#and he’s losing his mind because he saw you die. he did but you’re here now and you’re fighting against him

[yuwuta]

the perfect 60k word yuuta canon verse au to me involves a very complicated love story following yuuta to kenya and meeting reader there and helping train him and being there when he steals all those cursed techniques and when he gets rika back except it’s strange now you and rika seem to have some kind of tie to each other but you don’t know what yet and you and yuuta are something between friends and lovers and you’re pissed when he leaves to go back to shibuya because he goes so suddenly and without a real goodbye and then has the audacity to call for your help after killing and reviving yuuji because he knows your technique could help, and when you do show up you’re still beyond angry with him, but you fight anyway and somewhere along the lines when when you’re about to get hit/hurt real bad yuuta cries for you but rika is the one who covers you and protects you and in that moment you realize you sort of have control over rika too or rather you both have some kind of tether to yuuta and it allows rika to feed into your cursed energy and allows you to wear rika as some kind of armor and it drives yuuta insane seeing both his girls together like that. or whatever

this is all to say these two poems from the lemonade film have lived in my head for the past six years and they call yuuta’s name every single time i hear any song from that album

[holylulusworld]

Caught Cold - Alternative version

Summary: Something goes wrong on your latest mission.

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Written for @buckybarnesevents “Hot Bucky Summer” - Week 6 - “I won’t be able to stop myself. + Sex Pollen + Gone feral + Fuck or die

Read the alternative version here: Caught Cold. Please consider, the beginning of the story is the same as its alternative version.

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, chasing, sex pollen, smut, unprotected sex, mating bites, I’ll label this one dub-con due to sex pollen

A white mist fills the room after you drop one of the vials you found at the old warehouse. You curse yourself, already hearing Bucky nag. He’s not a big fan of you, especially because you are an omega. If you just screwed this mission up, you won’t hear the end of it.

Bucky holds up his right hand. “AGENT Y/L/N, no! What did you do?“ There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before. Panic, fear, even. “We gotta get out of here.”

He covers his mouth and nose with his gloved hand. “OUT!”

“Out?” You look around the room. Everything was normal a few seconds ago, and now the former Winter Soldier looks like he saw a ghost. “Sergeant, we have our orders. Captain Rogers wants us to secure the information.”

“OUT!” It’s more of a growl than a word. Bucky takes one step toward you, still covering his mouth. “Y/N, stop talking back for once. We need to…”

His whole body suddenly sizes up. The strong and undefeatable super-soldier falls to his knees. He slams his fists into the ground.

“Sergeant?” You step away from him. Bucky is a little broody, grumpy even. But the man kneeling on the ground stares up at you with glowing eyes. “Sergeant Barnes?” Now you panic. He slams his metal fist into the ground. “You’re scaring me.”

“You…” He growls deep and guttural. “You need to run. Go now.” Bucky seems to fight with an invisible force. He rams his fist into the ground to keep himself from getting back up.

“Why?” You are panicking now. “Sergeant? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I can smell your pussy,” he snarls in your direction.

“What?” You drop your eyes to your crotch. Can he really smell that his closeness arouses you? You heard that alphas could smell when you are fertile, but can he smell your slick too? "Sergeant, we can’t leave. Why do you want to leave?”

“I won’t be able to stop myself.” Bucky groans loudly as he rams his metal fist into the ground again. “OMEGA!” He purrs low in his throat.

“Oh. God.” You step back, shaking your head, when he gets back on his feet. Bucky cracks his neck and flexes his metal arm. He stares at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“RUN!” It’s the last warning you’ll get. Bucky is close to losing his mind. His alpha is taking over, and there is no rational thought left.

You finally set things into motion and run out of the room. While Bucky growls your name, you try to get in contact with Steve and the rest of the team.

“Captain Rogers, this is an emergency. I think something is wrong with Sergeant Barnes,” you pant while looking over your shoulder. “Can you hear me? Copy?”

All you get is radio silence. Crap. This is the worst time to lose contact with your team.

“OMEGA!” You shriek when you hear Bucky chase after you. Fuck, for a man his size, he’s fucking fast and stealthy. “Come here.”

