#so instead i will stare at a wall and hope the smell goes away and try to fall asleep. i fucking guess

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

uh oh! worlds stupidest little guy used the wrong lotion and now everything smells like my childhood bathroom and the year is 2016 and its february which means its almost valentines day which is perhaps the most accursed date on the calendar and the year is 2016 and your least favorite little guy is in full blown survival panic mode!

#fuuuuuuuuck #head in hands #i fucking . have had perhaps the worst week ive had in years . including all my time in indy last year #i have not had a single win since . idk. last saturday maybe ? #uhhhhh i dont like springtime its the most painfully nostalgic time of year #and idk why i even have this lotion but everything is dry and itchy so i was like hey im gonna treat myself to some basic self care #and now my apartment smells like my second suicide attempt and everything is horrible actually . into the garbage with you. #im going to stick my legs into the fireplace and hopefully the smell of burning flesh will drown it out!!!!! #that is. not serious. im just like. fuck #i was supposed to go home tommorrow but yet another tragedy has struck because the universe fucking hates me #so now i domt know whether i want to or not #like. is it better to grieve alone in my apartment where i (usually) feel safe #or should i go home and be surrounded by grieving family which is. a whole other process i dont know if i want to deal with #pros. i get to see loki and i am extremely pet deprived . cons. my parents are going to ask me questions about my life #and also i have to sleep in my childhood bedroom a week away from my most mentally ill day of the damn year #ugm. um. yeah #i need to cry but i havent been able to cry in a really long time and i know it would be cathartic #but also its already 1030 pm and i cant spend two more hours having a sobbing fest because i have work in the morning #and i dont know how to make myself cry without doing things that would be even more damaging to my mental state #so instead i will stare at a wall and hope the smell goes away and try to fall asleep. i fucking guess #uhhhhhhhhhhhhhg #im holding it together by a fucking thread and boy is it fraying

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: jj's made a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom at midnight.

word count: 3.5k

now spinning: radio by lana del rey

author's note: finally some jayj!! <3 writing this felt like coming home. i hope i did him justice! tags: adorably in love jj and reader. smut but make it cute (heavy grinding/petting, jj calls you princess b/c duh<3, he uses a condom bc no breeding kink here! jj sucks your tits through your (his) shirt because..yah)

JJ makes his way into the window of your bedroom, trying to be as quiet and careful as he can.

You stand back a little, trying to give him enough room to get in, but just as he swings his other leg over, he stumbles and a small succulent in a ceramic pot on your windowsill goes flying.

You freeze, scared that the thud of his leg on the window frame was enough to wake up your parents—who unfortunately share the room right next to you. JJ’s hands stick out immediately to catch the little plant, and then somehow, he juggles it into place while steadying his feet. 

You let out a sigh of relief, and he places the little plant safely on your nightstand.

“That thing’s a troublemaker. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” He whispers, already knowing from all the previous times how thin your walls are.

Time before last, he leaned back against the headboard too hard while you were riding him, and just the noise of it hitting the wall was enough to result in a knock on your bedroom door. He blames you for that one, though, and the next time your parents come in, they notice you’ve moved your bed across the room. 

“This one was your fault,” you reply, unsurprisingly giddy now that your boyfriend is here. 

“Nuh-uh, princess, that was all you. Why’d you leave the cactus there, huh? You tryna get me caught?” 

You shake your head but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face and the quiet laugh from escaping, trying to explain that it’s not a cactus, but the words melting on your tongue. You watch as JJ carefully closes the window—he’d prefer to leave it open so he can sneak back out without much noise, but you get cold, so he pushes it down as gently as he can.

You can’t help it—you always end up staring, eyes fixated on his arms and the way they stretch and flex while he adjusts your pink curtains and makes sure no one can see inside. You don’t care if the neighbors watch. Let them, you think, JJ and I will give them a show.

He turns around to really take a look at you, mind always going a mile a minute thinking about how deep of a slumber your parents might be in, if he remembered to grab a condom (he’d forgotten it earlier in the month and you’d been so disappointed, he had to eat you out for an hour just to apologize), and then he thinks he wouldn’t be so upset if he did forget it. Finally he wonders if you have any snacks in your bedroom, which you normally don’t, but he’s feeling hungry today. 

When he finally takes you in, you’re standing there with that pretty smile he loves so much, the sleep sets you used to wear every night forgone for one of his big t-shirts instead, the ones with tiny holes near the hem, one that’s probably been passed around between him, Pope, and John, but has now ended up in your closet as a permanent piece.

You told him a story a while back, about how your parents question why you never put on pajamas straight after dinner anymore, like you used to. It’s because JJ’s shirts are your pajamas now and you can’t let them see. 

“Why don’t you just, y’know, change after they go to bed?” He asks after hearing that story, rubbing the small of your back under the very same shirt, wondering how smart a girl as you are didn’t think of that idea first. 

You don’t answer straight away, instead pressing your face further into his chest and inhaling that scent which is so uniquely JJ—ocean and sand and that car smell since he was probably working on something before getting his favorite text of any night from you, from anyone, really—They just went to bed.

You mumble something into the skin of his sternum, unintelligible and quiet, and he has to use his other hand to move your head up.

“Sorry, princess, getting some static here. Repeat that for me?” He cups his ear to listen in, which makes you laugh.

“Just wanna feel close to you,” you repeat, even softer, immediately resting your face back on his chest once you finish. 

You’re sure he doesn’t understand what you mean, because it’s deeply rooted in you, that you hate the way your parents treat JJ. They’re not so rich or Kooky to judge him for not being so, and they’re overprotective of you, always have been, but they act so differently around him. They barely give him a chance, no matter how much you affirm that you’re so happy, that you’re only that way because you’re with JJ now. 

They look at the stuff that doesn’t matter—the motorcycle he rides, ignoring the pretty pink helmet he got for you sitting next to his own. They don’t know that he worries about keeping you safe, so much so that he borrows the Twinkie twice as much as he used to, because the idea of you getting hurt on his bike scares him. It scares him enough that he didn’t let you ride with him forever, that it took months of begging to even make him consider the idea. 

They look at his clothes and his shoes and don’t like that they can’t invite his parents over for dinner, don’t like the idea of you going to his place but don’t like him coming over either. When they do finally grant your permission to hang out with him at your home, you have to stay in the living room the whole time, television on and playing some stupid movie you could care less about—but at least JJ’s here, at least he’s holding you. 

You feel embarrassed, about the reason why you wear his shirt, about how your parents behave, about how you can’t do anything at your house but watch reruns and eat some snacks, your parents wafting in every now and then to make sure nothing’s changed. 

And he tries, he really does, which makes your heart thud and causes a warm, happy tingle to extend from your ears to your toes. He shows up with flowers for the house, a bottle of wine for your parents, a bone for your dog.

He’s trying to save up for a car so your parents don’t associate him with the roar of his bike taking off and the danger he’s putting their daughter in (you almost cry when he tells you this, partly because it’s so sweet, partly because you love that bike, love everything about that bike—your pink helmet, holding onto JJ’s stomach on a ride, the way he sometimes props you up on it and tells you he’ll reward you if you’ll be good for him—which you always are. 

Putting on other clothes—clothes that don’t belong to JJ—in front of your parents so they don’t feel uncomfortable at the sight of you in his shirt, is a sacrifice you refuse to make. It’s your way of rebelling, as insignificant and silly as it is, affirming that you’re not gonna cave and end your relationship because they don’t approve. It’s hard, for a people-pleaser like yourself, taking a stand against your parents. You don’t possibly expect him to understand, but you think he does that day, with the way he smothers you in kisses all night, and continues the affection on your sofa the next day, no matter who’s watching.

He snuck in that night too—pulling a pair of socks from his pocket for you. 

“Got you some more clothes of mine, so you can take your little stand without it being so obvious-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because you leap into his arms to hug him so tightly, he can’t catch his breath for a minute.

That had been months ago. Since then, you and JJ spent nearly every other night together, trying as hard as possible to stay quiet and not get caught. He seems more worried about it than you do, like tonight. 

“Your dad doesn’t have any firepower in the house, right? Like any bazookas or something?” he asks, walking closer to you, away from the window. You shake your head, laughing silently. It’s harder and harder not to be all smiles around JJ anymore. “Good,” he says, not as quietly as before. He brings you in for a hug, arms tight on your back, face buried in your hair. “Missed you, baby.”

You hold on with your little grip for as long as you can, finding it even harder to let go after hearing him say those words—you’d seen him earlier today, briefly, but this was his first time sneaking in since yet another scare a few days ago.

You only pull away because he does, taking off his hat and setting it on your yellow quilt. He sits down, beckoning you over, and you respond immediately, crawling into his lap like you always do. You could sit like this forever.

“It should be illegal for us to go this long without seeing each other,” he murmurs against your shoulder, before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. His shirt hangs off of you, giving him easy access. 

“I saw you this morning, silly,” you whisper, not moving, head buried into his neck.

“For like a minute,” his hands go to your hips, adjusting your position to get you more comfortable in his grip. His fingers press into the skin there, available since you were only wearing panties under his shirt, no shorts to get in the way. “Can’t do anything to you in a minute.”

“That’s not what I remember—” but before you can finish, he silences you with a kiss, soft and chaste. 

“Hey,” he starts, while you begin to giggle at the memory. “I thought we weren’t gonna bring that up anymore. S’your fault, anyways.” He trails off, kissing you again. “That sundress has magic in it, or something, not normal-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, deepening the kiss, your whole face feeling hot now at the mention of the memory—the first time the two of you had done anything more than making out.

“Woah, woah,” he says, pulling away again, making you groan in frustration. “Did you lure me here under false pretenses? Are you tryna take advantage of me right now? Because I came here to cuddle-”

“Shut up, Jayj,” and you go back to finish your kiss, your hips moving by themselves. You don’t realize you’re doing it, you never do, until JJ tells you. His hands move down, grabbing the fat of your ass and squeezing while he makes you do all the work, for now, at least.

You work yourself up quickly, you always do when you’re with him, and you could finish just like this if he lets you, grinding your cunt against his hard-on, multiple layers of clothes between the two of you. 

He likes to see you get worked up, so he’ll let you do it for a little bit longer, lips still attached, his tongue in your mouth. He slides his hand around where your panties rest on your hip, knotting his fingers between the fabric, his other hand resting on your hip and loosely guiding your motions.

“Feel good, baby?” he finally asks, not loud but not as quiet as before, either. You don’t care much at the moment. 

“Uh-huh,” you whine, feeling yourself get closer, something in your stomach winding up tensely and making you want to increase your speed. You try, but JJ’s hand controls you, tightening up and squeezing like it’s a warning—slow down. 

“Can’t make a mess like this, remember, pretty girl?” he asks but you’re only half there, half paying attention. Your eyes are squeezed shut, skin feeling so ablaze that you’re sure there’s beads of sweat lining your neck and face, hands gripping the material of JJ’s shirt while you rock yourself back and forth. 

He watches carefully, eyes raking in your pretty face all twisted like this, your lips swollen and red from the biting since you can’t make any noise, your hardened nipples poking through the material of his shirt. He wants to wrap his mouth around one and play with it using his tongue, not even bothering to lift the shirt out of the way, but he refrains, since he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he does, and if you cum, he’ll cum.

“Don’t care,” you exhale, breathy and pitchy. He doesn’t even remember what you’re talking about. “I want your mess-” and your head tips forward, resting on his shoulder while he still moves you with his big hands. 

It’s all of it, all at once—the fact that you haven’t been able to do much of anything, but especially this, with JJ in days, how hard he is and how good it feels to rub your pussy against him instead of your pillow, the fact that despite his shorts and your underwear in the way, you can almost feel the veins of his pretty dick, the ridge that usually has him slapping a hand over your mouth because you can’t help the noises that come out when you feel it inside you. 

You’re so close—and you don’t care about the condom, about how everything’ll be sloppy and sticky after this, so you try to go even faster, until you feel the entirely too-strong hands of your boyfriend manhandling you, pulling you off and laying you flat onto the bed in one motion.

“Wha- Jayj,” you whine again, so much louder than you thought it would come out. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears, brain turned to mush and clit throbbing from the sudden lack of contact. 

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna get us both killed-” and you look up at him with wet eyes and your signature pout, the one that gets you anything you want—midnight trips for ice cream, convincing him to sleep over even when he knows your parents will pop in when it’s morning, going on a ride on his bike when he’d thought it was way too dangerous. “M’giving you what you want, okay, so settle down-”

You try to be as good as you can, watching patiently while your thighs tremble and an uncomfortable, hot wetness pools between your legs. JJ pulls off his shirt, frees his dick from the constraint of his shorts, and lets out a little hiss when he sees the wet spot on his clothes from where you were just having fun. 

“Dirty girl,” he says, but he’s smiling, not upset. “Made a mess already, even without me.” You let out more shaky breaths at his words, half-listening, eyes focused on the pink color of his thick cock, the way he strokes himself before putting the condom on. Your mind has turned off, every single thought except JJ leaving your head.

“Gonna be quiet this time?” he asks softly, lining himself up with your wet cunt, eyes almost rolling back into his head at the way you suck him in. You’re all tense, stomach in knots and pussy clamping just thinking about every inch he’s going to give you, the stretch he puts your tight hole through. You don’t mind much though.

“Your fault,” you mumble, in a daze. You love everything about JJ, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he’s hovering over you like this, when he licks his lip when he rakes his gaze across your body, how he smirks at you when you get like this.

He lowers his face close to yours and your eyelids flutter shut, expecting a kiss, but instead he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin while you try to stay silent, and then he buries himself into you, all the way all at once, and you strangle a scream back so it dies in your throat. 

It’s like it’s the first time, every time, with the way he feels inside, the way you’ve never really gotten accustomed to how big JJ is.

“Sure, baby, my fault,” he finally agrees, letting go of the hold his teeth have on your skin. That'll leave a bruise tomorrow, and the rush he feels from that goes straight to his dick. “This one’s my fault too.”

You don’t pay attention to his words or the stinging sensation on your neck, because the entirely overwhelming feeling of JJ inside you, slamming in and out while you’re forced to stay silent, fogs your brain. JJ hovers over you, and your hands find their way around his neck, snaking into his hair, pulling gently while he lowers himself for another kiss—hot, wet, even messier. 

He keeps you this way often, so he can swallow your moans and let you be as loud as you need without much as much of a risk. Your bedroom fills with the slap of skin on skin, his hips ramming against yours.

You’d cry out because it hurts, but the way JJ fills you is anything but painful—it’s excruciatingly good, makes your toes curl while you feel that tense knot in your stomach beginning to unravel by itself, JJ hitting that sensitive part of you deep inside.

But it’s always more than that—it’s his the messy press of his fingers against your clit, the way he dips his head and takes your pert, clothed nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue, and then when he hears you getting loud, he goes back to kissing you, quieting you. He thinks about everything so you don’t have to, heading tipping back onto the pillow and squeals leaving your mouth without a second thought. 

You knead your fingers into his hair, holding him in place so he doesn’t pull away from the kiss, because you know you’re about to get loud.

He does pull away—easily fighting your weak grip to bring his mouth to your neck, kissing the love-bites he already left there. You feel JJ’s hot breath on your ear, already a mess, already close, but you tip over the edge when he talks to you, as quiet as he can. 

“Come on pretty girl, make a mess for me-” and you follow his instructions without another moment’s hesitation, the walls of your pussy fluttering and then clamping tight around him, moans swallowed into his mouth as he kisses you again. You writhe around, toes curling, entire body tensing, staring up at your pretty boyfriend for as long as you can before your eyes shut, mind numb from pleasure. 

It doesn’t take much for JJ after that—the feel of your nails scratching his back, how your pussy clenches around him, the moans he wishes he could hear loud and clear. In a final lustful, selfish thought, he imagines you screaming under him, begging for more, not satisfied until he makes a mess inside your little cunt and fills you up. He spills into the condom seconds after, grunting into your neck and wishing the two of you were anywhere else but the bedroom next to where your parents are asleep. 

The room is silent again, save for the heavy breaths leaving both of you. JJ moves first, carefully settling next to you because the bed creaks on his side. He sits up against the headboard, safe because they’re on the opposite wall now, and moves your tired, languid body into his arms, head resting against his chest. 

“Well, you made a mess, alright. Hope you do your own laundry.” You giggle, hand coming up to rest above his heart, fingers tracing patterns into his soft skin.

He sighs quietly, a gentle sign he likes your touch. You could fall asleep in minutes like this, the heat from JJ keeping you warm, the content feeling in your heart making you smile dopily. JJ notices, leaning down to give you another kiss.

He stares into the distance with a hand stroking your back, under his shirt. He looks around your cute room—the overflowing bookshelf, the photos taped up on the walls (mostly of the two of you, he thinks with a touch of smugness), a pile of his shirts that are now your sleep clothes folded neatly in your hamper, freshly laundered. 

JJ thinks he’d do anything to stay like this, with you resting in his arms, forever. 

“I’m gonna do it, I swear,” he starts, not as quietly as before. It’s a gentle sentiment, like he’s reading you a vow. “I’ll do anything I have to, I’ll make ‘em like me. One day I’ll show up here and they’re gonna be happy to see me. I’m gonna get better.”

“You’re already perfect, Jayj,” you whisper back, eyes closed because you feel tears lining up. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything. I love you.” 

He smiles again, eyes closing. He’s about to say it back when there’s a sharp knock on your door, and the handle starts to turn.

#<3 #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #i really liked writing this!!! thoughts?

[waxingrunes]

I understand if you’re too busy to answer this or don’t want to, but i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling us some of your non-explicit headcanons or just some traits you think wolfstar have in general? Your explicit ones are sososo hot but today I'm feeling low and need some comforting. Yiur blog is just a safe space for me but I totally understand if not! I love your work <3 all my love x

There are so many nondescript hc’s I have that this has the potential to turn into a formal essay with cited sources, so I’ll go for more of a generalised dump of info I have for each in a hope that it lifts some of your fog Anon. Maybe bullet pointed because it’ll be easier to read than my usual untidy form of communication. Hope you feel lighter soon.

