#also my jog is SO visible i gave up trying to fix it. it looks fine. it's a little annoying but it looks FINE

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

On Monday I found out we're hosting a retirement party for my aunt tomorrow (Saturday) and went.... Man, I have nothing else going on, I can knit her a hat or something. She has a new puppy so something that can be specifically for dog walkies would be good.

I had a bunch of this leftover purple from my last gift hat which I know she likes. But just a plain purple hat felt boring (I don't have the energy to do anything more complicated that stockinette) so I broke out my scraps bag and found this bright pink and dark blue that I like with it. Just for flair.

I'm gonna do my crown decreases like normal but instead of my normal kitchener cast off for hats I'm going to actually leave a little bit of a hole at the top. Just big enough to fit a small button through that I'm going to tie a pompom to. So if my aunt needs to wash the hat or wear it under a hood or something, she can just pop the pompom out without issue.

[jay-avian]

Prologue Snippet

So a while ago, I mentioned that I was writing something for my fiction class involving my characters from my "Court Magician" WIP. This version is unedited, but I figured I'd still post this version and post the edits later on to showcase my progress. Will this be canon? Who knows. Not me at the moment

Taglist: @fleurtygurl

“Ven!” Micah shouted. “Ven, this is too far. You can’t wander this deep on your own.” Micah walked through the forest scanning between the trees. He knew satyrs were fast, but he had hoped his brother would stick by him. “Ventus, come on buddy. We gotta get home soon, sun’s going down.”

Light leaked through the tree line, creating an orange haze. The ground was already cast in shade. The trees were much like shadows themselves. Micah was familiar with his surroundings, though this was a bit farther than he had gone as well. He had lived near here most of his life. His parents built a cabin with the help of the sage who also took refuge in the forest. But Micah wasn’t sure how long Ventus had lived in this area before they met. He at least wondered how long the poor boy had lived alone. Ventus was always clever, but there’s only so much a boy can do against predators, animal or human. Micah was only a few years older, but he had magic on his side. He was thankful the sage was kind enough to tutor him so he could protect himself and others.

As he tried to follow his brother’s path, he spotted a felled tree off to the side. It was almost completely covered in moss. At one of its ends were a pair of branches that resembled a deer’s antlers. There were a few budding leaves on them, still trying to grow. Micah smiled. He walked up to the tree and reached out. He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he ran his hand along the branches. Where his hand went, there grew more leaves along with white blossoms. He felt a small bit of life energy leave his body.

“There you are, my friend,” he said. He patted the soft, mossy trunk. Even now, he felt life flowing through it. “You’ll grow again someday.”

He turned to look out amongst the trees once more. There was still no sign of Ventus anywhere. No visible movement, very little sound except the birdcalls overhead. He sighed. “Alright buddy. Where did you go?” He held out his palm and a beam of white light flowed from it. It formed a line that curved through the forest. Micah shook off his tiredness and skipped into a light jog.

His eyes were fixed in front of him, fixed on finding his brother. He felt the eyes of the dwelling creatures staring as he went. He knew they were just afraid. Humans are strange animals to them, animals that kill and destroy. Micah pitied them. He wished he didn’t have to frighten them, but he couldn’t tread calmly. Not now. It was already pretty dark. Micah worried that the sun would go down before he found Ventus. Trees flew past his vision. The boy could be anywhere at this point. They’d have a hard time getting back. Birds and brush whizzed by. There could be bad people hiding out here. There could be wolves or monsters or…

There were bits of white that speeded past in front of him. He halted. Some foliage rustled wildly and just trailed off. Micah stood with his eyes wide and brow furrowed.  What was that?, he thought. There were certainly some bushes or something there. He bent over, trying to catch his breath. Probably just an elk, right? The movement happened to trail in the direction of the white line. It had been flickering faintly for some time. Micah tried to peer through the trees. He spotted a stone structure of some kind. Coming around the side was a small humanoid figure. They had a goat's legs and tail. There were curly, gray horns atop their head of light brown hair. They were jumping, frolicking around the stone walls.

“Ventus!” Micah yelled. The line he had been following dissipated as he ran forward. The boy perked up and looked over. He gave a short jump before running towards Micah. Ventus leaped into his arms giggling.

“You found me!” Ventus shouted, buried in his brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare run from me like that again.” Micah hugged tighter. “Gods, I was so worried. Please don’t do that”

“But you found me alright.” Ventus looked up with a wide smile. “See? It’s alright!”

“Ven,” he said with a hard voice. “You can’t just wander off and expect things to be fine.”

The boy’s face dropped. He looked down and gripped his brother’s clothes. “I’m sorry…”

Micah put him down so he could stand. Ventus wrapped his arms around himself, still looking at the ground. Micah sighed. He looked at the stone structure next to them. It was fairly small, about the size of their cabin. There were plenty of vines and moss growing over it. “Do you know what this is, buddy?” he asked, looking to his brother.

“I dunno…”

“Have you seen it before?”

Ventus shook his head. Micah felt sorry for him. The boy can’t help his nature. He took another look at the building. Above the entrance, there were carvings of an alphabet he had been learning. “House of Tirabeth” read the inscription. The goddess of nature. A place of worship is safe enough to explore. The sun had set below the horizon, but there was still some daylight left.

“Come on, Ven,” he said. “How about we look in for just a little bit?”

Ventus looked up with his eyes wide. “Really?!”

“We just have to be very careful, okay? We have to be nice to everything inside. It belongs to someone very important.”

“Okay!” The boy bound towards the temple. Micah followed close behind. Just as they were approaching the entrance, a creature dashed to block it. It was a long, wingless dragon, its head reaching just above them.

“Get behind me Ven!” Micah pulled his brother close as they backed up. The creature circled around them with care. Its body was a mossy green. It stared with slitted eyes that were a deep blue. Its horns more so resembled antlers and bore white blossoms.

“Wait– You’re the… I didn’t, d-wait–”

“Yes,” it said without opening its mouth. “You encountered me on your way here. I lied in wait to observe you both. And though your kindness is appreciated, I cannot allow you to enter.”

“What’s in there?” Ventus asked.

“It’s a sacred haven for druids, filled with altars and powerful talismans only those attuned with the earth are permitted to wield.” The dragon uncoiled and stood away from the brothers. It still blocked the temple entrance. “The druids who lived here left some time ago. They gave me life and told me to protect this place until their return.”

“Do you know where they went?” Micah asked.

“I’m not sure, though I imagine it was dire if they all went. Considering they left behind these artifacts, I certainly hope they plan to return when it best suits their needs.”

Micah glanced at the building. There had to be an explanation for their disappearance or, rather, an explanation for leaving behind their belongings. “If it’s all the same to you, I feel like we could get the answers we’re both looking for if we go inside. I mean, have you even looked yourself?”

“I was not instructed to go inside. My only orders were to guard this place.”

“But don’t you want to find out what happened to your masters?”

The dragon said nothing. It only stared with its same cold expression. It huffed and turned its head away, closing its eyes.

“You have until the daylight is gone. No longer.”

“Yay!” Ventus shouted, bounding around Micah. “Thank you thank you thank you!” The dragon stepped away from the entrance. Ventus grabbed his brother’s arm and started running inside. Micah took one last look at the forest creature before being dragged out of view.

The inner room was not all that big. The floor was grassy with some wild flowers dotted about. There were a few open-air windows along the sides. The middle of the room featured a twisting tree the size of Micah. There was a moat of fresh water surrounding its base. Towards the back of the room was a set of stone steps that led downwards. As the two boys began walking down, it got darker and darker. Micah held his palm up and took a deep breath. He exhaled into his hand and formed a small flame. It was just enough to light the staircase. He started taking another step when he started to fall. He managed to catch himself, pressing his other arm against the wall.

Ventus rushed to his side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Micah grunted. He pushed himself back up and rubbed his eyes. “Just tired.”

They continued down the steps and soon enough, it led them to an open cavern. The walls were dotted with mushrooms glowing a bright blue. Towards the back of the cavern was an opening in the ceiling where a small waterfall came through. The water flowed into a clear spring beneath it. There were chairs circles around stone tables. A few bookshelves were lined along one wall. Along the other were bonsai trees shaped to form pedestals that held an assortment of objects. That must be them, Micah thought.

Ventus started running down the steps. “Race you down there!”

“Ven wait!” Micah started to chase after him, but almost lost his balance doing so. He gave a huff and closed his palm to extinguish the flame. There was enough light without it. He continued down and met his brother where the talismans lay. Before the pedestals was a stone lectern with a green leather book. On its cover, there were carvings of a pattern made up of animal prints. Micah picked up the journal and opened it. He began to read it aloud.

“Before you stand some of the most important magical artifacts of The Order of Arbor. These artifacts are meant to help us keep peace, prosperity, and harmony within our domain. With the gifts of Tirabeth, we keep her life safe and abundant…” Micah skimmed the page and went on.

“There seems to be a table of contents for the objects here.”

“What’s this one?” Ventus asked, holding up a wooden staff.

“Ven put that back, it’s not ours.”

“But what is it? Can you tell me first?”

Micah sighed and flipped to its page. “It says it’s the Elemental Shillelagh. Uh… duh duh duh– It can harness the power of nature’s elements, including plant life, water, earth, and air.”

“Woah! Can we try it?!”

“No Ven, give it here.” Micah grabbed the staff from his hands. “We’re supposed to be looking for answers, not–”

A roar thundered from outside the cavern. The boys turned their heads and tensed.

“What was that?” Ventus asked.

“Nothing good… We should hurry, before whatever’s out there traps us in a corner down here. Come on.” With the book and staff still in hand, Micah started to run towards the stairs, his brother following closely behind. They made their way out and into the temple again. It was dark except for the light of the moon above. They heard men shouting and the dragon snarling back. Micah grabbed Ventus’s arm and pulled him behind as he snuck to the doorway. He peeked his head out. There was a group of seven men with swords and crossbows. They were all fighting with the forest guardian. Three of them had been severely injured, but so had the dragon. It already had a few slash wounds and some arrows stuck in its body. It stood firm in front of the entrance growling.

“This isn’t good,” Micah whispered. He looked over to Ventus. “Stay here, and I mean it! I’m going to help.”

“You got this!” Ventus whispered back.

Micah crept forwards and gently placed a hand on the dragon’s mossy body. He poured forth more energy through his palm. The creature’s wounds started to close up. The arrows were still stuck, but the blood was now gone. It gave a quick glance back before leaping at one of the men with a crossbow. Micah sped out the door to the nearest man and clubbed him with the staff, sending him to the ground.

“Oy!” shouted one of them. “Give us that treasure, boy.”

“No way!” Micah shouted back. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

“It doesn’t belong to a runt like you either!”

Micah gave a sharp inhale and scowled. He clutched the staff harder, giving it a look. He held it out in front of him and raised it high. Oh gods, I hope this works, he thought. He fixed his gaze at the earth beneath the thief and slammed down the staff. The ground burst up, sending the thief flying. A second man came charging with his sword. Micah raised the staff to block the swing. He parried the sword away and swung at the man’s stomach. The thief doubled over, and just as he was about to take another swing, Micah thrust the staff forward. Instead of making contact, the staff shot forth a powerful gust of wind. The man was flung back into a tree and collapsed.

The last man stood against the dragon, who was inching its way closer. He looked at his injured friends all around him.

“If you were smart,” said the dragon. “You’d throw down your weapon and take your friends far from here.”

“Like hell I will!” He gripped his sword and charged forward. Before he could land a blow, Micah pointed his staff towards the ground below him. With a swiping motion, he ushered a tree sprout up higher and higher, taking the thief with it. His sword fell to the ground with a clang.

“You did it Micah!” Ventus shouted. He came running from out of the temple, jumping for joy.

Micah relaxed his body. He felt the world spinning beneath him. He leaned on the staff for support. He thought he heard his brother talk, but before he could ask what was said, he fainted.

When he woke up, he was in his bed. He sat up and looked around. It was still dark outside, but daylight crept over the horizon. He looked to his side. The green journal was placed at his desk. The druid’s staff was leaning up against the bed frame.

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.5

a/n: yall. yall im on a roll. and no i will not apologise for anything that happens in this chapter. also, still learning how to do taglists so if it doesn’t work or you weren’t included, send me a message and i’ll try to get it fixed!

Word Count: 4,285 

Warnings: canon typical violence, non-explicit mentions of torture, mutant experimentation

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I think Fury is giving you a sign.”

Natasha looked up from her paperwork to see Maria leaning against the door frame to her office. She herself had just gotten back from a mission, evident in her slightly mused ponytail and gun still on her hip. A very beyond attractive look, if Natasha had to say it.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, leaning back in her chair to give her full attention to her fiancee.

“So he didn’t tell you,” Maria said with a nod. She pushed herself off the door frame and moved to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’ll admit that gives me a clue,” Natasha said with a small frown. She didn’t like where this was going.

“He’s sending you on another mission,” Maria replied. “With Y/N.”

“I thought we told him emergencies only,” Natasha mused more to herself than to Maria.

It seemed like Nick was sending the both of you on every mission he could possibly come up with. He needed some information. Then he wanted the layout of a base. Then he wanted some recon on security in another location. All were things that Natasha not only could have done with someone else, but she could have gotten them done on her own.

He seemed to think differently.

“He wants you to leave tomorrow,” Maria continued, bringing Natasha out of her pouting. “Personnel recovery.”

“At least that gives us a few hours together,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“Maybe we can finally get some planning done,” Maria nodded as she stood up. “Maybe a colour scheme?”

“Red and black,” Natasha shot back.

“We’ll argue about it later,” Maria smiled. She walked over and tilted Natasha’s chin up to give her a quick kiss before leaving the office, presumably to get cleaned up.

Natasha looked down at her paperwork for not even five minutes before deciding she was going to rush upstairs and surprise Maria in the shower. She had just started piling the papers up when you walked in, harpoon on hip and soaking wet.

“Did you ask Fury for another mission?” You asked as you plopped into the chair opposite her, water instantly dripping down the sides of the seat.

“No,” Natasha said curtly, hoping she could get you out of her office sooner if she didn’t invite conversation.

“Then why is he sending us together?” You asked. Your fingers started combing through your hair, the webs gathering whatever was stuck. Drops of water splashed onto Natasha’s pristine papers.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said again, turning her lip up when you put a piece of seaweed on her desk.

“I thought you knew everything,” you huffed, staring intently as a shell you had pulled out of your suit sleeve.

“Well clearly not,” Natasha mumbled to herself.

You leaned over to rest your elbows on the desk, your dripping wet hair leaving puddles on the mahogany and her papers. Natasha set her jaw and gave you a look, keeping eye contact. But your eyes gave off that mischievous sparkle, the one that would make any woman swoon. And Natasha’s heart raced.

“Think I can get that in writing?” You asked with a raised brow. “You know, for the next time you act like a know-it-all.”

“Did you just come in here to act like an ass?” Natasha asked as she picked her papers up and started walking out.

“Actually,” you started as you pushed away from the desk and stood up, “I’m here to bring you this.”

You held your open hand out, palm up, and Natasha looked cautiously to see what it was. In the middle of your palm was a whole shell, with a small black pearl in the centre. It looked absolutely stunning, and Natasha reached out to gently take it.

“Why did you bring this to me?” Natasha asked, although she feared she already knew your answer.

“Cheeseburger found the shell the other day,” you shrugged, “and Roger got the pearl out.”

Natasha did her best not to chuckle at the silly names you had given the octopus and otter that usually inhabited your moon pool. Cheeseburger, the octopus, had lost two limbs and had a nasty habit of stealing your cheeseburgers (hence the name), while Roger was an in-progress rehabilitation project. Unfortunately, the three of you were like peas in a pod.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha mused, her eyes still glued to the pearl. “But I can’t take this home to my fiancee.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. The space between the both of you increased as you visibly took a step back, and Natasha missed the closeness. Things had seemed normal only a moment ago, and now she could feel you closing yourself off to her, going cold once again.

“Then give it to Maria,” you shrugged. “Get some brownie points before going off on another mission with her favourite person.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Natasha shot back. “I just don’t want to waste your gift.”

“It was just cluttering up my space,” you replied, voice cold.

“Give it to Yelena,” Natasha said softly, holding the shell and pearl back out for you to take. “She would love it.”

“Yelena,” you huffed with a small smile. A sad smile. You grabbed the shell from her hand rather roughly, causing Natasha to flinch. “Thanks for the input.”

“Y/N,” Natasha started, but you were already walking away in the opposite direction, head high and feet dragging.

Natasha sighed and started her own way back to her floor. She wanted Maria to distract her. From you.

———

“What’s our objective again?” You shouted from the back of the quinjet.

“Personnel recovery,” Yelena answered. “Some scientist wanted out of AIM.”

“Why is that my responsibility?” You continued. Your boots echoed off the floor and you popped your head in between Yelena’s and Natasha’s chairs.

“Because something smelled-”

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupted.

“-fishy,” Yelena finished anyway, and both you and Natasha groaned as she just laughed at herself.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” Natasha mumbled to herself before turning her head and looking out the windows.

“I’ll throttle you,” you said as you lightly slapped Yelena upside the head.

“Listen,” she tried to say around another round of giggles, “if Fury ever told me his plans, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you two.”

“Well why don’t you find out? I wanna know why he’s sending me on this mission.”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? Surely you must have some kind of-”

“Can you both shut up?” Natasha shouted. The both of you grew silent immediately, and Natasha finally let out a breath and tried to rub her growing migraine away.

“Should’ve just sent Nat,” you grumbled. “She’s grumpy enough to scare everyone away all on her own.”

Yelena snorted, and when Natasha shot a look her way, she tried her best to look out the window. You, on the other hand, held up to her challenge and met her eyes. That ridiculous smirk refused to disappear, and Natasha wanted so desperately to wipe it off your face. But instead she just turned back around and looked out the window once again.

The rest of the trip was silent, only the occasional update being spoken aloud. Yelena managed to drop the both of you off and stayed in the jet, more than ready for when you both got back and could get back to the Tower for a well-deserved weekend.

It was a quick jog to the location, with tents and cages set up all around the landing port. The building was a few stories tall, but well fortified with guards around every corner. The majority of cages were empty, but every now and then you could hear a bear, a dog, a human.

“I thought these guys were scientists,” you whispered from where you were crouched beside Natasha.

“They are,” Natasha nodded.

“Must be pretty paranoid then,” you continued.

“You would be too if your work relied on illegal mutant experimentation,” Natasha clarified. You didn’t say anything else, but she could see your knuckles going pale.

“Let’s get our man and go,” you practically growled. “Before I kill them all.”

Natasha knew you weren’t joking.

You both went in opposite directions, you heading to the back door and Natasha heading to the side. There was no guaranteeing that the scientist was even inside at all, but that was the easiest place to check. There was too much vulnerability outside and Natasha wasn’t going to risk getting caught and failing another mission.

“How are we supposed to find one nerd in a facility full of nerds?” You asked over the intercoms, and Natasha assumed you had made it into the building.

“Be nice,” Natasha whispered, “not all scientists are nerds.”

“Bruce and Tony are,” you replied. Natasha pulled herself against a wall when she heard voices. “Everyone here is.”

“Hush,” Natasha whispered. You remained silent as Natasha listened to footsteps getting closer, and then turning into the opposite direction. She let out a quiet breath.

“Do we really want to help someone who’s torturing mutants?” You asked again, a barely contained anger in your voice.

Natasha rounded another corner, trying to come up with an answer for you. You weren’t wrong; she didn’t like the idea either. Why save the scientist when you could save the people instead? But Fury wanted him, and there had to be a reason for it. The location was known, so someone could always come back to save them another day.

“Nick will send us back another day,” Natasha finally said out loud. You huffed on the other end of the comms.