Like a wild animal, he chases after you, growling your name as you start running again. Your heart thunders in your chest, and your brain goes a mile a minute. You’re torn between following his alpha command and the fear that causes you to run faster.

Until now, you believed that Bucky would never hurt you. But he’s not himself, and you fear he’ll kill you if he gets his hands on you.

He didn’t warn you for nothing.

“Stop running from me.” He’s so close you can smell his sweat. Fuck, how can that fucker run so fast without being out of breath? “OMEGA!”

“Sergeant,” you stumble back. “You need to calm down.” You raise your hands. “I know that I broke the vial, but that’s no reason to kill me!”

“Kill you,” he bares his teeth and chuckles. “I won’t kill you.” You swallow thickly as his eyes drop to your crotch. “I only want to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Bucky dips his head. He smirks, and you swear, it looks like the fucker is having a blast chasing you around.

“Sergeant,” you giggle. “I’m flattered really, but…uh…this is not the time to think about your knot.” You point at him. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

His eyes darkened at your words. “Stop running away from me. Give up. This is your fault for breaking the vial. You released the sex pollen.”

“Sex pollen?” You release a shuddery breath as the realization hits you. Sex pollen. You heard that term before. Doctor Banner mentioned it months ago. “No…this can’t be. It shouldn’t exist any longer.”

Bucky watches you like a hawk. Every move you make gets noticed by him. He’s an apex predator, an alpha, and a super-soldier with higher senses. Outrunning him won’t work out for you.

“Captain Rogers, can you hear me,” you whisper into the void. Your earpiece is useless. White noise is all you hear. “Fuck…”

Bucky smirks darkly when you lick your lips. He looks like a wild wolf with his teeth bared and his eyes glowing. “They want me to mate you, omega.” He sniffs in your direction. “Lucky me, getting such a nice little pussy today.”

“Hah, yeah…you’re very funny.” You show your palms while slowly walking back. One step, after another.

Bucky cannot know that your panties are soaked and that you’d love to have him on top of you. He’s your supervisor and a fucking super-soldier. You’re not sure if you can take him.

What if he breaks your hips? You giggle at the thought, feeling silly. Bucky would never be interested in mating you. Right? Right…

“I told you to run,” he growls now. “I need to mate you.” Bucky curls his shoulders, eyes glued to you. His eyes flick to your face when you move back again.

“Can you not…jerk it out of your body?” You must sound hilarious because Bucky snorts at your comment. “No?” You frown. Bucky tries to fight the toxin; you can see it in his eyes.

“Come. Here,” he spits while talking. “OMEGA!”

You remember Bruce’s words now. Sex pollen was created to make the alphas compliant. A forced rut and an omega in heat were all they needed to control the soldiers. If they refused to mate, the sex pollen would kill them.

“Sergeant,” you slowly take a step back, and another. “I know you believe you must mate me. Believe me, I like me a good fuck but we’re in the middle of a mission.”

He grins darkly. Bucky watches you turn on your heels to go for a sprint. His growls echo through the abandoned building when you run along the corridor.

You don’t stand a chance. The fucker is fucking thick, and beefy but damn him, that man can run. He goes for a sprint, catching up with you in no time.

You feel his breath before he pounces on you. He tackles you to the ground, immediately burying you under his heavy body. “Sergeant,” you snarl feeling his lips nip at your neck. “This is inappropriate.”

Well, no shit. His erection is pressing against your ass, and you can tell, that man is packing. While Bucky tugs at your tactical suit, you wonder if his dick is another perk of being a super-soldier or if he was packing before Hydra got their hands on him.

“Hey, what,” you whimper when Bucky cuts your tactical suit open. He’s done fooling around. He needs to feel your cunt around him. “I liked that suit.”

You groan, and mutter but it’s no use. Bucky rips the remnants of your brand-new suit down your body before you can call him a jerk.

“Omega,” he hums in appreciation while staring at your exposed body. “Mine.” You debate to get up and try to run again. Bucky is much faster than you, he proved it more than once today. Plus, you always had a thing for the grumpy man.

You hate yourself for it, but you lie still and listen to him cursing and growling. Not because you are scared of fighting him, but to save his life. If the test results Doctor Banner told you about are true, Bucky could die if he doesn’t fuck the toxin out of his body.