Sirius

• will lick a yoghurt pot if there’s no clean spoons. There’s the option to go for fruit instead, but he wants the yoghurt and by god he will get his yoghurt

• is a fucking terrible driver, gives Remus and any passenger white knuckles due to speed issues and not using a lower gear when taking corners

• is however, in complete control when on a motorcycle; very hot, very controlled and will take his passenger’s safety very seriously

• professionally trained in ballroom and ballet, the latter which he is sometimes mocked in jest for, even by Remus, until he one time caught him stretching elegantly on the floor one morning with his upper body laid flat between long, toned, wide spread legs, ‘morning moony’, a healthy blush on his cheeks

• private crier, doesn’t cry easily

• goes quiet when angry as an initial defence but it doesn’t take long for him to start dropping breadcrumbs of sarcastic comments; can also be snobby and bratty, perhaps sometimes will get nasty and direct (bringing up things he shouldn’t to score points in the heat of the moment)

• suffers immeasurable guilt (helped by the point above) but is always masking a weighted feeling of guilt no matter what he’s doing, so much so it’s manifested into quite a serious anxiety problem in the wrong crowds

• he fidgets a lot, not in a chaotic way, just always has to have his fingers busy with something

• likes the smell of gasoline

• once had to talk himself down from throwing a child in a dustbin

• loves the colour red; blood red and cherry red to be precise but secretly loves dark blue even more because it’s what looks most handsome on Remus despite him not wearing it often

• sighs a lot

• pretended he couldn’t speak English to get away with jumping a queue

• hates the smell and taste of liquorice (unless heavily strawberry/cherry/raspberry flavoured)

• on one particular messy night out he got so impatient waiting at the bar, he reached over and grabbed a discarded bottle of alcohol the server had left open and swigged it

• digs his nails into his skin when anxious and is often reminded to relax the tension in his joints

• stargazes often

• once linked his pinky finger with Remus and asked him to pinky promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell him, since which a tradition of trust was born where Remus will offer his pinky or the last two fingers for Sirius to hold or squeeze when he’s feeling unsure in public, or in any situation where verbal reassurance isn’t appropriate

• gets a weird thrill at the sound of cork popping from a bottle

Remus

• collects beer mats and keeps them in a drawer, thinks about making them into a display

• got tired of kids playing ball against the wall of his place (after repeat offences and him asking very nicely for them to stop) one day so went out, retrieved the ball and threw it so hard against of the cars it set the alarm off

• owner of said car came running out the house and Remus blamed it on the children. Never had the same issue again

• has a wildly sweet tooth and will always drop one or two packets of sugar into any warm beverage

• stares into space and gets involuntarily caught on someone’s face one too many times which makes them uncomfortable from the ‘Death Stare’ phenomenon when in reality, he’s lost in lala land

• can cook, is actually a proficient cook, but will not cook for anyone but Sirius, James or Lily

• will crack his knuckles, wrists and neck absentmindedly, all of which makes his company squirm because it’s often very loud and ‘pop-py’ but Sirius fucking loves it

• stays very calm during an argument but can shout louder than most and when he does, ears ring from the silence that follows

• prefers tea over coffee

• will eat liquorice any time he wants to piss Sirius off

• cries more than Sirius, but still a private crier

• always has to be the old boot in Monopoly

• loves words that are vowel heavy or double voweled because those are the ones where the scraps of Sirius’ lost French accent surface the most

• has a gentle touch, is aware of his size and nature of his lycanthropy, therefore always somewhat reserved

• loves socks, has a collection of ‘dad socks’

• has the messiest writing out of all the Marauders but loves handwritten things, owns three very different fountain pens for very different purposes

• is polite, but as he’s aged doesn’t tend to ‘fake smile’ a lot, feeling no need to fill uncomfortable silences for the sake of others

• has a chair he favours and often dozes off in it. Most of the time waking up to Sirius on top of him

#ask #wolfstar #might tag this properly #remus lupin #sirius black #remus #sirius

[ceruleansx]

healed | peeta mellark

↳ warnings : mentions of blood, fluffff

↳ summary : after a fight with gale, you tried to find your house. after accidentally going to peeta's instead of yours, you still decided to stay with him.

↳ reader x soft!peeta x mean!gale

↳ a/n : yall r gonna like this one. also sorry for gale people

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

your ears were ringing and you mind was dazing. did gale really hit you and throw you against the wall? you vision was in a blur as you stumbled up the wall.

"y/n i-" you heard gale say. it was probably in his normal voice, but after the impact with you and the wall, it seemed muffled.

you basically ignored his words and opened the door quickly. you didnt want to risk him getting mad again and hitting you once more.

"y/n!!" he yelled, this time a little more clear.

he was upset you went to the woods, knowing that it has become more dangerous.

you walked the streets, trying to recongnize your house. they were all the same looking, since you won the games.

one house looked like it could've been yours. you didn't even hesitate, so you knocked on the door, hoping your mom would answer and rescue you.

you waited for about 5 minutes, until you turned away. before you moved to the next house, you heard the door spring open.

you turned around desparetly, still hoping it was family.

it was peeta mellark.

he was panting fast, like he sprinted for his life down those staires.

"y/n...?" he says out of breath.

you walk up to his door. like usual, you wouldve rolled your eyes and left. but something about that night made you stay.

once you were closer, he finally got a good look at the big scrach and bruises on your face. his heavy breathing almost stopped, and his eyebrows turned into a concern.

"who did this to you?" he grazed his thumb across the wound on your cheek.

you winced at the contact. "gale."

he nods and takes you in. "i'll get you cleaned up okay. lord knows if you could get an infection." he chuckles softly.

you smile at his gesture. you look around his house, almost looking the same interior as yours. but the smell of bread got your attention.

"hmm.." you mumbled.

he smirked and looked towards the kitchen.

"ohh i see," you could hear his smirk forming, "you want bread, huh?"

you nodded, "please, your bread smells to good."

"lucky for you, its fresh." he chuckles.

he carried you two the kitchen and sits you down to the counter. he goes to the oven and tears out a piece of bread.

"here.." he says softly as he hands you an doughy piece.

you two eat the bread in silence, sitting in each other's comfortable silence.

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

peeta places you at the edge of the bathtub. he reaches for a small cloth and waits for the hot water to turn up.

"you didnt have to do this ya know.." you said as you two waited.

he shrugs. "you chose the right house." he smirked.

you smiled and looked down at the face to hide your blush. it cant be. your so called enemy since elementary is being nice. and you like it?

the fact made you look back at him. you didn't realize that he cuter than you thought. his nose was the perfect shape, and god were his arms big.

his beautiful blonde hair fell down his forhead so effortlesly. the thoughts made you admire him.

"i would say staring is rude," he leans toward you with the cloth. "but i dont mind it cause it's you."

you open your mouth slightly, and there was no going back to the blush on your face.

he stroked your cheek lightly with the cloth as you two held eye contact. for a long time. the blood went away, but the stare between you and him didn't.

why was peeta mellark making you feel this way.

you wanted to do something that you didn't want to do, yet it felt so right.

you looked at his lips, his eyes, then his lips again. you grabbed his face and smashed your lips with his. his lips fitted with yours perfectly. his teeth softly bit your bottom lip, which made the butterflies in your stomach go even crazier.

you two eventually pulled away and leaned each others forheads together.

"can gale kiss and treat you like this?" peeta says whispered, almost like gale could hear.

"never in a million years peeta." you say before leaning into another sweet kiss.

#the hunger games #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark imagine #fluff #hijacked peeta #hunger games #peeta mellark one shot #peeta mellark x y/n #peeta mellark reader #peeta pov #i love peeta #katniss and peeta #team peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta imagine #peeta my beloved #peeta smut #peeta x you #the hunger games fluff

[rubyreduji]

high and fucked — hvc

summary: hansol is nothing to you but your ex-boyfriend's roommate, but you still find yourself alone with him while you get high together

tags: smut (minors dni!), stoner!hansol, college!au (it’s mentioned like once) warnings: weed use, watching explicit videos, explicit unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), deep throating, throat fucking, cum eating, fingering, squirting, creampie, slight overstimulation, mentions of pervert!vernon? wc: 2.8k an: this is my first work so pls be nice lol but i hope you enjoy

pt. 2

You and Hansol aren't friends. You probably wouldn't even consider him a good acquaintance. But that doesn't stop you from being alone in his apartment with him on a Saturday night, getting high together.

The only reason you even know Hansol is because you used to date his roommate and one of his best friends. You were over often enough to get to know the boy by some semblance but not enough to say you really know him.

The one thing you did pick up on whenever you were over though was the smell of weed coming from Hansol's room with 50% of your conversations with him being while he was high. Which has led you to where you are now, burrowed into Hansol's bed as you pass a bong between you two.

He was not exactly your first choice but your other two plugs were unavailable and you really needed to get high after a stressful week of being yelled at by your professor everyday. You didn’t have Hansol’s number so you instead walked all the way to his apartment and banged on the door until he opened up (you let out a sigh of relief when it was him who opened the door and not your ex). He was a bit confused on why you were there but when you asked if he had any weed to spare he let you in to share the bowl he just packed. 

A few minutes ago Hansol had put on a movie for you guys to watch. You’re not completely sure what it’s about and you’re already a bit confused about the plot but the weed is doing its job at relaxing you so you don’t really care.

You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Hansol before, let alone within such close proximity. You look over at Hansol who’s completely out of it. His eyes are droopy and his mouth is slightly opened as he stares at the computer screen playing the movie.

You don’t think Hansol is bad looking. You’ve actually always thought he’s quite handsome with his sharp features and soft looking hair. Outside the window the sun is setting and streams through the open blinds, bathing Hansol in the golden light. You think to yourself that if he wasn’t your ex’s best friend you could find yourself wanting to know him better. You decide to quickly look away from Hansol before any more thoughts come into your head.

Unfortunately your eyes land on the screen of the laptop. On screen the female character is stripping and reaching down to grab the male character’s hard cock in her hand. You blink incredulously at the scene as your face goes red.

“Hansol!” You squeak out. “What are we watching?”

“I-I don’t know! I thought it was some murder thriller movie, not porn!” Hansol’s own voice is also a bit high and when you look at him his face is also red. You can’t help but also notice how his hips shift around and how he covers his lap a bit.

“Are you hard right now?” You ask him, your filter already gone due to the weed.

“I can’t help it,” he whines, “this is really hot.” His eyes are still looking at the screen where the girl now has a mouthful of the man’s dick as he reaches down to grab her hair. You feel yourself get a bit wet at the sight as well.

“Well then change the movie!” You find your voice. You look at the wall, too embarrassed to look at the laptop or Hansol.

“But I’m already hard, it’s not gonna change anything. I always get super horny when high anyway.” You can’t see Hansol’s face but you can tell by his voice just how needy he is now. “It doesn’t help that you’re like super fucking hot. I can’t remember the last time I had someone as good looking as you in my bed.”

“W-what?!” You finally look over at Hansol in shock, who is staring right back at you. 

“I’ve thought so, ever since the first time I saw you over here. I was so disappointed when I found out you were dating my best friend. I couldn’t help but think about it being me fucking you whenever I heard you guys. Is that wrong of me?”

You blush at this. You and your ex often had sex at his apartment when you guys were together. The sex was probably the best part of that relationship and sometimes you even find yourself missing being filled up by him. You didn’t realize that Hansol could hear you guys, but it’s not too surprising knowing how vocal you can be in bed. 

Hansol slowly starts to scoot towards you on the bed until your legs are pressed up against each other’s. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh. You stare down at his thick fingers as they caress your leg.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice is low and husky. His hair hangs in his face a bit and he’s looking at you with the most delicious bedroom eyes. You feel yourself start to dampen your panties as you shift your own hips around on the bed. Hansol’s hand continues to creep up your leg until he’s at the hem of your tiny shorts. “Wearing this little outfit, teasing me all night with your lips around the bong. Had me wishing your lips were around something else.”

His words have all of your self control breaking as you lean forward and smash your lips to his. You know that this probably isn’t the best idea but you also don’t care much. You’re horny and high and in bed with a pretty boy.

You want Hansol’s hands all over you. Without even mentioning it Hansol fulfills your unspoken wishes. One of his hands lands on your hip while the other grabs at the back of your head, pulling you closer. He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel his stiff cock rubbing against your leg.

Hansol’s mouth presses against yours with ferocity and you know that your lips are going to be puffy and red later. He swipes his tongue across the seam of your lips and you open up to let him in. His tongue slides into your mouth and his tongue tangles with yours. Your hands are in his soft hair and you grip so hard that Hansol’s hips buck up into yours.

You two pull away to catch your breath. You both pant heavily as Hansol’s hands move down to your waist. He goes to tug your shirt over your head and you help him get the article of clothing off before you grab to pull his shirt off as well.

When you come back together the feeling of Hansol’s warm skin against yours makes you sigh into his mouth. His large hands rest against your back and you wish that he would move them to some place a bit more stimulating. After a couple more minutes of passionate making out you decide to take action and grab Hansol’s hands and lower them so they grab at your ass. Hansol groans at this and starts to squeeze at the plush flesh.

You remove your mouth from Hansol’s so you can press kisses into his jawline before moving down his neck to suck bruises into his smooth, pale skin. Hansol seems to like this as he squeezes extra hard when he feels your teeth graze his neck.

His hands start to travel up your back and he fiddles with your bra clasp for a second before it comes loose. He slides the garment down your arms and throws it onto the floor before he starts to knead at your bare breasts. His hands are skilled and it makes you whimper against Hansol’s collarbone as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

You bring Hansol’s lips to your own for a fleeting moment before you’re pulling away all together and sliding off his lap. Hansol looks at you questioningly but he understands when you start to palm at his cock through his pants. His hand grinds up into yours trying to gain more pressure. You reach for his waistband and pull his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. His cock springs out and slaps up against his stomach as you do.

You find yourself a little speechless as you stare down at his cock. He’s a lot bigger than you expected in both the girth and length area. His cock twitches a bit as you stare down at it and you remember what you were in the middle of.

Before Hansol can say anything to you, you’re leaning down and taking his thick length into your mouth. You suck on the tip to start with before opening your throat more and shoving as much of him as you can into your mouth. You bob your head up and down and on top of the noises coming from your throat you can hear Hansol moaning above you.

Your hands move up to fondle Hansol’s balls which has Hansol grabbing at your head to grip your hair. He pushes you farther down on to him and you can feel his tip sliding down your throat even farther. He thrusts his hips in and out of you, using you as he pleases. Your eyes start to water but you don’t stop him because you’re enjoying yourself as well.

“Nngh, Y/N~. Feels so good. M’gunna cum.”

Hansol pulls his dick almost all the way out of your throat till the point where just his tip is between your lips. You stick your tongue out to swipe at his slit and that’s all it takes for him to spill his cum into your mouth. You bring your hand up to pump at his length to empty him fully. When you’re sure he’s fully milked, you swallow down the warm salty substance. Hansol groans as he watches you.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot,” Hansol tells you before grabbing you again and pulling you back into him. Your mouths connect and Hansol sucks at your bottom lip. You pant as the pads of his fingers find your clit. He rubs at you through your shorts and panties and you whine, wanting more. “So needy and wet for me. What a good girl.”

Hansol is then shoving you down onto the bed so he can remove the clothing that is keeping him from where he really wants to be. When he pulls down your panties he licks his lips at your dripping, puffy cunt. You already look so wrecked just from sucking his cock and he wants to ruin you even more.

His fingers find purchase on your clit again as he starts to rub tight, fast circles into the bud. Your hips buck up as he does and he chuckles at you. You’re whining, begging Hansol for something, but he’s too busy staring down at your wet entrance to hear you.

Finally after what feels like hours, Hansol is moving his fingers down and shoving one inside of you. You automatically clench down around it as Hansol starts to pump in and out of you. It doesn’t take long for him to be able to push another inside of you. His fingers curl up into you as he searches for your sweet spot. He thrusts into you once more and you let out a high pitched keen to let Hansol know he found it. He continues to hit that spot before he adds another finger into you.

His fingers are thick and stretch your pussy out. You’re writhing around as his fingers drill into you at an unrelenting pace. Before you know it you’re reaching your high. Your pussy clenches hard around Hansol’s fingers as you release all the built up pressure. Hansol continues to finger fuck you as your walls flutter around his digits. When you finally seem to have calmed down he removes his fingers from you before bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Fuck,” Hansol whines, “you taste so fucking good. God you’re so hot Y/N.”

“Gonna be hotter when I’m on top of you.” With that you wrap your thighs around Hansol’s torso and flip your bodies so you’re straddling his waist. It’s clear you took him by surprise as he stares up at you with wide eyes. You can feel his dick stirring around as it presses into your ass, already hard again.

“Please ride me,” Hansol says, completely serious, his pupils blown wide.

You lift your hips up a bit before lining yourself up to his cock. Hansol licks his lips as he watches you slide down onto his dick. He can feel your tight walls around him as he stretches you out even more. When you’re fully seated on his cock you wiggle your hips a bit, trying to get used to being stuffed so full.

You two stay like that for a few moments until you feel ready to start moving. You splay your hands against Hansol’s defined stomach and start to lift your hips before slamming them back down into his. You bite your lip to try and keep yourself from moaning too loud.

“Shit baby, don’t do that. Lemme hear you.” Hansol’s thumb rubs itself across your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth. He pulls your lip down, keeping your mouth open as his other hand helps guide your hips.

You moan openly as you feel Hansol’s cock drag across your walls. The sound fills the room and encourages Hansol even more as he helps you pick up speed. Soon you’re full on bouncing on Hansol’s cock, his tip hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“You look so pretty like this. Taking me so well, what a good girl,” Hansol tells you. He watches where you guys are connected, moaning at the way your pussy sucks him in so well.