You both continued through the facility, methodically clearing rooms until finally you indicated you had found him. Some wiry man with broken glasses, according to your description. Natasha gave confirmation and headed to the meet up point, somewhere on the second floor. Once Natasha was about to round the corner to the location, she could hear your voice carrying through the halls.

“You’re lucky I don’t wring your neck myself.”

“What’s the problem?” Natasha asked as soon as she saw you.

You were right. The man was wiry and nerdy, something you would expect from a mad scientist in a comic book. White tape was wrapped around the nose piece of his glasses in stereotypical fashion and he was hunched over like the world was resting on his shoulders.

No surprise, considering you were hovering nearly a foot over him.

“He called me an animal,” you seethed, your hands visibly shaking with the desire to have them around the man’s neck.

“Look at your arms and neck, what else could you be?” He asked in a gruff New Jersey accent.

“You want an animal? I’ll show you an-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha demanded. She stepped in between the both of you and pushed you away, not even bothering to get near the man.

“If he has to go with us, then so does one of the mutants,” you said, leaving no room for argument in your voice.

“We can’t risk it, we’re leaving them here,” Natasha said quickly. The hair on the back of her neck was starting to stand up and her stomach felt like it was dropping.

“I’m not leaving them and taking that,” you said through clenched teeth while pointing at the scientist.

“You’re going to risk my life for one of them?” He asked, his face drawn in disgust at the mere thought that his life was equal to a mutant’s. Natasha wanted to strangle him.

“We will come back for them another day,” Natasha said again, but you didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not leaving without them, so you’re gonna have to wait,” you shot back.

Voices could be heard in the stairwell a few halls away.

“And I’m not risking another mission,” Natasha argued, walking closer to you and forcing you to step backward to keep your space.

“If you think I’m taking that and leaving one of those kids then you’re-”

Click.

The both of you froze, your eyes boring into Natasha’s. A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, so thick Natasha struggled to draw breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears and that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach returned.

And then your eyes left hers, trailing down to the too-tight cuffs that were now keeping you chained to the pipes against the wall. They weren’t the usual police handcuffs, but the kind that they had used on Loki after the invasion of New York.

You weren’t getting out of them.

“Natasha,” you started, your eyes moving back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She took one heavy step back, never taking her eyes off of you.

“Unlock them,” you continued. Your chest was starting to rise and fall slightly faster.

“Someone will come for you,” Natasha said again with a slight nod.

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Get back here, Romanoff,” you said as Natasha started leading the scientist down the hall.

Away from you.

She didn’t answer. She just felt her leaden boots take step after step, leading her further away from where you were chained. When she didn’t answer, she heard the sound of metal pulling against metal and your grunts and groans as you tried to yank the cuffs off.

“You can’t leave me here!” You shouted, your voice echoing down the hall after Natasha had turned the final corner.

She heard other voices coming from the same direction as yours, quickly followed by shouting and the solid thuds of blows being landed.

“Natalia!” You shouted again once Natasha had opened the door to lead the scientist out.

Only moments after the door shut, Natasha heard your scream. A scream of anger and frustration, a scream that reached down Natasha’s throat and ripped her heart out. The prick of tears in her eyes left a sinking feeling in her gut, left her feeling empty and a broken shell.

But she had a mission. And she was going to complete it.

She shoved the scientist in the direction of the quinjet and didn’t look back. Ignoring the whining and complaining coming from the man and eventually just throwing him into the back of the quinjet, ignoring the way Yelena jumped at the sudden noise.

“Where’s Y/N?” Yelena asked, moving her head around, trying to see if you were close behind.

“Get us in the air,” Natasha ordered. Tears pricked her eyes once again.

“Are they coming?” Yelena asked again, ignoring Natasha’s order.

“I said get us in the air, now.”

Yelena gave Natasha a look that sent a shiver down her spine, but turned around and got the jet in the air nonetheless. The scientist pulled himself into the seat next to Natasha. He seemed much more relaxed, and Natasha couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t realise just how much had been risked to get him back to SHIELD.

“You made the right choice,” he said after some unbearable silence. Natasha turned to look at him, her brows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You made the right choice,” he said again with an enthusiastic nod. “You never know what those animals might do-”

He was cut off with a choked gasp as Natasha slammed her elbow into his face, and he quickly lost consciousness.

“Just shut up,” she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

———

It was six weeks before the party had been dispatched to get you back.  The party had consisted of Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda, and there was going to be nothing extra. They were going to get you out and get back to SHIELD, no side missions, no stops, no questions.

Maybe it just so happened that the only way to get you was to burn the facility to the ground and get the rest of the mutants out. Maybe they had called for a second quinjet to arrive to make sure everyone was able to get out safely.

Yelena and Wanda were tasked with getting everyone on the jets and eliminating the few soldiers remaining while Natasha had scoured the facility top to bottom to find you. There was a large portion of the basement that Natasha had found, filled with surgical equipment and things that would have been enough to give anyone nightmares.

And you were there, nude, in a too-small empty glass tank with a chain around your ankle. There were rips and tears in the thin membranes between your spines, and a dark black mark on your left shoulder blade. From her angle, it looked like some kind of gunk was stuck in your gills. You were curled up into a fetal position and kept your eyes glued to the ground directly in front of you.

“Y/N,” Natasha said, her gun still drawn but lowered.

“I should thank you, Miss Romanoff,” a voice called, and Natasha spun with gun raised to find a scientist walk forward, standing near a panel by your tank. “You gave me my greatest obsession.”

“How about you just let them out and I don’t kill you,” Natasha shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot from our little friend,” he continued, ignoring her. “And you’re in time to see the results of something I’ve been working on.”

“Let them go,” Natasha said again. She cocked the gun, but the man laughed.

“I hear drowning is a horrible way to die,” he said, still ignoring her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw you raise your head and look at her. The dark spots under your eyes were beyond evident, sticking out against the sickened colour of your skin. There was no emotion in your eyes, not even a silent plea for help.

You looked like you had already accepted death.

“How long do you think a sea creature can hold its breath underwater before it needs to breathe?” He asked, his fingers typing against the panel.

“Don’t,” Natasha shouted, her trigger finger pulling instinctively and burying a bullet into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Water started filling your tank, and you stood up to get your head as tall as it could get. Natasha nodded at you once, and you covered your head as she fired shot after shot at the tank. But there wasn’t even a dent, nothing to indicate that the tank could be broken.

“What do I do?” Natasha asked as she ran up to the tank, watching the water slowly rise to your ankles.

You didn’t speak, didn’t open your mouth, instead pointing as best you could to a discrete pipe against the opposite wall. Natasha looked at it and followed the direction until she saw a lone wheel connected to the wall. A wheel that could control the water flow.

“Stay here,” Natasha told you as she ran off, grimacing to herself. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

She grabbed the wheel and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It felt like she was trying to pull a quinjet with her bare hands; an impossible task in and of itself. Her eyes trailed over to see the water had reached your waist. There had to be something else she could get, something to help.

The thud of your hands on the glass made her turn, and you were pointing in another direction. Her eyes followed, but there wasn’t anything she could see that would immediately-

A pipe.

Natasha sprinted to grab it from the table, nearly dropping it in her haste to get back to the wheel. The water was up to your neck, and Natasha could already see that your gills weren’t filtering anything. They stayed terribly still, and Natasha had to drag her feet to get back to the wheel.

She stuck the pipe into the empty spaces of the wheel and pulled, yelling in frustration until it finally moved. She continued pulling until she heard the flow of water stop, and a tired smile etched itself onto her lips as she turned back around to see you.

But the water was over your head, and now she was leaving you to drown.

She couldn’t break the glass; the water was off and you were still drowning. Your eyes were wide, and the fear of the situation finally made its way onto your face as you curled in on yourself and started pulling at the chain around your ankle, air bubbles escaping from your nose at a rapid rate.

Natasha got an idea. She didn’t hesitate as she started pushing the pipe, the flow of water rushing back. Only this time, she didn’t stop until the pipes rattled with the flow, barely able to contain the volume inside. She pushed until the pipe stuck, and she turned and ran back to the tank.

Your eyes were closing, the air bubbles almost nonexistent, your struggle against the chain ending. Natasha started banging on the glass, trying to keep you awake, but you didn’t move, instead just floating, and Natasha felt her heart sink.

The glass creaked under her fingers. Natasha’s eyes shot open and she watched the glass, noting the single crack that started to web across the entirety of the tank. She barely had time to step aside as the glass shattered, water shooting out and leaving you to drop to the ground.

When you didn’t move, Natasha jumped forward, dropping to the ground and immediately starting CPR. She could feel a rib break, maybe two, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until you could breathe. You just needed to fucking breathe-

Your body shuddered as you choked, coughing up water before your eyes shot open. Natasha felt herself let out a shaky breath, but she didn’t let herself rest. She grabbed her gun and shot where the chain was connected to the floor, listening to it break before grabbing you and pulling you up.

“You need to lose some weight,” Natasha groaned as you leaned on her side, your feet barely moving.

You didn’t say a word the whole trip out of the facility. Just managed to  drag yourself out, eventually walking more on your own when you neared the quinjet. Yelena ran up to the both of you and got on your other side, sharing a look with Natasha.

“I’ve got it,” Yelena said in a tone that told Natasha to let go and give her some space.

Natasha did, watching as Yelena finished dragging you to the quinjet and putting you in a seat before wrapping a blanket around your naked form. Your eyes fell back to the ground when Yelena finally got the jet in the air, and you refused to look at anyone when you got back to the Tower, leaving Natasha without a second thought.

———

Natasha was sitting at the bar on the common floor, picking apart her food. She had tried to see you multiple times over the past two weeks, only to be turned away by doctors or Yelena. There was something wrong, but Natasha couldn’t find out because no one would let her.

The ding of the elevator had her turning her head, not necessarily eager but casually curious on who had appeared. To her surprise, Yelena walked out with a McDonald’s bag in hand, some drink in the other. She didn’t look happy, but Natasha could’ve expected that.

After all, Yelena hadn’t forgiven her.

“How are they?” Natasha asked.

“Alive, no thanks to you,” Yelena shot back. But she had stopped and was talking back; that was an improvement from the past two weeks.

“I had a mission,” Natasha said, but her voice was small, weak.

“They were part of that mission,” Yelena answered.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly. She said it to assuage her own guilt. It didn’t work.

“You’re stringing them along,” Yelena said, her voice taking a different tone that Natasha hadn’t been expecting. “Just marry Maria already and end the suffering.”

“I’m not stringing them along,” Natasha defended.

But she knew she was wrong. Yelena was right. And Natasha wasn’t going to stop because what would her life be without you? How could she go about her day-to-day life if she knew you weren’t going to be there in some fashion? Maybe she was in love with Maria and was going to marry her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to throw you away.

“Just be gentle,” Yelena said with a sigh. “Everyone has feelings at stake.”

“And you?” Natasha asked, causing Yelena to freeze. “What feelings do you have at stake?”

A small, sad smile made its way onto her face.

“Desire,” Yelena shrugged, but just like that her demeanour changed. “Y/N said I couldn’t eat before them, and I very much desire this McChicken.”

“You’re disgusting,” Natasha chuckled.

“And this McFlurry. You know the good stuff,” Yelena teased again, causing the both of them to laugh.

“Then go on,” Natasha motioned toward where she assumed you were waiting. “I’d hate for the two of you to starve.”

Yelena gave her a smile, one like the good old days, and continued her walk. She stopped in the doorway and turned around.

“Oh, Fury wanted me to tell you something.” Natasha gave her a look for her to continue. “You and Y/N are going undercover. As a couple.” With that, Yelena continued off, leaving Natasha to deal with the news.

Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Taglist: @wickedmuses @m-zne237 @noodlybees @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @gottacamz @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday @santasbitch @when-wolves-howl @madamevirgo​ @hopingforromanoff​ 

[rogue-durin-16]

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part I/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm currently going through a Harry Potter fever ('tis the damn season), so I thought I'll write something. I might write more of this story, (maybe turn it into a multipart) we'll see. If you'd like to be tagged in this, let me know.

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I had always supposed that reaching the sixth year at Hogwarts meant subjects would get way more demanding and complex, and I to be proven right, only two weeks in were needed.

Added to the usual difficulties, we would be hosting The Triwizard Tournament. Having the castle be almost twice as crowded as the other years, when all you crave is a quiet spot to study, wasn't ideal.

As I said, the first two weeks were already hard enough.

During the third week though, believe it or not, things got even worse —and our guests hadn't even arrived yet.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than the library these days, that's the sole reason why, at 3:35 pm, my best friend and I were already making our way there.

To our luck, we arrived just in time to see the two redheaded troublemakers par excellence high-fiving each other besides my common room's entrance.

"What on Merlin's beard are you two doing here?!" Both of them jumped at the sight of two Slytherins.

"The question is what are YOU doing here?" One of them questioned back, probably attempting to distract us. "You two should be in the library."

"What did you do?" I squinted my eyes at them and, while one raised his hands in surrender, the other just shrugged.

"Nothing." He motioned at our door nonchalantly. "If you don't believe me, check it yourself."

My friend and I shared a reluctant look, and before I could say anything, she was heading to the door.

"Mathilda wait—" I gasped when she sunk into what appeared to be the stone floor.

"Okay now, I wasn't expecting her to actually do it." When I attempted to step forward, a hand on my forearm prevented me from it.

"Don't step further." He warned. "Just in case."

"I'm not stupid." I hissed before grabbing my wand, which made the tall redhead back off. "Revelio." Slowly, a swamp was revealed to be where the entrance hall to the Slytherin common room was supposed to.

Now that it was visible, both twins hurried to get my friend out of their giant prank.

"Get rid of this." I ordered as they pulled her up, her bottom half covered in mud.

"Pffft... no?" One of them scoffed, walking away from Mathilda and stepping closer to me. "It's a masterpiece. It stays."

"If it stays, I will throw you into your masterpiece." I threatened, putting my wand back in my pocket.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try."

I glared at him, partially because I hated that cocky attitude these two —specially him— always exhibited, but also because I had to look up in order to make eye contact.

"Listen Weasley,"

"It's Fred." Oh what would I give to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"I don't care." Refusing to step back as he clearly wanted to achieve by towering me, I stepped forward, lightly pushing him back with one hand. "You will remove this from here or I will walk right now to the Potions Classroom and split on you."

The twins seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes only. After a moment of silence, the one with my friend spoke. "We'll get rid of it right now and you won't say anything." I nodded, my eyes still fixed on Fred's. "Just so we're clear, this was not set up for you."

"The next one will be, though." Fred assured me with an almost wicked smile. "I'll make sure you can't use the revelio on it."

"Is that a promise, Weasley?" I asked in an unconsciously defying tone.

"You can be sure of it, Y/l/n."

"It's Y/n." I retorted, mocking him.

"I don't care." I rolled my eyes when he did the same, finally breaking eye contact with him.

"C'mon Thilda," I held out my hand to her "let's see if someone can sneak us into the Ravenclaw common room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You think Fred meant it?" Mathilda inquired, the worry slipping through her words as she played with her breakfast.

"I doubt so." Angelina, who was sitting in front of us, replied without even looking up from her quidditch history book. "They seem more trouble than they are, really." I scoffed; it was easier for her to say that; she was a Griffindor after all. "Deep down they're nice sort, Y/n. They won't pick up on you for ruining a prank."

"I don't trust them."

"I'm not saying you have to—" Angelina jumped slightly when a wad of paper hit my face.

"You were saying?" I grunted, making eye contact with the red haired boy waving at me from the Griffindor table.

When I opened the wad, it read:

'miss me? —Fred ;)'.

"Look at his smug face." I hissed. "I'm gonna-"

"Ignore him. You're gonna ignore him." Angelina finished, fairly unconcerned. "I assure you he'll get bored in less then two days if he can't get a reaction out of you."

For the sake of having breakfast in peace, I only dedicated him a fake smile and did as my friend said. It seemed to work, until it was time to leave for class.

"We should get moving." Mathilda spoke, putting her plate aside and picking up her things as I did the same.

"I have a free period now." Angelina informed us. "Or as free as it can be. You?"

"Divination. Y/n?"

"Charms— Fuck." I whined as something dawned on me. "Those gits are in my class." I spared them a glare. "If they ruin my favorite subject I'm gonna—" a sudden splash of water on my face left my shirt soaked for at least the next hour. "You got the nerve—!" I yelled at the guy who was already making eye contact with me.

"I do, indeed!" He cut me off, winking at me from across the table, his chin resting on the palm of his hand with a teasing grin dancing on his lips as he asked, "what are you gonna do now, Y/l/n?" His twin brother, though I could only see his back, was clearly not enjoying this behavior.

Mathilda checked my gaze, dreading the worst. "Y/n, don't. You're gonna make Slytherin lose points." She knew the warning wouldn't do much, but at least she had tried.

Angelina, instead of backing our friend and try to calm me down, got up and walked to the table where the Weasleys sat.

FRED'S P.O.V.

"I hope you know you're dead." Angie stood in front of me, before using her book to tap my brother's arm. "George, move."

"What?"

The three of us spared a look at Y/n, who had, ignoring McGonagall yells, stepped over her table to get to us.

"Move. Now."

"Ssshit." My brother moved just in time for Y/n to repeat the same forward move on our table.

It's not as if I didn't have the time to move and run away, she hadn't rushed; on the contrary, she walked calmed and composed, and still I did not move an inch.

I guess a part of me wanted to know what she'd do to me.

"Look at you." I began to wind her up again when she climbed off the table on my side, sitting down on its surface with her shoes over the bench. "Doing the impossible to be near me, how romant—"

My sentence died off abruptly as a handful of scrambled eggs was mashed against my face.

I heard a burst of laughs around me. "Blimey! I'm sorry, Fred," she feigned worry, smearing what I assumed were the remaining rests of my breakfast all over my chest. "I hope you're not late to Charms because of this." She whispered near my ear, making a shiver go down my spine when her breath hit my neck. "See you there, yeah?"

Her hand squeezed my shoulder and her fingers ran over my shoulder blades as she walked away.

I felt a napkin placed in my hand and I was quick to remove as much scrambled eggs as possible from my face, just in time to see Y/n exiting the Great Hall with McGonagall jogging after her.

"You know?" Lee asked, drawing my attention. "Picking up on the girl you fancy is kind of a toddler strategy."

"Yeah, Fred," my brother agreed. "you're not an eighth year-old anymore."

"And you chose the wrong girl to nag" Angie added," if you keep it up, she will surely kill you." She held back a teasing smile. "And you should be careful" she nudged George. "I don't think she can tell you both apart, you can end up as collateral damage."

"But you wouldn't let that happen, would you?" I rolled my eyes when George scooted closer to our quidditch chaser.

"Depends on how annoying you are." She faked indifference as my brother searched for her eyes.

"I don't fancy her." I not-so-randomly stated. "But I can't stop pranking her now that she ruined my breakfast."

"You can and you will, Weasley." I jolted at McGonagall's voice behind me. "Twenty points from Gryffindor." At least I'm not grounded, I thought. "And you're grounded for the rest of the week."

"But Y/n— Ouch!" my brother kicked me under the table so I would shut it.

"Y/l/n has received her fair share of punishment, too, Weasley." The professor gave me a poorly masked, disgusted look. "Go and..." She waved her hand "Clean yourself up, Y/l/n will inform professor Flitwick about this incident. And Weasley," She stared at my brother. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to Charms too?"

"Yes ma'am." He replied, throwing everything into his bag, getting up and rushing out of there, not before grabbing his robe.

"The day's promising." I groaned, handing my things over to Angelina so I could go to the bathroom.