“Fuck,” he curses behind you. Bucky is on you again, to cover your body with his large, hard one. He ruts against you, hoping to ease the pain in his groin. Bucky presses his aching cock between your legs, moving against your clit. “Mine…only mine.”

If anything, gets even harder feeling your slick cover his length. “Sergeant,” you wiggle your hips. If he forces you to feel his dick, you want to have him inside of you. “Fuck…” You pant heavily.

He’s growling incorrect words in your ear. You don’t understand a thing, only your name and that he wants to breed you.

His skilled hands, made to defeat any enemy, carefully lift your butt to line himself up with your soaked hole. Bucky fully sheaths himself inside your welcome warmth with one hard thrust. He whines into your neck, ready to pop his knot anytime.

Mine. Mine. Mine. He chants in his mind while slowly starting to rock into you. Bucky never felt so welcome inside a body.

His powerful thrusts make you groan. He’s mounting you like you’re some animal, but your body greedily welcomes him.

Bucky grips your hips, holding you pinned to the ground. “Mine.” His movement becomes erratic when you start to whimper his name. He doesn’t stop. Bucky plunges into you, with only one thought left; to breed and claim you and your body. “Mine…”

“Fuck… Sergeant…” you wiggle your hips, unable to meet his thrust. “I’m gonna…” Shit… fuck… it’s too late. Your cunt grips him tightly, forcing his knot to expand. Bucky sinks his teeth in your neck the moment his release fills you.

“Shit…” Bucky won’t let go of your neck. He grunts against you, feeling his knot lock you together. “What did you do?”

“I,” he finally releases your neck to stare at your now-marked mating gland. He releases an inhuman noise before rutting into you a few more times. “Mine…”

You’re too exhausted to argue. His body still presses you to the ground, and his knot won’t deflate for some time. Lying still you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest for a moment. It’s all too much.

Bucky moves his arms around your body and buries his face in your neck. He nuzzles you while feeling the fog clouding his mind slowly start to fade away.

“Y/N! BUCK!” You stiffen underneath Bucky when you recognize Steve’s voice. “BUCK!”

“Capsicle, can you slow down?” Tony whistles the moment his eyes land on Bucky’s naked ass. He snickers and decides to snap a few pictures. “Buckethead, that’s not how we train our rookies,” Tony tsks.

“Tony,” Steve grunts. He looks anywhere but at his friend and you buried under the heavy alpha. “Can you just not.”

“I told you it’s an emergency,” you mutter from under Bucky. “You didn’t listen.”

“What happened?” Steve tries to find out what happened while Tony snickers behind his back. “Tony, just stop it.” He angrily raises his fist.

“Sex pollen,” Bucky slurs. “She dropped sex pollen.” He huffs into your neck. “I had to breed her.”

“Yeah, can you not tell anyone about our little breeding escapade, Sergeant,” you grumble. It’s worse enough that Captain America and Tony walked in on you.

“Steve, some privacy please,” Bucky wraps his arms tighter around your body to roll to his side to take his weight off of you.

Steve gives Tony a stern look. He huffs and jerks his head toward the entrance. “Let’s give them some time. Sex pollen is the worst…”

Tony furrows his brows. “How do you know, Capsicle?” He follows Steve outside the building. “Did you…you know…experience it too.”

While Steve and Tony fight over his phone and the pictures he took of Bucky’s naked ass, Bucky nuzzles you and murmurs your name.

He worriedly looks at you in his arms, sighing deeply. “Are you cold? I can’t move but I can roll on my back. I’m sorry about…uh…everything.”

“I don’t want Tony to see my naked ass…” You both start laughing at that. There’s a lot to talk about, especially the fact that Bucky claimed you…”

Tags in reblog.

[maraxp]

                       ⚓  ♰     .     ࣪  🪨 ♡‌  ㅤ۪ㅤ    ⏖     ꒪       𓉼    

⟣ character : live action!roronoa zoro // fem!reader

⟣ synopsis : after witnessing the fight with zoro and dracule mihawk with the rest of the strawhats, you were by zoro’s side as he healed, comforting him and so on, not knowing that he was secretly listening to you.

⟣ word count : 672 words.