“Hansol,” you whine out, “please I need more.”

“Anything for you baby girl.” With that Hansol is grabbing at you and picking you up only to slam your back onto the bed. With the new position he can thrust his hips into yours harder and faster than before. You wrap your limbs around his body and kiss him fiercely as he pounds into you.

You start babbling nonsense, going on about so good, need more, please, and so on. Your mind is flooded with Hansol and you can’t think about anything other than how he feels against and inside of you.

“Need to cum, Sollie,” you whimper. “Need you to cum too. Please stuff me full, need it so badly.”

“Cum with me baby,” Hansol tells you as he leans down to suck at your neck. His lips find a particularly sensitive spot and you feel your pussy clenching around him as you let your orgasm wash over you, pleasure shooting through your body. Your arousal gushes down your legs and onto Hansol’s lap as well, sending him over the edge as well. His hips stutter as he grips onto your hips tightly and releases his cum into you. You whimper delighted as you feel his warm cum spurt into you.

Hansol is then pulling out of you and watching as his cum starts to spill out of you as well. He reaches down and scoops up the white semen before he shoves his fingers back into you, fucking his cum back into you. You whine as he does but you don’t mind the overstimulation. When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly filled he pulls his fingers out of you before sitting back to stare at your fucked out form.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. You were so good for me baby. You squirted all over my lap, so messy. Loved the feeling of you gushing all over me,” Hansol mutters to you. You look up at him with hooded eyes and smile.

“Thank you Sollie. Feel so good right now.”

“I bet you do. How about we get you cleaned up huh?”

Before Hansol can stand up though, a voice rings through the air. You both are a bit startled and look towards the doorway. “You two don’t think you’re done are you? So naughty of both of you to fuck when I was home. Heard you guys the second I walked into the apartment, got me all worked up. I think the least you can do is help me out.”

Standing in the doorway is Lee Chan, your ex-boyfriend and Hansol’s roommate. You can see his visible bulge in his sweatpants as he stares at your naked bodies. You lick your lips before beaconing him over. You are in for a long night.

(read part 2. here)

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #vernon #chwe vernon #vernon smut #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #hansol smut #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

[yanderes-galore]

hello hello, may i request a springtrap romantic concept (fnaf 3)? :3

Sure! Honestly, I'm surprised I've written him this much but haven't done a general concept yet.

Yandere! Springtrap Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence/Murder, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Blood, Emotional manipulation, Threats, Slight gore, Forced "relationship".

It's already been established in all of my Springtrap and William fics that Springtrap is sadistic and ruthless.

During FNAF 3, Springtrap would see tormenting you as a game in his obsession.

By the time he meets you on Night 2 to Night 5, Springtrap sees you as his personal toy.

I'd say his obsession is a moderate speed.

He's technically obsessed once he meets you but his motives change.

Throughout your job he goes from trying to toy and maybe kill you... to wanting to keep you around as a twisted form of company.

Most of his obsession is him playing along with your audio cues.

He always gets so close before leaving you alone.

It's like he's playing/teasing, peeking through your window or from behind the door.

He loves to stare at you, silver eyes staring into your soul.

He craves your fear more than your blood being shed, as heard in one of his AR lines.

Don't get him wrong, he loves the sight of blood from his victims.

It's just farming their fear lasts longer.

Which is essentially what Springtrap is doing until the climax of his obsession.

He's just out of sight, climbing into vents and sitting by your window.

He likes it when you see him so he can watch the fear settle into your face.

When he's bold he'll warm up his raspy voice to speak to you.

Your initial shock at him speaking makes him thrive.

It's him setting down hints that he isn't what he seems.

He's no malfunctioning robot, he's something else.

Based on the smell you can guess.

Plus when you get a close up look at him through the window or doorway, you can see some sort of gunk clings around his metal.

It all makes you very nauseous.

Your little game is simple.

He tries to get in to "claim his prize", while you try to keep him out.

For the first few nights it's easy.

Then by Night 4 Springtrap gets more aggressive, his obsession creeping ever closer to a climax.

By Night 5 or 6, it's almost game over.

Springtrap thinks he's played nice long enough.

As he's watched you these past few nights... he's wanted to get his hands on you.

The idea of making you scream, to feel you in his metal claws, well...

He hasn't had such excitement in 30 years!

Just when you think you'll complete your week, that you'll walk out and leave, Springtrap surprises you.

Before you can do anything all your systems display an error.

You try your best to fend off hallucinations, to reboot your systems to put out and audio lure or seal off a vent.

Only for Springtrap to appear in front of you in the darkness.

He moves the monitors out of the way, a permanent grin on his face.

"Hello there, doll~!"

They way you scream makes him laugh.

Oh you're so cute when you're vulnerable!

He watches as you fall out of your chair, staring at him with big scared eyes.

"I loved our game... hope you wouldn't mind having it every night, dear?... or did you have something else in mind?"

Your game on your last night switches things up.

Instead of him coming to you in your office, it's you running through the attraction away from him.

It's agonizingly long... you're constantly darting in and out of vents and hiding behind walls.

Yet Springtrap knows your attempts at escape are futile.

Eventually you'll grow tired, eventually you may even injure yourself... then he'll strike.

He knows this place better than you.

You aren't the one roaming it every day and night in a bored stroll.

Which means only he knows about the secret backroom.

One he expertly corners you beside, just to push you inside and close the door.

The game is now over... he's won.

You're trapped in the roam, the smell of the rotting animatronic stunning you.

You look around, no other escape....

Where is this? A storage room?

"I've been waiting for this." The greenish rabbit hums, keeping you trapped in a corner.

"You see... you're just about the only company I've had in years. Decades, even."

You fear to ask, yet you try;

"Decades?"

"I've been dead for thirty years in complete agonizing silence. Dead yet living in this robotic shell. But honestly? I've never felt more alive!"

The rabbit laughs, standing over you.

"Now... I have long awaited company, doll. You'll be fun to play with. I think I'll have a lot of fun with you."

This becomes your fate.

You're forever meant to entertain the remains of the sick serial killer.

If he feels he has to, he'll make you immortal with him.

It'll be painful... but to him he thinks it'll be worth it.

That way... he can keep you with him forever as his doll, pet, and toy...

Even when the building burns down... you'll be stuck with him... forever his.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 3 #yandere springtrap #yandere william afton

[the1975attheirverybest]

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 3- somewhere in your heart/ somewhere guaranteed

read all other chapters here

A/N: this was weird to write. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: smut? Kinda?

——-

“2:00AM” the digital clock on the wall announced. Matty rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small cappuccino in his hand, sighing loudly as he entered the rehearsal space.

The sound of his echoing footsteps and the smell of his coffee alerted Tobias to his arrival promoting him to rustle through some documents to locate Matty’s copy of the setlist.

“Yo,” Matty mumbled a general greeting around the room intended for all attendants. “Where’s Amelia?”, scanning over the setlist that Tobias had handed him.

Tobias sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed. He looked up at Patricia, who sat on the couch in the middle of the stage, scribbling notes into her notepad. She shrugged.

“She’s out with her boyfriend.” Tobias replied, cautiously. “And, Matthew, I know this is going to make you feel things. But can we please focus on this?”

Matty’s face deceptively hid the way that the word ‘boyfriend’ had shattered his heart. He took a long sip of his beverage. “Yeah. Okay. Focusing on this.” He said, calmly, his eyes fixed on the work presented to him.

He tried to keep his thoughts on the task at hand, but the empty chair where he’d expected Amelia to be sitting felt as if it was mocking him. Like it knew that the cup of coffee in his hand was intended for her. It made his stomach turn.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to change any of the visual backdrop along with the setlist so….i’ve prepared some options just in case…” Tobias attempted to begin the meeting, but, even as he spoke, it was clear to him that Matty’s mind was elsewhere. “Matty? Thoughts?”

“What?” Matty seemed startled. He cleared his throat aggressively. “Yes, anyway” straightening the setlist in his hand. “Right. Okay, so, we have a gap where ‘Then Because She Goes’ originally was,” Matty mumbled, more to himself than to his co-workers. He moved songs around on the board for a moment. “we’ve got ‘Me,’ as an alternative to ‘Bagsy,’ and….” His train of thought seemed to cut short. “Sorry, ermmmm.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shouldn’t George be here?” Tapping his phone screen and watching it light up and display the time.

“Texted him.” Patricia said. “He’s on the way. Said he overslept.”

Matty, once again, did not seem to be listening. This time, something on his phone had caught his attention. Even through sleep-laced vision, he could see a toggle of Twitter notifications, all of which contained his name. He slipped his phone into his pocket. Out of sight; out of mind.

He stared blankly at people’s faces, “Sorry, erm, just….just a moment. Smoke break.” He whispered, hesitantly walking away.

“Matty!” Patricia called after him. “You forgot your cigarettes!!” But he murmured something about needing to pee, instead.

***

Matty could barely hear the bathroom door close over the sound of his own heart pounding against his chest like a drumbeat. Honestly tight. His breathing shallow. He pulled out his phone, watching the notifications roll in. His stomach tightened as he scrolled through, quickly gathering that a ‘Pop Culture news source’ had just published a profile on him and revived the same old grievances that the internet has had against him for a while lately.

@Mattyfrnglomg have you considered that your jokes just aren’t funny and people hate them cuz you’re a racist twat?

Girlies, no. @mattyfrnglomg is not hot. It’s 2023 stop making being a n*zi ‘hot.’

Matty Healy is a racist, homophobic pos. Hope he ODs and fucks off.

Oh okay so I guess racism is ~high art~. Really needed an ugly white guy to teach me that. Got it thanks, Matty Healy.

This article is taking his words out of context. You don’t understand how much different he is once you actually take the time to find out what he means to say.

|___ You don’t understand how much idgaf. There is no out of context bigotry. Shut up and get a life.

He swiped out of the Twitter app and put his phone away, leaning against the sink and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He wondered if the reflection staring back at him was anything like what the internet says.

He’s been here before. Countless times, in fact. The internet turning against him every few weeks has become a constant that he can always count on. Whats the point of going through this song and dance every single time? Besides, on the other side of this bathroom door, there is a room full of people waiting for his direction. He doesn’t have time for wallowing.

He waved his hand underneath the faucet, triggering its sensors.

“Right.” He spoke to himself in the mirror, drying his freshly washed face. “Back to work.” He tossed the crumpled paper towel into the bin and watched it bounce and fall outside the rim.

“Fucks sakes.”

***

“Tobias! Swap out ‘Frail State of Mind’ for, uh, ‘Heart Out’.” Matty’s voice yelled out even before he was all the way back in the room. “Also, could we rehearse some Drive Like I Do bits?

“I must still be dreaming” George’s groggy voice announced his entrance, “surely you’re not suggesting we do Drive Like I Do songs…”

“Listen,” Matty jumped up on the balls of his feet, too impatient to wait for George to get settled, he met him at the door, handing him a copy of the setlist on which he’d scribbled some thoughts. “What if we just took out this bit, and instead did, like, Self-Titled, or DLID songs. The cyclical conclusion of the individual show would, sort of, mirror the trajectory of the tour as a whole.”

George wondered to himself if he’d simply spent too much of his life in Matty’s company or if what his friend was suggesting actually made perfect sense.

***

Matty’s leg bounced nervously under the table. He tugged at his sleeves every time that Amelia and Joshua got a bit too close to each other. He couldn’t help but look in her direction all the time. She’d burst into the room, hours late, but her smile and the fact that she’d brought food and coffee for everyone made it alright. she wore the same perfume that she’d had on the first time that Matty had ever undressed her. He caught a whiff of it when she’d zoomed towards him, setting down a pastry and a cup of coffee by his notepad and whispering “your favorites” with a playful wink. He was too overwhelmed to look her directly in the eyes. The scent is now forever intertwined with his memories of their first time together. Though it felt wrong to reminisce, a disrespect of her burgeoning relationship with Joshua, he couldn’t help but recall her trembling fingers, eagerly reaching for his belt buckle, the timid blush in her cheeks when he said that he wanted to see her touch herself first, and, of course, her breathily calling out his name when he guided her through her own self-pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to be back there now.

Being so close to her yet so far away, watching her smile at the man by her side, it all felt like a knife to the chest. The throbbing of his heart was impossible to ignore. Every time that someone had said anything clever, or funny, he would find himself turning around to check if she’d laughed too. If she’d had the same thought or reaction as him. When George had asked her how her night had been and she hinted that the reason for her late arrival had something to do with her and Joshua having a little too much fun, Matty couldn’t not watch as Joshua’s hand reached for hers, gently.

“So, what’d I miss?” Amelia asked, setting down her coffee. “You rockstars have weird business hours, by the way.”

George handed her a copy of the new setlist to get her caught up.

“Excuse me you took out ‘Bagsy’? What the fuck for??” Her outrage directed towards Matty.

He remained silent, so she returned her attention to the paper in her hand.

“‘Frail State of Mind’ too?? Are you insane?”

“We’ve already discussed it. Just….move on.” He mumbled, avoiding looking at her.

“ yeah, but I remember you saying this tour is meant to include more Notes tracks and now you’re axing half of them. Oh and I suppose you expect me to find ‘You’ totally self-explanatory, too?”

Matty scratched his forehead, irritated in silence for a moment. “Maybe if you hadn’t been late, you’d have been around for the conversation. Guess you’ll just have to schedule your dates around your work next time, won’t you?”

Amelia was stunned into silence, simply shaking her head in disbelief.

“Amelia, uhh, I wondered if we might place some lights around the door frame for the second half of the show?” Tobias asked, mostly to cut the tension. “If they end up doing 28, that is.”

“That makes no sense.” She said without a second thought. “28 pre-dates the box iconography.” Her response was to Tobias, but her eyes still watched Matty, astounded.

“Why don’t we take- uhh- take 5 minutes while I bring us copies of the apology speech.” Tobias rushed to escape the room.

“I was thinking,” Amelia mused out loud breaking the silence that had covered the room as everyone read Matty’s Better Help ad. “the sentence that starts with ‘there’s nothing wrong with wanting to better yourself’ how about we change it to-“

“No,” Matty stated, firmly.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I said ‘no.’” Matty kept his eyes on his paper.

“But you haven’t even heard what I think you should replace it with…”

“Don’t need to. Pretty attached to that sentence. Don’t wanna change it.”

Amelia stood out of her chair and walked, stiffly, over to Matty, slamming the paper out of his hand. “Can I see you outside for a second?”

He shrugged, following her out.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“Amelia-“

“How dare you speak to me like that in front of everyone?”

“You’re asking questions that you shouldn’t-“

“I’m doing my job! The job that you hired me to do, by the way.”

“Doing your job would’ve been coming to work on time. Leaving your boyfriend at the door. Being a professional. Having those conversations when it was the right time to have them. Not- not now!”

Amelia shook her head, looking directly at him. He took off his glasses, wiping them off with the end of his shirt.

“Maybe the internet is right about you.” She spoke after an uncomfortable beat of silence. “Maybe you have turned into an arsehole.”

***

At one end of the hallway, Amelia laid in bed in her hotel room, watching Joshua undress and get ready to slide into the empty space next to her. She crawled into his arms as soon as he laid down.

“You alright? You seem upset.” Joshua kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Matty’s face as she’d called him an asshole. A look that she’d only seen once before. At George’s house, two years ago, hours after his long term relationship had ended. He’d gotten drunk and cried himself to sleep on George’s couch. She wondered if that’s how she’d find him right now. If she walked over to the other end of the hallway, to the Royal Suite, would she find him in that same state?

“I’m okay.” She whispered into Joshua’s chest. “Kiss me please.”

***

George grew increasingly worried the more that his knocks went unanswered. He pulled out his phone, sending “anyone hear from Matty yet?” To Adam and Ross before deciding to go down to the front desk and ask for a spare key.

His heart sunk at the sight in front of him. Several empty bottles of wine around the room, Matty’s crying muffled by the pillow that he’d buried his face into, the notepad on the floor, Matty’s body shaking, his hands fisting the duvet. He was right to be concerned. He was right to come here.

“Matty,” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on his friends shoulder. “Matty, mate, c’mon. Look at me. C’mon, let’s g- please, sit up for me?”

***

“ I know this isnt what you want to hear, but…There are only two options, I’m afraid.” George said softly, his head dipping to the side. “You either tell her how you feel, or you move on.”

“But she’s got a- a- Joshua!”

George tittered, trying not to be too amused. “I know, but what does that matter? They’ve only just met. You should still tell her. Let her make the choice for herself.”

“Nothings really changed, though. She was crushed when she told me she loved me and I didn’t say it back. And-“

“Why, exactly, did you not say it back?”

“I’m not- I don’t think being together would be a good idea. I’m not good enough for her yet.”

“But, Matty, you’ve had this— thing— for her for ages.”

“Yeah, but I was a fuckin mess for the first couple of years. I mean; I was addicted to smack- and - and then she got a boyfriend. And I got a girlfriend, and th-“

“I know. I was there.”

Matty fell silent for a moment, looking down as his hands fiddled, nervously, with the end of his sleeves. “It’s just….when I’m with her….when we’re together….everything feels right. Everything feels good — ‘m not even talking about sex; not that the sex isn’t good. Cuz it is. It’s fuckin great but that’s not all there is to it— Doesn’t matter what it is that we’re doing, if we’re doing it together, then I’m happy.”

“I haven’t heard you speak about anyone this way in a long time.”

Matty smiled, a tired, defeated smile, shrugging, “right.” He looked up at George, “but….im still not the kind of person that she can depend on. I couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ back. And- she’s got someone who…clearly knows how special she is. Who’s willing to take a risk on her.”

