make things a competition even though he doesn't admit it. You run trying to find the last guy, you want to beat Steve there. You see the guy in front of you and jump on his back taking him down. Steve comes and finishes the job.

"Hey! I had him." you say to him huffing.

"I just helped." He shrugs

"Mhm, helped your ego" You smirk, he just looks away, smiles, and chuckles, knowing he's caught. You get on the jet waiting for Steve to come on. You're not sure if Steve trusts you or likes you. He's always on you and he's always taking your men or women down. He makes you feel like you're not good enough and that you just need to be babysat.

"You okay?" Steve asks, taking his seat up front.

"Yeah." You say quickly. You sit on the bench looking at your hands and arms making sure you have no marks on you.

"You sure?"

"Yeah" You fake smile at him.

~

You finally get back to the compound, Steve has been hounding you for hours on the ride. It's not even a big deal but now he's really getting on your nerves. You walk in, no one is around they all must be out on missions. You walk into the meeting room and Steve is behind you.

"Are you sure, because now you seem mad."

"Steve! I'm fine!" You snap.

"Don't shout at me." Steve says stepping towards you, you back up.

"You're not listening"

"You're not telling the truth." He towers over you, you go to push him but he grabs your wrists and holds them against the wall. His body is so close to being pressed up against yours that your mouth gets dry. "So, tell the truth"

"You hover over me and never let me celebrate my wins" You stare into his eyes. "I'm either bad or really good and you don't like it"

"Is that what you think?" He chuckles. He bends down to eye level, studying your features. He leans in close and whispers in your ear "You're just that bad" You get hands free and push him back against the table. He snickers and flips you so you're against the table.

"Steve" You struggle to get free, his body is pressed against you and his hands hold your arms down.

"I like it better when I'm in control." He smirks at you. You look at his eyes then his lips. You push yourself forward, he stops you. "I said, I like it better when I'm in control." He kisses you, smashing his lips on yours. You instantly moan in the kiss, you kiss him back. Your mouths are moving, your tongues fighting for dominance but you're giving it to Steve.

Steve puts his hands on your butt and lifts you up onto the table. You spread your legs and let him move closer to you. You tug at the bottom of his shirt and he takes it off. You look at his body in awe. You've seen it before and fantasized moments like this in your mind. You never thought you'd be here. He lifts up your shirt causing you to pay attention.

"I guess you like what you see" He teases you. You don't say anything, you unhook your bra letting it fall, you lay back on the table letting Steve take your jeans off along with your thong. You sit up on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his pants. He pulls you by your ankles making you get lower on the table. His large hands run over the curves of your body. "I always thought you were so perfect." he says softly. You look at his perfect face, his perfect teeth, his perfect jawline, his perfect eyes, and he's calling you perfect. "Well, until I saw you fight." Your jaw drops. You kick him back and he stumbles.

"Why would you say that? Especially right now?" You shake your head grabbing your clothes "God, I'm so stupid" Steve doesn't say a thing. He blocks the door, his frame is much bigger than yours and you know he can take you down. "Steve, move"

"No." He stands there shirtless with loose fitting pants. You just want to fuck him but you're trying to stand your ground. "Make me." He smirks. asshole. You try to move him but it's no use, Steve lifts you up pushing you against the door, your legs are wrapped around his waist, he kisses and nibbles at your neck. You throw your head back and moan.

"You've always wanted me, I can tell." He whispers in your ear. You shiver at his voice, he's right. You always have wanted him, even when he makes you so mad you just want to rip his clothes off.

"You're right" You say breathless.

"I'm always right." He moves back to the table laying you down. He leans over top of you, his hand dances around your clit. You tense up waiting for some real connection. His finger slips inside you, you let out another moan. You're not trying to be so desperate but it's been a while and you've been thinking about this for a very long time. He smirks at you and enters another finger. He pumps his fingers inside you, you arch your back. "So wet already"

"Steve" You moan, you just want to feel him inside you.

"Yes?" He asks cocky, knowing what you're going to say.

"Please, fuck me." You beg. Steve removes his hand from you and takes his pants off with his boxers. You gasp at his size not expecting him to be so big.

"Think you can take it?" he asks half seriously. You nod your head yes. "Good girl" He says lining himself up "I might not be able to hold bac-"

"Steve! Please!" You are cut off by yourself screaming, he slammed into you with no warning. Your nails dig into his forearms. He hisses at you but keeps going. He leans down and gives you a sloppy kiss, your fingers pull at his hair, he rests his forehead on yours looking into your eyes, watching the pleasure on your face.

"You're being such a good girl taking me" He says to you softly.

You let out a loud moan "Steve" you say, his words are making you feel 10x better.

"What baby, can't handle it?" He coos at you, almost making fun of you. You pull him in for another kiss, he speeds up going harder. He snakes his arms around your waist and picks you up. He slams into over and over. He groans and moans along with you. You can't believe this is happening right now. You never thought this would happen. Steve slams you against the wall making you gasp, you're pretty sure there's a dent in it now.

"Fuck Steve" you throw your head against the wall. Steve squeezes your cheeks.

"You feel so good, I want to cum inside you. I'm going to do that okay?" He nods his head with you. "Are you going to cum for me?" you nod your head and he lets go. Steve's hand finds your clit and fingers start rubbing you. You're taken over with pleasure, he's whispering dirty things in your ear, you can feel your body tense up and you clench around him. "Are you gonna cum baby? Hmm?"

"Yes, Steve" You moan out, he picks up his pace, his forehead is covered in sweat, he is so focused on what he's doing it makes him even hotter. He watches you, you close your eyes, your legs start to shake and you groan loudly. "Fuck!" you squeal as he continues to rub your clit and thrust into you. "Steve!" you squeal again, your whole body is taken with pleasure it's too much. "Please, stop" you wiggle around trying to get out of his grip but it's useless. Steve chuckles darkly and removes his hand, he puts you back on the table and contuines fucking you. You lay there trying to catch your breath.

"I'm going to fill you up" He grunts, his thrusts get sloppier and slower. You feel him cum inside you, you let out another moan. Steve thrusts a few more times, he stops and stays inside you. He rests his forehead on yours, breathing heavy.

"I told you" He says

"Told me what?"

"You couldn't handle it." He chuckles kissing your forehead , he gets up and puts his clothes back on, he helps you with yours, since your entire body feels like jell-o.

You hear people chatting, you know some of the others are back. You and Steve run out of that room into one of the bedrooms. ~

You walk downstairs and see Nat sitting there drinking coffee.

"New mission?" She asks

"Oh, no. The one with Steve was enough."

"You know he's only like that because he hates that you're so good. None of us babysit you when we're out there"

"He always wants to be in control" You mumble.

"What are you talking about?" Steve walks in the kitchen joining you Nat, you clear your throat thinking of last night.

"Uh, hey" Tony walks in "guys just remember we have servalnce all over this building." He glares at you and Steve, your eyes widened and you feel embarrassed all throughout your body.

"Ooh what happened?" Nat asks with a smile

"We need a new table is what happened" Tony walks away shaking his head.

You look at Steve who shrugs with a smirk.

#steve rodgers x reader #marvel #captian america dirty imagine #captain america #captain america smut #captian america #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut

[those-late-night-feels]

Sweet Surrender

Summary: Joel is there to protect you & a bond grows. Boston QZ, no Tess/Ellie.

Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted rape (not Joel), smut.

AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.

The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.

Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.

Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.

"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.

The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.

"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.

From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"

Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.

"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.

Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.

He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?

You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.

He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.

Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?

A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."

He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.

"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.

"That's none of your business."

Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."

The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."

Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"

The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."

Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"

The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."

Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."

"Is that a threat?" he growled.

"No, it's a fact."

There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.

"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.

"Y'alright?" he asked.

You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?

Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.

You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.

"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."

No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?

Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."

You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.

"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.

"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.

Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.

"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.

"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.

"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."

"Thank you…"

He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.

"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."

You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."

You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."

Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."

"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.

"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.

"I… I don't need that."

"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.

"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.

Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.

At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.

"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.

"How's the arm?"

You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"

You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"

"You'll see."

Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.

"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.

"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.

"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."

You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.

"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.

"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."

You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.

"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."

And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.

He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."

The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"

"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.

You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.

Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.

After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.

There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.

"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."

The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.

"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.

"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."

You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."

"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."

Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"

"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."

A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"

They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?

When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!

You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.

"What are you–"

"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"

You shook your head. "Not here."

He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.

"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.

Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"

It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.

This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.

"What are you talking ab-"

"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."

He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.

"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."

Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"

The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.

"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."

You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."

Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.

"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."

His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."

Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.

His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.

"It's getting late," he whispered.

"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."

Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.

His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.

"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"

You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."