⟣ tags : not proofread (i’ll fix that later), strawhat!reader, female / afab reader, mentions of injury, praise, pet names “dear” and “jerk”, no use of “(y/n)”, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, semi-soft! reader, comfort, eventual smut (not in this post / slow burn), will add more as the series progresses

⟣ note : yes, it is the live action zoro we all know and love. this is my first fanfiction here but it’s not my very first fic ever. english is not my first language so if i made any mistake, please let me know !

it scared you. the fight between roronoa and that mihawk guy scared you, and you didnt know why.

was it because of the fear eating your mind when you saw roronoa’s huge gash on his chest? was it remembering zoro asking to duel mihawk to “fight to the death” while you secretly doubted that he was going to lose? probably both.

when luffy rushed to search for help, you stared at zoro laid out on the ground. you weren’t disappointed, you weren’t disgusted either. you were afraid that he was going to die from how deep the wound was.

when he was brought in, your heart was racing. you didn’t know that zoro being severely injured would actually make you have a heart attack. then again, you saw that he was a skilled swordsman, you knew it was a rare chance for him to get cut up like that.

everyone took turns visiting zoro as he slept with his wounds treated, telling him stories and what not to keep him closer to life than death. when it was your turn, your heart raced. you didn’t know what to say, so you nervously walked in the room, playing with your fingers.

you sat by zoro’s side as he laid, staring at his features. what made your heart slow was the soft rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his relaxed breathing. time flew by as you sat by his side, humming a soft tune to let zoro know that you were there with him. your hand rested on top of his, rubbing your thumb against the top of his hand.

what you didn’t know was that you were the best comforter for him. you didn’t even realize it until now and it made you smile. you sighed as you gave zoro a soft, reassuring squeeze to his hand. all it took was a small ‘i miss you’ for your thoughts to actually cooperate and think about a genuine thing to talk about.

“you didn’t even have time to think about your actions, you jerk.” you smirked, scoffing at the memory. “nami, usopp, and i worry for you, dear. why did you want to fight that mihawk guy all of a sudden? was it the drinks? were you drunk? i don’t mind about that but still, you scared me back there, roronoa. please don’t do that again, my dear.” you whispered, it truly did frighten you but at least you’re glad that he’s alive now.

you gave his hand another soft squeeze as you raised it to your lips, giving it a small peck. “but you did very well back there, i can give you that. great job, roronoa. i’d love to see more of you in action.” you mumbled, scooting a bit closer to zoro. “we miss you, roronoa. i hope you realize that, dear.” you continued as you brought your hand up to stroke his hair.

what spooked you was when you looked at zoro’s face, you could’ve sworn you saw a tiny smirk displayed on his lips. did he hear all of that? it made you shudder a little, now feeling embarrassed.

you stumbled over your words, clearing your throat while you felt the heat rush to your face. “i’ll– uhm.. i’ll– go get—” you cleared your throat again. “uh.. i’ll go get luffy.”

when you scooted away, you gave his warm hand one more soft squeeze before gently hopping off to leave the room. that sleeping swordsman in the center of the room took your breath away, you could admit that. but you didn’t admit the sudden burn in your chest whenever he would talk to you, especially when you sat next to him back at the baratie.

was it what you thought it was? or was it just a regular heartburn without any other reason behind it? it confused you, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel at home. he made you feel at home. and you liked him for that.

if you want me to add you to my taglist, click on this link [ 🥋 ] and you’re all set !

© maraxp 2023. banner made by me. please do not copy, repost or translate any of my work without permission.

[amongemeraldclouds]

Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

 He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough. 

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug. 

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

[supercap2319]

Spiderwebs & Red chaos

Peter was working on the Sandman cure, when he stops abruptly, eyes darting back and forth in nervous anticipation. Something—someone has triggered his spider-sense. He stood up, catching the attention of Otto Octavius, and Norman Osborn.

“Peter?” Otto asked.

“What’s wrong?” Norman asked.

Their voices were distant and disoriented as Peter walked towards Happy's kitchen/living room. “I don't know…” It was true. Peter didn't know exactly what he was sensing, all he knew was that it made his heart want to burst out of his chest, and made his breathing shallow.