“Matty, there is no perfect redemption arc or whatever the fuck you’re on about- you’re don’t have to wait to become a different person- she said ‘I love you’ to you. Not some….potential of a perfect version of you”

Matty wanted to remind George that she’s wrong about him. That all the reasons she loves him for are not real. Simply a product of her misplaced faith in him. A mistaken understanding that he’s a better and stronger person than he is. But he didn’t have to say all that. He had a shortcut right at his fingertips. “Look at this!” Matty held up his phone, displaying a vast number of notifications, all of which contained derogatory and disparaging attacks on him, available for the whole world to peruse through at any moment. “Do you honestly think a new relationship would be good right now?”

The glimmer of conviction in George’s eyes began to fade. “So….does this mean….you’re letting her go?”

They were silent for a moment, then, George got up and pulled Matty into a hug.

“About that stuff in your phone-“

“I’m fine.”

George knew he wasn’t fine. But he also knew he wasn’t ready for help yet.

***

The show was perfect. Amelia had to hand it to Matty. She couldn’t see the vision at first. Especially when he’d changed much of the setlist, but onstage, it made perfect sense. Watching the audience’s shock and awe at witnessing those lesser known songs be played live for the first time in years only made the night more exciting. Matty appeared to take in the positive, instant feedback as well. Thanking everyone and taking a bow before getting off-stage.

She meant to inform him of how impressed she was backstage, but he was instantly swarmed by techs, unhooking him from the equipment and checking with him about next show’s instruments. He disappeared into the dressing room shortly after, and in the chaos of the post-show action, she was distracted. Before she knew it, Matty’s driver —who’d been reassigned to her and Joshua as soon as they’re joined the tour— was driving them back to their hotel room.

***

The silence was deafening. Matty laid in bed, struggling to sleep, lonely, cold, and contemplating going downstairs for a smoke. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his Instagram messages, his finger hovering indecisively over a woman to message. The routine —something he’d done before, on many a lonely night— made him feel sick. He didn’t want that anymore. He buried his phone under his pillow and tossed to the other side.

Minutes turned to hours as Matty laid, wide awake, tossing and turning in bed. His hand slowly sliding down his body, wondering if he could relieve some stress and distract himself from the pangs of loneliness. He closed his eyes, dipping his hand into his briefs and grabbing himself. He worked himself to the memories of his best sexual encounters, trying to recall how he’d felt, what it had been like, how he’d made his partner feel. The pleasure, the intimacy of that deep connection, the rush of giving someone else overwhelming pleasure and hearing them moan and whine. None of it seemed to be working, only building his frustration. He turned to lay on his stomach, still jerking himself off. As his frustration continued, he decided that perhaps humping the mattress may help. And he really tried his best, getting closer and closer to feeling something, he dedicated all of his focus towards remaining in his body, working hard at shutting away any thoughts, his hips grinding against the bed. He groaned and whined into the bedding. Had he been quieter, or moved slower, he might have heard the soft beeping of the door lock as a spared key swiped into it, or even the footsteps approaching his bedroom. Unfortunately, he only heard “Matty?” When it was too late. Amelia was already standing in the doorway.

“Fuck! Oh my- Christ!” Matty jolted at the sound of her voice. “A-Amelia. Wha- what- what’re you- doing here?” He cover himself up with the duvet, sitting up against the bed frame.

She smiled, walking towards him. “Sorry. I clearly interrupted something.” She teased.

Matty’s lips parted. He wanted to speak, but nothing came to mind. He watched her approach him, reach out her hand, and cup his face gently. God, he needed this. A human touch. Amelia’s touch.

“Amelia I’m so-“

“I know. I know. You don’t need to say anything, Matty.”

She leaned in kissing his lips. Her hand dipped under the duvet. “Let me help with that.” Wrapping her hand around his cock. Matty stiffened to her touch, swallowing a gasp.

Her hand jerked his length over and over, she’d sat in his bed, settling into a persistent rhythm. Matty cried incoherently, fucking into her hand and desperately hoping for pleasure. Nothing helped. She noticed his hips moving more aggressively and heavily m as his frustration peaked.

“Hey, easy, easy, Matty. Not like that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“It’s not working. I’m so sorry- I- it hurts….”

“It’s okay; it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” She let go of him, moving her hand away.

Matty blushed the words left his lips before he could stop himself “please don’t leave me.”

His genuine plea caught her off guard. “Matty….” Perhaps hes been worse off than she’d imagined. “I’m not gonna leave. I’m just…can I ummm…can I hold you?”

He nodded repeatedly, a wordless and enthusiastic plea. She wrapped her arms around him, doing her best to tighten around his thick, strong muscles. Amelia kissed along the expanse of his shoulders as she shook and wept in her arms. Despite his massive build, he felt so small and fragile. She put all she had into those gentle kisses, hoping his skin would absorb her love, her care as she grazed it with her lips. They stayed that way until Matty had no tears left to cry. He fell asleep.

***

The sunlight felt harsh against Matty’s eyelids. He stirred in bed, not ready to open his eyes yet. As sleep weaned its hold on him, the events of last night came rushing back. He was filled with a mix of different emotions. Comfort, embarrassment, anxiety, and a sliver of joy. As he prepared to open his eyes and turn to the other side of the bed, he prayed to a god that he didn’t believe in that he would find her sleeping right next to him. He waited a moment for his heartbeat to come back down. Then, he turned around, slowly, and opened his eyes. She was gone.

#matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc

[sleepyxxhead]

༉‧₊˚. flufftober 2023!!

WEEK 1: Troublemaker!Matsukawa x Goody-two-shoes!Reader

CONTENT: fem!reader, partying, underage drinking, drunk!reader, Mattsun calls reader “princess”, “doll”, “doll face”, etc.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

CHARACTERS: Mattsun x fem!reader

NOTES: FLUFFTOBERRRRR YAYYYY!! I’m definitely not going to be posting at consistent times each week but i’m hoping to do each saturday. idk tho maybe i’ll post late probably

Matsukawa was crazy in love with you. The class president, the volleyball team manager, you were constantly consumed in extracurriculars; it seemed as if you were focused on everything except for him. Every other girl in school wanted him -- except you. 

“Matsukawa-san! I got you chocolates!” Another one of his crazy fangirls squealed before scurrying away.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly, before tossing it into the pile of chocolates he had received for Valentine’s Day. 

“Wow, Mattsun, that’s more than usual,” Hanamaki mused, chewing lazily on some of the sweets from the pile.

But instead of swatting his friend’s hand away, Matsukawa stayed silent - much to the former’s confusion.

“...Mattsun?” Hanamaki waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. “Earth to Matsukawa~”

“What’s this idiot up to?” Iwaizumi asked, entering the gym alongside Oikawa. 

“Looks like he’s staring at president-chan~” Oikawa hummed.

“What? No I’m not,” Matsukawa grumbled, snapping out of his trance. 

“Sure,” Makki teased, slapping a hand on his friend’s back.

“I’m nOT sTArinG..?” Iwaizumi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Fucking dumbass.”

“Mattsun likes Y/N-chan~!” Oikawa sang repeatedly as the four boys started stretching for practice. “Aw, look! His cheeks are turning red!” 

Matsukawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was never going to hear the end of it.

You hated Matsukawa Issei.

He was disruptive, annoying, and very good-looking.

“‘Sup, coach?” Matsukawa draped his arm over your shoulder, using the nickname he had given you ever since you became the volleyball team’s manager. You could smell his cologne despite him being all sweaty from practice. “No chocolates for your favorite volleyball player?”

You shrank under his weight, face heating up at the touch. “It seems like you have plenty already, Matsukawa-san.”

The boy didn’t seem to like your answer, because, in an instant, he had your back against the wall outside the gym, one hand planted beside your head.

“Come on, darlin’,” he breathed into your ear. “Nothin’? Really..?”

You could feel heat shoot up into your cheeks, his bold actions yet again flustering you.

“Look at you, cheeks all red f’me,” Matsukawa rasped. “So cute.”

With a satisfied look on his face, he pulled away, casually turning around to catch up with his friends. “Later, princess,” he called at you, wearing a shit-eating grin.

You covered your crimson-red face, trying to process what had just happened. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” You muttered to yourself, grabbing your backpack to walk home. 

“I hate him,” was all you could mumble as you headed towards the train station, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your fists. He made you feel so…uncomfortable. Whenever you were around him your heart would pound, and your stomach would do flips, you’d get all sweaty -- the list goes on. 

But the more you thought about how you hated him, the more you thought about him. His dark, curly hair; his lazy eyes; his crooked grin. Just thinking about him made your heart flutter. 

You groaned in frustration, finally realizing your feelings: you had fallen in love with one of the dumbest, most annoying -- but somehow most highly sought after -- boys at your school.

You knew that he didn’t like you and he was just teasing, you knew he was going to break your heart if you confessed, you knew all of his fangirls would hate you for the rest of eternity, but you just had to go and fall in love with him. He just had to make you fall in love with him. 

As your week went on, you had hoped that your little “crush” would subside, but it didn’t. In fact, it only grew stronger the more he pinned you against walls or called you flirty nicknames.

He came up to you more frequently now, draping his arms over your shoulders from behind just to see you jump at the sudden touch. Whenever a guy would approach you he’d become even more relentless, calling you more nicknames, finding more excuses to pull you close.

He was driving you insane and he knew it. Now whenever you were around him your face would turn so red it looked as if you were ready to explode. It frustrated you to no end knowing that he flustered you so easily and didn’t share the same feelings.

“Yahoo~! Manager-chaaan~!” A high-pitched voice caught your attention as you finished up some classwork at lunch.

You raised your head, looking around for the voice. To your left, you saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi walking up to you.

“Over here! Hi! Can we sit?” Oikawa asked you, sitting down before waiting for an answer. Iwaizumi stayed standing, waiting for your response.

“Yeah, sure,” you told him, turning back to your homework. “Do you need something?” you asked the boys with a sigh.

“Manager-chan~ no need to be so cold!” Oikawa whined as he snatched your homework away from you. 

You looked at him, a small pout on your face. “Yes?”

“Great!” Oikawa chirped. “Do you want to come to the bonfire by the river tonight?”

“What? No,” you answered immediately. “I hate parties -- bonfires, whatever. Plus, I have work to do for the student council.”

“C’monnn Y/N-chan~! Loosen up a bit, you’re always working. You need to relax a bit, have some fun, y’know?” Oikawa whined, filing his nails. 

“I just can’t Oikawa-san. You know I love hanging out with you guys but I’m not that much of a ‘party animal’ like you two,” you said, drawing air quotes with your fingers.

“President-chan! Don’t be such a party pooper,” Oikawa complained. He leaned in close, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Mattsun’ll be there~”

Your eyes widened, hoping the two boys wouldn’t notice the heat rising to your face. “W-what makes you think that’ll convince me?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, lowering his voice. “It’s pretty obvious, y’know?”

“What’s obvious?” You sat up straight, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh our sweet, sweet manager…” Oikawa cooed. “Her face is so red thinking about Mattsun~!”

Your hid your face with your hands. 

“Come on Y/N,” Iwaizumi sighed. “You don’t have to drink or anything, just have some fun.”

The ace raised his eyebrows expectantly at you; he almost reminded you of your mother. You were a third year and had never been to a single house party, why not have some fun? You groaned, knowing you’d regret your decision later. “Okokokok, fine!”

“Yay!!” Oikawa clapped his hands together. “We’ll pick you up tonight!” 

As you got ready, you couldn’t help but notice a nervous feeling rising in your stomach. It would be the first real social event you had gone to, after all. Not some student leadership meeting or team bonding experience. You had no clue what to expect; the only vague images of parties or bonfires you had were scenes of huge house parties in movies that you watched with your friends a long time ago.

Just as you were grabbing your purse, your phone buzzed, indicating that your friends were here. You checked that you had everything that you needed -- or thought you would need -- and headed out the door.

“You really got her to come,” Makki remarked, grinning at you as you climbed in the back seat next to Mattsun. Iwaizumi was driving, Oikawa in the passenger seat, and Mattsun and Makki sat in the back seat with you.

“That’s right! I told you she would~” Oikawa responded, snatching five dollars from his friend’s hand. Makki rolled his eyes, looking out the window.

The car was fairly small, causing you, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki to be squished together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back.

Looking out the window you caught Oikawa wiggling his eyebrows at you through the sideview mirror, to which you gave him a confused look, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“So, Coach.” Matsukawa leaned impossibly closer to you, causing warmth to rush into your face. “How did this shithead convice you to come?”

“Not nice, Mattsun!” 

“I-I dunno, we’re all third-years now and I’ve never been to anything like a party before. I just wanted to experience it, I guess,” you pondered.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all Y/N-san,” Makki said with a snicker.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to relax for once.”

“Makes sense, you’re constantly working -- I don’t even know how you have time to manage the volleyball team,” Makki thought aloud. “Have you ever had alcohol before, Y/N?”

“Uh, no? I wasn’t planning on having any tonight either,” you answered.

“To be expected of Mrs. President-chan!” Oikawa commented. “You know, you really should try some at least!” 

“Eh, maybe,” you responded sheepishly. To be quite honest, you weren’t even thinking about alcohol until Hanamaki brought it up.

As the five of you arrived, you started to feel even more nervous. Despite being outdoors, the strong smell of alcohol and smoke overtook your senses, nearly knocking you over. 

“Feelin’ woozy, princess?” Matsukawa asked under his breath, bringing his hand up to your back to help balance you.

“Just don’t like the smell of alcohol is all,” you responded, grateful for his hand. You watched Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Hanamaki walking up to some other friends, saying hi. 

You saw many other teenagers, just like yourself, walking and sitting around, holding cans and bottles and cups of alcohol. You couldn’t help but feel like an outlier as you followed your four friends around, staying behind them and looking at the ground nervously.

You soon found a spot to sit down, leaving your friends to go enjoy themselves. You watched them mill around, having fun and laughing with other friends. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

Turning your head, you found a girl that looked your age. She had dark hair and a big smile across her face. Judging by the way she acted, she had clearly had a couple of drinks already. She held in her hands two cans of beer as well as her phone.

“I’m L/N Y/N, and you?” you asked politely.

“I’m Nakamura Megumi! You want one?” she asked, holding out one of the cans to you as she sat down beside you.

“Uh, sure,” you responded, taking the can. You took a small sip, almost making a face at how foul it tasted. “I go to Aoba Josai, how about you?”

“I go to Johzenji!” she said, taking a sip of her beer. “Ohmygod, do you know Oikawa Toru?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the manager of the volleyball team actually.”

“Oh my god! He’s so hot! Is he here?” she asked you giddily.

“Yeah, he’s right over there.” You pointed to him.

“Oh my gosh, isn’t he so hot?!” she fawned, noticibly slurring her words. “I’m going to go talk to him!”

You let out a sheepish exhale, watching her run stumble towards your friend. You took another sip of the awful liquid in your hands, deciding that you would finish it, not wanting to waste anything -- even if it was so horrible.

As the evening went on, you finally finished the contents of the can, throwing it to the side as you tried to focus your vision. Your head was spinning and your face felt horribly warm. You stood up, almost losing balance as you tried to spot your friends.

“Y/N?” Matsukawa said as the four of them walked up to you, grabbing your shoulders to keep you standing. “What’s goin’ on princess?” 

“‘Wanna go home…” you whined. “‘M tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Matsukawa muttered, steering you towards the direction of the car. 

“How much did you have to drink?” Oikawa asked you.

“Mmmm, like…one can?” you drawled, leaning into Matsukawa. 

Your friends chuckled as you all got into the car. “Of beer? Damn, Y/N I didn’t know you were such a lightweight,” Hanamaki commented.

“Hey..! Not nicee!” You grumbled in Matsukawa’s shoulder. 

The rest of the carride was silent, the thrumming of the car’s engine slowly lulling you to sleep. 

As Iwaizumi finally pulled into your parents’ driveway, your eyes fluttered open. “Are we home?”

“Yeah, are your parents home?” Matsukawa asked, reaching across your body to open the door.

“M-m.” You shook your head. “Business trips…”

Matsukawa sighed in relief as he awkwardly climbed over you to get out of the car. He bent down, back facing you, sticking his arms out behind him. “Get on my back princess, I’ll carry you inside.”

You slowly draped your limbs over him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You guys can go, I think I’m just going to stay with her to make sure she’s okay.” 

Iwaizumi nodded as Oikawa winked at his friend through the open window. “Use protection!” Makki called out teasingly as the car backed out of the driveway.

Matsukawa used the spare key under your doormat to enter you house. “How did you know ‘bout that..?”

“You told me about it awhile ago,” he said as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom. “Take a shower, I’ll get you something to eat, yeah?”

You nodded, getting off his back. You stumbled into the bathroom with your pajamas under your arm and turned on the water. 

Matsukawa walked back downstairs, grabbing two packs of instant ramen for the both of you. As he waited for the water to boil, he left a glass of water as well as an Advil on your nightstand. 

The smell of ramen convinced you to take a quick shower, feeling your empty stomach grumble. Opening the door to the bathroom, you found Matsukawa sitting on your bed, watching a show on your laptop and slurping up a bowl of ramen. He nodded towards your bedside table on top of which was a glass of water, an Advil, and a steaming bowl of ramen with some chopsticks. You almost drooled looking at the ramen.

“Have some water and ramen, then you should take the Advil,” Matsukawa instructed as you climbed under the covers next to him, grabbing the bowl of ramen and chopsticks. 

“Watcha watching?” you asked him, looking at the screen.

“Spirited Away,” Matsukawa chuckled.

You gasped. “I love that movie!” 

“I know, princess. Eat up.”

Once you finished your bowl and took the Advil, you snuggled up into Matsukawa trying to focus on the movie. 

“Tired…” you told him, rubbing your eyes.

“Alright, doll,” he said, shutting the laptop and putting it to the side. 

You wrapped you arms around his neck, hiding your face in it.

“I like you,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “But don’t tell anyone though, ‘t’s a secret…”

“I like you too princess.” Matsukawa wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your back. “Go to sleep now.”