The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.

His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.

"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"

You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.

"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.

He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.

He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.

"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.

"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.

"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."

Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.

It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.

"You doing ok sweet girl?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."

Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.

"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.

"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.

"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.

Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.

"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."

You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.

It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.

You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fic #tlou roleplay #joel miller x y/n #joel x you #joel #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #fic recs #smut joel miller #joel miller edit #joel miller writing #fics #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

[dracoxmalereader]

Dimly Lit Courtyard

Context: Third and final chapter of my Gryffindor!Reader ficlet. <3

Summary: Fifth year was certainly an eventful one. No better way to process it than sat there with Draco after hours in the dimly lit courtyard.

Part 1 | Part 2 (Or read it in full on Wattpad or Ao3)

Word Count: 731

Crickets chirp in the rustling leaves that scatter themselves about the courtyard. The big tree by the wall sways in the breeze, doing little to cool the air of the low warmth that comes with an ending may. Draco was propped up in the grooves of the tree, leaning back against it on the ground.

“There you are.” You skip over to him. He looks up at you. His brows push up and in as your eyes meet.

You toss a green apple you’d swiped from your table to him, and he catches it in his free hand. You slump yourself down beside him. He focuses his attention on a patch of dirt in the grass in front of him. 

It’s hard to see his face with only the distant glow of the castle corridors reaching out to light the way. The moon hides behind a collection of pale, dusty clouds, not unlike the wispy hair that frames the top half Draco’s face. 

You hear him swallow. “You weren’t at dinner.” You explain.

He huffs a dry laugh. “Stupid Gryffindors. Always playing the hero.” His voice is low and even, and you can almost feel the way it rumbles in his throat. Something you won’t acknowledge pulls at the inside of your chest. 

In his other hand, a glint catches on the shiny emblem of his inquisitorial squad badge. His fingers smooth over the silver ‘I’, twirling it around in his hands so it faces the ground. Your gaze crawls to his face and you watch him stare down at the dull, matte back of the thing, almost regretfully.

“Real powerful, eh?” You mock. It’s a blunt attempt at humor, forcing the joking lilt in your tone to try and lighten the mood. You never thought you’d miss his egotistical smirking, much less try and get it back. Especially after all that had happened before Umbridge was removed.

His solemn expression hardens. The corners of his mouth pull down. His nose wrinkles up. “Shove off.”

He shimmies where he’s sat, and you bring a hand to firmly rest on his arm, just below the crease of his sleeve. “I’m only teasing.”

He turns to look at you. The lit archways in the wall well behind you reflect in his gray eyes, framing your silhouette. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. The two of you stare at each other. 

He blinks once, twice, then he’s turning away. 

“I knew Potter wasn’t lying.” He rushes out. A breath bigger than the lungs it leaves blows out of him. He looks into your eyes again, vulnerable uncertainty tugging at his features. “About you know who.” 

“Me too.” You reply. “You’re late to the party.” Another attempt at lightheartedness.

A chuckle leaves him. The corners of his mouth finally pull upwards again, albeit laced with a discomfort that etches deep into the rest of his face. “I was earlier than you think.”

You pinch the fabric of his sleeve between your thumb and forefinger, letting it go and rubbing your palm in small circles up the fold of his elbow. He looks back at you and you smile at him. Tension bleeds from his form. He swallows again, the rest of his body shifts to face you.

The hallway behind him back-lights his figure, and another wave of pressure settles in your chest. You wordlessly gaze at one another, and you can feel his breath fan over the small space between you. His badge clinks to the ground, and his hand brushes onto the side of your face. 

Quiet and calm, you both close your eyes and lean in. Your lips meet and it feels like the cavity behind your ribs has been sucked dry, breathless. Your fingers twitch and ball up in his sleeve, and his hand slips down your jaw to hold you more firmly by the side of your neck. 

His palm is tacky against your skin, warm like the air. Another gust of mild wind blows through, and the tree’s branches sway above the two of you.

His fingertips tickle the hairs at the base of your nape, and for just a moment there’s no such thing as ‘Gryffindor’, ‘Slytherin’, or even ‘you know who’. Just for a moment, there’s only you, Draco, and the sound of crickets chirping in the dimly lit courtyard.

I asked my friends what they wanted for the holidays and none of them told me. TT

"What do you want for Christmas guys" "How much money do you have?" Apparently not enough because they never got back to me. Not ONE of them. The group chat is full of reddit memes and not a single gift they want. Tell Peter Griffin to pipe down and TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS. 👹

It's on them that I didn't get them anything. They have jobs if it's something they really wanted they can just get it themselves. I still feel bad though sob. </3

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @siuspider @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x male reader #draco x reader #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #x male reader #x m!reader #x male y/n #gryffindork reader #tagging is hard

[boliv-jenta]

Tim Rockford x f!reader

Warnings: None really.

WC:1.4k

A little twist on a classic mystery.

La Compère

It was a silly thought. One that left your mind as quickly as it entered. It's almost romantic. The two of you catching little glimpses of the other. Both trying to use the like bits gleaned about each other to build a bigger picture.

He was divorced; recently, there was still a tan line where his wedding band used to be. He had kids, both in high school. You'd heard him talking to them, trying to arrange meeting up with them. Their schedules didn't seem to line up. They were busy with friends, hobbies, and school work. He was busy with his work. With you.

The work that was giving him a headache. His large hand massaged his temple. Not for the first time, you wondered if his hands would be rough or smooth. There was a roughness to him, a directness that some people may mistake for lack of tact. The man had tact, he also had things to do. He wasn't there to play games. He was there to work. He'd been in every room, searched everywhere, turned over every piece of the puzzle in his head over and over again. He touched the items in front of him with such a gentleness as if he could coax some answers out of them with the softness of his touch. 

Other's came by now and then as he worked. They would give their opinion. He was dismissive of most of them. After all, he knew you best. He was the only one that read the unpublished manuscript on your desk. The one where you had so clearly poured your heart out onto each page. The fiction woven so tightly with the fact of you. 

He was the one that stared at your collage of photographs of your wall. The ones that showed the light in your eyes and the love in your life. He'd picked through the mementos in your draws. Concert ticket stubs, rock and shells still covered with sand, wrist bands from festivals. 

It only took him five minutes in your inner sanctum for him to decide he liked you. He'd asked them not to disturb a thing. He was drawn to you in your photos with your friend. Your beauty and vibrance made you stand out to him even if he didn't already know to look for you. The shelves filled with books, CDs and DVDs, gave him an insight into your eclectic tastes. The first time he'd skimmed the spines of your books with his finger, you'd stood and watched. He was handsome, with his brow furrowed and lips parted in concentration. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes showed his age and a life well lived. A life full of laughter. Not one second of it showed on his face at the moment. His lips were set in a hard line as he sat at your desk, looking through his notes. His deep brown eyes scanned the words over and over as if the answers were hidden in the space between them. It was hard to restrain yourself from laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. The way they were hunched over was a far cry from how broad they really were. They were one of the first things that caught your attention when he'd first entered your home. The other being his eyes. The warmth in such darkness. A whole variety of shades shone as they moved in the light. As they searched each sentence for a clue. They only stopped to shut tightly in frustration. This time you didn't hold back from offering a comforting touch. A shiver ran down his spine. It was so deep that he reached for the gun at his shoulder instinctively. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Sat with his back to a windowless wall, all logic told him he didn't need to turn around. Something in his chest, instinct, unease. If he were a more poetic man he'd say his soul, told him to. There was no surprise that the only things behind him were the wall and the better part of the night. 

The clock on the wall showed three am. His mother would have called it the witching hour. The wariness settled in his bones, his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the pull of sleep. Failing for just a moment he let them close. When he opened them he felt more awake than he had in a long time. The feeling was heightened by the soft sound of your footsteps as you entered the room. He'd found you, or rather you'd found him. Here, in front of him, you looked even more beautiful than your pictures. It threw him for a moment before he called your name and explained who he was.

"I know who you are. Thank you for looking for me." The smile on your face added to the sudden sense of peace he felt.

"It's my job." Still, you felt like more than a job to him.

"It's not your job to stay up all night. When was the last time you ate?" The concern on your face was touching. No one had looked at him like that in such a long time.

"Noon, maybe?" He couldn't recall. He wasn't hungry now. "No, later. Your aunt brought me almond cookies."

"You didn't go home for dinner. You stayed." The two of you stepped closer as you talked.

"There's not much for me to go home to." He tried to coat the bitterness in the sweetness of laughter. "I wanted to find you."

"Because it's your job." Your inflection was somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Because I wanted to meet you. To meet the wit behind the words in your book. The woman that so many people thought so highly of they've spent weeks searching for you." He was directly in front of you now. So close that he could see the depth of colour in your eyes that he thought he knew so well.