"You made the day promising by messing with a Slytherin, you twit." She pointed out, putting my things over hers. "Now go clean those eggs from your shirt."

"Aye, mother!" I headed off before Angie could add anything else to the conversation, loosening my tie as I moved forward.

As I cleaned off everything I could in the nearest bathroom, a random thought slipped into my mind.

Had Y/n been punished too? And if so, would we fullfil the punishment together? It seemed logical that if one of us got grounded, the other one would get grounded too; consequently, it would only make sense for us to—

Shut it. I mumbled to my own mind.

I didn't care. I did not care if she was punished or not. It was none of my business.

I don't fancy her, I thought to myself once again.

[seraphdreams]

greengreengreen

warnings : smut, fem!reader, drunk sex, suna being a bit of a jerk at the end, college AU

wc - 2.8k

a/n - this was originally gonna be a football!au but i got lazy and changed it back to volleyball

There’s cheering heard from the end of the hallway in the spacious university. Loud whooping and chants were heard as your classmates ran up to the commotion. You continued walking foreward at your steady pace, avoiding the crowd. “Look! The volleyball team is back!” You hear a student exclaim. You pause in your tracks, throat suddenly dry. You swallow, eyes growing wide as you lock orbs on the tall newbie the volleyball team welcomed. His eyes were like a fox’s, narrow and uninterested.

The way the jersey he has on enunciates his long toned torso, has you in awe. He seemed not to care about the praise and applause he was getting but instead taking out his cloth and wiping his forehead with the towel previously draped around his neck.

Your white haired best friend came up to you from the herd, suddenly looking at you in confusion. waving a hand in front of your face. A trance, is what you’re in. Just a split second of eye contact with what you’d describe as the prettiest man you’ve ever seen had you flustered. His allure was so daunting, leaving you almost speechless.

“Hey, Y/N. Hello? Guess what?” You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at Kita. He was also on the football team. His hair was drenched in sweat and face flushed pink. You cock your head to side, a response to his question. “We won the game, and that new second year is amazing!” He continues. “New second year? The one you were just thinking about? He’s....amazing? Is that why he was getting so much attention?” You think to yourself. Once again you were brought back to reality by Kita, clapping his hand to get your attention.

“Oh! Sorry, i was just wondering, when did he get on the team?” You question, straightening up at the loud clasp of his hands. The team finally got through the hallway, walking past you and Kita. He looks to the side, noticing the slow walking brunette. As soon as the man is in the same radius as Kita, he pulls him by the arm, yanking him into the conversation. He was slightly crouching under the shorter’s grip on his arm.

“He’s been on the team for a few weeks, this is Suna Rintarō. He scored us 12 points at tonight’s game.” Kita announces, Suna straightening up as Kita’s grip loosens. Your heart beats faster, feeling as if it’s going to burst out of your chest. “Hi, i’m Y/N” You say in a soft voice. He raises his eyebrows in affirmation, looking at you deep in your eyes.

Kita observes your body language, the way you held your hands behind your back, squeezed your thighs at the look Rintarō gave you, and licked your lips as you looked up at him with “innocent” eyes. Kita whispers something in his ear, Suna walking away a few seconds later. “It’s kinda late, isn’t it? Want me to walk you to your dorm?” Kita progresses. You nod your head and walk side by side out of the now empty hallway.

“‘Samu, i’m telling you, that’s my shoe!” You hear a loud voice from the outdoor courtyard. You spot Atsumu, obviously fighting with his twin. As you and Kita crept closer on your commute to the dorms, he scolded, “Twins! Cut that out!” Osamu and Atsumu halt then straighten out their clothes, scoffing at one another. “I swear they still act like they’re still in high school” Kita says with a chuckle. Pretty scenery of the campus went by as you and Kita continue to chat on your way to the dorms.

It was your second year of university. Kita’s been your best friend since your first year of highschool when you decided to become the manager of their volleyball team. He was so nice and a great person to talk to about whatever, always listening and giving the best advice. You both grew closer as the years progressed, instantly becoming best friends.

You’re in the same grade as the twins, having been with them since your first year as well. They were your source of entertainment and gossip. That’s why you were a bit confused how they never told you about the rookie. “Looks like we’re here.” You say looking at the room number on your dorm. Warm arms wrap around your shoulders as Kita pulls you in for a sweaty hug, flashing a smile at you before leaving toward his own dorm. “Ugh Shinsuke!” You joke opening the door to your room and carefully stepping in.

_________

After a long shower, you work on your school work, still in a towel. You decided to finish a few math problems, chewing at the end of the pen. There was no need to do work now, it was the Friday and the you could relax all weekend, maybe drink some wine. You check your phone. A message from Osamu catches your eyes.

There’s a house party a few minutes away. Wanna come with me?

A party didn’t seem to bad at the moment, you were already showered and hadn’t gotten dressed, having fun won’t hurt. You text him back a “sure”. You weren’t necessarily a party person, only clinging to the people you knew, but maybe you’d step out of your comfort zone. You search through a mess of clothes piled on your chair, stuffed in your drawer, and under your bed, until you found the perfect outfit. Something short. You put on makeup, spraying loads of setting spray to make sure you don’t sweat it off.

You slipped on your shoes and pranced to the door and down the hallway. You look both ways frantically, waiting to see a familiar face. Finally, you see a silhouette of the twins walking towards you. Atsumu held keys in his hand, jingling at every step he made. Once they were visible and in a close enough distance, Osamu cleared his throat. “We have to wait for someone else.” He stated. “Who?” You ask in curiosity, thinking it could be Kita or Aran.

You hear a door unlock from the back of the hall, the man was walking slowly looking down at his phone.

From where you were standing it looked like he was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Suna! Hurry the fuck up!” Atsumu yells. He looks up from his phone and slowly jogs up to him. You felt your heart pulsate the same way it did before. “Suna was coming? Why didn’t Osamu tell me?” you ask yourself. Once Suna caught up with the group, you all walked out the dorm hall and down the stairs.

It was a long quiet walk from the courtyard to the student parking lot, Suna being on his phone and the twins not speaking.

Atsumu found his car and unlocked the door, him driving with ‘Samu in the passenger seat and you and Suna in backseats. You strapped yourself in, everyone else following suit. Osamu hooks his phone up to aux cord, playing his playlist.

The rod was about 15 minutes long. ‘Tsumu pulls up to a large house on an almost abandoned street. There were lights flashing, seen from the windows and reflecting outside. You could see people outside with drinks in their hands, laughing at whatever nonsense they were talking about.

You look over at an unamused Suna, still looking down at his phone. “Who’s the designated driver?” Osamu questions. Atsumu raises his eyebrows and turns to his twin, eyes lighting up. “No. I don’t trust you” His twin replies, sitting back in the seat, arms folded. “I promise i’ll stay sober ‘Samu!” He pouts childishly. Osamu scoffs in response unbuckling his seatbelt. The group treads out of the car. You fix your outfit as you close the door to Atsumu’s black 2019 Dodge Charger.

You walk behind the group, keeping your eyesight fixated on the broad back of the brunette in front of you. Atsumu opens the door. You’re greeted with loud music, a blend of different bodies, and on your far right, tall stairs with a few people sitting down at the front. Nobody you knew was there except for the company you came with. You walk to the least crowded place, the drink table. You weren’t really a heavy drinker, but a shot or two wouldn’t hurt in helping you loosen up. The air suddenly smelt of a heavy masculine scent.

“Do you know what you’re drinking?” The deep, quiet voice says. You turn your head, meeting his chest then looking into his eyes. It was Suna. You nod and point to the label written on the bottle, “vodka”. He chuckles, a breathy laugh erupting from his throat. You smile at his expression, a little confused.

“What?”. He sets his drink down on the counter and puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You look a little bit lightweight, and there’s a lot of alcohol in your cup.” You scoff, putting the cup to your lips, inhaling the green apple taste, shuddering at the burning sensation that comes afterwards. The boy you thought was quiet wasn’t as quiet as you thought.

You lock your eyes on the snake tattoo that wrapped around his lower neck then disappeared under his shirt. He caught your examining eyes then looked over your head, a hungry Osamu stuffing his face with hors d’oeuvres. “What does that tattoo mean?” You ask. Rintaro inhales, then takes a sip from his drink. “I forgot. I got it when i was really high” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. You look up at his slit-like eyes, they glowed green, obvious evil intent behind them. You look down at the now empty cup in your hands. “Damn, you finished that fast” He says, eyes wide as he peers at the red cup in your hand. He finished the drink in his hand soon after, as to one-up you.

The conversation went on for what felt like hours. You grew more and more intoxicated as the minutes passed. The bass in the music throbbing in your head. Everything that came out of Suna’s mouth sounded slurred. You nodded at every noise you could comprehend. In the blink of an eye, he was no longer in front of you. You felt a large hand wrap around your waist, tugging on the fabric of your shirt. You felt swaying motions behind you.

The heartbeat of the figure prodding aggressively against your head. The music was slower, sensual even. You try to reach for your phone in your bag, haziness fogging over your mind. A hard grip on your arm knocks you out of your daze. You felt hard pulling, trying to look up at who was dragging you up the stairs. To your surprise, it was Rintarō. As you ascend up the stairs, you pass rooms. Suna checks the locks on each of the doors then opens the door of finally unlocked room in the middle of the hall.

The room was dark with only the pale moonlight shining through the window, insinuating the unholy bright green glint in his eyes. He motions for you to lay on the bed. You do as told, not sure why.

He kneels in front of you, wrapping his rough hands around your thighs and spreading them away, face to face with your cunt. He groans at the sight. “Are you a virgin?” He questions, snapping you out of the lust that was growing in your core. You shyly nod your head. “Do you want me to continue?” He solicits, looking up at you. You nod your head slowly.

He wraps his limber fingers around the waistband of your bottoms, pulling them down along with your underwear, a string of slick connecting your garments with your warm body. Another groan slips from his mouth, “So pretty.”

He attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and licking the bud. You arch your back, fisting the sheets beneath you. His gaze into your eyes like needles piercing your skin, sharp. He uses his skilled tongue to lap around your slit, dipping in and out. The cries you let out are loud, causing him to slow down his pace. He removes his lips from your cunt. They were glossed in your slick. He licks his lips then presses a thick finger into your hole. You yelp in surprise, gasping as he brutally finger fucks you. You tangle your hands in his dark brown locks, crying out words like “please” and “fuck”. He slips in another digit in no remorse for your poor tight cunt. The way he curls his fingers inside you while thumbing your clit has you in pure ecstasy.

You hiccup as you feel your orgasm pooling through you. He sucks the creamy liquid you left on his fingers. A vexatious smile on his face as he stands up and towers over your small frame.

“I want you to take all of me.” He demands. You look down at the growing bulge in his jeans the back up at him. You whimper at the sight, scared for your hole. He leans over to meet your eyes. He places sloppy kisses on your lips, using his tongue to part your lips. You scratch at his back as he deepens the kiss by pressing his tongue against yours. You kiss back letting him take control. He runs his lips down your jaw, meeting your neck.

He sinks his sharp canines into your neck harshly sucking on the flesh. He leaves little love bites all the way down to your chest. He stands back and looks at your abused body, proud of the work he’s done. He slides his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor next to your bottoms. The snake tattoo you previously seen before looks more prominent now, more dangerous. You lean back, spreading your legs wider as he pulls his cock out from his jeans. He strokes a few times before aligning it with your drooling cunt

He slowly glides the tip in, sucking his teeth at the way you clench around the fat head. You wince at the pain. He tries pushing in once again, you getting tighter at each advance. He reaches his hand over to your thigh, rubbing the skin in small circles. “Breathe.” He whispers in spite to soothe you. You deeply inhale then exhale. Suna pushes halfway through, groaning at the feeling. An image of your smile flashes through his mind, the way you made him feel warm. “Hey?” He questions. You look up at him, confused by the childlike grin on his face.

“What’s red and shaped like a bucket?” Rintarō jokes. You shoot him a confused look. “i don’t know.” You say. “A red bucket.” The laugh you let out was quickly cut off by a sharp inhale. He thrusted his full length inside your cunt. “Sorry” He apologizes apathetically. You mewl at his dangerously fast pace inside you. It hurts but the pain was soon overridden by pleasure. He rubs your clit in harsh circles. You slip your hand under your shirt to play with your nipples.

A soft moan escapes from your core. The bliss was immense, leaving you breathless as he continued to bruise your cervix with his terribly accurate thrusts. You couldn’t take too much of it before you felt your core heat up. The pleasure ran through your whole body, attacking all of your nerves. You felt numb, mumbling and babbling unintelligible words.

“Good girl, you take me so well” He praises, pressing down on the bulge visible in your stomach. You moan at his words, trembling from the orgasm that’s about to crash through you. “Su-“ You try to let out. “I’m gonna cum!” You mewl, trying to sound as audible as possible. You wrap your hands around his wrist while arching your back. Hot liquid splashes his lower abdomen, coating his cock with your cream.

“Fuck, you squirted” He gasps, chasing his own high. The overstimulation leaves you tired and unable to respond to his thrusts. His thighs tense as he nears his orgasm. He sprays his warm seed in your cunt, painting the walls white. You both pant as you catch your breaths.

He tucks his cock back into his pants and grabs his shirt on the floor, putting it on. He tosses you your bottoms. “How does it feel to be bred your first time?” He mocks. The green glow in his eyes came back, more vibrant than ever. He leaves the room, leaving you to clean yourself up. You laid in the bed for a while, a text from Osamu waking you up from almost dozing off.

Come outside, we’re leaving

You trot downstairs, collecting your things and meeting the twins at the car. Atsumu looked to be out of it completely, Suna recording and laughing. It seemed like you and Rintarō became strangers again, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. Osamu was driving this time. You opened the door and sat on the seat, seeing Suna glued to his phone once again. There was complete silence the whole ride back, except Atsumu talking to himself.

You leaned your head back on the seat and fell asleep.

[slashedthroughtheheart]

A night with the trapper

Hey hey, I’m cross posting on here from my Ao3 account! Hoping to build up a writing blog once again after The 2018 Incident happened and I lost my other one for overwatch.

This time, I’ve delved into the slasher fandom after picking up Dead by Daylight! This is just some good nice fun with Evan, focused on his pleasure! Enjoy!

He'd been so considerate of your needs when you approached him tentatively.

He'd just returned from a trial and was in the middle of cleaning the grime off of his hands and arms when you gingerly pulled on the side of his overalls, looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loved to see.

Barely above a whisper, the words left your lips in a rush. "Would you let me touch you?"

The words themselves weren't dirty, but the look you gave through those eyelashes of yours, a flush dusting your cheeks and the slight pout of your lower lip lent a lewd meaning behind the words.

He hadn't even taken his mask off yet, but the candlelight in his workshop was just enough to give you a glimpse of the smug grin that donned his features.

Turning back to washing himself, he let you stew in your emotions for a bit before his voice filled the room. "Lemme get this right, doll. You wanna touch me...intimately?" Despite the words being a question, it sounded more like a pleasantly cocky statement. The low hum of his voice made you shiver, his knowing and almost teasing tone had the blush spreading further on your face.

The slight turn of his head was what prompted a meek but determined nod. You'd wanted this for a long time, and even if it was embarrassing having to ask like this, you knew you wouldn't get a chance to act it out unless you did.

Any time you'd been with him, it was always him on top of you, all around you, baring down on you like he was a hunter and you were the prey he'd caught.

And while you'd been enjoying that, you couldn't deny you wanted more. Something different.

You'd been so scared of everything at first, the pain from being hooked and sacrificed in trials was maddening. You barely talked to the other survivors for the first week, completely thrown through a loop and reeling from the shift in your new normal.

They'd tried to reach out, to be comforting and welcoming, but you had resisted. The fear gripping your heart at all times very real and palpable.

What if the killers came to find you after the trial too? What if the time you weren't being forced to fix gens and run for your life were also plagued by the terrifying monsters that hunted you in the trials?

No soothing from any of the other survivors helped. They feared you'd break before too long had passed, having seen it before in the ones that stopped appearing after they broke fully.

It was the leader, Dwight, who had tried one last ditch effort.

While the killers didn't hang around with any survivors often, it wasn't unheard of for companionable time to be spent together outside of the trials. Some were easier to approach than others, like Bubba. He didn't do much talking, but he was always happy to see anyone and would listen to people talk for as long as they wanted.

So Dwight had gone to their leaders domain, skittishly asking if one of the killers could show the newbie some kindness outside of the trials so they'd stop spiraling out. So she wouldn't be taken like some of the others had been.

Evan had stoically listened as the survivors leader talked about that new girl who'd been so very afraid during every trial he'd seen her in. She'd fueled all the killers instincts very well, looking so picture perfect with the fear readable in her eyes. Such big eyes that always had tears just threatening to fall, or falling already.

It had probably led to a bit more brutality than usual.

He remembered you, shaking like a leaf looking like you were about to wet yourself. Your hand over your heart as you stood like a deer in the headlights when he caught sight of you.

Then you turned tail and ran, your panting had excited him. It had been a while since they'd gotten someone new to chase.

You'd managed to outfox him that trial though, your fear keeping you from most of the generators so he never caught sight of you a second time after he lost you when someone blinded him with a flashlight. The other survivors worked double time to make up for the teammate they lacked, and since he'd been so fixated on finding you again, he'd mostly left them alone unless they got just a bit too close.

He hadn't managed to hook anyone that match, having been too focused on finding that doe-eyed survivor again and hearing them scream.

So he fully understood that maybe the welcoming had been rather hard for you. "What's 'er name?"

The skittish leader seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding in, worried that the Trapper wouldn't entertain the idea of trying to calm the newbie down.

"Y/n. She's real spooked, by everything." The almost derisive laugh that came from Evan at that moment startled Dwight.

"If you're saying that, she must really be a fraidy cat then." The grin on his face was visible through the opening of his masks own garish smile.

Dwight had the smarts to not say anything more to that, but his head dipped down as his ears tinged pink with embarrassment.

"So... will you have someone come out and say hi to her? Let her know we aren't ever hurt outside of trials? She won't listen to us about it." He was rubbing at the back of his neck now, willing the blush he could feel under his fingers to go away.

Evan's arms crossed, seemingly contemplating his response before he gave a single nod. "'spose we can't have the little thing losing it. Sure, I'll come say hi to her. Might be best it's from me anyways, never have managed to catch her in trials. She's never even stepped in my traps either."

He had already started moving to leave his home, lumbering through the trees with Dwight having to jog to keep up with his pace.

"R-really? You've never caught her?" the tone was awed disbelief. He knew how many trials they all went through each day, she'd had to have faced the Trapper at least 4 or 5 times by now, and to have never even stepped in a trap was quite the feat.

A grunt preceded a small hum. "M'nope. She's a small one, slips right through everything. Not particularly fast, but she's real sneaky. You haven't noticed that?"

The rest of the walk from his realm and to the camp was filled with little questions from both of them about the girl. How many times had the Trapper caught sight of her in a trial? How did she spend her time around the fire? Did they know anything other than her name?

Upon arriving, Evan wasn't surprised that she nearly bolted upon seeing him, but Claudette and Feng had each been by her side and gently held her in place.

"He's not here to hurt us. They never are when they come here. We're safe outside the trials." Claudette's hushed voice reached his ears, and he gave a slow nod.

He stopped a good distance from them, knowing his sheer size would be intimidating on it's own, but him being one of the killers made it that much scarier for the poor girl.

"Hey there, little fox. I ain't here to hurtcha, promise. I heard from our good buddy Dwight here you were having a hard time adjusting to life in the entity's realm." He kept his arms down, trying to appear as non-threatening as a metal-bedecked behemoth like him could.