NOTES: AHFDSLAKJF flufftober is here!! anyways matsukawa is more flirty/bold than a troublemaker BUT THAt’S OK. this is the longest work i have posted here 💀

anyways i’ve been trying to get my 2 REQUESTS done AND IM SO SORRY ITS TAKING SO LONG but i’m having writer’s block rn idk and i know that’s like a really shitty excuse but i just can’t write LFDMSAFD please be patient as i try to write those 👍

have a nice day cutie <33

dividers: @cafekitsune

taglist form

inspired by prompts from: @creativepromptsforwriting

#📎 - works #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyuu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #haiku fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #matuskawa #matsukawa issei #mattsun #matsukawa x reader #mattusn x reader #matsukawa x you #mattsun x you #matsukawa x y/n #mattsun x y/n #aoba josai #anime #anime x reader #anime x you #anime x y/n #matsukawa fluff

[janfraiser]

stay close to the people who feel like sunshine

The attitude of "doesn't Jee deserve grandparents" in 6x10 kind of rubbed me the wrong way, so... here, Grandpa Bobby!!!! Set during the winter hiatus.

"So, even though the recipe only calls for two sticks of butter, you use three?"

Bobby grins at Buck and nods as the younger firefighter unwraps the butter and drops it into the pot. "Baking, you have to be exact. But cooking, all you need to worry about is the flavors."

"And also heart disease," Chimney jabs, leaning over the island and picking at the charcuterie board May and Bobby had arranged earlier. Bobby had provided the materials, but May definitely has more of a knack for the artistry. He's just glad she wants to take part in something as routine as helping him in the kitchen-- and the same goes for Buck.

"Doubtful that I'll make it that far," Buck says with a laugh, but Bobby watches him silently for a moment, remembering too well how that attitude feels. Not wanting to drag the mood down, he laughs as well.

"I have to agree with Buck, heart disease is one of the better options in our line of work."

"Stop being macabre," May calls, entering the room. "Look-- cute baby! No more dark humor." She holds up Jee-Yun, who giggles and waves.

Chimney stands up with a bright smile for his daughter, but Jee seems happy in May's arms for the moment. She makes the motion of blowing a kiss, and Bobby can't help but move across the kitchen to watch the scene closer.

"Hi Daddy, love you!" Jee says to Chimney, blowing him a kiss. Maddie is taking pictures of May with the baby, and Jee-Yun waves to her next. "Hi Mama, love you!" And then May steps into the kitchen, and Bobby expects Jee to call out for her Uncle Buck, but two tiny hands reach for him instead. "Grandpa Bobby! Love you!"

Bobby freezes, staring in shock at the toddler. Jee is still reaching for him, and May's face is the picture of delighted shock, and other than that he kind of has tunnel vision. In spite of his surprise, he takes the baby reflexively, holding her to his chest. She smells like baby powder and a warmth he hasn't felt in a long time, and he rocks her gently as she giggles and tugs at the neck of his apron.

Chimney is standing behind May now, looking a little more concerned. "Bobby? Is that okay? I don't know... I don't know where that came from."

Bobby starts to smile-- who wouldn't, holding Jee-Yun-- and pushes away the thoughts in his head that had, for a long time, abandoned hope of being a grandfather. "Don't worry, Chim. This is totally great."

"Only problem is, we're too young to be grandparents," Athena jokes, raising her glass of wine from where she sits in her armchair.

"Well, I think you guys are perfect grandparents," Maddie pronounces, moving into the kitchen and kissing Bobby on the cheek as she strokes Jee-Yun's hair. "Jee certainly needs those." She purses her lips, staring at the wall, and Bobby removes a hand from the baby to squeeze her shoulder.

"This is kind of crazy, though," Chim points out. "I had to coach her every day when we were getting her to say Uncle Buck-- where would she have picked this up?"

Suddenly suspicious, Bobby glances over his shoulder at Buck, who's still stirring the simmering pot. The younger Buckley shrugs innocently.

"I dunno, guys... why are you looking at me?"

And then he winks, and Bobby decides that maybe the kid has enough between his ears to handle cooking by himself.

He'll just go sit down for a little bit with his granddaughter.

#911 fox #911 spoilers #but only in the author's note oop #bobby nash #evan buckley #chimney han #may grant #jee yun buckley han #maddie buckley #athena grant #madney #bathena #911 fic #bobby nash fic #evan buckley fic #maddie buckley fic #otp: or just in love #otp: i can say it enough for the both of us #dawn this is for you <3

[dellalyra]

Family Formations - Wreckage

A/N: this wasn’t requested by i was listening to i bet on losing dogs and this popped into my head and since I’ve been in such a writing funk i decided it had to happen also it’s sad I’m sorry

CW: angst, mentions of violence, grief, mentions of death, also somehow soft like rly soft

Summary: a very short Drabble - inspired by I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski. Megumi and Y/N centric.

My baby, my baby,

You’re my baby, say it to me

This wasn’t your room; this wasn’t your home. This wasn’t your blanket.

No hint of sandalwood cologne tinting the air.

No smell of tea tree shampoo.

No smell of baby powder.

To you everything smells of copper, of iron, of grief, of ash, of smoke, of destruction.

Your lifelines scattered between this life and the next – limbs and eyes and loves just gone like dandelion tufts in a breeze.

You lay on this bed. These sheets. These pillows. You absentmindedly admire the pretty blue colour of them. Whoever lived here had nice taste – he would like these sheets. He likes blue.

He used to say his favourite colour was gold.

You’re gold to me, whispered into your ear.

You sit against the headboard – staring at the wall.

The door creaks open.

The shock of raven spikes are still visible in the darkness of the room. He shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t need to.

Just crawls onto the bed beside you, and lays his head in your lap.

I bet on losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

He seems so small now – he looks like your little boy. Almost a whole foot taller than you at 16 and steadily growing, much broader and stronger. Sometimes, you think it’s funny how much he resembles him. Just, inverted. Dark hair instead of white (his father’s) but the height, the build, the slender hands. You forget he’s not biologically you and his.

His head in your lap, your hand moving to his hair, carding through it like you did for nightmares of boogeymonsters and creatures in the closet what seems like centuries ago. No more nightmares now. Just reality and boogeymonsters and creatures in your best friend.

He lets out a sigh. He doesn’t want to talk, he just needs you. You’re glad, you don’t know if you have the words. Do the words even exist?

The door creaks open again. A glimmer of soft pink in the darkness, it turns to move away and leave.

“Sit”, you whisper softly.

The figure – so many healing wounds turning to scars now. They shine in the faint trace of moonlight.

He goes to the side of your son, and lays behind him, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist, nuzzling his pink head into the nape of black hair.

You think of Geto.

The heartbreak he would feel at another young generation of sorcerers, the embodiment of the hope you all held – torn apart, obliterated, traumatised. Would the world have been different if you and Satoru had followed him that day? Would lives have been saved? Or would you have lost everyone?

In this reality; you have your boy and his love – curled beside you in the cocoon of warmth and safety you blanket them with. Nails lightly running over the scalp of the head in your lap, he loves that too – just like Satoru.

A baby is out there too. All white hair and eyes like his father. Safe, in your mothers arms. You don’t know where, you can’t know.

This gives you solace.

They are your lifeboats.

Because your ship that kept you afloat has sank, trapped and drowning. Not in an ocean but a god damn fucking box.

You don’t know who will get to shore. You’ll save all that you can. You’re scared of losing, of losing everyone. You’re not weak, you’re a beacon of power and strength – the embodiment of earth’s power and your love could cause earthquakes that shake to the earth's core. But somehow, you feel halved. You are whole, but not complete.

How can you be whole without half of your soul? When that half of your soul lost in a void? When you can’t feel that half of your soul since he was taken from you and trapped in a god damn box.

You and him are meant to be the strongest.

You almost laugh at the thought.

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I'll be there on their side

I'm losing by their side

No.

No. No. No.

You can’t falter. You can’t crumble. You will not concede.

This boy, his boy, your baby, your love – you will not lose. You will destroy the world but never let a flame touch them – you will get them all home; you’ll raise your ship from the depths of the void in which he is trapped - you will keep them all safe.

My baby, my baby,

You’re my baby, say it to me

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #megumi fushiguro #yuuji itadori #itafushi #yuuji x megumi #megumi x itadori #pixie writes: family formations #jjk angst #Spotify

[ladey]

When I Brush Your Hair | Chapter 1

Jinx x Fem!Reader 🌙🦋🎀

Word count: 3.3k

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

Y/n doesn't waste much time getting up from her bed the moment she wakes up that morning. The clock reads 9:10 AM; her own body clock typically gets her up around that time. It's always been that way.

Her bare feet touch the cold floor beneath her but she pays it no mind as she speeds over to her dresser that her dad kindly made for her years ago. Clothes are laying on the floor haphazardly, blankets hung over a chair and table, and many drawings and photos from over the years taped onto the surrounding walls. Her room always held a special place in her heart. Pulling out her drawers she yanks out the first shirt and pants she thinks are most suitable for today.

Perhaps a brown t-shirt? No no, that's too boring. She looks at it for a moment; where did she even get this? She should really pzazz it up a bit, maybe a cute bear holding a flower! And then add a tiny bow on the collar- She's getting distracted. She shakes her head and mindlessly throws the brown shirt behind her, aiming for her bed so she'd remember for later but it lands on the floor instead.

She digs out a purple tank top that has a butterfly patchwork piece sewed into the fabric. She lets out a sound of approval and places it in her lap. Not long after, she's staring at herself in the body mirror; her outfit is complete with a cropped knitted sweater and shorts. The Undercity is often humid during the warmer seasons. But since it's march she still, and must, wear her signature knee high socks. Sometimes she wears little leg warmers... oh how she loves her leg warmers. She and her aunt have knitted some together before- Hold that thought, she should go visit her later. It's only been a week but she misses her already. Good thing she doesn't live too far.

Y/n bounces down the stairs to the second floor, hoping to see her dad in the kitchen with food already sitting on the table. She is sadly disappointed to see it empty. I mean yeah it's a Monday so naturally he would already be downstairs in the shop but a girl can dream. She hates having to make food because she's so slow and makes a mess every time and she just wishes she could eat some damn food without having to wait for the preparations. She sighs to herself.

She'll just have some jam and bread.

It must be a nice day outside since it's finally not raining for once. She thinks she can just barely see the sun shining down onto the city. She loves her plants more than her life but for her own sanity, she'd love to be able to see the sun for once while sitting on the top of the buildings.

With her droopy piece of bread in hand, she goes over to the shoe closet and steps into her boots without bothering to tie the laces. She opens the door after stepping off of the last flight of stairs and looks to her right and sees her dad wiping down the front counter. She smiles.

"Hey, papa." Beck, her dad. He works as a mechanic. She can brag about it too since he's the best one known in the Undercity. It makes her feel kind of bad for the other ones too though, since that probably means he's taking all of their clients. She'd hate it if they felt discouraged by it. Everyone's talented in their own way right? Y/n likes to believe so.

Beck's beaded eyes look up from the counter and he smiles warmly at his daughter. He notices the bread in her hand and knows she's likely miffed about her lack of breakfast. His smile only widens at that thought.

"Morning, hon. How's it goin'?" Y/n walks slowly until she stands in the middle of the shop. Random parts and tools sit in boxes and shelves. A vacant can of oil sits open some feet away from her making her nose scrunch. Usually he keeps that stuff in the back until he needs it, why is it out here? It's only stinking up the room. Not that oil smells that bad, besides it reminds her of her dad. But too much is too much. She shakes the intruding thought away and looks back up to her dad who's leaning on the counter with both hands. Old burn scars peaking through the sleeves folded up to his elbows.

"Fine I guess." She shrugs. She thinks about how nice the weather is and then her mind wanders over to something else.

"Is Bean out or is she still here?" She asks. Becks eyebrows raise for a split second.

"She should still be here, I fed her not too long ago."

"Okay." Y/n stuffs her mouth with her last bit of bread and jam and skips back over to the stairs. She wonders to herself if she should take her plants out with her to sit under the sun. She'll need some extra hands though. She smiles at the idea of seeing her best blue friend. Anytime she called her that she'd say that it made her sound depressed. But she would assure her that the colour blue didn't always mean something negative. She reminded her of the ocean and blueberries.

"Bean!" Y/n calls out. She crouches down to look at the bum of the dining chairs. Nothing. No sign of her on the kitchen counter or the couch either. Sometimes she lays behind the television stand and rubs against the plugs in the outlet. Y/n leans over and looks into the crack but she's met with dust.

She throws her head back as she releases an exasperated sigh. Crossing her arms over her chest and looking around as she slowly gives up, she notices a small shadow behind the curtains covering the doors to the very small balcony. Her head tilts with curiosity. Though she's almost positive that it's Bean.

Y/n slowly crosses the small living room. She approaches the curtains that softly sway with the air blowing past them, little light shining through them casting a soft yellow glow into the room. Her hand pushes the fabric to the side and without surprise, her eyes land on the orange and white cat staring off into the street as it sits quietly.

"Hi Bean." Y/n's soft voice automatically shifts an octave higher. Usually she would stay for a moment and watch with her, but she has things to do today. She has a habit of putting things off and forgetting about them, something her aunt warns her might bite her in the ass someday. So she doesn't want that to happen today.

She scoops the cat into her arms and begins to make her journey to her desired destination; The Last Drop. She can already hear voices talking and laughing under the floor below her; she internally cries as she comes to terms with the fact that she'll have to pass some random stranger.

She manages though as she peeps out a quiet "Hello." as she avoids awkward eye contact with the man speaking to her dad, not even bothering to pay attention to what he brought in as she speeds out of the door.

"Hey, be safe!" She hears her dad yell out to her. Quickly giving him a shout, "Yup!" before she's bounding down the increasingly bustling street.

She's brought Bean out with her like this before. She's like a rag doll; never really seeming to have much care for what the girl does to her. Perhaps it could be a result of early experience. As a young child Y/n would dress the cat up in little doll clothes and fake bottle feed it milk pretending it was her baby. Beck still has a photo of one of the times he caught her somewhere in his room.

It usually takes Y/n around eight minutes to get to The Last Drop while walking. And she would run, especially since she particularly enjoys running. But unfortunately with a cat in her arms she's slightly restricted from doing so.

A couple minutes pass and she hears a familiar voice calling out to her on her left. Her steps stop abruptly, causing a person behind her to nearly ram into her. Turning around with an evidently confused expression, her eyes roam around for a second until they land on her cousin, who sits on a barrel waving at her.

"Oh, Vera! Hi!" Y/n adjusts the cat in her arms and approaches her, narrowly avoiding other people walking past her.

"Where you off to?" The redhead asks, and Y/n notices a notebook and pencil in her lap.

"Vander's place."

"Oh, nice."

"Yeah."

"Have you seen Ekko around?"

"Umm no, sorry. He's probably still at Benzo's." This makes Vera hum, almost appearing disappointed. Y/n smiles knowingly but Vera ignores it.

"Okay, that's fine!"

"Mmhm. Well, I better get going, Bean is starting to get heavy."

"Oh yeah, that's no problem! See you around!" Vera reaches out and pets the cat's head quickly before dropping her arm and letting the other girl go.

"Cya!" Y/n trudges off again. Vera was alone this morning, usually she sees her with her group of friends. However sometimes she'll catch sight of her sitting by herself scribbling in that notebook. Evidently, she's keeping secrets in there since Vera tells her everything. Y/n's not hurt though. She loves secrets, and hopes one day she'll solve whatever secret her cousin is keeping from her.

Minutes pass and the young girl can finally make out the large sign of the bar in the distance casting a glow onto the ground and heads of people standing around. It's when she pushes the door open that she clocks in on how out of breath she is. Her arms are just beginning to ache, and her steps turn heavy making eyes fall on her as she approaches the bar. Music plays quietly from a jukebox and soft chatter fills the place. She's been here countless times and feels very comfortable, in fact she feels right at home. However she's still thankful that it's morning leading to less people residing inside.

Y/n takes three long exaggerated strides before she plunks the cat onto the bar. Bean immediately stretches her limbs before sitting down and licking her paws. At the same time, Y/n is lazily slumping on the bar stool and dropping her head onto her arms resting on the counter. Boy is she tuckered out already. She slowly closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, and before she can exhale she hears a deep voice coming from in front of her.

"What did I say about having the cat on the counter?" Y/n shifts her head so her chin is now resting on her arms. Vander is hidden behind Bean who is still grooming herself in front of her. She sighs.

"Sorry." But she doesn't move.

"Strawberry lemonade?"

"Yes please." Y/n hears shifting and glasses clanking before a liquid being poured. She straightens her back at the same time Bean struts to the far end of the counter to get patted by a couple of young women squealing at her. Vander places her signature cup in front of her; pink with star and butterfly doodles scattered around the surface, topped with a straw sticking out. Y/n always drinks with a straw, she can't remember a time where she hasn't.

"Thank you." She folds her legs under her then leans over to place the straw in her mouth. She hears Vander chuckle.

"Powder is awake downstairs. Mylo is still sleeping though, so you gotta be quiet. I don't want to have to put up with his complaints about two little girls waking him up giggling again." He's serious, but anyone could still hear the smile in his tone. Y/n's cheeks are puffed out by a mouthful of juice as she looks up at him. She takes a big gulp and smiles, nodding her head and then sliding off of the stool.

"Kay-kay!" She takes a few steps towards the ladies still petting Bean. She clears her throat in an attempt to get their attention. They look so intimidating and mean, and they're petting her cat. Surely they'd understand and let her have her cat back. So why can't she just shove them to the side and grab her? It's not that hard. Just go up and say excuse me!—

"Off you go, ladies." Vander's voice booms from behind her, successfully giving them the idea though nearly making them jump in their spot. Y/n awkwardly smiles and chuckles as they see her and finally walk away. She quickly grabs Bean and proceeds to the basement.