"I wanted to meet you too. I've been watching you. Watching you comfort those people. Watching you see me, really see me, in a way no-one has." Why did your words make his heart ache? Why was he just standing here? He should inform his bosses that you are alive. That you are safe with him.

"I enjoyed getting to know you. You were more than just a job. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Why did he say that? Why was he letting himself stand impossibly close to you?

"It's okay. I'm flattered. I just wish it didn't end the way it did." He watched the pain flicker across your face.

"What do you mean?" This ended well. He found you. You were safe and well. Safe with him.

"You're a good man, Tim. You wouldn't even refuse Grandma's bitter cookies." Something tugged at the back of his mind. A half formed notion that wasn't ready to be heard. Still, it shifted something in him. When you stepped closer, he didn't hesitate to draw you into his arms. The two of you swayed gently, to the melody of an unheard song. His embrace was warm and inviting. "I'm glad you found me."

"Me too. I just wish it had been earlier." The half formed thought fought to take shape but his mind wouldn't let it. He couldn't accept the truth even though all the clues finally fit into place. You'd said Grandma's cookies. He knew the Aunt's alibi was a lie even though it seemed solid. No, there was no place for regret. He'd solved the case. He'd found you. You were safe. So was he. There was no pain for either of you anymore. 

"Better late than never." His lips brushed your cheek until he found yours, parted and waiting for him. The kiss was soft and sweet. 

"What do we do now?" Years of detective work hadn't prepared him to solve one of life's greatest mysteries. 

"I don't know." You had no plan beyond watching him. It hadn't occurred to you. The weeks you had spent watching him, felt like mere minutes to you. "Do you think they'll find me without you?"

Without him. The thought that he desperately tried to ignore, finally broke through. A moment of sadness flashed through the peace he felt. Not sadness for him, sadness for those he left behind.

"They'll have more reason to look when they find me. Everything pointed to your Grandmother. They didn't think of her having an accomplice."

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

#detective tim rockford #pedro pascal character fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford x f!reader

[flythesail]

rebelcaptain + 2 if u feel inclined <3 👉👈

Thank you!! <3

#2: "God, you're shivering so much—just take my jacket."

Also on ao3

“He’s late,” Jyn said from the window. 

She stared down at the road, three stories down. It was mostly empty now—just a few stragglers here and there—headed home after the later shift, or maybe from a bar out with friends. 

When they got here, it was midday. The sky had been covered in clouds then, and there was snow falling to show for that now. Still standing at the window, Jyn studied the large crack in it. There was a chunk of glass missing in the corner that left the edge of the window fragmented, not unlike a snowflake. 

She turned back to Cassian, who was sitting against the wall. This building was abandoned, used for something or other years ago. An office, maybe, judging by the number of small rooms and the bigger one at the end of the hall. It didn’t matter what the building was, though, as long as their contact showed up when he said he would. 

He had not. 

Cassian rested his head back on the wall, his face still turned so he could watch her. “Do you think he’s dead?” he asked. 

“I don’t know.” Jyn came away from the window and sat beside him. With the broken window, she might as well have been sitting on the ground outside. 

Kriff, it was freezing here. 

She glanced at Cassian and the jacket he wore. She would have brought more than her vest and scarf if she’d known they were going to be here this long. But this wasn’t the first time someone from the Rebellion had met with their contact, and he was known to be punctual. They were supposed to be on and off this planet, well on their way back to base by now. 

His eyes were on her still. Jyn knew that, even after she’d turned her gaze elsewhere. That was often the case whether he was right beside her or on the other side of the room. She could always tell when he was looking.  

Jyn pulled her knees closer to herself. She’d been in worse situations. At least this time, they had a warm ship waiting when this was all said and done. Maybe a cup of caf if any was left. Things could be much worse. 

Patience was easy when it had a purpose. 

Wrapping her arms around her legs, she held on to whatever warmth was left in her body. 

Cassian shifted. 

“You’re shivering,” he said. 

Jyn wrapped her arms tighter. 

"You can go back to the ship. I'll wait."

She turned her head to glance at him. "And what if he's still coming?"

"He might be dead, Jyn."

She knew that. Yet she was stubborn too and wouldn't leave Cassian here alone. 

"I'm staying." 

Cassian made a noise that was half sigh, half like he was about to say something else. He didn't speak though, and Jyn watched the frost from his breath disappear. 

How much longer should they wait? Their contact was an hour late already. If he wasn't so high profile, well-trusted—they'd have left. 

Instead they sat here, holding onto the possibility that one man wasn't dead. 

"Here," said Cassian. He worked his arms from his jacket sleeves. "Take my jacket."

"No," said Jyn, waving her hand up to stop him. "I'm fine." 

"You're already shivering." 

"I said I'm fine, Cassian." She flexed her fingers where she held them by her legs. At least she had her gloves, even if they were fingerless. 

It was a trade she'd made a long time ago. Cold fingers for the ability to hold a lockpick or anything else a layer of fabric would make difficult. 

Cassian paused, one arm out of his jacket and the other half out. "Come closer then."

Jyn watched him now. She didn't know him to be a worrier, especially outwardly. Often the only way to tell what he was feeling was by his eyes. Even that could be difficult. He was good at hiding, and she was learning to find him. 

"Alright," she said finally, shifting over so they were side to side, arms touching. 

Immediately she noticed how warm he was. Or maybe she was just freezing. 

"Better?" she asked. She glanced up at him and her breath almost caught when she realized how close his face was to hers. 

He nodded once and pulled his other arm free from his jacket, bringing it around to lay it over them like a blanket. 

Jyn moved even closer, telling herself it was because the jacket only worked as a blanket if they were close together. 

They sat in silence for a while. Jyn listened to the steady rise and fall of Cassian's breathing and for the occasional creak of the building as it settled.

Here they were alive, cold, and together. 

Their contact might be dead. 

It would not be the first time nor would it be the last that a message went unsaid. 

"Hey," Jyn said, glancing up at Cassian. Whatever she was about to say vanished when her eyes met his. 

They were so close. They hadn’t been this close since they embraced on the beach and braced for the end.

The warmth she felt now was almost intoxicating. She'd been on her own for so long. With the Partisans, touch was bumping arms and throwing them over shoulders after a particularly risky mission. On Wobani, touch was never friendly and feared.

Her kyber crystal burned hot where it lay above her heart. 

"What is it?" Cassian asked. 

His eyes were filled with concern, maybe curiosity. 

She shut her mouth before she said something stupid about how pretty they were. This close, she could count his eyelashes if she wanted. They were alive and she could. 

"Jyn?"

She blinked. "I don't know," she said, shrugging the question off. 

"Do you have a brain freeze?"

Jyn huffed a laugh, and the corner of Cassian's mouth quirked into a smile. "I don't think that's how that works."

She wished he had reason to smile more. 

As the minutes continued to tick by, it was only more undeniable that their contact would not show. 

Maybe he was fine, caught up somewhere and lying low. It had happened before. 

Jyn and Cassian could go now. Maybe they'd someday learn what happened, maybe they wouldn't. 

Her whole life, she'd had no choice but to live with questions, and this was one more. 

She looked back at Cassian and knew she didn't want him to be a question. 

This wasn't the first time she wondered what would happen if she moved any closer. If they could be this close again and again, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

Jyn did move closer and Cassian did too, lowering his forehead so it bumped hers. He held it there, and again Jyn thought what if and what would it be like to have something like this, someone who understood her as he did and have him forever.

"We could go," he whispered. 

She might have agreed, she didn't know. 

What she did know was they didn't go. Instead, she moved her head back to look at him. 

She saw a question, and she had an answer. 

So when she tilted her mouth toward his, he met her halfway and kissed her softly. 

He moved his hand to cradle the back of her head and his jacket fell away from them when her hand settled by his heart, holding onto the fabric of his shirt there.

The clock still ticked and even as his lips parted and she dared to kiss him harder, there was the question of how much time they'd get. 

The reality was that they almost got no time, and yet here they were. 

Any amount of time was more than she expected. 

Cassian was first to pull away, his breathing more ragged now. 

Jyn let her hand flatten against his chest, finding a heartbeat that matched her own. 

"Let's go," she said. It was getting later, colder, and they couldn't stay. 

He nodded, and they did. 

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #flythefic

[luimagines]

Blue hasn't had enough love as of lately,so in honor of the latest update from JoJo about the colors I present to you : This

(this is my first time writing so go easy on me plz)

Blue couldn't see what was so hard about this.

Just do it. He thought to himself

I've dealt with scarier things then this! Come on!! Get it together coward!!"