While he enjoyed the chase in trials, he understood that outside of trials it was a grave mistake to hurt the survivors. Every killer learned that the hard way through punishment, and the survivor or survivors hurt would be given a reprieve for a day or two from doing trials.

His gaze swept over the group, taking in their little camp they'd eked out in the forest.

"Y'all mind if I...?" he made a gesture towards the fire and one of the logs that had been dragged near it.

It was Ace who spoke up next. "Go for it, big guy." He was the one sitting on the other end after all.

He nodded to him, wandering over slowly to take a seat and lean forward, resting his arms against his knees. "It really ain't that bad outside the trials. Y'all stay around here until you're called next, and we stay in our realms until called." He wondered if anyone had bothered explaining that to her, as she sat there still held to her seat by the girls on either side.

The fear had lessened a little in her face, but not much. She didn't look like she'd fight to get up and run anymore at least.

"Does that make sense, little fox?" his head tilted ever so slightly as he looked at her from across the fire.

She looked unsure, fear still gripping her limbs, before a very slight nod that he would have missed if he blinked.

He sat back up a bit, no leaning as far forward. "Good. We all want to work so as to not displease the entity. And hurting y'all outside of the trial displeases the entity. So it's in our best interests too that we leave you unharmed."

This bit of information seemed to be the thing that had her relax the most, the white knuckle grip of her hands lessening as she blinked owlishly at him.

If he hadn't been listening intently and looking right at her, he might've missed her whispered "Really?"

He chuckled, leaning to one side, resting his weight on his good arm. "'course. The entity is all about rules. Do this, don't do that. And one of those rules is no harm outside of trials. You think being sacrificed to it hurts? Punishment for disobeying is much worse." He kept his tone light, easy going.

At the mention of punishment, he saw her shoulders tense again. "Now don't go worrying that pretty little head a yours. Only people who've ever been punished is us killers. Y'all can't really do anything to displease the entity, considerin' your position." Another light laugh left him as he settled in to chat the night away.

Over the course of the night, she'd slowly warmed up to those around her, and to the big man who eventually introduced himself as Evan to the group. It had been when Dwight had referred to him as the Trapper, and he waved a hand. "That ain't my name, at least not outta the trials. 'm Evan, nice to meetcha little fox." He'd smirked a bit, that long dormant charm from his past life peeking through.

After that night spent around the fire, more of the survivors sought out forging friendships with some of the killers outside of the trials. If they had to mutually please the entity, then maybe they could find some understanding with one another.

So that's how simply trying to assuage one new survivors fears led to basically all of the killers and survivors having a much more easy going time outside of the trials.

It had been quite some time since then, and that initial bond between Evan and you had been the strongest. While you had sought out others, namely Sally and Bubba since they were genuinely really sweet outside of the trials, you stuck by Evan the most.

And as time went on, feelings blossomed. You'd taken a shine to him and his slightly dated charm. He liked to use names he knew would fluster you, calling you doll and sweet cheeks and the one time he'd said sweetheart had truly been your undoing.

The silence after he'd said it had made him worry maybe he had taken his teasing too far, and that you'd turn away from him.

Imagine his surprise when the next thing out of your mouth was "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

He'd been stunned silent by it, causing you to go through your own mortification, your hands coming up to wave in front of you quickly, trying to literally brush away the question you'd ask while verbally stumbling over yourself "I-I-I...nevermind!!" the squeaky tone your voice had taken on pulled a hearty chuckle from him.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, dwarfing you in size and reminding you just how much bigger and stronger than you he was. He leaned down just a bit, looking right into your eyes, seeing just how flustered you'd gotten by the hue of your face.

"I think you're damn beautiful, y/n." He was hoping he'd read your body language right, and that that question had been because you were as interested in him as he had been with you.

The little face you'd made after that, your lips forming the tiniest 'oh' as he loomed over you. He read no fear in your posture, but even while closely observing you, he'd never thought that the timid little fox of a survivor would ever have the gumption to lean into him, resting their hand so gently against his chest while they gazed up at him.

That had been the turning point in their relationship, and he had barely been able to keep his hands off ever since.

Something in your face now reminded him of that first time. Reminded him that you really did want him.

He let the rag he'd been wiping himself off with drop into the basin, turning to face you fully.

"Mmmm, well little fox, what'd you have in mind then?" his grin had turned almost wicked as his now clean hands reached forward to graze the bare skin on your arms.

The little breath you'd been holding didn't go unnoticed by him. You must've been waiting a while to ask him, working up your courage.

Instead of speaking, you pulled on his hand you'd taken with yours, leading him towards his bed.

Amusement flooded him, enjoying the sight of you turning to pull at his overalls with a pleading look at him. "Take these off, please." Even when you were in charge, you were so adorable to him. The politeness of your request had him huffing out a soft laugh while he undid the clasps, letting it fall to the floor and kicked it off and away.

"How d'you want me, doll?" The lascivious smile had your skin heating up once again, but a pleasant thrum was going through your body now. Excitement that he was going along with what you wanted.

"S-sit on the edge of the bed. No, not like that, further out. Yea, now just.. hold on." You had him sit on the bed, and had him readjust until just his backside was on the bed and his legs spread just enough to help him keep balance and for you to fit between them while standing.

He was gazing at your face, hand coming up to remove his mask while he watched you shuffle around, disrobing quickly and then kneeling between his legs, hands gingerly resting on his knees.

A single brow quirked up. "This is what you've been wanting all this time, little fox?" He couldn't deny the sight of you licking your lips for a moment before leaning forward to place yourself fully between his legs didn't do something for him, but he was a bit surprised that this is what you'd been wanting.

You gave such a cute little nod, determination on your face. You didn't want to be denied this now that you were so close to getting what you wanted.

He hummed out, hand finding itself on the side of your face, cradling your whole head tenderly. "Well, I ain't gonna stop you, but just hold on a moment." He leaned back, reaching for something behind him before leaning forward again with one of the pillows in his hands. "Here, get up just a moment and use this. The floor ain't exactly soft. Don't want ya hurting yourself sweetheart."

You melted at his thoughtfulness and the use of one of the more tender pet names he liked to call you.

Obediently you stood so he could put the pillow down to cushion your knees, hands held together in front of you while you waited for him to lean back up again.

Once he was satisfied with it's placement, he sat up, spreading his knees wide enough for you to slip between them comfortably.

He enjoyed the sight of you gracefully kneeling so close, your hands on either thigh, looking up at him with adoration and anticipation. It wasn't something he ever thought he'd get to see.

"Look at you, little fox. You look ready to downright devour me." The lazy grin that followed had your own slight smirk appearing.

A giddy bit of delight lit you up when you noticed him hungrily staring while you licked your lips once more, hands sliding up his thigh to brush against his half hard member laying against his stomach.

The texture had you marveling at the silky smooth feel as you barely caressed it with your fingertips, a reverent look on your face as you now devoted all your attention to the rapidly hardening cock just in front of your face.

He gave a very low murmur of praise, barely breathing out a low rumble of "That feels nice, doll." as he fought the urge to let his head hang back. He wanted to watch you, see just what you had planned for him, how far you would go.

He stared, eyes fixated on your lips as you leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss at the underside of the tip, staying still for a moment, eyes closed in what appeared to be pure bliss to him. You caught him off guard when you slipped your tongue out to give a little kitten lick to the tip, sliding up to his slit and getting the barest hint of a taste of salt mixed with his musk.

The groan that slipped from him at that as his eyes clenched shut for half a moment before opening again and searching your face for any idea at what you were going to do next.

He was half worried you were just going to drag out this torturously slow pace since you had barely gripped him enough to bring the tip closer to your mouth.

His half-lidded gaze met your own as you planted another kiss directly to his head this time, a shuddering breath when you stuck your tongue out to lick a slow stripe from tip down the side to his base, leaving a small trail of wetness behind.

At least he didn't have to worry about teasing it seemed.

When you nuzzled against his balls his breath hitched, hands tightening in the blanket underneath him.

He was too enthralled to speak at this point, waiting for whatever you wanted to give him.

You gave each testicle their own little kiss, all while making hungry eye contact with him, hand slowly, languidly pumping his now pulsing member.

He gripped tighter when you licked a stripe back up to the tip, flicking it at the end and enjoying the rumbling almost growl that left him.

He lost the battle with keeping his head up and eyes open when you finally slipped the head of his cock past those perfect lips of yours, tongue swirling slowly around, getting it nice and wet before slowly pushing your head down, never breaking what would be eye contact once he pulled his head back up and opened his eyes.

He drew in a sharp breath as he felt you sinking him into your mouth, head almost spinning from the sensation after you had so expertly teased him before.

He snapped his eyes back open when he felt you keep going, taking more than half of his length already and showing no signs of stopping.

He leaned back up a bit, finally seeing the heated look you had on your face, your mouth almost painfully stretched on his girth.

You rewarded his gaze with a low moan, the vibrations making him almost lose his cool and buck his hips, but he just barely held back, the strain showing in every muscle of his suddenly flexing to keep him in place.

His left hand left the crumpled blanket, finding its way to the side of your face and gently pushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. He ghosted his hand over the side of your head, almost petting you as he watched you keep taking him in, inch by inch.

He almost closed his eyes again when he felt your throat flex momentarily as you swallowed around more than two thirds of his length. He just barely managed to keep watching, completely at your mercy and you pushed yourself those last few bits to nestle your nose against the short bush of pubic hair he had.

A low, throaty "Fuck, you're so good baby." left his mouth, hand now making full contact with the side of your face and partly into your hair, just holding your face, not pushing you down.

His whole body was trembling just a bit, the effort he was exerting so he didn't buck his hips and potentially hurt you was enormous. The choked sound that left him when you swallowed around his whole length this time was plenty reward for you, well worth the burning in your lungs and threaten of tears pricking at your eyes.

You slowly pulled back until just his tip was in your mouth, hand coming back up from where it had moved to his thigh to steady yourself, wrapping around the base and slowly pumping up to the tip and back down to the base.

The room filled with the sound of you working him with your mouth and hands, tongue always rolling up to work the underside of his cock, leaving him to let out low groans every once in a while while you felt him twitch in your mouth and hands.

He was enjoying the attention, basking in you touch and how focused you seemed on his pleasure.

During a particularly quick press of your mouth down his length, he lost a bit of control and pressed your head into his crotch, feeling your throat tighten instinctively around him had him grunting and hips flexing as he gave the shallowest of thrusts.

He had barely gritted out a "Sorry, sweetheart" before he registered the absolutely lewd moan you'd let out at his actions, mouth still full of his length.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve you, but he was thanking every star he had, lucky or not.

A breathless "Y'like that, doll?" left him, sounding more confused than anything else.

He watched closely as you pulled up and off him, a bit breathless yourself as you nodded eagerly and almost whimpered out a "Yes, daddy."

He hadn't ever heard you call him that before, but the look you had on your face and the way you had sounded did wonders in spurring him on.

A lazy grin split his face, head tilting ever so slightly as his grip became very present on your head, guiding you back to the tip as he coaxed you to take him back into your mouth.

"Mmmmm, yea. Just like that little fox. Take it all in again, do it for daddy." It rolled off his tongue easier than he expected it to, feeling at home in the situation.

And the high pitched moan as you pressed your face right up against his pelvis with his entire length inside your mouth was definitely a worthwhile bonus.

He watched as you almost went cross-eyed with pleasure, feeling your tongue do what little it could while he was fully seated inside.

He tugged gently at your hair, bringing you back up for a breath before pushing your head back down, gently guiding you to fuck your mouth on his length.

Honestly, he couldn't believe that this was something you were getting off to, but he was happy to oblige you. Watching his thick cock pump in and out of your swollen lips while you looked like you were in heaven was quite the sight.

You hadn't even gagged once, or caught him with your teeth. It's almost like you'd been carefully practicing taking something as thick as he was, but he'd never caught you doing anything naughty on your own. You'd always come to him when you were feeling needy, and he'd happily pinned you under him, giving you the pounding of a lifetime every time.

Maybe this slower pace was what had you so over the moon. He'd have to try that out later, pay more attention to what had you crying out for him. After all, it was the least he could do after everything that was going on right now.

Even though it hadn't been very long since you'd started, barely 10 minutes, he was nearing his climax. There was just something about the plush heat of your mouth and the noises you were making and the sheer intimacy you two were sharing that was already pushing him to the edge.

"God, baby. Just like that. Mmmm, yea, you feel so good on daddy's cock. You're such a good girl, y'know that?" His heated gaze watched as you almost unraveled on his cock from his praise, delighting in the whines that left you as you desperately pressed more and more of him into your mouth, taking control of the pace once more, quickening it in your own excitement.

Another low groan left him, his legs flexing hard as he felt the last of his self restraint slip away, seeing stars behind his eyes as they squeezed shut, a growled out "Fuck yea, baby girl, just like that, right... right there, oh FUCK" as the first jerk of his cock and rope of cum filled your mouth and had you whimpering and greedily hollowing your cheeks around his tip, milking him for all he had.

He let out a prolonged moan as you kept sucking softly through his whole orgasm. His hips bucked once, twice, then he was pulled at your hair just slightly to get you to pop off his sensitive head, his breathing jagged as he barely managed to keep his eyes on you to savor the sight of you pulling off of him, face flushed from a mix of lack of air and desire, with his seed still staining your tongue before you closed your mouth for a moment, and he saw your throat move with the swallow.

"Fuck that's hot, y/n." His hand came down to cradle your face in his palm once more, thumb swiping over your cheek once before he leaned forward and down to press a soft kiss against the crown of your head.

When he pulled back to look at you, there was fondness in all his features, a genuine smile on his face for once. "I think I oughta return the favor, since you were such a good girl for daddy." And with that, his smile had turned devious, his hands moving from your face to under your arms and lifting you into his lap, pressing a hungry kiss against your mouth before trailing to your jaw as he laid back with you straddling his hips.

The cheeky grin you were met with when he lifted you easily, dragging you up his torso until you were sitting on his chest.

"Mmm... you know, you left a nice little wet trail all along me, babydoll. Did doing that to me get you that excited?"

You were too turned on to truly feel embarrassed by his words, merely rubbing yourself against the broad expanse of his chest, letting out a loud mewl at finally getting some friction on your sensitive clit after being left for so long without attention.

He let out his own moan at the feeling of your slick leaving a smear across his pecs, excited at just how wet you had gotten from servicing him.

"Well, looks like someone's having a good time." The mirth in his voice was lost on you as you moaned from the vibrations they sent out.

"You poor thing, here. Let daddy take care of you, little fox. I know just what you need." he shifted you one last time, his brute strength sending the butterflies alight in your stomach and he move your thigh to either side of his shoulders, sitting you right on his mouth as that devilishly sharp tongue went to work right away at your most intimate parts.

Now that he knew this was something the both of you liked, he'd be taking advantage of this information any chance he got. After all, you really were such a good girl for your daddy, you deserved to be rewarded~.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Keeping the Monsters At Bay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Anxiety Attacks, mentions of nightmares, mentions of broken bones Word Count: 2137 Square Filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ Free Space & @buckybarnesbingo​ U5 *Picture Square* Summary: Reader forgot to replenish the medical supplies after a previous mission and it’s almost time for the team to leave for the next one. The pressure triggers an anxiety attack for Reader, which is when Bucky comes upon them. With Bucky’s help, Reader is able to manage the attack. The next night Reader is able to return the favor when they’re awoken by screaming. Bucky is having nightmares again so Reader helps him get through the night. 

“Shit!” You hissed out the word as you slammed the storage compartment closed. You looked over your shoulder to see if anyone else had overheard your outburst. Dr. Banner was the only on the quinjet with you. He politely pretended not to have heard you. The other’s would be arriving soon and expect you to be ready to go. You opened another compartment only to discover it too was empty.

“Everything all right, [Y/N}?” Bruce asked after you loudly closed a third compartment.

“Yes, I think so.” You sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

You stormed out of the quintet mumbling every curse word you could think of. On the last mission Steve had asked you to rotate the medical supplies. Apparently you’d remembered to empty all the medical compartments, but never refilled the supplies. As soon as you were sure that you were out of Bruce’s sight you began running through the corridors. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach when you thought of how you could be a reason for the mission to be delayed. You didn’t have much time together everything you needed, but you’d have to do your best. The last thing you wanted was to be in the field and not have something you needed.

“[Y/N]!” Tony called out to you as you almost collided with him. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“Sorry Tony, I’ve just got to grab something quick.” You told him without stopping.

“Wheels up in ten minutes!” He shouted after you. “That’s with or without you!” He hadn’t meant anything by it. You knew he didn’t because half of everything Tony said wasn’t serious. You also knew there was no way Steve would let him leave you behind, but you couldn’t rationalize with anxiety.

You really wished you could turn this part of you off. There was never a convenient time for an anxiety attack, but a mission was one of the worst times. You were already experiencing a stomach pain so intense it felt the way a towel looks when it’s being wrung out. You knew what would happen next, the worrying and overthinking. You’d worry so much about making sure to pack everything that you were bound to forget something. You felt the pain in your chest as you rounded the next corner.

“Almost there.” You whispered as you forced yourself from a run to a walking pace. You were starting to have troubling breathing. You tried to tell yourself it was from the running and the worrying. It would go away once you had all the supplies. That did nothing to sooth the burning feeling in your lungs.

“[Y/N]?” You’d been so inside of your own head, you hadn’t seen Bucky at the other end of the hall. Gasping for breaths now, you allowed yourself to lean against the wall and waited for him to come to you. “Are you okay?” He asked you quietly.

You nodded “Yes” Unable to answer him verbally. He seemed unhappy with that answer.

“You wanna try that again?” He asked. His tone was gentle, inventing. It lacked the usual sarcastic whipping you were used to from him.

“I’m…fine.” You managed between gasps. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing. It was no use. A part of you was still acutely aware of the time crunch you were under. You didn’t have time for an anxiety attack, which was only making it worse.

“You can lie to me if you want to, but it’s not going to fix the situation.” Bucky said. You opened your mouth to tell him again that you were fine and instead you began to cry. You confessed to Bucky the reason that you were so upset.

“The medical supplies? [Y/N] you didn’t forget to refill those after the last mission. Tony was doing something to the jet a few weeks ago and there was a hydraulic fuel leak. A bunch of the stuff in the jet was ruined. Steve and Tony forgot they’d thrown it all away. That’s what I’m doing here.” He removed the backpack he was wearing and opened it. You could see the bag was filled with supplies.

“We have to go.” You gasped. Instead of feeling better, you felt worse. You’d wasted time coming all the way here you were making everyone else late.

“They’ll wait for us.” Bucky said with certainty. “Do you have water with you?”

“I’m not thirsty.” You told him.

“You’ll feel better if you drink water.” He produced a water bottle from his backpack and forced it into your shaking hands. You tried to sip slowly from the bottle, it did seem to loosen the horrible feeling in your gut a little. “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” He asked. “Sometimes it helps to regulate the breathing.”

You nodded. Bucky wrapped his arms around you. It was like magic how he held you just enough to feel secure but not too tight that you felt trapped.

“We’re going to take big deep breaths and let them out together, okay?” You nodded again, nestling close to him. The act felt a little childish, but it was helping you. After a minute of breathing together and sipping from your water, you were calming down. You were already feeling the post-anxiety attack drain on your system. You felt like you could sleep for a week.

“Okay.” He smiled. “Ready to go? We can take another minute if you need…”

“We should go. We’ve already kept them waiting.” You started to jog away.

“[Y/N], wait.” Bucky caught your hand and you stopped. “We can walk. The extra two minutes won’t make a difference. You continued down the hall together, with Bucky still holding your hand. You decided you should say something before you joined the others.

“Thanks for that back there.” You mumbled.