She stays mindful about the volume of her steps as she descends the stairs, avoiding the spots where she knows creaks the loudest. Turning the knob with her small hand she slowly opens the door, peeking in as she does so to survey the room. Turns out everyone is awake. Though barely.

Y/n remembers the "mission", as she likes to call them, that the older kids went on yesterday. Vi is sitting in the chair she loves so much while wrapping her hands in a fresh pair of thin gauze, struggling to keep her eyes open. Claggor is mumbling to himself as he fiddles with his goggles that he must've slept on again, and Mylo appears to be laying on one of the sofas with a pillow over his face. Y/n silently prays that the pillow magically sticks to him so he suffocates.

"Hey, Candy." Y/n fixes her gaze onto Violet who just acknowledged her presence with slight surprise.

"Hi strawberry head." She walks over and places Bean onto the coffee table.

"Y/n?" She hears a higher pitched voice to her left and her heart rate picks up. She turns her head and her eyes spot her best friend sitting on her bed, back resting against the wall and something in her lap hidden behind her knees. Y/n's grin widens as her posture subconsciously straightens. She pats her chest in an attempt to calm her heart down and makes her way over to the bed.

"Morning Powder." The two girls giggle. Mylo is already heard letting out a muffled groan.

"Whatcha got there?" Y/n sits down on Powder's left and leans over to see what is in her hands. The bluenette pulls away from her and hides the mystery item in her arms, face pink and almost panicked.

"Nothing!" Y/n is taken aback.

"Nothing? C'mon, please lemme see."

"Noo! It's a surprise."

".....Fine." Y/n pouts. Powder smiles and twists her body so her friend can't see, and lifts the end of the blanket to hide the item underneath it. As Y/n's mind begins to wander off, she immediately recalls her plan about her plants. She practically jumps off the bed in her moment of remembrance.

"Oh yeah that's right! I wanted to take my plants up to sit in the sun but I need help. Can you come with me, pretty please? With a cherry on top?" She bats her lashes at the girl in front of her in hopes of convincing her. What was the point though? She knew Powder would submit, she always did. That's what friends are for, right? The girl smiles about to reply before Vi's voice cuts in.

"If you're going up top you need someone to go with you." Her face is stern and almost challenging as she scrutinizes the two girls from her spot on the chair. They glance at each other and start giggling as though they've been caught by some form of authority. Which is in a way true.

"And that will be you, right?" Y/n tilts her head sweetly to charm the redhead. She sighs and looks to the floor as though defeated. Mylo pulls the pillow away from his face to say,

"Please go with them." Vi glances at him and shakes her head before standing up.

"Fine. You two stay here, the cat better not be dead when I come back." She points to the boys sternly. Mylo grumbles with a couple of "Yeahs", but Clagger on the other hand looks delighted.

"Oh man. Mylo fix these for me will you? I'm gonna look for a brush." He throws his goggles at Mylo and briskly stands up in search for a brush to use on Bean. The three girls are already exiting the door, Vi shutting it behind her.

"Sooo we kinda have to go back to my place and get them. I promise there's not a lot. It's just hard trying to carry all of them at once, especially while climbing, y'know? I also like the company. Not that I'm super lonely, I have you guys.. You'd tell me if I got boring and annoying though right?"

"Alright, relax Y/n. Sounds like a plan." Vi chuckles with a comforting hand placed on the young girl's shoulder. She smiles up at her. She's always really liked Vi. She hopes to be just like her some day... or be with her? She never really thought too deeply about that. She's always been there as support. She's like an older sister she never had. She wonders if Vi sees her as a sister too. She really hopes so, cause if not then she'd be deeply embarrassed.

"You could never get boring." Powder pulls Y/n's out of her thoughts. She's smiling intently at her. Y/n wants to smile back at her but she looks down and bites her lip out of nervousness.

"Or annoying?"

"Mmm..." Powder pretends to think. Y/n playfully slaps her, both of the girls laughing and too engrossed in their own world to notice Vi telling Vander they will be gone for a while.

They talked about anyone and anything while on their way to Y/n's place, and once they started going up top they were too focused on not falling to their death or getting lost to goof around. The higher up they got the more clearer the sky above them got. Y/n was right; it is indeed a sunny day. Not too windy either, so her plants shouldn't topple over. The young girl feels her insides turn warm and her smile spread across her face, ignoring the burning sensation beginning to travel up her legs. She's thankful this particular journey consists mostly of walking up stairs and going up elevators. Climbing is such a hassle. Though stairs aren't that much better. It's boring and less riveting than climbing things and crawling through small spaces. Though if   Y/n's being honest with herself, small spaces make her slightly claustrophobic.

The moment all three of them reach the top landing of a building, Y/n jogs over to the edge. It's no sunset, but the view of the city still looks beautiful from up so high. She loved the sun, it filled her with a sense of joy and protection that she couldn't find from anything else. She sighs and turns around, seeing the other two silently admiring the view.

"Shall we give the plants a seat?" She speaks softly. And the three of them place the pots of plants on an empty table; four in total.

"I wish I could see the sun everyday." Powder mumbles, mirroring Y/n's thoughts as she stands beside her.

"Don't we all?" Vi said quietly, though it sounded like she intended for it to only be heard by herself. Y/n hums to herself. She stares back out into the city. Basking in the sun's warm embrace a little longer before the three of them have to go back home.

Chapter 2…

—

i have no fucking idea how to write vi bc she's so serious all the time 👩🏼‍🦲 i'm sorry.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #jinx #arcane jinx #jinx x y/n #arcane jinx fanfic #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader series #jinx x afab!reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx x reader #arcane fanfic series

[livesincerely]

!! if it’s not too late for possessive!jack i absolutely love the two abo fics you wrote they’re some of my favs of yours. maybe something set in that universe?

I’m cheating a little because I already have my next a/b/o fic partially written, (and by partially I mean I’m 10k in with no end in sight 🙃) but I hope you enjoy this snippet regardless!

Distinctly rated E, so the rest is under the cut 😉

A few more steps and a brief fumble for the doorknob. Davey hits the mattress with a soft fwump, staring up at him with half lidded eyes, his mouth red and kiss-swollen. Jack crawls on top of him, pressing him down with his bodyweight as he drags his lips over Davey’s cheeks and chin, then dipping lower to nip a fresh mark into his neck.

Davey bares his throat to the attention, moaning, “Jack,” in a rough, needy voice that goes straight to Jack’s dick.

“Clothes,” Jack rumbles against his skin. “Need you naked.”

“You first,” Davey counters, already reaching for the front of Jack’s shirt, clever fingers making quick work of the last few buttons.

Jack shakes himself free of his button up, then grabs a fistful of the t-shirt he’s wearing underneath and pulls it up over his head. Davey’s hands are everywhere immediately, sliding over his shoulders and down his back, then over his hips and along his chest. Jack kisses him to within an inch of his life, needing him, needing to taste him, devour him, and Davey’s scent burns hotter and hotter, coiling thick and heavy in the air.

Jack pushes up onto his knees, yanking at his fly until he can scramble out of his slacks, tossing them away without a care. Then he grabs Davey by the hips and drags him down the bed, right where he wants him, and starts fighting with his belt buckle.

“Jesus, Jack,” Davey says, watching with flushed cheeks as Jack peels his khakis down his thighs then wrestles his sweater over his head, ruffled and rumpled and his. “You… fuck.”

“Smell so fuckin’ good,” Jack pants, lying back down between the open vee of Davey’s legs. “Can’t hardly think through wantin’ you.”

“Come here,” Davey demands, tugging him up. “Come—“

Jack goes willingly, slotting their mouths back together, guiding Davey’s legs back around his waist. Davey groans into his mouth when their cocks align just right, and his heels dig into Jack’s ass, urging him closer, their hips rocking together deliciously.

“Can I…?” Jack starts, desire burning at the base of his spine.

“Yes,” Davey says before he can finish, his chest heaving. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Jack leans down and seals his lips over one of his nipples, swirling his tongue until it pebbles up in his mouth. Davey arches up off the bed in response, a soft little whimper falling from his lips as his fingers dig into Jack’s shoulders.

He coaxes another one of those delicious noises out of him, then another, and another, then switches to the other side, teasing and tweaking until Davey’s breaths have gone ragged. Then he asks, “So, how’d you feel about maybe sittin’ on my face?”

Davey’s voice catches in his throat. “Y-yeah?”

“God, yes,” Jack says, reaching down to palm at Davey’s ass, gripping just hard enough that his cheeks spread slightly, the honey-sweet of his arousal saturating the space between them. “Sweetheart, you smell like absolute heaven. I’m fuckin’ dyin’ to get a taste of ya.”

Davey pushes himself up on his knees, biting his lip as he shuffles around. Jack turns over onto his back and as he settles in, he’s quickly convinced that this is the greatest idea he’s ever fucking had: Davey straddles his head, bracing himself against the wall above the bed, and the sight and smell of him is everything. His ass is magnificent in and of itself, but that combined with his hard, leaking cock, his hole furled tight and thighs shiny with slick… It's a testament to what’s left of his patience that he doesn’t just drag him down and ravage him.

Instead he does his best to give him a second to get comfortable, guides his hips slowly into position, then leans up to swipe his tongue right over where he’s wettest. The taste of him is better than he could’ve ever dreamed, just pure essence of Davey and heat and mate and mine, mine, mine, and Jack can’t help the low, guttural sound that tears out of him, deep and possessive.

“Fuck,” Davey swears, a choked off little moan.

Jack teases around Davey’s hole, carefully at first, then more confidently as Davey’s hips start working in tight little circles, his thighs twitching and quivering on either side of his head. He presses back against Jack’s tongue, unintentionally rocking against Jack’s face, and he’s making the sweetest little sounds as Jack works him open, growing slicker and slicker with each flick and thrust.

Jack gets a hand under around one of his thighs, holding him in place, then presses deep inside, sucking gently at his rim. Davey’s hips jerk in his grasp, but Jack just grips him tighter, fucking him open with his tongue.

“Jack,” Davey groans, and there’s a dull thud⁠—his head falling forward to rest against the wall⁠—and the thought that Jack’s eating him out so well that he can’t hold himself up any more is just fuel to the fire. “Oh, god.”

He wants to make his back arch, his toes curl. Wants to make him pant and sigh and scream.

One last sweep of his tongue, then Jack’s pulling away. Davey makes a noise that’s approaching a whine, grinding down as he chases after the lost sensation; Jack reaches up and slips two fingers inside him instead.

“That good for you, sweetheart?” Jack murmurs, biting a hickey into his inner thigh then soothing the sting away with his tongue, fingers working in slow, steady movements.

“More,” Davey pants, strung out and breathless, heat rolling off him in waves. “More.”

Jack’s more than happy to oblige, angling his wrist until he can press in nice and deep, sneaking a few more greedy tastes of Davey’s slick as he works him open. He curls his fingers up, searching, and when Davey’s thighs clench down around him, sudden and squeezing, he knows he’s hit his mark.

“Jack, I’m⁠—”

“Let go for me, Dave,” Jack says, twisting his hand just so, and there’s an infinite moment where everything goes tight, Davey’s body locking up as he hangs on the precipice, then he falls over the edge with a broken cry.

Jack feels his release more than he gets to see it⁠—every shaky inhale, every trembling muscle, every flex and grind, the wet, hot drag of skin and slick, tongue and teeth⁠—but Jesus, they really are gonna kill each other because that was damn near the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him and they’re just getting started.

He rubs his hands over Davey’s thighs, giving them both a minute to catch their breath, then gives him a little pat.

“Lift up?” he asks, and Davey gives a weak grunt but raises his hips enough that Jack can wriggle out from underneath him. “How’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Oh, no complaints here,” Davey manages after a moment, brushing his hair out of his face, his glasses sitting askew on the bridge of his nose. Jack’s heart swells at the sight of him. “This is already the best heat I’ve ever had, so I’m feeling pretty fond of you at the moment.”

“Right back at’cha,” Jack murmurs, leaning in to tuck his nose back behind Davey’s ear, getting another whiff of that glorious honeyed-citrus scent, then pressing a kiss to the skin there. “And good, ‘cause we’re just gettin’ started.”

Davey licks his lips, his eyes dark beneath the canopy of his lashes. “How do you want me?”

“Christ, how don’t I want ya?” Jack says, considering every inch of him with hungry eyes. But he manages to get ahold of himself, instead offering, “However’s best for you, Dave.”

Davey tilts his head. “I seem to recall something about ‘fucking me into the carpet’,” he drawls, and Jack’s dick twitches against his thigh, painfully hard. “That offer still on the table?”

Jack swallows. “An’ I remember someone insistin’ on a bed,” he rasps in response. “Seems a shame ta let it go ta waste, especially after we went ta all that trouble.”

“Into the mattress, then,” Davey proposes, and there’s another flash of pink as he runs his tongue over his teeth—the tease of it is flint and tinder beneath Jack’s ribs. “If that’s alright with you, love.”

It’s a miracle he remembers the condom tucked in his wallet, that he manages to find it and roll it on, that he has the strength to do anything except surrender to the heat building inside him. It’s tingling behind his teeth, stitched into his veins, echoing inside his mind:

Davey. Mine.

“An’…” Instinct is clawing at the inside of his chest, thrashing wildly, begging him to reach out and claim the precious offering in front of him, but he has to ask one more time. “An’, you’re sure?”

Davey’s eyes sweep over him, and Jack can almost feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of it, prickling at his skin. He pushes himself up on his hands and lets his legs fall open, revealing slick-soaked thighs, a glossy, pink hole, and a cock that’s already growing hard in anticipation of round two.

“Jack?” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” It comes out rougher than he means it to, his tongue heavy behind his teeth.

“Come here.”

Jack is not equipped to argue with that voice. Not now, possibly not ever.

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*ask #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #I tried to pick a new scene from this wip to share #but you can find other snippets under: #soul[mates] variations

[ghostwhogallopedaway]

why don’t i stay

Ao3 Link

This is a rewrite of the club scene in Ep. 12 and Kim’s thoughts in Ep. 13, enjoy! :D

~

The sight of Kim is enough to thin the alcohol-induced fog in Chay’s brain. Or, he thinks it’s Kim, the guy who just punched someone in the face. This person who just gritted out a single terrifying command, who’s now making the druggie lower himself back into his seat with his stare alone certainly looks like the Kim who held Chay in his arms not so long ago. 

His dark eyes go to Chay, still raging in their depths, and he gets nervous.

“Kim–”

Kim grabs Chay’s wrist and pulls him off the couch with ease. Chay tries to fight, tries to tug himself free, but Kim’s grip tightens as he drags him to the door. When they’re outside, Chay finally manages to break away. Kim whirls around to face him. 

“Why are you here?” Chay snaps, hurt igniting in his chest. 

Kim’s gaze finally softens, but only a little. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What I’m doing is my business! Why are you doing this?” The knife in Chay’s heart begins to twist. Why is Kim doing this? Why is he making Chay think he still cares? “I never messed around in your business so don’t mess with mine!”

Then he’s being forced back against the wall and Kim closes in, caging Chay between his arms, pinning him with his smoldering gaze. Chay’s breathing hitches as Kim brings his face closer. He can smell Kim’s cologne and shampoo. He can feel Kim’s breath on his cheeks. He can see the smoothness of Kim’s lips. If it had been a time before now, Chay would’ve been too happy to admit. Maybe even mustered up the courage to pucker up and lean in. But no. Right now, he hates that he can’t control it, the warmth burgeoning on his skin, and so the blade lodged in Chay’s heart starts to burn.

“And what if I hadn’t?” Kim says. “You were just going to let him mess you up with drugs?” Then he mutters, “I should’ve killed that son of a bitch.”

It sends a shiver down Chay’s spine. He’d known Kim as his idol. His tutor. His friend. His first love. These days he can only wonder if it was all a beautiful, cruel dream. It had felt so real, even as it had ripped itself from Chay’s hold. Now there’s only one thing he can be absolutely sure of. 

Kim is a dangerous person.

Chay swallows. “So what if I was?”

Chay flinches when Kim bangs the wall. “Don’t you say bullshit like that. You’re better than this. You’re so much better than this, Chay.”

A bad, bad person.

“Guess you don’t know me after all.”

“Why didn’t you take the exam? I know you would’ve passed. You would’ve gotten in but instead you’re here doing…doing shit like this!”

The absolute worst.

Chay’s eyes burn. “Do you even really care?”

Kim’s eyes flash. “What kind of question is that?”

“What do you expect me to say?” Tears spill down Chay’s face. Kim gapes, the tension in his features instantly melting. He goes to touch Chay’s cheek, to wipe his tears, but he slaps his hand away. “After everything you did to me…How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

Kim lowers his arms. As he stands there listening to the pain in Chay’s voice, despair crushes in on him and he can’t find words. 

“Chay–”

“Just stop it!” Chay says through broken sobs. “Please stop doing this to me. You had your fun didn’t you?” His eyes meet Kim’s. “Are you not done using me? Toying with me? What more do you want from me?”

Every word is a bullet, and now Kim feels himself dying. But he won’t try to save himself. He wouldn’t dare. He knew. He always knew.

“Please. Just leave me alone.” Chay wipes his face and fixes Kim with a glare. “What I do doesn’t concern you anymore.”

The thought of Chay going back in there makes Kim’s blood boil. There was never any hope to begin with for them. From the moment Kim had seen his face plastered all over Chay’s walls to the night he’d hurled caution to the wind with a kiss to Chay’s soft cheek. Again, he’d known. But Kim would be damned if he said watching Porchay squander his gift didn’t piss him off. If anything dug at him more than Chay’s tears, it was his talent being wasted.

“Fine.” Kim jabs a finger into Chay’s chest. He clenches his jaw, wrestles back on a mask of cold indifference. “From now on, whatever you do is your own decision.”