Lifting both hands up in unison slapping the sides of his face so hard it was bound to leave red hand prints on both sides.

 As he sat there hands to his face staring down at his own reflection in the puddle of water not far from him,knew that deep down insides he was being a bigger baby about this then usual (even if he would never in his life would ever admit it) and despite his valiant efforts to motivate himself, he simply couldn't shake off this...this....This....!

"Uaarrgha!!"

He didn't even know what this was! Was it Fear? Jealousy? Anger? Insecurity? His big Ego? Pride? All of them!?? None of them!??? Who in the goddesses names knows! He sure didn't,but there was one thing he could pin the source of his emotions down to.

He took a deep breath. Head tilted up,back slumped against the wall, eyes shut then exhaled. His hand reached down to pick up the bouque of blue flowers from the ground as he opened his eyes and stood back up straight again. He walked to the edge of the wall and peeked his head partially out to see them.

Y/N

His spouse, his gem,his sweetheart,the rupee to his eye,the love of his life with all the moon and stars above put together was there,sitting with his brothers-or more precisely the versions of himself-or were they more like parts of him?? Either way they were all there, sitting together enjoying a picnic date under a the shade of a tree with the bright warm sun shining down on them, laughing,talking, enjoying the company of each without a care in the world.

The sight of it was almost ethereal.

He knew what to do.

He really truly did.

Then why did he still feel so lost.

He want so badly to be the one to do it (especially on his own as blue) but yet he also wanted to run away and never think about trying this ever again.

There was so much he wanted to do with Y/N as just blue that he never got the chance to since they had started dating but his voice and body always betrayed him.His defensiveness,his aggression,his pride,his anger,he was aware of himself,he was aware how difficult he could be around but he still tries to be better,especially for Y/N.

Whenever he tried to remember himself as "Four" everything seemed much easier between him and Y/N. Whenever "Four" wanted to hold Y/N's hand he would, whenever he wanted to present them a gift he just did it, if he wanted a kiss? He got it! Wanted to hug thier S/O? Call them pet names? Dance with them? Tell them he loved them? To "Four" it was like stomping a twig in half with your foot, effortless.

But for Blue? fighting a herd of monsters on low health alone for him would be less nerve wraking then this.

He still remembers the first time they went out together, well, "they" as in Four and Y/N,not Blue, he remembered how much they fun they seemed to have had on that date,how they once said blue was thier favorite color,(he knew they actually meant "literal" colors but he still liked to have his own interpretation) how amazing they looked that night,how danced for what felt like hours,how thier hands intertwined with his perfectly as they walked through town and how at the end of the night they had....

Blue placed his fingers onto his lips before covering it with full hand as the red in his face became more apparent and real as the fond memories of thier soft lips having touched his became more vivid, remembering the numerous times they did it forehead,on his cheek,on his nose and practically everywhere on his face.

Blue wished to be that, to have that.

The thought of it even happening made his face a dark of red that would rival even the tomato colored having tunic counterpart.

"They're your S/O, idiot,you've dated them long enough to not be this chicken scared to get them flowers!" Blue irritably whispered to himself.

"Shit." He cursed to himself as the sudden realization had just hit him.

But that was the thing ,wasn't it? "Four" has dated Y/N long enough to not be scared to get them flowers, but Blue ? Even if he was still technically the Four who did these stuff with Y/N it still didn't change the fact that this was essentially the first "date" he's ever been on with Y/N as just Blue, (even if the other colors were there too you know,but whatever ig), and in fact with anyone for that matter.

He fell back down on the floor, back pressed against a ruin wall arms on his knees and head down as he placed the flowers down then crossed his arms over his head.

"Fuck, Hylia be damned if this is where my limit of courage is at! Come on! You've got to be joking! I am the Hero of the Four Swords! Hero of Minish and men! Hylia's chosen warrior!This is stupid! Just get it together! This is completely dumb!"

It was stupid,he was stupid,this was stupid, everything was stupid!

"I don't have to do this! I don't have to be here!What was even the point in all this! This idea was a dumb and stupid idea! I shouldn't have ever thought about this! Aarrrgghh!! Screw this!" Picking up the flowers he tossed them to the ground and stomped on them

He should be at the forge getting commissions done! He should be at the knights training ground sharpining his skills! He should be out doing quests for princess Zelda! He should be at Castle town making sure there isn't another monster or pirate attack! Not standing here behind a stupid ruin wall trying to muster up the strength to just give flowers to his own S/O !

This was stupid! This was dumb! He was out of here! He was leaving!

He turned and started to walk the opposite direction of where the group was into the forest stomping and fuming until suddenly-

Part 2 will be coming soon~

(btw don't be afraid to give me some tips and pointers and as well as your opinion on this if you want! Thnx!) 🥰

How... dare you...

This is so cute! BUT THEN YOU HIT ME WITH THAT KIND OF ENDING?!?!?!

#pinky replies #where's my part two?????? #HELLO!!!?????

[achaiapelides]

Kit's Diary

Chapter 3

Dear Ty,

I enrolled in a school today. Tessa and Jem suggested that it would be good for me to get in contact with some mundanes in our area, so I could find some new friends. I actually didn't want to, but they seemed to think that this was a good idea and were so happy, so I didn't want to disappoint them and agreed. It's a pretty big school, because all the kids in the area go there. I had some problems finding all the rooms first, but I guess I'll get a hang of it eventually. I had to elect advanced courses. Tessa told me history is quite interesting, English too. She knows this because she apparently attended the school a few years ago because she got bored, as you do as an immortal warlock.

First I got my timetable and a tour of the school with Tessa and Jem by the secretary, an older, very strict looking lady, but she was actually not that bad. She looked at my hand weirdly though, as if she could see my rune, Tessa assumes she probably is a mundane with sight. Afterwards I had my first class. Obviously maths. Ugh. But the teacher, a young man about 25, is very nice and actually managed to make me understand the stuff he explained. He even uses some new technology called IPad and beamer and made videos for us to watch at home so we can understand the topic better.

Since I know you're interested in that and Livvy is probably too, I'm going to explain it to you now. An IPad is a bit like a computer but you can, like on your smartphone, touch the screen so you don't need a mouse. But it's bigger than a phone, so you can write on it too if you have a pen that is connected to it. I don't quite understand how this works, I'm bad at physics and electronics okay? But I'm sure you can find that out by yourself if you want. A beamer is a device that you can connect to your IPad and project the thing you see on its screen onto a wall with light, like in a cinema.

So maths wasn't actually that bad. The only problem was a girl in my class, I think her name is Leo, who looked at me really weird, but not the same way as the secretary. She probably has the sight too and can see my runes. I fear she might ask me about it, so I guess I have to come up with some story, how I got them. I'm going to ask Jem and Tessa later.

After two hours of math, where I surprisingly did not die of boredom, I had history. They talked about Henry VIII, you know, the English King with the many wives. The teacher, Mrs. Addams is pretty strict, but still quite a good teacher. You have to imagine her a bit like a young Professor McGonagall from Harry Potter. If you don't know Harry Potter, you should read the books immediately, there's pretty good, even though the author is a bitch. But back to history: It was also quite interesting, especially the history of Henry's wives. Especially Anne Boleyn and Catherine Parr are very interesting.

Afterwards we had English with the same teacher. Apparently she kind of connected both subjects because we're reading Shakespeare in English class. She decided that we're going to read different works of him in groups. My group consists mostly of girls, who of course chose "Romeo and Juliet". I'm kind of bummed because Shakespeare has so much more interesting works but, I mean who can blame them, when Leonardo Di Caprio plays Romeo in the movie.

There is another boy in my group, his name is Sam. He has light brown skin, dark brown hair and is definitely straight. Not that he said that, my gaydar is just like "nope, don't even try". He does look a bit like a male Livvy, but more tanned. Quite attractive, but not my type... that's you. (Ok Kit, stop simping about Ty, you were writing about school!) Leo is also in my group. She does look a bit like Hazel, but white, blonde and definitely not a werewolf. But they kind of have the same face. Maybe they're related or something. She was eyeing me the whole time though. But not like a "fuck me"-stare, more like a "you're very different and interesting"-stare. Kind of the way you're looking at animals you find interesting. Okay, she will definitely ask me about the runes sooner or later. I really should come up with a story for that.

After English, my day was over and I walked home. Yes walked. The school is really close to Cirenworth. I told Tessa and Jem about my day and when I mentioned Shakespeare; Tessa jumped up and ran up the stairs, only to come back a few minutes with really old editions of his books. She told me, that Will, her late husband from the 19th century, bought them for her on her 21st birthday. Both she and Will and their children read them, maybe their daughter and son in law, too. Afterwards they stayed in Cirenworth, which was her daughter-in-law’s home, until today. There are even notes from all the people who read them in there. Tessa even allowed me to bring them to school for our next English class. Also they wanted me to invite Sam and Leo over because "you need some friends". I promised I would ask them. Mina was also very interested in the old books, and even though she can't read, she flipped through the pages very carefully and looked quite pleased. It was sooo cute.