“Anytime.” He vowed. “Attacks like that can be hard to pull your own way out of. It helps to have someone who can help.”

“I hate asking for help.” You confessed.

“I’ve noticed.” He nodded. “But we’ve got your back. That’s what being on a team means.”

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a long time.” You explained. “I thought I’d grown out of it.”

“You don’t outgrow anxiety [Y/N].” He said. You didn’t know what to say. You were coming up on the quinjet and could tell everyone else had boarded. Tony was standing outside waiting for you both.

“Barnes, [Y/L/N] is this mission an inconvenience to you?” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment and the panic rising in your chest again. Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Honestly, yeah, it’s put a damper on my plans for sure.” Bucky called back. “Especially since I had to go all the way to medical to refresh the supplies you ruined.”

“Well, thank you ever so kindly for your contribution Sargent Barnes.” Tony said with a salute. “Thanks for collecting him [Y/N].” Tony winked at you. “He’d probably still be down there gathering bandages without you.”

You and Bucky walked past Tony and continued onto the jet. Bucky dropped your hand and went over to the compartments designated for medical supplies. He began organizing everything While Tony and Steve prepped the jet for take-off.

“Did you find what you needed, [Y/N]?” Bruce asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, I think so.” You nodded. “What did I miss in the briefing?” You changed the subject.

The mission you’d been sent on was, all things considered, a brief one. You were all back by dinner time the following night. The most severe injury had been your own. You sustained a broken fibia when you failed to stick what should have been an easy landing for you. Clint had patched you up in the field and you’d gotten yourself to the team doctor as soon as you got back.

The team lapsed into their post mission routines. For most that meant well deserved naps in their dorms. Steve always liked to work in his debriefings right away and Tony had a new piece of alien tech he wanted to play with.

Your usual post mission routine consisted of pacing around the building until your body and mind were too tired to do anything but sleep. With a broken ankle you couldn’t exactly do that, but you still had no interest in spending the night in the infirmary. As soon as your leg was wrapped in a cast and you received the okay from the doctor, you hobbled out of the medical wing on crutches. Your dorm wasn’t too far away and you were confident you could make it all the way there without assistance.

You were already wearing a plain pair of grey sweatpants an Avengers logo tshirt that had been given to you in medical, so you didn’t bother changing once you reached your dorm. You didn’t bother turning on the lights either. You just placed your crutches by the door and hopped on one foot over to the bed. You feel asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

Screaming. You were awakened with a start to the sound of screams. You opened your eyes and tried to listen to where the screaming was coming from. It sounded like one of the dorms. Not wanting to waste any time, and crutches be damned, you raced from your room. The screaming had stopped, which only concerned you more. The lights were off in every dorm in the hall except one, Bucky’s.

With a sliver of light visible under his door, you knocked. When he answered Bucky was covered in sweat. His hair was sticking to his face and he was panting harder than if he’d just run a marathon.

“[Y/N], everything okay?” He asked like you’d been the one screaming your head off just know.

“You tell me, Buck.” You answered. “Either you’re having a hell of a good time in here by yourself or…” you indicated your disheveled appearance.

“Nothing to worry about.” He told you. You didn’t believe him.

“Are you really going to try to ice me out?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “I was honestly with you yesterday when…”

“It’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N].” He repeated. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Shouldn’t you be resting your leg?” He pointed to your cast.

“I was, until someone’s screaming woke me up.” You pointed out.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He apologized awkwardly. “I’m good now.”

“Why were you screaming? Were you having nightmares again?” You asked.

“They’ll go away on their own.” He told you.

“Aren’t you the same person who told me that my anxiety wouldn’t go away on its own and that it’s okay to ask for help?” You reminded him. “I’m here, let me help.”

“It’s not that easy [Y/N].” He frowned.

“Bucky your room is across the hall from mine, so I know you don’t get nightmares every night. You haven’t found anything that helps stop them?” You questioned.

“Well,” He hesitated. There was one thing that seemed to help keep the nightmares away, but he hadn’t exactly tested his theory. He’d only noticed that while he was away on missions, if he had someone sleeping close by him, he would sleep through the night. Steve was the only person he’d felt comfortable sharing this information with so far.

“Let me help you.” You insisted, reaching out and taking his hand. Bucky explained his dilemma to you. “Oh, that’s all?” You smiled at him. “I could stay in here with you. I’m supposed to be resting my leg anyway so would be a win-win. My leg gets to rest, and we both get some sleep.”

“What if someone were to find out you were sleeping in here?” He worried.

“We don’t have tell them why.” You promised. “It’s none of their business. C’mon, help me in the bed.” You put an arm around his neck and leaned against him, relieving the weight on your bad leg.

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” He put an arm around your waist and helped you over to the bed.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” You promised as you sat on the bed.

“Are you okay with the lights on?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“Whatever helps Bucky.”  You nodded. He laid down and you snuggled up next to him. You hadn’t imagined how soft his muscular chest would be, it was the best pillow you’d ever had. When he wrapped an arm around you to hold you close, you were immediately enveloped in warmth.

“This okay?” He questioned.

“Mm-hmm.”  You hummed happily while he drew the bedcovers over both of you.

“Good night [Y/N].” He whispered as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Good night, Buck.” You yawned before drifting off to sleep.  

[scaryscarecrows]

Hi!! So a while ago, I sent an ask about Frank doing soft things for the Squad. Well, now I was wondering if we could please have some situations when Trent was doing a soft thing for each Squad member and a time they all did something soft for him? Thank you :D

"I'm dying."

"Don't be a baby."

"M'not. M'dying. Punch Batman for me."

"If you die," Trent says, plunking a mug of piping hot Theraflu down where Antoine can reach it, "it'll be because Mark or the boss killed you, and. Dude. You passed the fuck out in the middle of a meeting from the flu."

"Shut up, I thought it was a cold."

"They hit the roof. It'd be funny if you hadn't, y'know, gone down."

"Ugh." He reaches for the mug and grimaces. "I don't want this."

"Yeah, I know." He shrugs. "That's why I gave you your sloth mug."

"Couldn't you just choke me into unconsciousness?"

"No. Feel better, dumbass."

* * *

"Shit." Trent vaults over the car and hopes the snow will provide them a few extra minutes of much-needed camouflage. "Shit, Mark--"

Mark's coughing, hand already glued to his side with so much red coming through his fingers and leaking into the snow. It's so cold the wound is steaming and motherfucker this went bad so fast--

"Don't-! Don't touch. Don't touch." He chokes and visibly forces his hand up enough to peek. Off in the blizzard, there's angry voices. "Worse than it looks. I c'n fix it."

"Dude," Trent says, and his voice isn't shaking, it's just... "You--"

"No touching," Mark hisses through clenched teeth. "Finish the job."

Fuck that.

"In the car you go, c'mon--"

"What are you doing--"

Bullets whiz overhead. Too bad. Trent pulls the back door open, shoves Mark inside despite the swearing and protesting, and wedges himself behind the wheel.

So he hits several people driving away. They should have sucked less.

* * *

"I cannot believe," he says, plunking into the chair by Jimmy's bed, "that you got yourself a night in medical because the boss scared you."

"He was right there!" Jimmy protests. "I turned around and the lights were out and these eyes--"

Trent laughs and pops his back.

"Dweeb," he announces. "That's you."

"Fuck off. He's scared you before."

"Yeah, but I didn't trip and knock myself out on a table."

"I hate you right now."

"Keep talking like that and I won't water your Animal Crossing flowers."

Jimmy pales. The flowers are a persistent problem; a day without water and they all die.

"No, no, you're my favorite."

"Mm-hm. I know."

* * *

Riley's a little fucker, but that doesn't stop him from shoving Trent out of the way and diving under the bed.

"What the fuck."

A phone pops out with, ANTOINE AND THE BOSS ARE GONNA KILL ME I NEED TO HIDE typed on it.

"What did you do?"

The phone vanishes. There's frantic clicking sounds. Outside, the Knight's distinctive growl demands Riley's whereabouts. The phone pops back out a second later.

I blew up the meeting room microwave and they both saw. I was so hungry. I forgot to put water in my Easy Mac.

Trent doubts that's the whole story, but whatever. The boss sounds pissed. Antoine doesn't sound happy, either.

"How do you fuck up Easy Mac?"

The hand with the phone makes an angry, confused gesture and shoots back under the bed a second before the door opens. Trent makes a decision. If they kill him, he'll never know what Riley did, and this could get a him a damn good favor later. So he's going to lie to his higher-ups like a cheap rug.

The boss is smoking. Literally, smoke is coming off him. Antoine also looks. Singed.

"Where. Is. He."

Oh, Riley owes him big.

"He was heading for the mess hall."

They vanish. It's always funny watching Antoine have to jog to keep up with the Knight.

"Damn, dude," he says, once they're out of sight. "You fucked up bad."

* * *

Frank always has a...a bit of a day on June eighth. It's his kid's birthday, a fact that not too many people are privy to. Everyone knows he 's got a rough go on the date, though, so they usually try not to fuck with him too much.

Honestly, knowing is. Not helpful. What do you say, man? Nothing. Do you bring it up? Pretend you don't know? Trent has no idea. He does know, though, that Frank likes Snickers, so he gets one and heads over to where he's been tinkering with this absolute beast of a tank the boss ordered special.

"Hey," he says. "Vending machine spat out two; want one?"

"What."

"Snickers bar." He holds it up. "You been in here a bit."

Frank knows Trent knows. It's not a secret, not really. But still.

His face softens and he hefts himself up and comes over, wiping greasy hands on his pants.

"Thanks."

* * *

Trent wakes up smelling soup.

He's not sure he remembers what happened...he does remember. Car flipped. Head hit...something. Snow? Snow. Snow was there, but the car flipped because some asshole shot out a tire.

"Ow."

"He's up!" Jimmy's voice sounds like a damn siren. "Mark! Mark, he's up!"

He wishes he wasn't, now.

"Move. Hey-hey, go back to sleep and I'll kill you." Never mind. "Shit, that was a hellofa hit...how many fingers?"

"One...?"

Someone laughs in the background.

"Yep. One. All right, Monstro, up and at 'em."

Ugh. Sitting up is for chumps--soup. He sees the pot. Smells familiar...kinda...

"Wha's that?"

"Gumbo. Antoine and Frank spent about half an hour arguing over how to make it*."

"Mm." He blinks. That doesn't help his head. "What year is it?"

"It's...it's been a day. And a bit. You woke up some earlier, but, well...y'know." Silence. "Riley says you're dumb as hell."

"Whatever." He rolls over. "Goin' back to sleep."

*Frank and Antoine are both southern, and they both have Opinions about this.

[sakuric]

study dates -> akaashi keiji

synopsis!the love you felt for keiji was growing bigger and bigger, suffocating you more and more each day, but you still didn't let yourself confess. all it took was rejection to finally word how you feel about him.

pairing!keiji akaashi x gn!reader

genre!fluff

warnings!slight cursing

wc!1886

gen taglist! @graykageyama @elixhirs @soranihimawari @admiringlove @softieynnie

a/n!hello babes :3 this is a short? not rly drabble dedicated to my dear sam @admiringlove , and every akaashi stan reading !! this wasn't proof read, but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

you were in love. in love with a boy whose presence made your heart skip a beat. in love with a boy whose hands are gorgeous, but he hides them everytime someone, who isn’t you, around him. he's a boy you've been in love with for a long time now, yet you can't gather the courage to let yourself tell him.

"hello, y/n. are you ready to study?" akaashi asked, sitting down opposite of you at the table. you were doing your study session in the library, as you do every week. although bokuto, akaashi's friend, once joked that you two go out on study "dates", but neither of you found it funny. and it made you worry, why akaashi didn't find it funny. of course, he doesn't usually laugh at bokuto's jokes, and he usually answers with a snarky remark, but he stayed quiet that time.

"l/n?" akaashi waved a hand in front of your face, causing you to flinch out of your daydream. "oh, uh, yes i'm ready." you smiled softly, opening your biology book, but akaashi noticed something wrong.

"you sure? we can skip today if you want."

"oh, no, akaashi, it's okay. i'm okay." you gave him a soft smile before continuing to read. "so what i'm thinking is-"

"what i'm thinking..." akaashi interrupted, a hand slid across the table to close your book, his deep emerald eyes gazing back at your own. you gulped, swallowing any sign of anxiety that could be visible. but it didn't help, akaashi knew you well, and he knew how fidgety you get when you’re anxious for something, so when he saw you anxiously play with your nails while waiting for him, he knew something was up. "is that we can continue this later. do you want to go out with me, y/n?"

as the words left his mouth, your body stiffened, your breath came to a halt for just a moment, and your palms started sweating heavily. "like- like on a date...?"

"yes, y/n, like on a date." akaashi let out a laugh, mumbling "cutie" before sitting back in his chair. "i'll let you think about it, and if you say yes, i'll see you tomorrow at eight pm, by the crooked tree in the campus park, deal?"

"deal."

—

the next evening came faster than expected. and you weren’t really confident with your choice to go on the date akaashi suggested. what did you have to wear? did you have to bring anything? was it a friendly date? the answers to these questions were too unknown to you, but nonetheless, you couldn’t disappoint your best friend, right?

“i was thinking you forgot about the date.” akaashi’s voice ringed in your ear, your body shifting immediately towards the origin of the sound. your eyes scanned his body; a university hoodie, a pair of black, skinny jeans, and his beloved converse shoes. you swooned over how he dressed, for the study sessions he’d wear a beige button up with a sweater-vest on top and some formal, checkered pants. but for afterschool chats and hanging out, he dressed nearly opposite.

“are you alright? why are you not saying anything…”

“you.. look nice.” you mumbled, stepping closer to him, in hopes that your anxiety will calm and let you speak the words you wished to say.

“thank you, y/n. you look nice too.” he smiled softly, his emerald orbs scanning your face for any discomfort. akaashi was good - he was good at identifying different emotions of people, even if there was the slightest change in a person's body language, he could already identify why and what they felt. he was also good for you, and you knew if he’d reject you, he’d try his best to continue being friends without it being awkward for you.

“akaashi, why did you ask me to come here?”

“i wanted to tell you something.” keiji extended his hand towards you, waiting for you to grasp it. he loved when you held his hands, and you’d do it quite often. akaashi never let anyone hold or look at his hands for too long, and he had opened up about how he’s insecure about his hands, their shape and form. that time, you comforted him by planting a small kiss on each of his fingers, saying his hands were perfect the way they were. you intertwined your fingers with his and started walking.

you wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you, what was on his mind this exact moment. you sometimes wished to be able to read people’s minds, just so you could figure out what goes on in that pretty head of his. and maybe, for your own good, what he thinks about you. these emotions flooded your mind like a flood after a rainstorm, and akaashi noticed. he stopped in his tracks, covered your eyes and mumbled ‘were almost here’ as he stood behind you. you two walked for a while, akaashi mumbling a few words into your hair as he led you further. your mind started racing with a million thoughts an hour as you wondered where he had taken you.

“okay we’re here,” keiji announced, removing his hands from your eyes. you turned around to see him smiling softly at you, as he stood in front of the object he wished to show you. you tried to get a look at it, but akaashi forbid you from it. “remember when you showed me that flower, in our biology textbook?” you nodded your head, anticipating what the boy had planned.

“i did some research and i found out that the flower is right next to our main campus,” akaashi moved so you could finally see what he brought you here for. and then you saw it… the bright lilac flower staring back at you. a laugh mixed gasp left your lips as you walked closer to the delicate flower, your fingers carefully tracing the petals. “and i also found out that it was planted here on exactly your birthday. so i think i’d like to call it the y/n flower.” you giggled and turned to him with a smile painted on your face. as your arms embraced keiji in a warm hug, you mumbled a small ‘thank you’ against his warm skin.

—

a week had passed and akaashi wasn’t seen, to you at least. you saw him in the halls and tried to catch up to him, but he’d walk away without letting you even say hello. you’ve had enough. what did you even do wrong? you two just hung out later after the date, he gave you a book he really liked and said there was something special in it for you- wait. the book… you haven't opened it yet, and maybe the important thing was why he was ignoring you.

as soon as the class bell rang you ran out of the school building and jogged across your campus. thankfully, it was your last class of the day, so you didn't need to rush. except you did, you wanted to fix this, you wanted to find out what went wrong.

you attempted to unlock and open the door to your dorm, but the door seemed to give you a middle finger and decide to not unlock. fuck it’s the wrong key, you thought and clumsily fumbled with the multiple keys you had. as if the day hadn't been horrible already, you dropped the keys.

“fuck!” you exclaimed, feeling tears prick your eyes. you quickly grabbed -hopefully- the right key and unlocked the door. you had never gotten in your dormitory as fast as you did now. without taking any notice, you quickly speed-walked to your bookshelf.

The picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde. was the name of the book Akaashi Keiji gave you. it was one of your favourite books when you had read it in highschool, yet you haven't picked up a copy of it ever since. you flipped over to the page where a small blue sticky note marked. you opened it to find a highlighted quote, and another sticky note writing something underneath it.

“You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” y/n, have i not been obvious enough? I have tried to show you that I love you. maybe my cheeks weren't a bright enough shade of crimson when you kissed each pad of my finger on both my hands, maybe i didn't use my body language enough. Bokuto says that for a genius I am truly stupid. and I cannot help but agree. i hope, that instead of study sessions, we could go on real study dates, as a couple. but i’ll ask you this later. I love you, l/n y/n. please tell me you do too.

that was it. that was enough to make you realise what you had done and why he was ignoring you. you hadn’t told him.

—

“hey, y/n.” spoke akaashi, seeing you the next day after your date. you smiled softly at him and greeted him with a hug.

“hi, keiji. are we going to study today?” you asked, tightening your grasp on the straps of your black backpack. you noticed how akaashi’s hands twitched, he was going to hug you, or maybe hold your hand, but he restrained himself.

“i.. uh.. i have to go, y/n. see you around.”

—

he had expected you to open the book as soon as you got home, and didn't think about the fact that you wanted to give all your time and attention to it. it didn't make sense. it didn't make sense how all this time you expected to be rejected by akaashi when you’d confess (which you thought about never doing), but you unknowingly rejected him.

once again, your body worked faster than your brain could register and you were right out the door, on your way to akaashi’s dorm.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” keiji asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, signifying that he was confused. he was wearing that gray university hoodie of his and some black sweatpants, and you swore you had never wanted to embrace someone in a hug as much as you did now.

without even saying anything, you embraced his lips in a passionate kiss. akaashi’s mind raced with multiple thoughts, but nonetheless his warm hands travelled to the groove of your waist. you two made out with the open door for about two minutes until either of you realised it was even open. akaashi thanked the gods that no one saw and that bokuto wasn't over at that time, because he would've made funny remarks, that neither you or akaashi would've found funny.

“i love you too, akaashi keiji. i’ve always loved you.” you smiled after you two caught your breath. “i read the highlighted page, and i’m sorry that it took me so long. we could've avoided the whole… ignoring that went on if i had opened it sooner and i- i love you, akaashi.”

“i know you do, y/n. i love you too.” akaashi smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “how about a study date at the library?”

© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.

[undeadsnorlax]

Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind

@badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Bingo Card

using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense

Prompt: Crutches

Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku

Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.

Wordcount: 5511

2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.

Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.

“Fucking hell…”

Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.

It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.

The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.

Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.

Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.

The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.

Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.

Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.

Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.

He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.

He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.

As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.

Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.

Three new answer machine messages.

Who the hell had tried calling him?

Message one - 9:25am

“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”

Message two - 9:43am

“Me again. Please answer your phone.”

Message three - 10:08am

“Daigo...it’s Mom-“

Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.

He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.

“Hrmph.”

He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.

His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.

No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?

Enough I puked in a bush.

Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.