Kim storms off before he falls apart, but Chay’s frustrated, agonized cry follows him down the alley until he’s gone. When he’s finally alone, Kim slams his fist into the wall, grit biting into his knuckles, as a guttural scream tears out of him. Because Chay fell in love with someone so fucked up. Because Kim’s an idiot trying to forget who he was, for thinking things would be different this time even though he knew. For believing someone as radiant, pure, and lovely as Porchay Kittisawasd could’ve been his. Kim tells himself this has to be the end. It has to be.

And yet here he is the next morning, mind churning with questions about Chay’s wellbeing. If he ended up getting trashed with people he barely knew. If he got home safely. If he’s really going to pass up attending the university of his dreams. So Kim tries to call.

The line rings three times before cutting off. Kim registers the hint but he’s sending a text anyway before he knows it, asking Chay where he is. He finally relents when Chay blocks him not even a second after reading. He figured as much, but it doesn’t stop the sting in his chest.

Kim goes for the only respite he knows and reaches for his guitar, though he doubts he’ll be able to play anything that isn’t gloomy as hell. Just as he grabs the neck, something slips from between the strings and onto the floor. Kim kneels, gently taking the polaroid between his fingers. Porchay’s silly puffed face coupled with the love note adorably penned around the picture’s border is a mallet smashing Kim’s heart to smithereens, so devastating that he has to look up to breathe while his entire body droops. Before Kim knows it, he’s opening the top drawer of his dresser where he’s stashed all of Chay’s polaroids like invaluable little treasures, the ones he’d hidden all around Kim’s apartment. He sits down as he pours over them, unable to hold back his smile as he reminisces. Such short lived memories, yet Kim had known nothing sweeter than Chay’s hand in his. The light of his smile. The song of his laughter. The warmth of his embrace.

I want us to be together everyday.

Kim’s throat starts to hurt as Porchay’s absence crashes over him. Tremors course through him as he remembers that night, the night Chay sang his full love song to him without distraction or interruption. It’s engraved in Kim’s mind, Chay’s beautiful brown eyes as he’d gazed at him in the soundbooth. So much love and adoration for Kim and only Kim. He recalls how it had been too much, how he’d fled the room to start putting distance between someone so good and someone so twisted.

Kim remembers the moment Chay said he liked him. How his innocent confession had terrified as much as it had sent Kim over the moon with foreign levels of happiness that made him risk it all. How Chay had thrown his arms around him, and even though Kim couldn’t breathe, he’d been grinning ear to ear. How it had felt to hold Chay close against him for the first time, to close his eyes and breathe him in. How gorgeous Chay was with his head on Kim’s chest the morning before everything crumbled. When he’d looked up at him, so pretty and perfect and shy, saying such devastating words.

“Kim. I love you.”

Kim sets the polaroids on the table, not taking his eyes off them. Chay’s confession glows in his mind, echoes through the depths of his heart, and something snaps. 

“Fuck it,” Kim grunts.

He throws on a jacket and grabs his keys.

~

As @marshmallord said, he went to the house to apologize he went to the house to apologize he went to the house to apologize he went

#kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #kimchay #kim x porchay #kimporchay #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #SCREAMS INTO THE VOID #BECAUSE THESE TWO HURT ME SOOO

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🤗 for Vince

"Hey!" Vince lunges forwards, but he's too late - the little orange and white scruff of cat that follows Jameson around goes racing away faster than he can catch her with his leg still healing. "Jameson, your cat stole my food!'

"Sucks to be you, then!" Jameson yells back from another room. There's a pause. "What was it?"

"Mackerel on tomato and toast!"

"Mackerel? Like canned fish? Fuck, what did you expect, you're eating cat food!"

Vince groans and drops down into a chair, staring around the cramped little kitchen with its out-of-date cabinet and sun-faded curtains over the kitchen sink window. "Those cans cost twenty dollars a-fucking-piece," He mutters, and rubs a hand over his face. "Marinated in olive oil, imported from goddamn Spain-... Twenty six dollars apiece!"

He throws the rest of the can at the wall, watching it bounce and fall to the ground, olive oil splattering like a spray of blood.

His hands are shaking.

Why is he suddenly so afraid?

"Hey, you-... You good?" Jameson's hoarse voice has lost some of its raspy mockery now. It's softer, almost... hesitant. "Uh, Vince, are you-"

"Your cat," Vince says, somehow finding calm, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, "Just ran off with my lunch. And I brought it from my house, I brought s-so little from my house but I brought this because he hates my fucking canned fish, he-... He always hated it but-... He's dead and I hope he watches me eat canned fish every fucking day in hell only I can't eat it if your cat steals it from me!"

His hands are up over his face, his eyes, as he fights to breathe. Hands close tight around his throat, not really but trying to breathe feels just the same. His eyes burn.

"... Jesus," Jameson mumbles from the other room.

Vince forces down a bitter laugh.

Even the pets think he's fucked up, huh? Sounds about right. God, he needs a drink, he needs a drink so badly-

His head throbs as he gets to his feet. There's beer in the fridge. It'll do in a pinch. He just. Needs. A drink.

How is he supposed to do this without a drink? How can he keep his hands steady sober when he hasn't been sober this many days at once since he was twenty-one years old?

The can is cold in his hand.

He pops the top with a satisfying hiss. He hates beer, but if he has just one...

There's a hand on his arm and he turns. Jameson is there - how he didn't hear him coming, Vince has no idea. But there he is, leaning hard on one crutch, hand gripped on tight to the little handle, one of his legs bent at a sharp angle, unable or unwilling to hold his weight.

"Hey," Jameson says, and shakes his head. He has... weirdly pretty eyes, Vince thinks. Like you can almost see that he used to be someone softer than this, before the scars. "Don't, man. You want to stop, you can't pick it back up."

"I'm just... really tired of doing this sober," Vince whispers. "I killed him, and I can't even drink to get rid of how he looked-... And the way the blood smells-"

"I know," Jameson says. "I remember." He looks pointedly into the fridge and back. Vince works his jaw, but finally he gives in and puts the open beer back in there. The door closing feels so final.

"How... When you-... How did you-"

Jameson doesn't answer the question. But he gives Vince a hug, brusque and one-armed, before he pulls back and makes his slow way back into the living room.

"Sorry my cat was a shit," He says without looking back. He even sounds like he might mean it. "I'm gonna order Thai food in like... Ten minutes. You want some?"

"Uh..." Vince looks at the remains of his snack on his plate, then sighs and dumps it into the sink. "Sure. Yeah. Sounds good."

He pours himself a glass of water.n

He'd kill for a beer.

But he makes himself walk away and join Jameson in the living room instead.

#vincent shield is not a hero #ptsd tw #trauma recovery whump #trauma recovery tw #angry whumpee #trash cat #jameson bb #whump #box boy universe #box boy #bbu #alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #recovering alcoholic

[quellmythirst]

Fallen From The Stars

Summary: You've come with a message from the stars. After spending the last few years on the space station with Danvers, you make a crash landing and who should pull you out of the fire but Bucky Barnes. But you've been gone so long you don't even know he is. Your brother and Natasha seem to want to fuss, but you need to tell them what's coming and just how much your powers have developed under Carols training. You know where they came from, but what will your mystery man think when he finds out?

Characters: Reader X Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual SMUT 18+, Canon Typical Violence, pining, trauma, nightmares, CANON Can suck my Dick.

AN: I have wanted to write a Bucky Story for so long and with my recent slump I decided now was a good time.

The lights of the control panel all light up as you enter the atmosphere. You think everything is going fine, until the lights start to flash and loud alarms ring in your ears. If it weren’t for the on board AI declaring “Crash Imminent” you might have thought you were at a dance party. You’re nearly there, you can see the campus off in the distance. Fuck, you knew they were in the sticks of California, but this was ridiculous. There’s trees everywhere, you must be in the middle of a forest. Hopefully your crash won’t burn it down. You click on your comm, hoping like fuck that someone knew you where coming today. You hear a voice over the com that sounds very familiar if not a bit crackly, maybe you’re still too far away.

“Shit! Shit!” You shout into the comm, “Anyone you reading me?”

“Loud and clear Little Wing,”

“I told you to stop calling me that, Nat!”

“Not a chance,”

“I'm going to crash," you say, trying to somehow silence the alarms, "need you to clear the pad,”

“On it,” the line disconnects as you rapidly approach the ground. You strap yourself to your chair, hoping that it will keep you safe when you hit the ground. The Fisher spirals and snaps, the wings grind into the ground and your world goes upside down. A loud boom echoes in your ears, glass shatters and you clamp your eyes shut. 

“Am I dead?” You say, patting yourself down and releasing your seatbelt, “No, not dead. Just horribly mailed,” you laugh and feel a pang of pain in your shoulder as your back hit's the roof of your ship, “and a little on fire,” you pat the small fire on your leg out, but struggle to move very far in the mess that was now your ship. “Nat! Nat! Give me a hand here,” you attempt to scramble on your back, trying to wriggle free of the wreckage. But it’s no use, you can smell the fuel line leaking outside and with the wires almost invisible it was too dangerous to try and move yourself. Even trying to spark your power would be too dangerous, you couldn’t risk an explosion that would 100% kill you.

You hear the distinct crack of metal as the wall beside you bursts open, the steel of the hull peel’s back, the sun pouring in behind the silhouette of a man, you squint, a big man, “Take my hand,” a gruff voice says, as you see a hand extend into your vision, “quick, you need to move.” Reaching out you take the hand, he pulls you out and you hold in your scream as glass scrapes along your side, digging into your flesh and cutting you to ribbons.

“Fucking glass! Be careful” you scream instead of crying as you're heaved from the wreckage.

"Glass? Who gives a shit about glass?" the deep voice beacons from in front of you. You all but collapse onto the person whom the hand and the voice belongs to.

“Oh thank God,” Nat sighs her breaths panting as she approaches you, “you alright there Little Wing?”

“S’not Little Wing. But yeah,” you nod, “thanks to-” you look up and you see a bright pair of blue eyes staring down his handsome nose at you, his dark stable grazing his strong jaw and his curly golden brown hair falling into his face. “-sorry the crash must have broken my brain, I didn't get your name,” you say, feeling woozy. The world beneath you is rotating too fast and slow all at once.

“And I didn't get yours,” he smiles down at you. The sun crests just behind his hair, fanning out around him as your eyes start to dim.

“Stardu-,” you begin to whisper as the world turns dark around you and your body fails you.

Xx

You feel the pain on your side before anything else, but find your arm bound when you try to reach for it. Shit, how did you? Oh, yeah. You crashed. Gods, Danvers is going to kill you. That ship was brand new and you promised to take care of it. And now you’ve crashed it. She’s never going to let you fly again.

“Hey, Little Wing. You're ok, just a little scrape.” Nat’s soothing voice says, brushing your hair from your face, “Why don't you open your eyes, Clints here.” she gently lowers your arms over your stomach.

"Had me worried for a second there,” Clint signs when you peer over at him. “Only back a minute and you're already injured, typical." you flip him off, though you're sure it's not as effective with your arm in a sling. You can’t help but smile as Clint's laughter fills the room.

“So what's the prognosis doc?” Nat asks someone who's entered the room, you can’t see.

“She’s got Scapholunate ligament injury, and surface lacerations,” you stare down Nat, hoping she’ll shed some light on what that means. “You just need some rest, Ms Barton. Should be good as new in a few days,” 

“Which means staying in bed,” Clint signs with a smirk on his face. You pull a face back, sticking out your tongue at him. 

“Is it broken?” You sign back at him, ignoring Nat and Banner you guess, while they discuss your recovery. Not trusting your voice quite yet. You really missed your brother while you were away, even if he and Nat spent most of the time you were around fussing and worrying over you. Though you can barely blame them, after everything that happened.

“Sprained, should be a few hours then you'll be up and following me around like the good old days,”

"Good. Bones take longer."

“We should give them some privacy to catch up. It's been what? 3 years?” Nat says, gesturing towards you and Clint.

“3 and half,” you sign at the same time and Clint winks at you.

“Come on Banner, let's go,” Nat says, pushing the nice doctor out of the room and leaving you here with those judgy big brother eyes.

“How's Lisa? The Kids? Got any more nibbling’s for me to spoil yet?” You sign, shuffling up on the bed so you can use your bad arm a bit better. Already feeling the threads of your body stitching themselves back together.

“Good. Lisa just had Nate a few months ago.”

“Shouldn't you be with her?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see you. I came as soon as Nat got the message.”

“You're sweet.”

“Not everyday your baby sister drops in from another planet.”

“Not technically a planet, more of a station.”

“How is space anyway?”

“A shitshow, it’s why I'm here.”

“Don't go into it, you can tell us when you feel better,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You always do”

“Who pulled me out? I didn't recognise them and they kind of-”

“Go on, they kind of what?”

“You're going to laugh,”

“Probably. Tell me anyway,”

“They looked like an angel, sent to pull me from the fires of hell.” Clint let out the loudest laugh you've ever heard him make, his shoulders hunching over as he grabs his stomach.

“Knew you'd laugh, asshole.” You sign when he finally looks back up at you.

“I think Bucky might even laugh if he knew you'd called him an angel,”

“Bucky? What kind of name is that?”

“You've been gone too long, Sis. Get some rest, I'll fill you in tomorrow.”

“Asshole, just leave me hanging here.”

“Get some rest,” he signs, kissing you on the forehead and turning the lights off as he leaves.

Bucky Pov

Sitting in my room I start to go over the events of the day. The noise, that wiriy noise the engines make when they are faulty, shot right through me. I jolted up as fast as I could, running towards the sound. Maybe I could help? Be useful for a change instead of sitting here waiting for the Winter Soldier to come back. 

Even though it's been years, I still wait for the day. I can feel him inside me, like he's just waiting for something only, I don't know what. He still haunts my dreams, maybe that's all he was now. A dream of a not so distant past.

I made it outside in two minutes, only to see the right wing of the ship split in two, sparks flying off into the air as it ground into the ground, the hull hit and the most gut wrenching cry I’d heard in a long time rang in my ears.

Without even thinking I rushed forward, there was someone in there and they needed to get out before the thing blew. But I wasn’t ready, I don’t think I’d ever be ready to see a creature such as her.

I cracked open the ship. There was a woman inside, blood covering her face and her hand stretching out to me. She looked so helpless, blood covering most of her, her hair hanging in a mess on her head like a wild beast. When I finally saw her face in the sun I noticed she wasn't crying. Instead she looked worried, maybe because her ship had crashed, but it seemed more than that. She had this weird glow to her eyes, it could’ve been the sun. Could’ve been anything but it seemed to be coming from her.

I hauled her towards me, feeling a strange heat coming from her and when I saw the look of panic on Romanoff and Bartons faces I knew this wasn't a random crash. Who was this chick? She must have been important for them to rush so fast to meet her.

Barton took her from me, albeit with some prying. I just- I didn't want to let her go. What if something else happened to this woman while she was with them. Though, she was probably safer with them than me. 

A small muffle dragged me from the memory of her soft bloody hand on my chest. Perking my ear, it sounds like- crying? 

Peeking over at the clock I see it's almost midnight. I hear a noise again, a tiny little "help" almost indistinguishable in the noise of the compound. Throwing on my pants, I carefully head towards it. The noise gets louder with each step I take.

Entering the med Bay it's clear she's upset, scared, I can hear her heart racing from across the room. 

Slowly, I approach the bed not wanting to frighten her and cursing myself for forgetting a shirt. Shit, what’s she going to think? Why do I even care?

When I finally get to her side, I notice her eyes are shut. She's dreaming. Her arms jerking to the side and tears falling down her soft cheeks. "Shhhh, it's ok. You're safe here," I whisper, wiping the tears away and taking her hand. I still have no idea who this woman is, but I can offer her this. A tiny piece of comfort in what seems to be a nightmare. I just hope no-one comes in and tries to shoot me for sitting here.

I know about nightmares, when mine had been bad. Right after I left Wakanda, Steve would sit with me like this and for some reason knowing I wasn't alone helped. Knowing that he was there with me gave me the courage to endure and hope for something better. Shit, I missed him. He'd been gone for months now, probably trolloping his away across the country, looking for god only knows. He'd taken off so soon after I had started getting better. I just wish I knew why.

Her hand tightened around mine, her breathing began to even out, her face smoothing and she let out a little sigh. She rolled, she should be wincing I think. That was the side that had cleaned up all the glass, but she barely seems to care, content to snuggle against my right arm. Her skin is so warm against mine, so soft.

I should go, she's calm now. But what if I leave and it starts again? Not to mention I don’t want to move her and wake her up, plus she has my arm in a death grip. Another little sigh escapes and the room gets bit brighter, weird. I look around, out the windows of the med bay and I only see the moon shining in. When I look back I can see the tiny glow coming from this woman, like tiny fireflies have burrowed into her skin and are trying to get out. What a strange woman. Glancing up at the clock, I decide to wait, to watch her and see what else she might do. The others won't be up for a few hours, I'll just sit with her until I hear them.

Part 2: Waking Up

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky slow burn #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader

[secondsonaym]

The Vessel Project - Just How Life Goes [Kallamar 2]

(read on Ao3 here)

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

After eating with Lord Verchiel--A wonderful meal of various kinds of seafood as well as imported goods from the other territories--I decided to take a walk around the temple, and properly acquaint myself with the layout. Despite having lived here for some time, I had never actually looked around too much, and only knew a few other members of the order.

The first ones I ran into were Peridot and Amber, two lobsters that served as Lord Verchiel’s personal guard. They stood just outside the archway to the small chamber where we had eaten, and gave me simple nods when I passed by. I figured talking to them would distract them from their duty, so I merely left it at that as I moved down the hall.

Strangely enough, I found myself drawn to a certain room in the eastern portion of the temple, near where everyone’s sleeping quarters were. I could smell a distinct mix of herbs, strong but not necessarily offensive, long before I reached the door.