“May? Y/N?” He calls out loud. Norman and Otto followed him into the living room kitchen area as Peter stands in the center of the villains. “What is it, Peter?” May asked, wondering why her nephew is so troubled. The young hero’s breath was hitched and shallow as he looked around the room, the tension in the air thick enough to cut through with a knife, getting to everyone.

“What's happening?” Flint Marko asked.

Peter looks at him, then at Otto and Norman, who moves around the room, and then at Max Dillon, who looks uneasy at the hero's eyes on him.”Why are you looking at me like that?” Peter searches, on alert. What is he sensing? Is one of

them about to betray him? Where is the threat? Was he losing his mind? All these questions buzzed inside his head like angry bees. He closed his eyes and focused his spider-sense. Reaching. Feeling. Until he…

THWIP!

Peter webs Norman's hand to the robot arm of DUM-E.

Norman smiles. “That’s some neat trick. That sense of yours.” His voice was low and ominous.

“Norman?” Otto asked.

“Norman’s on sabbatical, honey.” Norman said, a gleefully undertone in his smile.

“What the hell?” Max asked.

“Goblin…” Y/N whispered in realization. Peter and May share a look of concern.

“Surprise. No more darker half? Did you really think that I’d let that happen?” Aunt May slips quickly into the storage room, searching for the cures as Norman, aka, Goblin, continues his tirade. “That I’d let you take away my power just because you’re blind to what true power can bring you. Because you and Y/N squander the potential that you have.”

“You don't know us.” Peter said, staring Goblin down.

“Don’t I?” Goblin asked.

“No, you don't.” Y/N talked towards Peter's side, fingers twitching with power, but he wouldn't release it. Not just yet.

“Here's the real truth: the people of this city. There's one thing they love more than a hero... is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying. In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they will hate you. Why bother?”

“Because it's right.” Peter said.

Meanwhile, May grabs the cures, one-by-one, and shoves them into her F.E.A.S.T. tote bag.“I saw how she trapped you two.” Goblin begins as May sneaks back into the kitchen from the storage room, clutching the bag of cures. She nods at Peter. She has them. “Fighting her holy moral mission. We don’t need you to save us... We don’t need to be “fixed!”

Sandman frowns as Goblin looks around the room of people he does, and doesn't know. “These are not curses.” Max looks down at his cure device. Beep! Another green light flashes on the device. Two more to go.

“Norman, no.” Otto protests.

“Quiet, lapdog!” Goblin snaps.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter said.

“I’ve watched you from deep behind Norman’s cowardly eyes. Struggling to have everything you want. While the world tries to make you choose. The Spider-Man and the brother of the Scarlet Witch, so desperate to have it all.” The device on Electro’s chest beeps once again. Only one more

light to go…

“Gods don’t have to choose.” Max looks at Norman, now really buying in… “We take.”

“You're no God, Goblin. You're sick.” Y/N said.

“Guess we'll find out…”

“May... RUN!” Peter said. May breaks for the door with the bag of cures. Electro takes the cure device off his chest, as Goblin tears free from the web holding him to DUM-E. Shooting electricity out, Electro reaches towards the storage room…

CRASH!

The Arc Reactor tears free from the Fabricator,

bursts through the kitchen wall, and flies into Electro’s hand as there is surgical electrical

contact happening. “Hey!” Y/N powered up his fist that glowed red with power, but Electro blasts him into the wall, crashing upon impact.

“Y/N!” Peter cried.

Goblin pounces on a distracted Peter, smashing him into the nearby stairs.Seeing this, Sandman disintegrates into a whirl of sand. Retreating. Down the hallway, May runs to the elevators, pressing the “down” button over and over again Electro surges with ARC Reactor power, supercharging his powers as he causes lights throughout the condo building to flicker on and off. May looks up, the hallway lights are flickering here too. As she pushes the elevator “down” button once more.

Doc Ock looks at Electro in horror. “Oh my God. What have you done?”

Electro scoffed. “I liked you better before.” He unleashes a Stark-grade cascade of electricity, blowing Otto back through the living room wall. Otto tears through glass and steel, plummeting to the ground below before finally coming to a

wrenching stop, his tentacle arms gripping the side of the building. Down in the plaza of the condo, J. Jonah directs his camera man upward.