“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.

He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.

His hand started shaking again.

“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”

He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.

He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.

Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.

Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?

As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, suppose.”

“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.

“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.

“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”

Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.

As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.

His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.

Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.

His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.

He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.

The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.

“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.

He was a mess.

He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.

He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.

He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.

He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.

They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.

But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.

He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Much better…”

He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.

Evening was his time.

When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.

Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.

Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.

One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.

He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.

He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.

He soon forgot about it with another glass.

With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Perfect.

Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.

He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.

He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.

Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.

He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.

His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.

Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.

“Hey! Aniki!”

Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.

He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.

“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.

“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?

Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.

“If you quit calling me aniki.”

They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.

“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.

“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.

“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”

Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”

He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.

Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.

“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”

Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.

“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.

She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.

“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”

“Daigo Dojima.”

He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”

Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.

The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.

Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”

He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”

“Oh? How come?”

Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.

“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”

Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”

Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”

“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…

Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”

“H-huh?”

“Find me attractive?”

It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.

“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”

“Mm. Essentially.”

Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.

“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”

He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.

“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”

“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it?”

Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”

He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.

“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”

He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”

How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.

“Well, given your circumstances…”

Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.

“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”

Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.

“If you say so.”

The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.

“You’re good at this,” he purred.

The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.

“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”

His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.

“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”

“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”

Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.

“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.

He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.

“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”

This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.

It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.

To hell with staying in one piece.

But first, Smile Burger.

The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.

All the while, he kept his eye out.

Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.

He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.

Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.

“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”

This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.

He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.

“Outside. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.

The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.

The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.

Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.

Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.

“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”

A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.

Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.

He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.

“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.

But he wanted them to hit him.

“That all you got?”

He wanted them to hurt him.

Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.

Not that it solved anything.

It never did.

“Oi!” They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.

Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little. “Daigo?”

He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?” “Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”

They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”

“Daigo…”

Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?” “I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”

“You know what I mean…”

Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”

Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.

Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.

“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”

“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”

Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.

“Daigo…” “I just was, okay?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”

“It sucks ass.”

Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.

“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”

He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.

Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”

“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”

He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.

“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”

Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.

“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.

Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”

“...and is that why you’re-”

“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.

Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.

“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”

Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.

“Sorry, that was-”

“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”

He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.

“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”

The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.

“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”

He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.

“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”

Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.

“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”

No response. Yup. I deserve this.

He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.

You can’t keep doing this until you die.

Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.

So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?

The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.

But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?

Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.

He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.

He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.

He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.

“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.

He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.

The same thing every day.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t have it any other way.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kenma angst part 2 (for lack of a better title)

ok. this is the scenario that ive by far gotten the most requests for. at least 40 different requests for this by now. and after finally writing a good scenario after 2 failed attempts, here it is. ur welcome.

i feel like i have to mention that this was very inspired by the song 12 feet deep by the front bottoms in a very specific way (that ull probably notice if u know/listen to the song) so yeah give it a listen, its a good one

and of course this is a part two, so please read part one first!  gender neutral reader

-

Kenma was sinking. 

It was nearing 4 am. He was laying in his bed, the place he’d quickly determined to be the only good place left in the entire world.

He was drowning. 

He couldn’t stop staring at his phone. At your text messages. At your number. 

As if it was a spur of the moment decision and not something he’d been mulling over for hours, he pressed call. Put the phone on speaker. Wiped the last shred of tears from his face. 

“Hello?” 

But his eyes were filling up again. 

“Kenma?” 

He was sinking and sinking deeper and deeper and you were the one holding him under. 

“What do you want?” 

“To hear your voice,” he choked out, gasping for air that refused to fill his lungs. 

That’s probably the most honest he’d been with you in weeks. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a good excuse anymore, waking you up at 4 am just to hear your voice. 

But it’d been a week since he last heard you. He thought you’d be able to pull him out of the sinkhole he’d left himself in. 

He was probably better off not calling at all, though. 

“Okay. I’m hanging up now.” 

And then you did.

Kenma had rarely felt this angry at himself. And he’d never felt so pitiful. 

He knew he shouldn’t bother you. That if he wanted to fix things, he had to stop being so damn childish, irresponsible, lazy. He couldn’t just call you like he used to and expect you to laugh it off. He couldn’t pretend that everything was normal. 

He also knew that it wasn’t likely he’d get you back. Even if he explained himself and begged you to understand, words could only do so much. 

Everything seemed to change for Kenma in the last week, more than he was comfortable with. And he wanted to change it back to the way things used to be. He wanted to make you happy again, to see you in his clothes again, to sleep in your bed again. Most of all, he just wanted to have you again. 

While his life has been nothing short of unpredictable, there was one thing Kenma could still rely on. 

“Get up, Kenma!” 

And that’s Kuroo showing up at his dorm and beating down his door at 5:3o every morning. 

Coincidentally, that was the one thing he wanted to change. 

Kuroo had no regard for Kenma’s neighbors, something the boy learned when this routine began a few weeks ago. Morning practice now started at 6 instead of 8 - he had Kuroo to blame for that, as he basically made the new schedule. 

“I’m up,” Kenma said to him after answering the door, making sure not to mention that he hadn’t even been to sleep. 

Kuroo pushed him aside and invited himself in. “Practice in 30.” 

“You don’t have to tell me that.” 

He stumbled to his dresser and put on his tracksuit, struggling to stand on his own two feet. He was completely exhausted thanks to getting no sleep - after calling you, there was no way he was able to rest. 

“C’mon, let’s go, we’re jogging to the gym.”

Kuroo grabbed Kenma by the shoulder and pulled him out of his dorm without waiting for his response. Kenma didn’t really jog, he just walked kind of quickly while Kuroo did all the running. 

“You found my hoodie yet?” 

Kenma took a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

“Dude! Can I have it back already? I swear I’m never letting you steal my clothes again.” 

His fast walking slowed down. Kuroo started jogging backwards so he could face Kenma, feeling concerned about the silence. This didn’t feel like Kenma’s usual quietness. 

“I don’t have it,” he replied simply, hoping to leave it at that. 

“Well it’s in your dorm, right? Just bring it to -”

“No,” Kenma interrupted, “It’s not in my dorm. I don’t have it.” 

Kuroo scoffed. “Where is it then? You just want to keep it, don’t you?” 

Of course Kuroo wouldn’t let him get away without actually explaining himself. 

“Y/N has it.” 

“Oh.” Kuroo cleared his throat in that awkward way a dad would, then he turned back around and Kenma thought that was it.

 Of course it wasn’t. “Sounds like a good excuse to go talk to - ” 

“No.” 

“We’re going to Y/N’s dorm after practice -”

“No.” 

“I’m getting my hoodie back, and you’re getting Y/N back.” 

To that, Kenma didn’t say no.

-

You were visibly taken aback when you opened your door to see your ex boyfriend and his best friend staring back at you. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” Kuroo said, his voice booming through the hall. 

“Hi?” 

Kuroo elbowed Kenma in his side, offering a, “go on,” of encouragement. 

“Uh…” 

He couldn’t look up at you. Just hearing your voice in person was enough to make his heart skip a beat. If he looked at you, he’d probably break down crying and then beg you to take him back. 

He didn’t know why it was so easy for Kuroo to convince him to do this. 

“Remember that hoodie…?” 

You scoffed before disappearing into your dorm for just a moment, reappearing to shove the sweatshirt into Kenma’s chest. 

“Actually, that’s mine,” Kuroo said, taking it from him. “Sorry for the inconvenience. But my mom got me this hoodie. And then Kenma stole it.” 

“I just forgot it was yours,” Kenma said quietly, trying his best to defend himself. 

But it did help you realize why Kenma asked to have it back. You felt kind of silly now knowing that it wasn’t even his. 

Kuroo, ignoring Kema, gave him a strong pat on the back and said, “Is there anything else you want to say to Y/N?” 

Kenma hated this. He hated when Kuroo treated him like a kid. He hated knowing that you were standing right in front of him but he couldn’t hold your hand or play with your hair or even look up at you. He hated that he allowed himself to lose his best friend. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, even though he felt himself slipping, sinking, drowning, just like he had last night. “I’m really, really sorry, for… for making you think that I don’t want you and for keeping things from you and for being late to lunch and for calling you last night -” 

He took a deep breath, one that did nothing to calm him down but forced him to stop rambling to you, which he’s already embarrassed about. 

But he’s here, so he should probably be honest while he can. And he should probably look at you while he still has the chance. 

“I really miss you,” he said. His tears were clouding his vision but he still saw you. You were wearing an old shirt he bought for you in high school and a necklace he’d never seen before and your hair was a mess in his favorite way. You had obviously just woken up - what he wouldn’t give to have woken up next to you this morning could be counted on one hand. 

Kuroo’s loud voice seemed to assault his ears when he said, “I’ll leave you guys to it. You know where to find me, alright?” 

Kenma knew what that meant. What he meant to say is, ‘I’ll be there for you when you get your heart broken.’ 

Kuroo left while cradling his hoodie, and Kenma decided he probably should have just told him to wait outside for him. He didn’t have very high hopes for the rest of this conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes and looking back down to the ground. “I shouldn’t have done -” 

“I miss you too.” 

You said it so quietly that he almost missed it, but his heart did backflips when you said it. 

“But I don’t miss how you’ve been acting.” 

And then it sank again. 

“I know,” he replied. “It’s just… volleyball and class have both been a lot, and…” 

He didn’t really have an excuse. What he said was true, volleyball has been a lot. The new schedule was getting the best of him, the extra practice wasn’t treating him well. And he was really struggling to stay afloat in his academics. 

He didn’t know if he could be better. He knew that right now, he could make promises he’d probably break and sweet talk his way into getting temporary forgiveness for his own sake. And if he did that, he’d probably hurt you again. 

But if he didn’t at least try to be better for you, he would regret it forever. There was no excuse to just let you go. He was going to try for you, for himself, for the years you two have been together. He couldn’t let that time go to waste. 

He wasn’t going to make excuses or empty promises. 

“I want to try,” he started, standing up straight and doing his best to face you. “I want to try to be better for you, I…” 

“Kenma…” 

“I know,” he said, feeling an extra spark of courage though he had no clue where it was coming from. “I know I don’t deserve it and that this is probably a waste of time but - but I love you and I have to try, please let me try.”

“...Okay, Kenma.” 

“Okay?” 

For the first time in a week he could finally breathe. He could take a breath without feeling weighed down. The pressure on his chest finally lifted. 

“I want to try, too,” you said, albeit sadly. “I miss you. So much.” 

And then you couldn’t help stepping out of the doorway and falling against Kenma’s chest, and he happily pulled you closer to him. It was only then that he realized he was still standing out in the hall, but you were in his arms again and he didn’t care if anyone saw. 

“I’ll get better at managing my time…” he mumbled to you. “I will.” 

Your response was a nod, and Kenma managed a small smile. 

But his exhaustion was setting in. As much as he wanted to stand there forever, he was about to fall over. 

“Y/N?” he whispered. “Can we…”

You were sure he was going to finish that sentence with something disappointing, something that would ruin the moment. Maybe even something uncharacteristically lewd.

“...take a nap?” 

But you were relieved to see Kenma was actually acting like himself. With a soft laugh you said, “Yeah, we can.” And when he got into your room and fell into your bed, he pulled you as close as you could be before melting into your sheets. 

Your bed was definitely the best place in the world, and he wasn’t going to lose it - or you - again. Sleeping next to you felt too good to go without.

[ceealaina]

Title: Is This Love? Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: TSB - 4008 IHB - 2007 Link: AO3 Square Filled: TSB A2 - Pining IHB G2 - Mutual Pining Ship: IronHusbands, Pre-SteveSam Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mutual Pining, Fluff and Humor Summary: 'Tony wasn’t looking at him though, or at the speaker. His gaze was fixed through the glass windows and into the hallway beyond where the military delegation had just arrived, among them Colonel Rhodes. “Oh my god,” Tony breathed, staring at him. “He’s so hot.”'

Steve's stuck in the world's longest debrief and, to make matters worse, he's stuck beside Tony who won't stop waxing poetic about his husband. Word Count: 1531

Steve fidgeted slightly, doing his best to at least pretend he was paying attention as the pencil pusher from SHIELD droned on, and on, and on. Normally their debriefs were, well, brief. Or at least as much as he could manage to make them; he’d learned from experience what happened if they ran too long. 

But this time some important government official or another had been in the group of near victims, and apparently he’d gotten a bit of a scare and now had some Thoughts on how the Avengers could work more efficiently. So following their regular debrief, there was a secondary SHIELD debrief, and then a military debrief, and then probably some other government debrief. Sitting through them was more lip service than anything, and Steve had been assured that nobody actually expected them to change anything, but despite his attempts at setting a good example, and for all that he gave Tony shit about debriefs being important, he couldn’t help feeling this was a giant waste of time. 

He was running over his to-do list in his head in an attempt to stay awake when Tony made a low whining noise beside him. Steve glanced over briefly, doing a quick scan for any visible injuries. He wasn’t even in the Iron Man suit anymore, and there were no signs of bleeding or breaks, but Tony was notoriously good at hiding injuries. Ignoring the speaker, Steve turned to face him. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

Tony wasn’t looking at him though, or at the speaker. His gaze was fixed through the glass windows and into the hallway beyond where the military delegation had just arrived, among them Colonel Rhodes. 

“Oh my god,” Tony breathed, staring at him. “He’s so hot.” 

It was through sheer force of will that Steve resisted the urge to smack himself in the face, focusing his gaze on the speaker again. “Jesus Christ, Tony.” 

“Are you looking at him?” Tony hissed, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t ogling Rhodes. “That uniform does things to me, Steve. And that ass?” 

“I hate you so much.” Steve regretted even asking. Next time he was just going to let Tony suffer, even if he did have hidden injuries. 

“He’s just so gorgeous, oh my god. Do you think he likes me?” 

Briefly forgetting they were in a meeting, Steve turned to stare at him incredulously. “Tony, he’s your husband.” 

Tony was smirking and gave Steve a wink. “I know,” he told him before he gaze slid back over to Colonel Rhodes and his expression softened. “I just want him so bad.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and turned to face front again, but apparently while he’d been distracted with Tony the SHIELD portion had finally come to an end because their speaker was packing up. A minute later Colonel Rhodes was entering the room, along with the other military officials. Tony reached out and clutched Steve’s arm like a teenage girl. 

“God, the way he walks,” he breathed, scooting his chair in closer when Steve tried to pull away. “He’s so commanding, gives me the fucking shivers.” He elbowed Steve. “I’d follow his orders, know what I mean?” 

“Tony!” Steve hissed.

“Oh please,” Tony whispered back. “I’ve seen the way you look at the non-hawk bird member of our team. Wait, are falcons a type of hawk too?” He shrugged, apparently deciding it didn’t matter. “Anyway, I know you know what I’m talking about.” 

Steve felt his cheeks heat when his gaze automatically moved over to Sam, only to find him watching them curiously with an amused look on his face. There was no way he could hear their conversation from the other end of the table, but it wouldn’t take super hearing to know that Tony was giving him a hard time about something. 

“You’re the worst,” Steve told Tony, fixing his eyes on the table before he turned bright red and gave the game away entirely. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.” 

“Because my wealth is only matched by my charisma?” Tony offered before immediately getting distracted when Rhodey took the seat directly across the table from them. He grinned at Tony, giving him a wink, and Tony made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut, the fingers that he still had around Steve’s arms tightening even more. “Oh my god, he’s so hot.”

Tony tuned the meeting out entirely, instead spending the entire thing making soppy, lovestruck expressions at Rhodey. Apparently the colonel wasn’t actually speaking today, and Steve wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. On the one hand, he was pretty sure that Tony would have spontaneously exploded if Rhodes did something as ‘commanding’ as lead an entire meeting, so at least he didn’t have to deal with that. On the other hand, he did have to deal with Tony whining every time Rhodes would look at him, followed by a forlorn sigh when he’d look away again. That was on top of the way he’d constantly remind Steve of just how hot his husband was, how much he loved how capable he was, how turned on he was by the way the man talked or walked or breathed. 

He knew that Tony was partly doing it to drive him crazy, but also because he was just genuinely that in love with his husband. Steve would never tell him this, but it was actually really sweet. Not that that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to set something on fire by the time they got out of there. 

Rhodey had slipped out first, talking with one of the other military guys, but he lingered and pulled away when Tony and Steve came through the door, moving to join them instead. “Hey, baby,” he hummed, not even hesitating to give Tony a soft kiss in front of everyone. “Nightmare of meeting,” he added, giving him a suspicious look. “On your best behaviour?” 

“Always,” Tony scoffed, like he hadn’t spent the entire time trying to drive Steve crazy. 

Rhodey caught a look at Steve’s expression. “Yeah, I bet,” he said, twining his fingers with Tony’s. “So I’ve got a couple things to finish up, but I should be home by seven.” 

“Barring any more end of the world scenarios, of course,” Tony pointed out.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Chinese for dinner? I’ve got the worst craving for that lo mein.” 

“From that place on 47th?” Tony asked, grinning at Rhodey’s enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got it, baby. I’ll have it ready and waiting for seven.” 

“Such a good little husband,” Rhodey teased, before their voices dropped as they wandered a little further down the hall, probably declaring their undying love a few more times for good measure. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

It was only the super reflexes that kept Steve from jumping when Sam suddenly spoke from beside him, and he was sure that the look he gave Sam was a little manic. He didn’t comment on it though, just gave Steve that same amused look. 

“You were looking a little frazzled during the meeting.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Steve gestured over to where Tony and Rhodey were still talking, giving each other heart eyes. “It was just, you know… Tony.” 

“I do know Tony,” Sam agreed. He paused a moment and then shrugged. “Anyway, I’m gonna go take a shower, have a beer. Maybe zone out in front of the TV for a couple hours.” He winked at Steve. “Catch you later, Cap.” 

Steve watched him go, giving Rhodey and Tony a wave as he passed them, and Steve felt something flutter in his stomach. Tony may have been a pain in the ass, but Steve wanted what he had with Rhodey, wanted that kind of relationship for himself. And, well, he was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. 

“Hey, Sam!” he called, jogging the few feet to catch up to him. He hesitated for an instant, acutely aware of Tony and Rhodey standing right there. “Uh… You wanna grab dinner later? You know, after your shower and beer?” 

It wasn’t that unordinary of a request; the two of them had grabbed dinner together any number of times before. But if the grin on Sam’s face was any indication, he knew what Steve was really asking. 

“Yeah, Steve,” he said, clapping him on the arm and holding his grip for a few beats longer than he normally would. “Sounds great. Pick me up around eight?” 

Steve could feel the blush creeping up the back of his neck as he watched him go, more from the fact that he could practically feel Tony and Rhodey staring at him than the interaction with Sam. He was expecting the teasing to start at any moment, but when he finally looked over, Tony was grinning at him. 

“Aw yeah, Cap,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Get it.” He leaned over to give Rhodey another quick kiss. “See you later, handsome,” he purred before following Sam’s path, giving Steve a proud smack on the back on his way by. 

“Oh my god,” Rhodey sighed as the two of them watched him head off down the hall. “He’s so hot.”

@tonystarkbingo @ironhusbandsbingo

[moon-antics]

okay but imagine poe’s gf being apart of the resistance and she gets hit and he finds her hurt and she’s like “did i do good?” 🥺🥺🥺

did i do good?

authors note : ugh now i’m angsty, thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy it 😊 + this ended up way more dramatic than i anticipated

character / ship : poe dameron x reader

summary : you always try your best, but is it good enough?

word count : 826

warnings : a n g s t

 “There’s more coming! 6 o’clock!”

Blasters shooting, the screams of injured soldiers rang through the metal halls of the dreadnought you were currently on. By pure luck, you, Poe and a few others managed to get onto it. Now you were not sure if it was luck.