I wish you could meet Mina. I just know you would love her. She's so interested in the little things that easily get overlooked, just like you. Speaking of you, I wasn't as sad about us today. In fact I was the happiest I've been in a long time. I still think about you almost every time something happened, but it doesn't hurt that much anymore. Maybe I'm starting to heal. Maybe one day I can meet you again without breaking into pieces. (Did you understand that expression? It's what it feels like when you see something that triggers your sadness and it gets so overwhelming that you literally feel the same pain as if you were breaking into pieces.) And look at that. I just noticed it but I even write as if you'd actually read those diary entries. But you won't. At least not now. But I always hope that someday we will see each other again. And that we maybe can understand why we did the stuff we did and forgive each other. Even if it will take a long time, today was the first time I actually believed in it. That maybe, just maybe, you completely misunderstood me and actually love me as much as I love you. (Okay. Stop it Kit! You're simping again... you gotta let a man dream though.)

For real though, I love you still, and I always will

Always yours,

Kit

Happy December 12th, everyone!

#shadowhunters #cassandra clare #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #the wicked powers #christopher herondale #christopher jonathan herondale #tsc #kit herondale #kit x ty #kit's diary #ty x kit #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #ty herondale #tiberius nero blackthorn #kitty advent calendar #advent calendar

[joongalez]

Chapter 5 - Storyline 4

[masterlist]

09/14/20xx 10:07pm

Yunho has deciphered the notes.

He found a thread online about deciphering codes and was at it for hours before he finally found something like a coherent alphabet and applied it to the notes, getting a result that made sense.

in the woods, east of the west malus river, northern border

deep in the cave where your desires lie

Yunho is now in the woods, past the East Malus river, heading toward the northern border of the woods, near the West Malus river.

He should have figured it out before. Why were all the bodies showing up in the East Malus river? Probably because someone was doing the killings north of the rivers and sending them down south.

Yunho steps over some fallen branches, breaking through the thick trees to see a hill going upward, a cave in the base of the hill. That must be it. That must be where the cult is hiding.

Yunho makes his way over to the cave and turns his flashlight on and he steps inside. He finds it dug out into a hallway, leading to two separate rooms. One on the left, and one on the right. He can hear shuffling down the room on the right, so he goes that way, pulling his gun out and aiming with the flashlight.

Inside, the room grows larger into a space bigger than Yunho would have thought possible in this cave. There are torches lining the walls so Yunho is able to see better. This allows him to see Yeosang’s dead body lying on the floor and five people standing above his dead body.

Jongho, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, Mingi, and San.

Yunho notices San is holding a knife. “Drop the weapon! Kick it over to me!”

San does exactly that, dropping the knife and sliding it over to Yunho. Yunho stops it with his foot and looks up at the men standing over Yeosang’s body. His body appears to have been stabbed, blood seeping onto the cave ground.

“Everyone, hands up!” Yunho orders, and they all do as he says. He looks around at each person, studying each one carefully. He has no idea who could have done this.

His first instinct is that it had to have been anyone but Mingi, but he’s not so sure, with Mingi standing there by the body, blood on his shoes, seemingly no gun or badge on his person. Then Yunho thinks maybe it was Seonghwa, the new guy in town that probably has secrets to hide. Or maybe it was Jongho this entire time, faking all the news posts. Maybe it was San, faking the radio show, bringing on a conspiracy theorist who was right just for laughs. He was holding the knife. Or maybe it was Wooyoung, who went a little too far this time and committed a crime so great, even his parents couldn’t save him from the consequences.

Yunho knows he’s going to have to make an arrest right now. He doesn’t have the manpower to bring them all into the station. He needs to get this right.

“Tell me what happened,” Yunho demands.

Jongho speaks first. “I came in and saw San holding the knife. He was standing over Yeosang’s body with the knife. He killed Yeosang.”

“I took the knife from Wooyoung,” San says. “He was holding it when I came in here, and there was blood all over it. He was just staring at it and I didn’t know what he was going to do, so I took it from him.”

“No, it wasn’t me,” Wooyoung says. “I loved Yeosang. He was my greatest friend. I would never hurt him. It has to be Seonghwa. All this started as soon as he moved in. He killed Yeosang and then ran off so it wouldn’t look like he did it.”

“It’s Mingi,” Seonghwa says. “Mingi has a very prominent family here. And the reason no one has ever found anything is because they’ve always been part of the police force and have influenced things.”

“Jongho admitted guilt to me,” Mingi blurts. “Come on, Yunho. It’s me. I was here because I got a lead. I cornered Jongho and he told me it was him who was doing the killings. And his family has been around for years. They have to be part of it too.”

“Wait, who was in here first?” Yunho asks. “I need to know what happened before the body was found.”

“Jongho and I came in here,” Seonghwa explains. “We went over into the room on the left and found Mingi in there. I know it’s because he is part of the cult.”

“Then I went in after them,” San says. “After the conspiracy theorist told me about a possible cave in the woods, I had to come see for myself. I saw the three of them in that room, arguing with each other. That’s when I heard shuffling in the other room and ran in to see Wooyoung standing over Yeosang with the knife.”

“I have a tracker on Yeosang’s phone,” Wooyoung admits. “I saw he wasn’t at the gas station and panicked, so I followed him here. I came into this room and saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I picked up the knife because I was going to use it on myself. I couldn’t imagine living without Yeosang.”

Yunho is trying to piece the timeline together in his brain, trying to determine who of these five is telling the truth and who is lying. Are any of them telling the truth? Are they all lying?

Yunho is leaving here with someone in handcuffs. And he needs to decide now who that is.

#ateez #ateez horror #ateez horror au #ateez fanfic #ateez horror fanfic #ateez interactive #ateez interactive story #ateez interactive au #interactive au #interactive horror au #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #insuetis #ateez insuetis #insuetis chapter 5 storyline 4

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @korrasamizine! My AU started to spiral bigger and bigger and out of control from what I just wanted as a tavern maid x fighter meet cute. 

Only, Asami hadn’t expected the kind of trouble that was stumbling drunk at night, fighting off street signs and demons alike. Perhaps the handsome knight needed a princess to rescue her.

…

…

…

…

While she couldn’t say she loved it, Asami liked her job at the White Lotus Tavern. It was a busy, crowded place, popular mainly because of its location next to the fighting arena. There was always work, and her shifts bled into one another, leaving little time to think.

And that was what Asami wanted right now: not to think. She didn’t want to remember her father, who’d twisted her mother’s love and death until she couldn’t recognize him anymore. She didn’t want to remember how she’d lost everything as she’d tried to rebel against her only family. She didn’t want to remember how she went from aristocrat to commoner, from tinker to waitress.

Her fingers often twitched, the urge to make something, anything, flooding her if she stayed still long enough. Unfortunately, there weren’t any workshops that would take in someone like her. Asami had hidden her background, so she had no connections, no proof of her skills. No one would open the door for an apprentice from nowhere and without a chance to show her abilities, Asami was left with the most menial of jobs.

In this case, waiting tables and cleaning dishes.

Asami wiped the sweat from her brow as she glanced around the busy room. The wooden hall was filled with drunkards, all here to celebrate the latest gladiator matches. In her old life, she would never have stepped into such a place, and she couldn’t tell if she would have been richer or poorer for it.

This wasn’t the life she had imagined or hoped for. Yet, a meager freedom was better than none, and she squashed any urges for something more.

“More whisky!” Someone shouted, a bawdy laugh echoing through the rafters. Empty glasses clinked against one another as a table tried to get her attention.

Asami took a deep breath. Back to work it was. Donning a winning smile, she spun on her heel and approached the table. A mixed group of eight crowded a table for four, their chairs stolen from other tables as they crammed close. The table groaned from the weight of the food. “Certainly. Anything else?”

“Beer!” A woman shouted this time. She smiled drunkenly before hiccupping. “Lots of beer!”

“Fried chicken!”

“Dumplings!”

The chorus of voices felt endless. Their eyes were on Asami as she collected the empty dishes. She was used to it—eyes had been on her since she was young. Rich or poor, it was all the same: some were respectful, some were rude, and most were indifferent.

She only hoped that none of them recognized her. Last thing she needed was her father catching wind of where she was. Still wearing her business smile, Asami quickly strode into the kitchen, dropping a slip of paper onto the order counter before setting the glasses onto a counter.