“Up here, he’s up there!” The camera man points his camera towards the building just in time to capture Doc Ock climbing away, disappearing into the night. “It’s the guy from the bridge!”

In the stairwell, Aunt May heads for the emergency exit door, races downstairs.

Electro and the swirling cloud of sand that is Sandman approach the burst-open living room wall. Sandman propels himself forward, Electro following after he powers up with his new source of energy. The sand swirls around the police cars, rocking them back and forth as Max Dillon transforms into pure yellow lightning, hitching a ride on the tornado of sand. The shelter truck nearby rocks violently. The side of it being slashed, until the Lizard explodes out of the hole he cut open and runs off.

J. Jonah James looks at his camera guy. “...Did you see that?!” Police and bystanders scramble for cover as Electro and Sandman take to the wind and fly off.

Meanwhile, back in Happy’s apartment, Peter scrambled to help Y/N to his feet. Peter manages to get his boyfriend upward as they both turn to see Goblin staring at them, challenge in his eyes. “Y/N, find May. Protect her.” Peter said.

“No, not without you.” Y/N said. “We'll face him together.”

“No. Please, just do this for me. I need you to keep her safe. Promise?” Peter looks at him, vulnerability in his brown eyes. Y/N nods and begrudgingly heads for the door. “I promise.” He flies off, a red trail of energy behind him until he was gone.

“Perfect. Just you…and me…” Goblin cackled.

Peter charged.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 10

Part 10:

Art wanted to die. There’s no other way to describe what he had been feeling for the last three days. He hadn’t seen Liana anywhere. Not in the cafeteria, not outside her lectures, not outside the dorms.

He considered entering her room with the key he had, but he knew she would demand it back, and he clung to that key like it was his lifeline. He knew it was his last access to her life at the moment.

Art knew everything he said was a mistake from the second he said those things. To be honest, Art doesn’t remember what he said exactly. He just knows that Liana’s expression changed in minutes from humiliated, to sad, to disgusted, to angry. He knows he made her cry. He made her sob. Liana. The same Liana who, when she entered his room, he asked if she had been crying. When she left his room, he was the reason she cried.

He didn’t know how to come back from this. He didn’t know what to do or who to call or how to start breathing regularly again.

“You’re playing like shit,” he heard Tashi’s voice from afar and lifted his head. “Bad day,” he mumbled and forced a smile. “A bad day isn’t four balls in a row hitting the net. What happened?” she approached him, examining him.

“Nothing, Tash,” he sighed, “Can’t I have a bad day with a few balls not making it over the net?” he rolled his eyes. He said something to Liana about Tashi. And now, looking at her, trying to remember what he said; It couldn’t be anything good. It must have been something awful because the speed at which she distanced herself from him and the look she had would be etched in his mind forever. Why doesn’t he remember what he said? How is she supposed to believe he’s sorry if he doesn’t remember what he said?

“Do you want to play a set?” she asked, and usually, he would jump at the chance to play with Tashi, but it was already the time Liana was supposed to go to her lecture, and maybe today she would leave her room. “No, I think I’m done for today. It can't get any better from here. I need to shower. Good to see you.” He gave her a light touch on the shoulder and headed to the locker rooms. Liana would've definitely noticed that his smile was fake. He stood in front of her room as the door opened. If he thought he looked awful, Liana looked devastating. She looked like she hadn't slept for a month, like she had cried half her life. Her face was swollen, her eyes were red, and dark circles surrounded them.

Her mouth was half open as she looked at him. Both of them tensed, standing in place, unable to speak. “Li…” he started, seeing her begin to breathe heavily in response. “Can we tal-” he needs to make it right. He knows he can make her feel better if she lets him. “You have some nerve,” she mumbled, turning to lock the door, but he knew it was an excuse not to look at him. He knew if he could make her look at him long enough, he could get her to talk to him. He could manage to apologize. “Liana, please.” His voice was weak, begging for attention.

She started walking quickly, and he followed her, keeping pace. “I need us to talk, Liana. Please. It’s me. Give me five minutes. Li-” he spoke, and she stopped abruptly. “Did I stutter when I said you’re the worst person I know, and I never want to see you again?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears that would fall if she just blinked. He knew it was from anger and frustration. Art closed his eyes and swallowed, taking a breath. Her words cut him like a knife. “I know-” he started again.