No matter how many Stormtroopers you shot down, there was at least three more coming your way after. You let your blaster cool off as you hid behind your cover, looking around to see Poe not too far from you.

“You still think this was a good plan?” “Maybe not good, but when are my plans ever good?!”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you looked over the crate, shooting the troopers with well-aimed shots. You were good at this, others noticed this often but you yourself weren’t always able to see it.

There were so many talented pilots, shooters and coordinators in the Resistance, you never really found your place among them. Not even Poe’s adoration could change that.

This man? He cheered on you for everything. You fixed your X-Wing on your own? Perfect job! You shoot down multiple TIE’s on a mission? Magnificent!

He tried his best to make you realize how good you actually were at what you did, but he also knew it was hard for you. You often looked to him for advice, for guidance. Most of them time it was comfort he gave you, and which you desperately needed.

On this mission, you wanted to prove yourself, to yourself and the others. And so far, you’ve been doing a great job.

“They’re retreating!” “Let’s move forward, let’s shut that power generator down!”

Everyone moved out of their positions, watching the few remaining Stormtroopers retreat further into the depths of the ship, probably gathering more back-up for a follow up attack.

The ship now split into two ways, one on the left and one on the right. A knowing look was shared between you and Poe, you had to split up. He watched your form jog down the hall on the left, following a few of your comrades.

He was worried about you. He was very aware of your capabilities, yet he couldn’t help it. He loved you and couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing you hurt. For now, he could only hope you’d be fine.

Going into the generator room from two sides would give you an advantage. Your group gathered in front of the entrance, waiting to hear the signal from the other group. “Bravo 1, we are in position.” You took a deep breath before speaking into the comm. “On my signal. 1,2.. Charge!”

Both groups charged in through the entrances, but it didn’t go as you expected. The enemy had suspected your plan, many troopers were positioned at both sides, effectively shooting many of your fellow soldiers down immediately. “Find cover, quickly!”

You tried your best to shoot your way through the Troopers, reaching cover as quickly as possible. But you weren’t quick enough.

One of the blaster shots grazed your arm, making you hiss in pain and stumble behind cover. You put your hand over the wound. Great, it was the arm you shot with. “Well that’s just fortunate..”

You kept applying pressure on it with your hand while raising your arm to aim again. You grit your teeth at the sizzling pain, you could feel the blood running down your fingers. You shot as many as you could, as many as the pain would allow you. Pulling the trigger became harder every time.

The sound of metal hitting the metal reached your ears from besides you. Your eyes widened when you saw the red light of the thermo grenade. “Grenade!”

As quick as you went into action, it was the explosion itself that send you flying. You landed on your back, leaving you breathless for a second. A groan sounded from you when you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, the pain of the impact spreading through your body like a wildfire.

“(Y/N)!”, Poe’s voice made you open your eyes, seeing he was beside you already. He lifted your head off the ground gently, laying it across his lap. “God (Y/N)..”, he cupped your cheek gently, your eyes were focused on his face. He looked you over, his face growing visible concerned when he looked at your lower half, but you didn’t understand why. You didn’t feel anything there.

“What’s wrong..”, you tried to sit up and see what got him so worried, but kept your head turned to him. “N-No.. no.. its nothing, (Y/N). You’ll be fine..” You felt too weak to protest, so you just nodded and let him pick you up.

“Poe?” “Yes baby?”, his voice wavered, he sounded so..sad. But you felt fine besides your headache.

“Did I do good?” He chuckled sadly, nodding at your question.

“Yes, yes.. you did very well. I’m so proud of you, love.”

[twinklebrain]

Dream a little dream

A ficlet. Even a super-sleuth like Lu Yao gets nightmares. Fortunately someone’s watching over him. 

No spoilers. But it helps to have watched episode 22-23

Excuse the grammar.

**

He’s running. His breathing uneven and rough. His footsteps are clumsy, and he hits a loose tile. Like slow motion, he feels himself losing balance as he tumbles into a half stumble, but just as quickly he picks himself up again. His feet move automatically forward. The sound of his heartbeat drums loudly in his ears, like loud waves crashing against the seashore. He doesn’t look behind, but he knows they are close. His chest tightens. Exhaustion assaults his senses. But still he keeps on running.

*

Lu Yao awakens with a start; his pyjamas drenched in sweat. He blinks, barely focused on the scene in front of him. The pale moonlight streams through the window and his mind registers his bedroom.

‘I’m home’. A question. Or a statement. He doesn’t even know himself. His temples ache a dull pain, his body feels heavy. Finally, he gets up, his feet search clumsily for his bedroom slippers. He wonders momentarily if he left his copy of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” in the living room; after all, there will be no more sleep for what’s left of the night.

*

“You look like crap. Just how much did you drink last night? Or did you stay up reading your silly mysteries again?”

There is bite in Youning’s voice, but also concern. She knows Lu Yao would sense something amiss if she didn’t greet him with their usual barb.

“I think, that maybe I had a bad dream.”

Youning waits, wondering how much Lu Yao remembers. But Lu Yao offers nothing more but a barely perceptible shake of the head, as if clearing the cobwebs of last night’s memories.

Youning forces a laugh, “Aww, little Santu had a nightmare. Did you overeat at Heping Hotel; you know that indigestion can give you nightmares.”

Lu Yao gives her a look, opens his mouth, then closes. Without responding further, he turns his attention back to his plate of bacon and eggs. Visibly alarmed, Youning was about to charge another verbal attack when Chusheng stroll purposefully into the living room. He pretends he doesn’t notice Lu Yao’s pale pallor or Youning’s gaping mouth.

“Let’s go. There’s been a murder.”

*

Lu Yao is quiet during the car ride. Even his usual dramatic flair was visibly subdued at the crime scene; so much so that Ah Dou and Salim looked concern. But Chusheng’s hard stare stopped them from verbalising their worry aloud.

With Lu Yao preoccupied with questioning an eye witness, Chusheng raised an eyebrow pointedly towards Youning, his voice quiet, “Did you tell him what happened last night?”

She kept her eyes on Lu Yao, before answering, “He says he had a nightmare.”

Chusheng cocks his head sideway as a cloud of confusion passes through – the egotistic Lu Yao frightened by a nightmare? It made little sense to Chusheng. Only when Lu Yao gestured to them impatiently did he break out of his stupor.

“This isn’t the primary crime scene. The body was moved here afterwards.”

Chusheng nods. “So where do we go now?”

*

The bodies started piling. What appeared to be a simple murder case turned into a serial murder, taking the trio all over town. Lu Yao seemed oddly subdued as the case dragged out, neither once whining to Chusheng for the multiple late nights and lack of fixed meals, nor did he resort to exchanging barbs with Youning. While Chusheng was pleased over the absence of nonsensical bickering, he couldn’t help but notice Lu Yao nodding off at random moments, once even in the middle of questioning a suspect. It doesn’t take a detective to deduce that Lu Yao hadn’t been sleeping well - the dark circles under his eye-bags were a dead giveaway.

“I want to go through the files again. We must have missed something,” ventured Lu Yao after yet another lead gone south. As they went through the documents in Chusheng’s office, Youning suddenly gasped, “My dinner plans!”

She gave both men a curt nod and picked up her bag, “Don’t wait up!” she called out merrily before marching out.

With a disbelief look on his face, Chusheng then turned automatically towards Lu Yao. If he was expecting a fiery retort, he was sorely disappointed; Lu Yao was fully engrossed in the document before him, and didn’t shift his attention to look at Youning as she exited the room.

Chusheng rubbed his temples; as much as he appreciates the calm, he couldn’t help but miss the old Lu Yao.

“Lu Yao…”

No reply.

“Santu…”

Still no reply.

Chusheng moved. Waving a hand in front of Lu Yao’s face, he realised that his consultant had fallen asleep. Chusheng shook the young man’s shoulder, raising a sudden gasp of alarm as Lu Yao jumped in his seat.

“What the –“ He slapped the hand away, “Are you trying to send me to an early death?”

Chusheng looked worriedly at Lu Yao, “You fell asleep.”

The usual pout and a hard shake of the head, “I was thinking.”

Chusheng sighed but didn’t call his bluff, “Why don’t we take a break and grab some dinner? We can continue later.”

Chusheng was sure he heard a low grumble. To his surprise, Lu Yao took a long deep breath before answering firmly, “No, I’m fine. You go ahead.”

Chusheng moved his hand towards Lu Yao’s brow, half teasing, “Did you just say ‘no’ to food? Is Mao Mao having a fever? Or did he hit his head getting out of bed this morning?”

For the second time that evening, Lu Yao swiped the hand away irritably, his reply terse, “Stop calling me Mao Mao. I’m not a child.”

Burying his worry, Chusheng sighed dramatically, “Well if you’re going to stay here, be my guest. I’m going to the Western Hotel for a bite.”

An expected pause but Lu Yao merely turned a page, not rising to the bait.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Chusheng asked again as he grabbed his jacket.

“I’m fine.” Came the gruff reply.

At the door, Chusheng looked back once more at his desk where Lu Yao remained seated. A worried frown passed his features. Ah Dou who had jogged up to the stairs looked expectedly at Chusheng.

“Inspector Qiao?”

Chusheng shook his head, “Nothing.”

*

He had no intention of staying out long; just a quick bowl of noodle soup at the open stall downstairs. But a colleague from a neighbouring district happened to pass by and Chusheng ended up staying to listen to the elder’s rant. By the time he stood up, at least three hours had passed. Chusheng gestured for the owner to wrap up some buns – just in case.

The police station was quiet; but the light in his room was still on. As he opened the door, he found Lu Yao asleep on his couch, documents littered around the coffee table, the couch and on Lu Yao himself. Chusheng gave a half smile as he placed the buns on the coffee table, before bending to pick up the littered documents.

Whether it was the scent of the buns, or the movement in the room, Lu Yao shifted uneasily in his sleep as a half moan escaped his lips. The brows furrowed deep as a sudden twitch in Lu Yao’s left hand resulted in a noticeable paper crinkle in the document. Chusheng moved hesitantly forward, his left hand balanced against the head of the couch as his right hand reach steadily towards the paper still in Lu Yao’s hand.

“Don’t leave me!”

A sudden shout as Lu Yao sat up without warning, his forehead slam right into Chusheng’s chest, his right hand reached out and grip tight onto Chusheng’s arm.

“Owww!”

Lu Yao’s sudden momentum had knocked Chusheng off balance as he slipped, landing squarely against Lu Yao’s legs.

“The f*ck –“

A tangle of hands and legs as Chusheng tried to sit up, a feat rendered somewhat difficult by the fact that Lu Yao still had his arm in a death grip.

“Santu, you’re hurting me.”

Lu Yao released the arm as if it burned his fingers, but his eyes remained confused at the scene before him. It was rare to find Lu Yao in a befuddled state and Chusheng found his lips twitching upwards as he teased, “Is Mao Mao still dreaming?”

Eyes blazing, Lu Yao gave him an unceremonious kick against the ribs, and pulled his knees close to his chest, “What are you doing here Chusheng?”

He inwardly rolled his eyes; did Lu Yao forget this was his office? Seeing the space opened up, Chusheng chose instead to settle himself comfortably on the couch before responding airily, “Rescue mission.”

“What –“

Lu Yao’s eyes followed Chusheng’s towards his own hand, the paper now crumbled into a tight ball. The fingers loosen as Lu Yao mumbled incoherently under his breath. Taking advantage of Lu Yao’s discomfort, Chusheng inched closer.

“Lu Yao…”

The eyes looked up warily. Holding Lu Yao’s eyes, Chusheng breathed out, “I won’t leave you.”

The baby doe eyes widened as a slight pink brought colour to the pale cheeks, “Wait what?”

Chusheng smirked, “Just now, when you screamed in my ear, remember?”

A tinge of red marked Lu Yao’s ears as he averted Chusheng’s eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Chusheng stretched lazily, a playful dance on his lips as he observes Lu Yao’s poor attempts to curl himself into a ball, further against the other side of the couch.

He reached out a hand tentatively towards Lu Yao’s cheek. A slight quiver but Lu Yao stayed his place. After a moment, Lu Yao finally turned towards Chusheng. He breathed in deeply against Chusheng’s palm, like a cat waiting to be petted.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Lu Yao nodded. That night, he slept without dreams.

***

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Aaaaaand, I'm back! I know it's been bloody ages since the last update but I needed a break. I also had been busy with other ficlets so OIWAE was put on pause. But the story is back and I do hope you like this instalment. I really, really like this chapter.

I am absolutely horrible at answering the comments (which I'll fix, promise) but I do see each one of them! I LOVE reading what your thoughts are, whether you liked some moment or a particular turn of phrase, I appreciate it all. No matter if it's one word, emoji, or a big analysing comment. Thank you lovies for staying here with me. <3

Anne, you’re my gem  💜 @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​

Read on AO3

     Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

                                           Chapter VIII: Home

Blood pounded in Claire’s ears muffling the music and the howling wind outside. Jamie’s face blurred as the tears gathered at the brink of her lower lashes. She inhaled deeply, blinking furiously to get rid of the swell of moisture in her eyes. Closing them Claire could feel Jamie moving towards her, gently touching her arm, voice concerned.

“Claire, was it too early? Did I-”

He could not finish his sentence because she dissolved into ugly crying. Clinging to him, gasping for air and in general being an awful mess.

“Shh, mo graidh. Shh. Tis alright.” His hands wrapped around Claire in a familiar way, thumb circling the tender skin at her nape softly.

“I.. I’m going to ruin your shirt.” Sniffing, voice muffled by his aforementioned shirt Claire leaned back to look at the mess she created. Her running nose and damp cheeks imprinted a mascara-black wet blot on green fabric. She could hear Jamie chuckle as he picked her up and sat down with Claire curled on his lap.

“I dinna care one bit about the shirt, lass.” Lips gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. Claire sighed though still gasping for air. The comfort of Jamie’s warmth made her body become limp.

“I’m not crying because I am sad,” Claire whispered, hand cupping the back of his head. “I... I’m crying because I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to live with you.”

Dropping a kiss on the bridge of her nose, he smiled.

“Aye. Me too, my Sassenach.”

* * *

It was the beginning of what seemed like an endless hunt for what would become a perfect flat for us. We spent about three weeks chasing an ideal place, checked at least ten flats scattered all over Edinburgh but none of them was quite what we were looking for (not far away from my work; with a park nearby to allow Jamie to go on his morning jogs. And it needed to have a large living room and be pet-friendly.)

Jamie (bare-chested, skin still flushed from the shower) was performing his magic by preparing the scrambled eggs I loved so much while I sat on the windowsill, feet in fuzzy socks propped up the wall. As I scrolled through rental ads on Jamie’s iPad I felt the pressure of upcoming headache from all this searching. And suddenly, there it was. The place that we were looking for.

A stone-built ground floor house had a spacious kitchen and a huge living room adorned with an old fireplace. The ceilings were so high I thought there is no end to them. “Canna wait to hear yer voice inside these walls” Jamie smirked at me as we followed behind the agent chirping away about how great this flat is. “Whatever do you mean?” I quirked my brow at him. He leaned closer, whispering into my ear, his warm breath tickling the little hairs on my nape. “Weel, those sounds ye make when I-” Giggling, my elbow pressed into his ribs, stopping him before any dangerous and inappropriate (for the agent) revelations could occur.

Grand windows allowed the sun to slip into every little corner of the flat and made it breathe with light. There were two bedrooms with hardboard wooden floors and a small study fully equipped with bookshelves. French doors in the kitchen opened to a garden with a southern exposure was the last deciding straw for me. It had everything we needed. Adso would be welcome to live here, it was a fifteen minute drive from my work and there was a park just across the street. Although it was rather pricey, Jamie ignored my hissing remark “Almost four grand quid? Fucking insane,” and said that we should sign the rental agreement. I kissed him senseless allowing the feeling that this is us now, our own place fill me up.

The rental price had changed our plans a little bit. Forcing us to spend a couple of days moving small furniture and other possessions Jamie and I owned to our new accommodation by ourselves. At the end of it all, sweaty and tired, we sat on the boxes in the empty living room, watching the snowfall outside the huge windows.

“Are ye happy, Sassenach?” Jamie gently pulled me by the wrist to his side. My hands cradled his face as I stood up and found myself a prisoner between his thighs.

“Of course I am, James Fraser,” thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks I glanced around. “Only I have no idea how we are going to organize this mess.” It feels like between the two of us there are millions of boxes and bags, packages. I’ve brought the plants I owned (the only three I managed not to kill), a box full of uncle’s Lamb belongings, an enormous contemporary art painting Geillis got me for my 30th birthday two years ago. Adso had his belongings too, a scratching post, litter tray and his own little blanket. Adso himself was being babysat by Geillis while I and Jamie tried to sort out our moving. Jamie was currently sitting on a stash of my medical books destined for the study.

“We’ll manage, a nighean ” His hands patted my hips, bringing me closer. Planting a soft kiss on the washed fabric over my sternum, Jamie looked up. “We canna do more than our best.”

My stomach had the quite opposite opinion of doing our best and rumbled loudly.

“God, I’m starving” yawning I reached for the cellphone.

Later, full and warm with chicken ramen, curry with prawns and wok-fried greens we had just enough strength in us to unpack most of the carton boxes that said “Kitchen”. In that hour and a half, we managed to laugh, listen to Jamie’s Dire Straits playlist on his phone and argue over ridiculous things. Putting away a bitty family of my mugs and cups Jamie dropped my favourite mug Frank bought me a very long time ago and I never could get rid of it. It was massive and bright yellow, with Friends on it. It was my all-time binge-love TV show. It shattered in yellow pieces atop the counter and floor. I didn't mean to snap. But we both were bone-weary from a long day of moving back and forth, of a week packing before, exhausted from all the searching catching up with us. Suddenly I felt my chin quiver at the sight of my beloved, now broken mug.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach.” Jamie bit his lip, trying to reach me with his hand over the island counter but I shrugged away.

“Why are you so bloody clumsy, ” I mumbled, kneeling to pick up broken ceramic bits. Jamie rubbed his face, clearly wanting to say something, but instead he bent to help.

Annoyed just by him breathing next to me at that moment I dropped collected pieces straight into the bin. When he tried to sweep the floor from the dusty mug remains I snapped.

“Oh, please, just move away, or you’re going to break something else.”

I regretted the words right after I’ve said them but blood was already pounding in my ears and there was no way back.

“I said I’m sorry,” Jamie muttered, looking visibly irritated himself now. “It’s just a mug, I’ll buy ye a new one.”

The tension crackled with its force.

“I don’t want another bloody mug! ” I barked at him trying to busy myself opening a new box. “Frank gave it to me. It was my favourite one.”

Time seemed to stop for a second as Jamie slowly licked his lips looking me straight in the eyes.

“Frank?”

Unable to hold his gaze anymore I turned my back to him staring out of the window.

“Don’t you start playing a jealous boyfriend on me,” I grunted, telling myself to calm down. You know he doesn’t mean it bad.

He grumbled and I could hear him retreating to the living room.

“Why are ye bitching about it, Claire?” He hissed and I thought I could feel his words crawl inside me like a poisonous snake.

“What?” I followed him to the room (aka the mess) full of boxes.

“Nothing.”

“Repeat what you just said,” I demanded.

He didn’t. Instead, we spent the next hour in different rooms unpacking. Or pretending to. I wasn't able to do a proper job and stopped on one box. As the sweat cooled off on my skin and the urge to cry faded away I plodded down the hallway towards the bathroom. Passing the living room I caught a glimpse of Jamie placing my candles (that he hated) on top of the fireplace. The sight gave my heart a painful (and guilty) squeeze. Deciding that taking a shower, putting fresh PJs on and making us both a nice cup of tea would make both of us feel better.