Poking my head in, I could see that this looked to be an infirmary. Several cots were lined against the walls, with only a couple on the far end of the room being occupied by sleeping forms. 

A few shelves stood at the front of the room, stocked with various bottles and jars of substances I didn’t recognize, as well as bandages and materials for setting splints. I was so enthralled with reading the various labels, that I didn’t notice the figure at the desk just a few feet away, only managing to snap to attention when they spoke up.

“Hello, do you feel unwell?”

My head snapped to the source of the voice: A shark, looking up from a book to gaze at me expectantly. Her expression was soft and kind, but something about her surprised me to the point I couldn’t respond right away.

Instead of an eye, a purple gem sat in her left eye socket. Though I was used to the crystal adornments the members of the order had, I had never seen one such as this. 

“Hah, yes, people do tend to be a bit in awe when they first see it.” She laughed, gently touching it with the tip of her fin. “A gift from Lord Verchiel. He said the color really suited me.”

“It is quite pretty.” I agreed, still needing a moment before I could take my eyes off it. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s quite alright, little one.” She assured me, her warm laugh spreading to her voice and smile. “People staring proves the value of Lord Verchiel’s gift. But you didn’t answer my question…”

Her question? Oh, right she had asked a question when I came in. 

“I f-feel fine.” I stammered as I answered, still a bit embarrassed. “I’m just looking around the temple properly for the first time since arriving here. I’m Kalla-Er, I mean, Opal.”

At this, her eye widened, and she stood up to give me a formal bow. Why would she do that?

“So you’re the disciple Lord Verchiel has chosen! Well, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Opal. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“You have?” I couldn’t help but ask. 

“Many of the acolytes passing through here have mentioned you once or twice. Everyone seems to have high hopes in regards to your training.” She explained, sitting back down. “I’m happy you’re here simply exploring, rather than needing my services.”

“This is the temple infirmary?” I asked, to which she nodded, confirming my earlier assumption. “It’s pretty basic, isn’t it?”

“For what it is, I suppose so.” She agreed. “Lord Verchiel handles any major sickness or wound that passes through, so for the most part my job is setting casts or watching feverish sleepers.” 

Then she gasped, clapping her hands on her cheeks.

“My goodness me! I completely forgot to introduce myself! How rude of me!”

Oh, now that she mentioned it, she hadn’t given me her name at all…

“My name is Ametrine. I’ve served here in the temple for a few years now, though I’ve only been in charge of the infirmary for a few months.”

“That’s a pretty name.” I commented with a smile. It certainly suited her.

“Aww, you’re sweet. Thank you. It’s actually the same kind of stone set in my eye. I think Lord Verchiel chose it on purpose. He’s always had an eye for gems and crystals.”

“Do all acolytes get gems that match their names?” I asked without really thinking. I wasn’t sure why such a thing interested me, but considering Ametrine’s comment, I was curious.

“I think Lord Verchiel tries to make it so, yes.” She nodded. “I’m unsure if there’s any specific criteria, but it usually isn’t the first gem they get.”

Strange… 

Back home, jewelry was reserved for priests and other officiants of the churches. In fact, you were expected to dress modestly most of the time, and to not stand out too much from your fellow worshipers. I still sort of dressed that way, with an attire largely made of one hue. Would I be expected to wear more colorful garb the longer I stayed here?

“Is there anything else you need, if you’re not in need of medical attention?” Ametrine asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Um, no, I suppose not…” I admitted. “Like I said, really just looking around and all that.”

“Then can I ask you a question?”

Huh? Well, if she had a question, why didn’t she just ask it? But rather than say that, I merely nodded, prompting her to go ahead.

“Lord Verchiel left with you to go visit one of the other bishops, right? He had stopped by this morning to ask how to easily clean blood and mentioned something like that.”

“Er… Y-Yes, we did. To Raziel’s temple, specifically.”

“What was the surface like?” She asked, tenting her fins together in an excited posture. 

Right… Anchordeep was under the water, and not many people actually ever had the opportunity to explore the surface. Of course some would be curious.

“Well, we specifically went to Silk Cradle, which is a territory that is a bit… Unique.” I began. “It’s like the trenches we have here, but without any, uh, water. It was very dark, too. I didn’t see a lot of the outside, though, we spent most of our time in the temple.”

“Ooooh, but what you describe still sounds so interesting!” Ametrine squealed, making me jump a little. “Trenches, but with no water? Oh, I would have loved to see them myself…”

Her tailfin swayed back and forth as she rocked a bit in her seat with excitement. It was actually kind of nice to see, after Chambersite’s harsh attitude this morning.

“Sorry if the question sounded weird.” She then said, still smiling, though apologetically now. “I just find the surface so fascinating. The most I ever see of it is via our medicinal ingredients.”

My eyes turned back to the jars on the shelves, and I gestured to them when I looked back to her. “You mean those?”

“Mhm. Say, if you want to know a little bit about medicine and healing, I’ll gladly teach you some things! Especially if you tell me more about the surface, should you ever go again. Here, grab any jar that interests you, and I’ll tell you about what’s inside!”

Well, I was curious… And the offer she had made certainly seemed fair! I took a moment to look on the shelf, before picking up a narrow jar full of bright red petals, setting it on the desk in front of her.

“What about these?”

She glanced at the jar before gently clapping her fins, beaming.

“Ah, these are camellias! They’re a lovely red flower that grows in a territory I’m told is called ‘the Darkwood.’ Their use is as a natural antibiotic, meaning they help stave off infection, and can also be used against fevers.”

“Oh, wow…” I said, looking incredulously at the little blooms tucked into the jar. “And how do you use them?”

“Usually, you grind them into a powder,” Ametrine explained, “To either be eaten straight or mixed with other ingredients, should you need any other benefits. For example, combined with ginger, it can help stave off ailments like the flu!”

“They’re really useful, then!” I gasped.

“Oh, yes, quite possibly my most-used ingredient, honestly. Their versatility is a godsend.”

I looked at the camellias for a bit longer before returning the jar to its place on the shelf. I definitely wanted to learn more about all the stuff Ametrine had, but I had probably spent more time than necessary in the infirmary. Besides, at that moment, somebody new walked in.

“Alright, Ametrine, I’m here. I didn’t forget this time.”

Through the doorway scuttled a hermit crab with a striking blue carapace. They wore a simple scarf adorned by a brooch with a blue gem, and their shell was covered in smaller crystals that shimmered slightly as they walked.

What surprised me most about them, however, was their size. Usually hermit crabs got pretty big, even in their early age, yet this one wasn’t much taller than I was. I would have mistaken them for a kid as well, if it weren’t for the fact I knew there were no other children in the temple.

“Oh, Lazuli, there you are!” Ametrine said. “Good, I was wondering if I was going to have to come get you.”

“Chambersite barged in and kept nitpicking my latest project. Got so pissed, I couldn’t focus on my work. So I told him to fuck off and decided I’d rather--”

“Oh, um! Lazuli!” Ametrine interrupted, face flushing as she glanced to me. “This here is Opal, Lord Verchiel’s chosen! Perhaps you should watch your words around such an impressionable boy, hm? ”

“Ah. Hell.” Lazuli said flatly as they finally turned their eyestalks to notice me. “Yeah, I guess I probably should, huh.”

“Anyway, let’s get on with that check-up, shall we?” Ametrine prompted, rising from her seat and gesturing to an empty cot for Lazuli to sit on.

“I should probably get going now.” I said, bowing my head a little bit. “Thank you for your time, Amet--”

“Nah, nah.” Lazuli said once they had clambered up onto the cot. “It’s not gonna be anything intensive, and I wanna talk to you a bit, so stay.”

I paused at the doorway, tilting my head. Lazuli wanted to talk to me? Well, I had already seen firsthand that my reputation preceded me, but it was still a bit odd…

“Are you sure, Lazuli?” Ametrine asked the question burning in my mind. “Because I wanted to also look at your, um, shell--”

“It’s fine.” Lazuli said with a wave of their claw. “‘Sides, can’t pass up on my first opportunity to meet with Lord Verchiel’s chosen.”

“Well… If you’re alright with it…” Ametrine mumbled before gesturing for me to grab a seat. 

I found an empty stool and carried it over to the cot, taking a seat while Ametrine stood next to Lazuli, picking up one of their claws in her fins.

“Let’s start with a general look-over of your carapace.” She said.

“So,” Lazuli said, looking me over for a moment, “You’re this ‘Opal’ I’ve heard a lot about, huh?”

“I suppose I am.” I said, kicking my legs back and forth out of habit. “I did hear your name mentioned, before I came here, actually. When Lord Verchiel told Chambersite to go see you.”

“Ah, is that so?” Lazuli commented, handing their other claw over to Ametrine. “Well, allow me to properly introduce myself, then. I’m Lazuli, resident sculptor and organizer for all ‘beautification’ projects in the temple. Tend to have a bit of a foul tongue, though--apologies for my language a bit ago.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” I assured them with a shake of my head. “I know what words are appropriate to say. You don’t have to mind your words around me.”

“You hear that, Ammy?” Lazuli snorted, making Ametrine jump a little in surprise. 

“ Lazuli! ” Ametrine scolded, good eye narrowing a bit. 

“ Ametrine. ” Lazuli corrected themself, though they didn’t sound too pleased with having to do so. “Anyway,” they turned back to me, “We’re probably going to be seeing a lot more of each other as you spend your time here and get on with your training.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, aside from all the decorations of the temple, I manage the decorations of the order members as well.” They tilted their head forward to allow Ametrine a better look at their back. “Used to be I had a partner who handled that stuff, but… Well, I’m doing the work of two people now, let’s put it that way. So when you start earning your necklaces and earrings and stuff from Lord Verchiel, it’ll be me who has to do measurements and gem cutting.”

“Is it fun?” 

“Eh…” Lazuli waved a claw for a moment, not bothering to hide their grimace. “The sculpting is. But the gem-cutting, the polishing, the setting it into chains and all that… Is not to my liking. But nobody else in the temple has even half the skill my former partner did, so I’m kind of stuck with it for now.”

“What happened to your partner?” I found myself asking, before stiffening at my lack of consideration. That was probably a personal question, why did I even ask it? Splotches of yellow ran across my arms, indicating my unease.

“Well, simply put, they--” Lazuli began, but Ametrine suddenly turned and slapped her fin over their mouth.

“They stepped down from the position. Now they handle one of the transport lines for imported goods.” She said, with a smile I couldn’t help but notice was forced. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes people can feel… Stifled, here at the temple, since it’s not terribly active.”

Lazuli’s eyes narrowed, but they didn’t say anything when Ametrine finally removed her fin and returned to her examination.

“Yeah, that’s all.” They mumbled. “It’d be nice to have them back, but… Their happiness is more important. So I’ll keep on with what I’ve been doing in the meantime.”

“I’ve seen a lot of your stuff around the temple.” I offered, deciding to shift the topic. “It’s all very pretty. You’re really skilled.”

It was true. Several statues and ornaments stood in the halls and hung on the walls of the temple, each unique and clearly having had hours of time put into them. Sometimes I couldn't help but sit and stare at them at times, going over every last inch of the handiwork.

“Years of practice.” They said with a proud smile. “I’ve been carving stone and sculpting clay for nearly 20 years now--”

“You don’t look very old.” I commented, once again realizing far too late how inappropriate of a comment that was.

“My size probably complicates things.” They said after a distinct pause. They looked down to the ground for a moment, before lifting their head and turning their eyestalks to look at Ametrine.

“How’s it look, Ammy?”

Ametrine looked to me and then to Lazuli, as if asking them something without saying a word. When Lazuli gave her an approving nod, she turned back to the point she had been examining on Lazuli’s body: The opening of their shell, where the rest of Lazuli was tucked.

Her demeanor was more pensive now, to the point she didn’t correct Lazuli on the use of the nickname.

“It’s as I suspected. Any longer like this and it could cause serious damage to your body, Lazuli.” 

The mood in the room seemed to shift, from a casual atmosphere to one of overhanging dread. Ametrine was clearly doing her best to hold back her feelings, but I could see the furrow in her brow. Lazuli, meanwhile, remained deadpan, instead looking to the floor as they thought.

“You need a new shell, before it’s too late.” Ametrine insisted, looking to Lazuli.

“I’ve been using this one for years. I can go longer.”

“To the point you’ll lose the use of your legs?” Ametrine snapped. “S-Sorry, but… My stance is the same as when I first spoke to you about this, Lazuli. It’s what all hermit crabs do, and you’re no exception.”

Oh… So from the sounds of things, Lazuli was getting too big for their shell--Or had been too big for quite a while. But… They refused to change it? How come?

“Why not get a new one?” I asked, not sure why Lazuli was risking their own well-being over a natural behavior of their species. “Surely it’s not that hard to find one you can use.”

“Hah.” Lazuli spat, tone suddenly turning bitter as they squinted at me. “The problem isn’t finding a new shell, it’s handling the old one.”

“Huh?”

“It’s… Nothing you need to be concerned about, kid.” They said, waving their claw. “I’m thinking over my options. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Hm… I had a distinct feeling they weren’t being completely honest, but… Was it really my place to insist as such? I had just met them, after all, so perhaps it was best I didn’t involve myself in their problems…

“I think you should be on your way now, Opal.” Ametrine said quietly, giving me another small smile--this time a bit tired. “I’d like to speak with Lazuli in private.”

“Oh, of course.” I managed, getting up from my seat. I gave the two adults a bow of my head before heading to the door.

I recall, just as I had stepped past the threshold, that Ametrine had begun speaking again--Try as she might to whisper, she wasn’t very good at it, unfortunately. I paused, just out of sight, straining my ears to listen.

“I’m sure if you explained things, Lord Verchiel would make an exception, Lazuli. It’s not as if--”

“I am not going to end up like Lapis.” Lazuli barked, not caring about their volume.

“Still, I don’t think--”

“And what if Lord Verchiel doesn’t see it our way? You’ve seen His rage.”

“I… I still think you should at least try.”

Silence, and then--

“If I end up here on one of your cots with one of my claws torn off, it’ll be your fault… Ammy. ”

Not wanting to hear any more, I hurried off down the hall.

Just… What were they talking about? And who was Lapis?

I was so distracted by these questions that, in my haste, I neglected to look where I was going, and bumped head-first into somebody, bumping backwards onto the floor.

“Ah! S-Sorry, I’m sorry…” I stammered, shaking my head to clear it. I looked up to see who it was I had run into, only to stiffen, my skin paling considerably.

It was Chambersite. 

He leered down at me, not the least bit unbalanced from the collision. After a moment, he gave a snort and held a hand out to me--I flinched, fearing he was going to take my arm again, but I then realized he was waiting for me to take hold of it.

“Where are ya in a rush to?” He asked as he pulled me up.

“Um, n-nowhere in particular…” I admitted, and it was sort of the truth… I really just wanted to get away from the infirmary, but my destination wasn’t really anything I had thought of.

“Well, yer lucky ya bumped into me.” He said, now folding his arms. “If yer done with yer little lunch break, we’re going to resume training for the day.”

Oh… 

My stomach once again churned, making me feel like I should head back to the infirmary. That camellia and ginger mixture sounded like it would have really helped at that moment…

“Barnacles below, kid, calm down.” He rolled his eyes as he turned and began to walk. “It’s not gonna be combat this time. You’ve got scripture to go over.”

Scripture… Right… If I was going to be Lord Verchiel’s disciple, I needed to know all the verses by heart. At least it wasn’t fighting…

Calming down a bit, I hurried after him, his long strides making it a bit hard to keep up without almost jogging.

“So where’d ya even go after eating?” He asked, not looking back to me.

“Just… Around. I explored a little.” I explained. “I found the infirmary, and met Ametrine, as well as Lazuli.”

“Ah, so that’s where Lazuli ran off to. M’kay. Ametrine’s a nice gal. ‘d she pester you ‘bout the surface?”

“A little, yeah… But I wasn’t able to tell her much.”

“She gets really excited about that sorta stuff. I offered to take her up a few times on patrols, but she seems pretty skittish about actually seeing things firsthand.”

I stared at Chambersite, a bit confused by this more casual side of him. Now that he wasn’t being so gruff and brandishing a pole, he seemed… Well, almost nice. It was certainly odd…

“Um, Chambersite, sir, can I ask you something?”

“Knock yerself out, kid.”

“Who was Lapis?”

At this, Chambersite stopped walking, taking me by surprise enough that I almost bumped into him again. When I regained my balance, he looked down at me, a quizzical expression and a raised brow on his face.

“Didn’t think Lazuli’d tell you ‘bout them first meeting.” He commented.

“Well… They talked about them a little bit, but didn’t go into too much detail… Just that they used to be a gem cutter?” 

I didn’t even know if that was true. I was just using context clues from what Lazuli had said earlier in our conversation, figuring Lapis had to be the partner they had spoken about.

“Yeah, they used to handle making all the various things people ‘round here wear. Think I was the last one they made anything for before it was just Lazuli.” He said with a shrug. 

“Before they went to work with imports?”

Chambersite stared at me for several seconds, a flash of confusion on his face. He then shook his head, turning away and starting to walk once more, so I went after him.

“Yeah. Sure. Before that. Their transfer was pretty sudden, so Lazuli’s been a bit beat up about it, ‘s all. They were like peas in a pod.”

“Oh… Well that’s kind of sad.” I mumbled.

Part of me wanted to bring up what Lazuli and Ametrine had talked about--the fact Lazuli’s shell was too small. But then I remembered what Lazuli had said… That it wasn’t something I should be concerned about. It also wasn’t my business to go around telling other people about it… So I remained quiet.

“Stuff like this happens. Jus’ how life goes. Don’t worry ‘bout it too much. Now c’mon, we should hurry on over to the library ‘fore Citrine blows a gasket.”

And with that, we resumed walking, nothing but the sound of our footsteps echoing in the halls.

#usurper au #ch5 #kallamar #chambersite #ametrine #lazuli