“Arthur,” she paused for a moment, studying him. He hoped she saw the immense suffering he was in. How sorry he was. That he didn’t mean it. That he needed her in his life. That he might lose himself entirely if she wasn’t a part of him. “Right now, I’m in mourning. As far as I’m concerned, I’m sitting Shiva for you because you’re dead.” She looked at him, still not blinking, not allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of him again. “Do you want me to beg? I can beg.” His voice was weak again. He felt the tightness that comes before tears start to flow. “Unlike someone I know, I don’t get off on humiliating others. Enjoy your life, Art. I hope you get everything you want as long as I’m not part of it.” She concluded the conversation and walked away. He didn’t continue following her, feeling all his internal organs shrink at the sight of her moving away. And maybe she’s right; Maybe he’s really already dead, and this is hell.

The month since the phone call with Liana passed slowly for Patrick. He wasn’t functioning properly. There was a tournament he only made it through two rounds of, and Liana wasn’t answering his calls. For his part, he wasn’t answering Art’s calls. Not that Art called much. About three times, then he probably got the hint. Patrick had nothing to say to him.

Liana called that night and sounded in the worst state he had ever heard her. Worse than that time she broke her arm in the summer at age 15 when they were riding bikes. And that says a lot because her pain threshold is quite high, and if Art managed to make her react like that, he must have done something terrible.

Liana didn’t tell him in that call what Art did, and when Patrick asked if she wanted him to come to her (he really meant dropping everything and going to Stanford), she said she’d rather he didn’t.

So, a month later, with a free weekend, Patrick found himself wandering around Stanford with a bag containing a racket and some clothes. 'If you arrive early, ask Art for the key he has; maybe he’ll give it to you,' she texted him, and he could almost hear her voice through the screen. Broken. Art Donaldson, his best friend, broke her. He wasn’t sure he could look him in the eyes again.

“What are you doing here?” Tashi’s voice sounded from behind him. They hadn’t talked since the fight in her room a few months ago. “Looking for Art, actually…” he mumbled, lowering his gaze to her knee, “Sorry about the injury.” He didn’t know what to say, and she just shrugged.

She looked small and almost fragile. Something in her gaze was shattered. “Yeah, bad move.” She swallowed. Tried to be strong about it. The truth is, he read about it in a sports magazine and wanted to call but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to help from afar, and he didn’t know if Tashi wanted his help. “What do the doctors say?” he asked as she sat on the bench in the stands, looking at him and expecting him to do the same. “That time will tell? And we need to see how the physiotherapy goes.” She smiled, but her smile was fake; he saw the sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide it much.

“I’m sorry, Tash.” Patrick sighed. He really didn’t know how to help. “Art was amazing through all of this. He really helped me.” She examined Patrick and his reaction. “I’m glad he was here.” He said sincerely. He knew that when Art wanted to dedicate himself to someone, he did it in the best possible way.

“I’m sorry for how it ended between us, you know that, right?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. “Yeah, Patrick, I know.” She almost rolled her eyes. “Are you going to fix what he broke?” she asked, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “There’s a shift in his behavior. I don’t know what happened, but something in him changed. He doesn’t talk about you or Liana anymore. It’s a bit weird considering how much time he used to dedicate to both of you.” She said, as if reading his confusion.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to fix what he did, Tash.” He sighed. “Time will tell?” she asked, repeating what her physiotherapist said, and they both knew it probably wasn’t true.

Art waved hesitantly from afar, causing Patrick to nod and get up. “I’m sorry, Tashi. Really. You can call me if you need anything, you know that, right?” he asked. “I won’t do that.” She rolled her eyes, “But thanks,” she concluded the conversation for him.

“Hey.” Art said and quickly ran a hand over his neck. “What’s up?” Patrick asked relatively coldly. They hadn’t talked for a month, the longest they hadn’t spoken since they were 12. For a moment, it felt like talking to a stranger. “Why are you here?” Art asked, skipping the small talk and looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze. Trying to figure out if this was a friendly visit or if he needed to prepare for a battle he didn’t get an advance invitation to.