I turned on the hot water. It was blissful and caused me to go limp. Engrossed as I was I did not hear Jamie come in. Shedding his clothes wordlessly, he stepped into the shower behind me. Cupping one breast, he dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry I snapped, Claire. And I’m sorry for ye wee mug.”

Turning to face him, I nodded and kissed his jaw softly.

“I am sorry, Jamie. I was unreasonable and acted like a jerk.”

Our earlier argument was mended when his lips sealed on my neck, leaving me breathless. Moments later I cried out as I sagged against the tiled wall, him still inside me.

We slept on a makeshift bed that Jamie constructed from his mattress and two blankets just right in front of the fireplace. We laid, limbs entwined, among the boxes and bags, hands lazily tracing hills and valleys of each other bodies. “I love you,” I whispered before my mind drifted away into the realm of Morpheus.

* * *

Weeks later our flat finally started looking like somebody really lives here. With all our mismatched furniture, collection of books (mine mainly botany and poems, and Jamie’s classics and fantasy), with a horrid motorbike engine of Jamie’s (the one he used to drive in his uni days). No matter how much I asked him to throw that away he squealed like a girl protecting her virtue, not letting me come near that metal monstrosity. We agreed to put it away in the second bedroom which initially became a storage room.

One evening as I rocked my hips atop of him Jamie smirked that we marked each room in this flat. “ Aye, we did” I said mimicking him as I yanked my scrub top off over my head. Jamie made my body go limp against the shower tiles; he drew mewling sounds out of me on the kitchen table; my moans bounced off those high ceilings in the living room; his laboured breathing filled our bedroom and crawled up the walls. I gasped at the feeling of him in the storage room when Jamie announced his evident desire for a quickie; and he groaned “Oh, Claire” following his meandering Gaelic cursing as his hands tangled in my curls while I kneeled down unzipping his jeans.

Every time I showed up at work Geillis would never forget to ask me with a wink “So, my darling, how’s yer wee ginger? Loves ye well? I TOLD YE. Yer fucking glowing like a candle, Claire.”

Living with Jamie was a whole new experience. Now I had the luxury to wake up to his sleepy face and mussed curls every day. He would make the most miserable facial expression as I switch on the table lamp, grunting and burying himself under the layers of blanket. James Fraser was definitely not a morning person. “Five in the morning is torture,” he mumbled sleepily as I pressed a goodbye kiss to his forehead. “Normal people sleep at this time, ye ken. Go, save yer humans, Sassenach.” Squeezing my hand he turned to snooze immediately. But as soon as I got to work my phone would beep with his text message every morning “Have a great day, a nighean. Love ye.”

Any other morning I had a chance to stay in bed longer he’d wake me up with his hands, his mouth and his body molding into mine much like matching puzzle piece. I could not remember life without him anymore. Without his perfect morning coffee for me; without our banter or seriousness full talks in the darkness of the night, his hands on my hip, thumb carving the shape of my pelvic bone; without lazy evenings on the couch with Netflix and takeaway, my head resting on his chest, Jamie’s hand wrapped around my waist, and Adso curled on his lap.

Every day I had a pleasure of observing his fucking gorgeous post jog body. But like any other couple, we shared our bit of things that drove us crazy. Jamie had this annoying habit to turn the TV on so loud I had to scream like a banshee from the kitchen to get his attention. He also seemed to be very dedicated at the task of leaving the puddle of water on the bathroom floor after showering. I would not even want to mention his morning cologne spraying session that left a suffocating smell in the hallway. But, I myself was far from perfect. I had to endure him rolling his eyes at me and making disgusted faces as he plucked my hair out from the shower drain. Also, Jamie was patient with me and my attempts to cook and never protested eating ordered food. He would often volunteer for the task seeing me struggle with slimy spaghetti. But all those things did not matter as each night I fell asleep saying “I love you” lulled by his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek.

It had gotten to the point where I found that I could not live without him. So when Jamie had to leave to Inverness for three days I cursed at his business the whole day. Without him, I felt like the part of me was torn away and even Adso purring by my side couldn’t remedy the feeling. That’s why now I shamelessly found my place on Jamie’s lap, sparkling rosé in my hand. Our kitchen was filled with laughter, chats and instrumental indie playing from Google Home speaker Jenny and Ian gave us as a gift. The food was rich and tasty, the wine was pleasantly chill and Jamie’s left hand on my hip too much to handle. We haven’t made love for three days and I was positively flushed with desire. My skin was on fire - a mix of alcohol, laughter and Jamie.

“So, Claire, I do hope ye like yer wee rug?” Angus tried to wink at me sipping his red. I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder to have a look at his present again. It was a door rug in a bright green colour with a white cat on it that said: “Don’t forget to pet my pussy-cat”. He shoved it into my hands grinning. I was taken aback and did not know what to say. Meanwhile, Jamie broke into almost hysterical laughter, as I stood mouth agape. “Ye do have a cat, no?” Angus snorted and I only managed to nod as he welcomed himself inside our flat.

“Very thoughtful present,” I said, saluting my glass to Angus.

Untangling myself from Jamie’s embrace I excused myself to the bathroom. I washed my hands and caught sight of my face in the mirror. Cheeks pink coloured I splashed cold water on my face, feeling the drops run down my neck. Hair drawn back in a sweaty knot. When Jamie opens the door there is a trail of loud raucous laughter coming from the kitchen follows him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said thinking he came to get me. But the next moment the latch on the door clicked closed. His lips sought mine and he tasted of whisky leaving the burning sensation on my lips. His hands reached under my sweater, tracing the small of my back and then soft skin on my belly.

“I love them all, but I swear if they dinna leave soon, I’m going to have to kill all our guests” Jamie breathed out heavily as my hands fumbled with his belt, tugging at the stubborn zipper of the jeans. He cursed something in Gaelic that I did not understand when my fingers found his hot flesh.

“I might kill them myself,” I agreed, gently biting at his earlobe. My mouth fell open when Jamie snaked a hand between us, curling and tasting me with his fingers exactly right.  

“Christ, Claire” He muttered under his breath, fingers damp from his exploration. But our moment was rudely interrupted by Murtagh unceremoniously knocking on the door. “What are ye doing there, ye wee beasties? We need more booze.” Grunting in annoyance Jamie slid his belt back in and reached to pull my rolled sweater down. Kissing him chastely, we made it out back to our guests.

Over the next several days, we both were swirled into the routine business of life seeing each other mostly in the evenings. I’ve been extra busy at work and Jamie still had to finish important tasks at the brewery. Both of us exhausted, we barely managed to order takeaway, with me falling asleep on the couch as soon as the food was finished as a new episode of Peaky Blinders played. Jamie would carry me to the bedroom. He crept in beside me covering us both with a quilt. We would touch fingertips and sleep holding each other until the sun came uninvited, crawling inside the room. There was a silent agreement between us and the sex was at bay. There was a day when Jamie’s hands glided over my hips, finger drawing patterns at the panties waistband. Sleepily, I mumbled that I’m gross and disgusting and in need of a shower and shave. The other day I managed to pull off my sexiest face and slowly pull down my knickers I turned to find Jamie had fallen asleep soundly, mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, I picked my discarded underwear and slid under the blankets next to his starfish sprawled body.

Standing in the locker room at the hospital I’ve snapped a photo of myself. I turned myself provocatively displaying my ass to look as if I spent days in the gym (I did not of course) but nonetheless Jamie seemed more than fascinated by this body part of mine. Sending him the picture with capslock text “TONIGHT FRASER” I retreated back to work. All morning and lunch I spent thinking of the upcoming evening. Geillis took me out of my thoughts by grabbing my hand in the hallway.

“Claire, are ye alright?” Her eyes examined my face worriedly. “Ye look as pale as the wall behind ye.” I shook my head, reassuring her it’s nothing but a bit of nausea.

“I’m fine, Geil.” Running a palm over my clammy forehead I felt the imminent need to vomit. “It’s probably that sushi I had for lunch with Joe. I told him it did not look good.”

Giving me judgmental-mother look and shaking her head Geillis still made me sit down and close my eyes.

“Ye work too much, lass. Jamie needs to take ye on a holiday.”

The perspective of vacation sounded like an unreachable luxury at the moment but under Geillis’s superior look I agreed to go home earlier tonight. It started to rain hard outside when I crossed the threshold, dropping the bags of groceries down. Deciding that I might as well cook today instead of having takeaway again I strolled down the kitchen feeling slightly wamble and dizzy. After taking Pepto-Bismol and hoping it’ll help calm down my disgruntled stomach I opened a can of cat food, summoning Adso. But my cat was nowhere in sight. I’ve checked every nook and little corner, under the bed and couch. In the storage room as last time Jamie closed the cat in there by accident. My furry baby seemed to have vanished into thin air and I felt an oncoming wave of worry mixed with nausea. The open window in our bedroom hit me with a realisation. Eyes swelling with tears I dialled Jamie.

“Christ, Sassenach, I must have forgotten to close the damn window and the cheetie ran away.”

He promised to find him. I spent the evening googling stories of cats running away and cried some more thinking of my poor Adso alone in the cold rain, scared and hungry. I was sure I would not see my cat again. It was around midnight when the front door opened, Jamie’s footfalls startling me from my broken sleep on the couch. I rubbed my puffy eyelids as Jamie stepped inside the room.

His clothes were soaking wet, face painted with tiredness. But the smile on his lips was an encouraging sign. Unfolding his jacket Jamie stroked Adso’s grey ear who was nestled against his chest.

“Jamie! Oh, I can’t believe you did it.” I jumped up, taking Adso into my arms. He was wet and dirty, paws leaving marks on my skin. “Where did you find him?”

Taking off the jacket, Jamie leaned down to receive my kiss on his cheek.

"Here, you must be freezing cold." I reached for the bottle of whisky, pouring him a glass. When he gulped it down and his cheeks turn into baby-pink he told me.

“Ye’d never believe it. I spent hours just driving over the neighbourhood, mistaken at least three cats for him, but he was nowhere. And then I had an idea, it was crazy but possible.” Jamie ran his hands through his damp curls. “I drove to yer old place. And there he was, sitting in front of the door of yer old flat.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Cradling Adso I reached for the towel I had just in case Jamie managed to bring him home. “Why did you run away, you silly?”

“I’m sorry, Claire. 'Twas my fault, I left the window open.” Jamie patted my thigh gently, looking guilty.

Lening in to kiss him, I traced his cheekbones with my fingers.

“You found him, Jamie. It’s all fine.”

* * *

Jamie woke to the sudden absence of Claire in the bed, her side of the blanket looking like a messy ball at the end of the bed. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. Glancing at the clock that showed three in the morning Jamie called out her name. When no response followed, he swung his legs down the bed, worry caused a cold feeling in his stomach as he walked to the bathroom.

“Sassenach, are ye al-” The words stuck in his throat seeing her small figure, curled on the floor next to the toilet. “Christ, Claire, what happened?” He kneeled down, cradling her head into his lap. His heart was pounding away in his ribcage, fear filling every fiber of his being. She looked pale as a paper sheet, sweaty curls stuck to her skin. Shaking her head weakly, she mumbled as quiet as he ever heard her “I’m okay.” But she was decidedly not okay. Her eyes closed then. Jamie picked her up, rushing to the car outside and mentally thanking all existing Gods that the hospital was just fifteen minutes away. Jamie was there in precisely seven minutes.

[fredheads]

WIP WEDNESDAY (special birthday edition)

i flopped hard and did not write a thing for @fredsythes birthday not a special fic and not even a chapter of my own debauchery that i was gonna pass off as a present real quick so in order to make it up here is an extra long wip wednesday for clown au ft. some real gay ass shit ❤️ 🧡 💛 💙 💜 💚🥰pls enjoy

Harry Clayton came jogging up to them then, no longer wearing the blue uniform of the Church School band. He had replaced his trombone in the Neibolt School music room, and had changed into blue jeans and a cream-coloured shirt. A canvas bag flapped against his shoulder. FP noted, almost unthinkingly, how pronounced the muscles in his legs and arms were. Harry was built more solidly than any of them, even Hal and Fred, who were the biggest and tallest, respectively. 

“Hey,” said Harry abruptly, his eyes sliding over Hiram and FP before landing on Fred. “I saw him,” Harry confided, lowering his voice. “The clown. As we were going up Main Street Hill I saw him passing out balloons to kids. 

“It was the same one you talked about. He had a silver suit with orange buttons. And orange hair. And he was smiling, but… there was something wrong about him. He was facing away when I saw him, but as soon as I recognized him he looked at me. And something about him… it scared me. And the paint on his mouth was dripping. It looked like blood.” 

“I told you!” Hiram suddenly shrieked. He threw his ice cream on the ground and covered his face with his hands. “I told you! It’s here!” 

‘Let’s go,” said Fred quickly. His mouth had hardened into a thin line, and his jaw was taut. He touched FP’s shoulder abruptly, and a warmth flared from the place where his fingers pressed. Fred steered them towards the road. “We should f-find the others. Have you g-got the s-s-slides, Harry?” 

“Yeah.” Harry patted his bag. “My dad’s got a lot of stuff about Riverdale. It goes back a long time.” 

“Why’s your dad care so much?” FP asked. His own ice cream had melted down to a stump of cone, and he threw it on the ground as they walked. 

“He thinks it’s interesting. He told me once it was because he wasn’t born here. It’s like he came in in the middle of a movie and-” 

“He w-wants to see the s-start,” Fred said, and Harry smiled at him. 

“Exactly.” 

They found Hal, Mary, and Alice together at the fence bordering the tilt-a-whirl. Mary had been marching with the Boy Scouts, and was wearing her neckerchief and neatly pressed uniform. Alice was eating a stick of spun pink cotton candy and laughing at something one of the others had said. FP gauged by the exhilarated and terrified look on Hal’s face that they might have spent the morning together. The bigger boy was blushing so badly that FP expected smoke to start spiraling out of his ears. 

“W-We’re g-going to my h-house,” Fred explained. “H-Harry’s going to s-show us the puh-pictures.” 

The smiles disappeared from their faces, replaced by the serious looks of small adults. They walked in a solemn pack through the crowded streets and away from the festival, pushing their bikes by the handlebars. Fred’s house stood vacant and quiet, though music and fanfare from downtown floated very faintly over the tops of the neighbourhood trees. A tattered row of pinwheels turned doggedly in his neighbour’s garden. Fred pulled up the garage door and began setting up the projector while the others pulled up boxes and stools to use as chairs. 

FP stared at a photo tacked above Artie Andrews’ workbench. It was a ragged snapshot of the Andrews family on vacation. Oscar was there, sandwiched between his mother and father with a hand in each of theirs. And Fred was standing at his father’s shoulder, his head leaning against Artie’s arm, beaming at the camera. He looked very young and very happy. 

FP had a fantasy sometimes of telling Mr. and Mrs. Andrews off for the way they treated Fred. In this fantasy he was usually over at the Andrews house, maybe eating dinner or sitting with Fred at the kitchen island. The air was thick and painful, and Fred was trying to talk to his parents, and they were ignoring him. FP could see the tears welling up in Fred’s eyes, and his jaw was clenched like he was trying his hardest to be brave, but he was hurting. FP saw him hurting and it made him lose his cool a bit. 

In this daydream he jumped up and laid into both of them, really blew up and gave them the business. Fred looked embarrassed, a little, but grateful too. He looked at FP with stars in his eyes, like no one had ever done something like that for him before. FP indulged himself in this vision the way he did his dreams of becoming a rock star or a stand up comic in his adult life - it had the same mythical, incandescent quality as those daydreams, though this particular one recurred with frightening severity. 

“You’d better start treating your son right,” he told Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. In this fantasy he also had a strong, gravelly tough-guy voice, like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. He was suave. He meant business. “Do you hear me? Oscar’s gone, but Fred’s not. Fred’s still here. And your son is the smartest, strongest person I’ve ever met, and you don’t even know it.” 

His arm would go around Fred, then, wrapping around his broad back and holding him tight. Fred’s parents looked shamed, but FP wasn’t done. No, they’d know when he was done. He was just getting started. “This whole time you’ve been ignoring him he’s been braver than you’ve ever been in your life,” FP told them, and his voice rang out across the dining room clear as a bell. 

Sometimes Artie started to give him some trouble, but FP stopped him cold every time. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he would say to Artie Andrews, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but I swear to God, I will. If you make him cry again, I swear to God you’ll regret it.” (He savoured these particular words like spun sugar in his mouth, reciting them sometimes in the veil between dreaming and waking like an actor rehearsing for his opening scene.) 

Fred would pull on his sleeve, but FP wouldn’t be calmed. He was a loose cannon. “I’m not crying,” Fred would say sometimes, wiping his eyes and trying to be brave, and that would make FP hold him tighter. 

Artie always apologized. They both did. “Don’t say sorry to me, you say sorry to him,” FP would order, and Fred would turn to him with those wide, adoring eyes in which FP could see reflected all the stars in the universe, and a tear would tremble on the rim of his lower lashes. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Fred would say when they were alone. He wouldn’t stutter either - FP would have fixed that one up too. 

“Sure I did, kid,” FP said. “You’re my best friend, aren’t you?” 

And Fred would smile at him, a smile that was brave and hopeful and then he would 

(NO! NO NO NO!) 

(yes yes he would KISS-)

kiss FP on the cheek, only here the dream would be so bright and wonderful that FP would come to in a start, would throw it off blushing with his tongue drier than sawdust and his stomach cramping madly, the dream and reality overlapping in lovely translucent strips so that flashes of it were still visible - Fred’s hand on his wrist, Fred’s hot dry lips on his cheek, and then he would leave it entirely with superhuman effort and go back to the start like rewinding a tape, sitting at the kitchen table, telling Fred’s parents that they’d better wise up. 

He got as far as telling Artie off the second time around when he looked up suddenly and realized he was the only one still standing in the middle of the garage. Mary was sitting on a folding chair to his right, asking him what the hell he was doing. FP dropped quickly onto a nearby crate and shook the dream out of his head. 

“Just thinking me thinks,” he said glibly, crossing one ankle on top of his knee and bouncing it, and Mary shook her head slightly and turned away. 

Fred pulled down the garage door, sealing out the light. In the moment before FP’s eyes adjusted to the pitch black, he had a horrible thought. Suppose something reached out of the dark and grabbed his neck, or a set of teeth fastened in his leg? Suppose the clown was behind them all now? Then the projector flashed on, illuminating a square of flat garage wall, and the breath came back to his body. 

“Some of these pictures go back hundreds of years, my dad said,” Harry explained. He was feeding slides into Artie Andrews’ projector, his broad shoulders silhouetted very handsomely in the blue light. “When you all were talking about the clown, I realized I’d seen something like it before. And after I saw it today, I’m sure I recognized him.” 

“You recognized him?” Alice asked, sounding horrified. 

“Look.” 

The slide clicked into place, throwing an outline of a photo on the garage wall. The projection was a scan of a black-and-white ink sketch, showing a clown entertaining a group of children. The children were smiling, but the clown was not. Its mouth drooped down in a sorrowful frown, its eyes gloomy black pits. There was an awful aura about the antique photo, as though the black and white lines radiated malice. 

PENNYWISE THE CLOWN read old-timey writing across the bottom. 

“What’s the date on this?” Hal asked. 

“My dad says this one is from the early seventeen hundreds. Back when Riverdale was just a beaver trapping camp.” 

This phenomenal news rocketed FP into action. “Still is! Am I right, boys?” FP shoved Hiram hard with his elbow and threw a hand up for a high five. Hiram looked at him blankly. Fred frowned. Mary shook her head at him until FP put his hand back down.