The wall clock said it was only ten.

She had another hour of this to go.

“Hard day?” the kitchen cook, Keiko, asked, concern bleeding into her voice as she patted Asami’s back. Her broad hand, callused from years of cooking, was oddly stabilizing.

“The usual,” Asami sighed, relaxing under her touch. In the six months since she’d started hiding here, Keiko was the only one she could call a friend. Even with the age gap, they’d gotten along surprisingly well. Adjusting her skirt, Asami shrugged. “Busy.”

“I can imagine, I can hear the fuss from all the way over here.” Keiko stared at the kitchen door as though she were seeing through it and into the main tavern hall. Maybe she could. After spending decades here, Asami was certain Keiko could visualize the scene from sound alone. “Careful of the lads, they’re always a little grabby on days like these.”

“They know better than to try,” Asami replied, her smile growing sinister.

“After what you did to the last fellow…” Keiko laughed warmly. “They’d be stupid not to. Anyways, if you need the break, the dishwasher needs adjusting.”

Asami frowned. “The dishwasher I just fixed two days ago?”

Keiko nodded solemnly. “Aye, one and the same.”

“It broke again?” Asami scowled as she rolled up her sleeves. It was a simple dishwasher. She could fix them in her sleep. There was no way she could have messed up on something like this. “What did you do? Overwork the—”

She cut herself off as she crouched next to a counter and stared at the damned device. It stood there innocently, running merrily as it cleaned the latest batch of dishes. Asami glanced at the smug Keiko and laughed. “Alright, I’ll ‘fix’ it. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Keiko waved her off as she returned to the stove and started working on her next dish. “Take me to the games this weekend.”

“I don’t understand the thrill,” Asami replied as she started to fiddle with the dishwasher out of habit. By the time she was done with it, no one would call it a dishwasher anymore.

“You just haven’t seen the right game. Tonight’s was nothing.” Keiko stirred a pot as she replied, eyes bright and excited. “There’s a new champion.”

Asami had heard that before. “And?”

“And she’s…” Keiko sighed forlornly and cradled her cheek, acting like a lovestruck girl. “Amazing. You have to see the muscles on that woman, Korra. I wouldn’t mind her sweeping me off my feet.”

Asami chuckled. “And your husband?”

“He can stay behind.” Keiko scowled. Her stirring grew violent, stew spilling over the pot’s lip. “Worthless lump. The only one worse than him is that missing hero. Can’t believe they just up and left like that—the war’s still ongoing! We’re at a stalemate now.”

It had been a year since the country’s hero, the Avatar, had disappeared. Asami had almost met the prestigious hero a few times, back when she’d still believed in her father. They’d been in the same circles, probably even attended the same balls and ceremonial events. Yet, somehow, they’d never crossed paths.

And now, with the Avatar just up and leaving the way that they had, they never would meet. No one knew why it had happened, only that the Avatar had fled in the night like a thief on the run. Some claimed it was heartbreak, others battle-fatigue, and others still cowardice.

Asami stared thoughtfully at the washer. She doubted anyone who’d fought as much as the Avatar had would just run away with their tail between their legs. “Maybe they died.”

“I hope not. Otherwise, I’ll really need Korra to take me away from it all.” Keiko glanced at the clock as she plated two meals. “Oh, sorry dear, but you’ll have to go back now.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, Asami got up. “Thanks. I really needed this.”

“Say nothing of it.” Keiko smiled. “Come back when your shift’s over and I’ll give you something warm before you head home.”

-x-

Asami wasn’t sure why she was here. She had never been interested in fights, especially the all-out brawls that were held in the stadium regularly. They were no-holds barred, anything goes matches, and she was tired of seeing senseless violence. There was enough of that in the real world without re-enacting them for sport.

Still, Keiko had forcefully drag—invited Asami and she couldn’t really say no. So, now, here she was, sitting on the upper rows of the stadium, watching as the warriors below hacked at one another with swords and spears.

Asami grimaced at a particularly deadly attack. “This is…something.”

Mistaking her politeness for enjoyment, Keiko bumped shoulders with her. “Just wait, Korra’s coming out next. You’ll definitely love her.”

“Will I?” Asami ran a hand through her hair. Maybe she could sneak out after the next match. Or even during the match—Keiko’s attention would be solely on the stadium. Later, she could feign illness.

“She’s here!” Keiko grasped her hand, gripping it tightly. “She looks even more handsome today.”

Sighing again, Asami watched as the next contenders walked into the arena. It was obvious immediately which one was Korra—everyone’s eyes were drawn to the woman entering from the right. Unlike the swaggering warriors from before, she walked like a prisoner to the gallows. Her eyes, dark and empty, gazed blankly at her opponent.

She was handsome, there was no doubt about it. The muscles on her bare arms spoke of her strength. Yet, while Keiko squealed, Asami shivered. There was something dark and beguiling about Korra, like striking a match, like standing under a tree in a thunderstorm. She was trouble, in every sense of the word.

A trumpet blew and the two enemies charged at one another. Even while facing a lance, Korra refused to pick up any of the weapons lining the arena, instead attacking with her bare hands. It was violent. It was brutal. It was like watching a cornered animal. Korra fought like each punch would be her last.

Maybe they were. Maybe she had a terminal illness, or a witch cursed her. Match after match, Korra clawed her way to victory, not noticing or caring as bruises bloomed across her skin. She screamed with each punch, low and guttural.

Asami was spellbound. It was like hearing her own heart’s screams. Her own rage at the world.

-x-

Asami was used to walking home late at night. Shift work gave her little choice in the matter, and it wasn’t long before she learned how to navigate the town at this witching hour. The worst of the drunks gathered at the same alleys, the same corners, and Asami plotted her route home like it was an obstacle course. The fifth streetlight flickered as she passed, and she kept her back stiff as she crossed the street.

She wasn’t as scared as she had been the first few nights, when the town was still new and every bush held an imaginary attacker. Back then, she’d more ran than walked home. Now, Asami knew the tricks to keeping safe. There was little that could surprise her anymore.

Watching Korra stumble into a wall was one of them.

Asami froze as she turned a corner. Just ahead of her, a very drunk Korra staggered down the sidewalk, bumping into every pole on her way. If that wasn’t bad enough, she picked a fight with everything she hit.

If only Keiko could see her now—would she still think of her as a knight?

“Fuck you,” Korra growled at street sign, leaning back as she raised and swung her fist. It missed and she stumbled forward.

Instinctively, Asami dashed forward, grabbing Korra’s arm before she could trip onto the street. “Careful!”

“Huhhh?” Korra drawled, her short bangs covering an eye as she turned to stare up at Asami.

This close, the scent of liquor was unmistakable. Asami wrinkled her nose. Champion or no, she couldn’t leave her like this. “You need help?”

“Help…” Something dark flickered across Korra’s face. Her eyes grew dark, the bags under them more prominent. Suddenly, she stiffened, as though she’d seen a ghost. “N-no….”

Asami glanced over her shoulder but there was no one there. They were the only two people on this small side street; there wasn’t even a stray cat loitering nearby. “Korra?”

Korra flinched at the sound of her name. Jerking her arm out of Asami’s grasp, she curled forward, digging her fingers into her forearms as she hugged herself. She looked petrified, like a child facing her worst fears.

“Korra?” Asami repeated softly, hesitantly reaching out to her. When her fingers grazed Korra’s shoulder, the woman flinched and Asami recoiled.

Just what could have triggered this response? There was no one else here. The night was an ordinary one. Korra didn’t even look injured. Yet, her expression was clearly traumatized by some night terror. Maybe it was the alcohol, making her see things that weren’t there.

It was late. Asami was exhausted. Her apartment was only a block away.

With a sigh, she crouched to eye level with Korra. “Korra? Can you lean on me? I’ll help you home.”

Korra finally looked at her, her eyes wide and frightened. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she desperately grabbed Asami’s arm and nodded. “P-please. Help.”

Her fingers were digging deep enough to leave a bruise and Asami winced. Still, she kept her voice steady as she slowly rose, taking Korra with her. “Let’s go.”

Korra said nothing else, just following her like a frightened child. Not knowing where else to take her, Asami led her into her apartment and onto her couch. For all her terrors, the second she sank into the plush cushions, she was out like a light.

Her expression still looked troubled, as though the nightmares had followed her into her dreams.

Asami could relate—she dreamed of her father and his lies daily.

-x-

The coffee was made by the time Korra jolted awake. Startled, Asami watched as the fighter tumbled off the cushions, narrowly missing the table in her confusion. “Ouch. Fuck. What…”

“Good morning?” Asami called out carefully, making sure to keep her distance. Who knew what kind of person Korra was when she first woke up, especially after finding herself in a strange place? The fighter had been feral in the ring and violent on the street; Asami hoped that nothing broke before the woman left.

“You…” Korra sprang to her feet, her fists raised as she scanned the apartment. After a few seconds, she turned back to Asami and cocked her head like a confused puppy. “Huh?”

“You feeling better now?” Asami asked, holding up a coffee mug. “Do you want some?”

“What…who…” Korra glanced at the couch, herself, and finally Asami once more. Immediately, she flushed, her skin turning a reddish-brown. “Did…did we…”

Asami blinked before catching on. Unable to help herself, she smiled slyly. “Don’t tell me you forgot last night?”

Korra turned a darker red. In the light of day, she was the exact opposite of how she’d acted last night. It was cute. “I…um…”

Unable to hold it in, Asami burst into laughter. “You were wandering the streets drunk.” It was probably better to keep silent on the rest of it. “I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Korra buried her face in her hands. “Oh god.”

“It’s not that bad.” Asami picked up the second mug of coffee and approached her. “Here, this’ll help with the hangover.”

Slumping forward, Korra accepted the steaming drink. “Sorry about that, I…I can’t believe I did that.”

Asami giggled again. This was entirely unexpected. From the way Korra had fought in the arena the other day, she’d expected someone more confident and cockier. It was oddly refreshing to find this instead. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s been a while since I had a roommate.”

“Still.” Korra took a sip of coffee and sighed. Turning to Asami, she straightened. “I owe you one. Is there anything I can help you with?”

And there was the knightly image again. Straight back, unflinching gaze, a confident voice—it was charming. It was noble. It reminded Asami all too much of the knight-princess romance she’d just spent the morning reading and she looked away before she could go too deep down that rabbit hole. Clearing her throat, she rejected the offer. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not.” Korra frowned. “Seriously, I have to do something for you. Anything.”

Asami glanced at her. It was a mistake; her expression had grown even more knightly, if possible. Sighing, Asami ran a hand through her hair. “Fine. Let me think about it.”

-x-

This probably wasn’t Korra’s first time at the tavern, but it was the first time Asami served her. All day, Korra had followed her like a puppy, her eyes expectant whenever Asami turned her way. Even now, as she sat in a corner, nursing a cider like she was trying to break a world record for slow drinking, Korra’s gaze followed Asami as she moved from table to table.

Asami was used to being stared at. As young and attractive as she was, it wasn’t the first time a customer watched her.

Yet, for once, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.

She didn’t know what to make of it.

By the time she was done with her shift, it was dark again. The fifth street light still flickered in the distance. The clouds covered the moon making it harder to see. Korra got up, pulling a silver coin from her pocket. “I’ll come again,” she said.

“Did you waste enough time today?” Asami asked, picking up her cup.

“Hmm…” Korra shrugged, not denying the charge. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“But still a waste,” Asami repeated, a teasing lilt in her tone. “Maybe you should have drunk more than just cider?”

“That…” Korra rubbed her neck sheepishly and looked away. “I was going to, but then…I didn’t want to get drunk and need your help again. The idea’s to help you, not rack up my debt.”

Asami chuckled. “So that explains it.” She glanced out the window. It was a moonless night. “It can be anything?”

Korra perked up. She nodded vigorously. “Yeah! What, thought of something?”

“Kinda.” Asami rubbed her arm. “Could you walk me home?”

Korra nodded, looking like she was waiting for something else. When Asami didn’t add anything, her jaw dropped. “Wait, that’s it? Nothing else?”

Asami flushed. It was probably the biggest waste of a favour, especially one from someone with Korra’s skills. “It’s just…the moon’s not out…and…”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it’s a bit darker outside than usual.” Korra glanced at the window, staring up at the sky. From the corner of her eye, she studied Asami before grinning. “Alright. I’ll be outside.”

Asami had forgotten how thin the walls in the tavern could be. As she headed back to the employees’ room to get her things, Keiko poked her head out of the kitchen. She smirked knowingly. “So, Korra, huh?”

Asami flushed when Keiko winked. “It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, honey.” Keiko sniggered as she headed back into the kitchen. “Be safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She snatched her jacket and bag, praying that the door had closed firmly behind Korra. “Again, not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Keiko called out. “Have fun on the date!”

Maybe she should just break the dishwasher. Asami fought down her blush as she stepped outside. The cool breeze helped calm her down and she stepped onto the sidewalk where Korra was waiting. “Thanks.”

“Why’re you thanking me?” Korra asked, shaking her head. “I said I’d do it. But this can’t be it, right?”

“All I did was walk you home,” Asami pointed out evenly. Honestly, if she looked at it objectively, she hadn’t done that much.

“But…I mean…” Korra frowned, rubbing her chin as she contemplated it. Walking together like this, Asami could see the woman was slightly shorter than she was, but she made up for it with power. Every part of her looked strong, from her arms to her back to her legs.

Asami cut off her thoughts before she could go any further. Keiko had clearly corrupted her.

“Alright.” Korra slammed her first into her open palm. She grinned like she’d solved a life-changing problem. “Got it, I’ll walk you home for a month.”

Asami started, jerking her head to Korra. “A month? But I only did it once!”

Korra pointed at her. “Yeah, but you did it without asking.” She jabbed her thumb at her chest. “And I’m doing it to return a favour. This makes it fair.”

“Oh. I see.” Asami bit her cheek, considering the offer. It’d only be for a month. It wasn’t like it was all that bad of a deal in the first place; she wouldn’t have to hurry home for once, and she had the ultimate bodyguard.

Besides. She peeked at her companion from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t like it was the worst thing in the world to have a handsome champion walk her home.

Smiling, Asami pushed back her hair behind her ear with a hand, her other held out. “It’s a deal.”

#korrasami #legend of korra #korra #asami #korra x asami #fanfic

[blametheeditor]

Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death. Slight mentions of vore. Thinking of scenarios of how one can die in a situation. Not meant for everyone.

Run Down: There’s not enough of Mike torturing Scott. This is to make up for the lack thereof.

As a thank you ^^ Blame the wonderful @unevencube2554 ;)

________________

“Phone Guy?”

Scott flinches at the familiar nickname. The one from someone he trusts with his life. The one gifted to him for once as a thank you instead of a spit in the face for doing the bare minimum of keeping the new night guards of Freddy Fazbear’s alive.

Yet it sounds so wrong. Warped as it booms overhead. Shakes him to his core from the sheer power two simple words can make.

It takes him a few minutes before he can finally look up. At blue eyes bigger than his head staring down at him from miles above. Hands that can effortlessly sweep him up casually pocketed. Tennis shoes bigger than buses shifting slightly to make the ground tremble.

Mike towers above him as a living building that should be impossible. “Fucking shit up?”

Scott blinks at yet another familiar line every person in their group constantly gets questioned. He should not think about it as anything more than the younger man asking if he’s okay. The response that should be automatic is revealing just how terrified he is at being only three inches tall. Yell about being thoroughly upset he’s somehow managed to shrink of all things.

D-Don’t crush me.

It’s all he can think about. Getting stepped on. Smashed under a fist. Smashed inside a fist. Getting flicked, kicked, stranded to be found by another guard who doesn’t know what happened so they’ll mistake him for a bug. Left inside an office that previously seemed claustrophobic, now so large it would take him ten minutes just to get to one of the doorways.

And after that? Face the yawning hallway that would take him hours to walk down. Forced to stay next to the walls in fear of someone suddenly walking down who wouldn’t be watching the ground for their friend. Constantly watching his back for a spider in the many cobwebs that might try and lunge at him for an easy meal.

A hum that vibrates through his bones snaps him out of his thoughts, shaking at the realization he forgot a God forsaken giant is right there. Not that it seems to matter. It’s not like he has any control over someone who can overpower him with just their voice.

Scott almost feels resigned when all he can only watch as Mike kneels down. Until his shoulders tense as his mind reminds him yet again just how insignificant he truly is right now. A sense of relief flooding him from the lead guard no longer at least seeming like he’ll stomp on him at any moment. Yet he scrambles to his feet because those hands are no longer pocketed as well as being much, much closer.

“Alright, asshole,” God why did he think Mike getting closer was ever a good thing? “Let’s get you off the goddamn ground.”

He might have a-

“NO!”

Scott’s yell is too little, too late. Not when a hand had already been moving toward him. He just didn’t want to admit the limb seeming to act with a mind of it’s own was coming for him. Didn’t want to think about how it’d be better if Mike killed him with a shoe. Because at least then, he could’ve pretended the younger didn’t mean to do it. Didn’t realized his mentor had been standing only a few inches away. A hand means he knew, he tried to help, and in the end was his friend’s demise knowingly.

The sudden warmth nearly burns his freezing skin before he latches onto the fact he’s being swept up and lifted up, up, up.

“Damn. You’re fucking freezing.”

Scott trembles as he feels Mike’s breath wash over him. Before he can try and orient himself, panic at how he might be close to a mouth that could easily swallow him, it feels like an elevator set on one setting too high. Arms reach out to grab onto something, anything, yelping as fingers curl around him.

Then it stops. Hazel eyes slowly open to stare at digits longer than he is tall hovering ominously above him. Just beyond that, a wall of the blue uniform all night guards hired after 1987 are issued. Above nothing but the underside of Mike’s chin before the billboard sized face slowly looks down to offer a smirk.

“M-Michael,” Scott breathes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. To say more than just two words. “You...scare th-th-the life out of me.”

The younger man tilts his head in a question. “More than Douche Bag?”

More than David?

Scott finds himself hesitating, secretly glad for something that makes him focus on anything than what’s happening. Yet also...wanting to know if somehow he lucked out on who managed to find him.

Their business man might not have even been attentive enough to notice if someone just up and shrunk. Or if he did, not wanted to really help. Nudge Scott with his shoe. Trap him inside a jar.

”Honestly, Scott? You got yourself shrunk and you’re expecting me to do all the work?”

Vincent would leave him absolutely paralyzed with fear. Constantly making comments about how he could be crushed. The what-ifs of never being found, what could happen if he squeezes too hard, stomped too closely.

”Naw, Scotty! You’re adorable when you scream.”

Mike still terrifies him. He might’ve preferred Fritz, or James, or even Jeremy. Guards who would understand he’s afraid and be sympathetic. Their leader...can’t be. Not with what happened when he was five. Not with a frontal lobe gone and unable to understand fear.

Scott shutters as he waits. Waits for the rumbling voice to continually keep him on edge. For footsteps to make him feel like he’ll fall at any second as he’s carried God knows where. For the other guard’s yells to grow louder and louder as he’s given to the nearest guard without any thought to be tossed, or pinned, or, or...

Or having his side gently stroked as Mike just sits in his chair. Watching the cameras like it’s a normal night. Not pinching his arms to look him over considering no one’s ever shrunk before. Not constantly asking if he’s okay and just overwhelming him more. Not making a single tease about how he could die or put in someone’s drink.

It’s calm. Held in warmth with a heart thumping away beside him. Safe.

“Hey, Mikey! Have you seen-!”

Vincent huffs at the look shot at him when he only wanted to ask where Scott went. Fine, he can find the man on his own.

The one in question never knowing Mike slipped him into the chest pocket after he fell asleep so the others wouldn’t disturb him. Didn’t wake up until being taken home and kept in the pocket as the giant slept. Allowing himself to not be angry or afraid and only demand coffee. Enjoying being small with only Mike around up until Jeremy woke up and nearly fainted.

#FNAF Bois #g/t #giant #tiny #Beggars Can't Be Choosers #it's a smol Scott! #and it's for a friendo!!!!! #I hope it’s angsty enough for ya! #thank you again so much for making my day amazing ^^ #i'mactuallywantingtocontinuethislookineedascottsittingonatabledrinkingcoffeeandjeremylyingonthefloorandmikedoesn'thelphimit'sgonnahappen #writing #BTE writing #tw #trigger warning

[ego-sum-ex-altiora]

Statement #0120506 - Tick Tock

Statement of Anthony Wormwood, regarding the time he spent in the London Psychiatric Ward in February of 2012. Original statement given 5th of June, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims; Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins

"I don’t know how long I sat there, how long I waited for something to happen.

I was in the psych ward and…I woke up in a padded room. Or they moved me there? I can’t remember anymore. I suppose I must have done something, to end up in there. Did my face always look this dead, or did my time in that empty room do this to me? I don’t remember looking like this- though, I also don’t exactly remember not looking this.

It’s not the boredom that got to me. Well- for the first few days it did. The room was bare, not even a door as far as I could see, just the clock on the wall, going tick…tick…tick. I tried to keep track of the first few days, minutes felt like hours and I considered the possibility of quite literally dying of boredom. I stared at the clock, watching as it completed nearly a dozen of its cycles. Surely it hadn’t been that long? But again, it wasn’t the boredom that got to me- it was the forgetting. I don’t remember knowing- nor do I remember forgetting- yet something inside me just knows I’m missing things.

My mouth was dry, yet I chanted my name over and over. If I could hold onto anything, even just my name, it’s something. I have no idea if I even remember right. If you repeat anything enough, it’ll slowly lose meaning.

I never fell asleep, yet eventually I somehow woke up to a different padded room. There was a door in this one. I tried the handle and much to my surprise it opened. I stepped into the next room, identical to the last one. Panicked, I pushed myself through door after door but just kept moving into identical room after identical room. I don’t remember stopping. I pushed through door after door and next thing…I’m waking up on the floor. The door still sat there, mocking me. I didn't even bother opening any this time. The clock still sat on the wall, ticking away. For the first while I found the ticks almost hypnotic. Now I hated it. Each passing second felt like an alarm beeping through my very soul.

I could feel it in my bones.

I don’t remember smashing the clock, but the floor was red with blood and my knuckles never seemed to dry. I don’t remember the floor being white, but I suppose it was once. The clock lay smashed in the corner, but the ticking never stopped. I can't remember the time before I started hearing it, it just became part of me. The ticking was inside me. I haven’t slept as long as the ticking has been here.

I also feared that if I fell asleep, I would stop repeating my name, and forget. I don’t remember what it’s like to be asleep. I’m not tired, though. I was wide awake when the white padded tiles that surrounded me started to twist and disfigure. It was like one of those optical illusions, where the lines never seem to stop moving despite being a still image. The doorway into the next identical room contorted like a funhouse mirror. This was not brought on by any amount of exahustion.

I don’t remember when, but at some point I noticed that the clock ticking inside of me…wasn’t ticking. Softly, very softly, something was counting. Counting down. To what? I had no idea. I still have no idea. I only have vague memories of long strings of numbers, numbers bigger than I could ever imagine, spoken slowly. I really lost it then. The slow agony of waiting for the end was unbearable, and I couldn’t do anything to ignore the counting. I smashed myself into the walls over and over, praying that killing myself would be a better end than whatever was being coming for me. I ran through door after door in renewed hope that I would find something new in one of them, but each was the same; a padded room with a bloodstained floor and a smashed clock. I attacked myself with the glass shards of the clock, but no matter how much blood flowed out of me, I couldn’t seem die.

I think something was keeping me alive, perhaps this was a punishment and whoever was punishing me didn’t want it to end. Whatever I did to end up in this hellhole of a place, it must’ve been bad. Real bad. This was worse than any amount of prison time, and at this point the death penalty sounded like salvation. I thought that maybe I was already dead, and perhaps this was God’s way of punishing me for my sins. Surely even He had enough mercy to spare me from this endless torment. Perhaps this was Satan’s doing, and I was just one of his little playthings, something to keep him entertained. Surely even Satan would bore of this, though. My own suffering began to bore me, isn’t that something.

I have thought of hundreds of scenarios, of what might happen when the counting gets to zero. But I fear, and feel deep in my bones, that whatever is coming is so vastly worse than anything I possibly could imagine. All I know is that it won’t be the end. I fear there is something worse coming for me, something worse than the unbearable agony of that padded room.

I do not know who released me. Nor do I know why. Or how. I don’t remember sleeping but still I awoke on the side of a busy main road. I grabbed a newspaper in a futile attempt to make sense of where, or when, I am. June 5th, 2012, not that the date means anything to me. That paper is where I saw your institute advertised. I don’t know what you can do, or if you even can do anything, but I needed to get a statement down before- well, I’m not sure. I know something is going to happen, though, and soon.The end of the countdown is getting close, very close. Though, I don’t fear that the end is coming.

I fear it might not be.”

End statement.

The London Psychiatric Ward does in fact have a record of one Mr Anthony Wormwood, who was apparently in their care from the 3rd of February to the 12th of February, 2012. Though the paperwork says he was then discharged, this statement is the only trace of him after this stay. Martin could, however, find Mr Wormwood’s mother, Marie Wormwood. According to Martin she refused an interview, stating that she wanted nothing to do with her son. More likely than not, Mr Wormwood suffered from severe visual and auditory hallucinations, and with no supporting evidence, I am compelled to file this case in the discredited section of the archive.

End recording.

#x_altiora on ao3 #tma #magnus pod #magpod #the magnus archives #the magnus institute #tma podcast #the magnus pod #original statement giver #tma fanfic #tma fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #writer #the spiral #tma spiral

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

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

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

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