“I don’t know how to say this, Art,” Patrick mumbled. “Then don’t say it, Patrick,” Art rolled his eyes in response. He felt his heart racing. He realized he was about to lose Patrick.

“Art, come on,” “This is between me and her, Patrick. It doesn’t have to be between us too.” Art said, almost begging. “I need the key to Liana’s room.” Patrick sighed quietly. “Fuck off.” Art started to walk away, showing him a middle finger and laughing a laugh that sounded almost deranged. “Tell Liana if she wants the key her father gave me, all she has to do is come to me and ask.” With that, he left the court, leaving Patrick alone. Well, with Tashi as an audience in the stands.

"So, I guess the key thing didn't work out?" Patrick was sitting in the hallway across from Liana's room, absorbed in his phone, when he heard her voice. Almost amused. Almost like he remembered her. He stood up quickly, scrutinizing her, wanting to see every part of the girl he remembered. To see that she was whole. To see that she wasn't broken.

"I'm fine, Patrick. You can hug me," she rolled her eyes, and he did just that. He hugged her and refused to let go, closing his eyes and inhaling her intoxicating scent. He hadn't realized how much he missed her in the month she barely communicated with him. He didn't understand how much he worried about her until he laid eyes on her.

"Do you want to come in, or are we going to stand like weirdos in the hallway a bit longer?" she asked. "You're mean," he responded and pulled away from her. Not too much. Just enough so they could enter, and he could hug her again.

"Hey," he said once they were inside and he pulled away from her for the second time. He examined her again. She looked tired. Not different from how she looked the last time he saw her. But that time, she had a spark. That time, Art's hand was on her thigh in front of him. That time, he played a part in breaking her. She would never know, but Patrick did it. Patrick caused Art to behave like a wounded animal. Patrick knew exactly what he was doing. He threw him a bone, and Art couldn't resist; he had to ruin everything.

"We have to go to his game tomorrow," she said after they sat quietly on her bed for a few minutes. "What?" he asked, looking at her. "His parents will be there. They know there was something between us, but they don't know we're not talking. And it's already too many changes with me leaving and all. I have to be there, and now that you're here, you have to come with me." She smiled at him. He knew it wasn't a genuine smile. He knew if he didn't go with her, she'd feel even more fragile.

Patrick knew Art. Patrick knew Art even better than Liana. He knew Art lived for opportunities like the one he'd have tomorrow. Liana had to come to his game, sit with his parents, be disciplined, and meet the standards their families held for her. Art was born to exploit opportunities like these.

"Okay. We'll go, and at the end of his game, we'll come up with an excuse. Something about you having an exam, and we have to leave." His arm was around her as she leaned on his shoulder. "What did he say when you asked him for the key?" Liana asked. "Amanda," Patrick sighed. "Just tell me." "That if you want it, you should ask him yourself," he told the truth and felt her nod. "Do you want that key so badly?" he asked, looking at her again. "No. He can choke on it for all I care," she shrugged, but the smile she gave him was fake.

"Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm crazy and a stalker?" Patrick began the conversation for which he came. He moved away from her a bit, sitting across from her. He needed to see every expression. Every facial change. He needed to understand if she was telling him the truth. "You're scaring me, Patrick Zwieg. Come on, say what you have to say. Did you put a camera in the Stanford bathrooms?" she joked, making him give her a light slap on the shoulder. "Be serious," he commanded, and she nodded in response, removing any hint of humor from her face.

"My parents changed their minds about tennis," he said, and her eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, her smile starting to widen. She was happy for him. She knew that to succeed, he needed their support. "They gave me a five-year plan. They said I need to take some business courses twice a week. The rest of the days, they’ll fund an apartment, a coach, and tournaments," he continued explaining to her.

"Patrick, that's wonderful. That's great news. I'm so happy for you." She was ecstatic. He saw it on her. It was a joy that couldn't be faked. The kind that made him smile too. "Now for the creepy part. Don't hate me, okay, Li? Because I see how you get when you hate Art, and I don't want to be that person-" he started rambling. "You would never treat me the way Art treated me," she interrupted him. He saw her jaw tighten. Realizing that was a bad example. "They know someone who knows Kirk Morcich, and he saw videos of me and said I have potential..." He saw she was losing him, not understanding what he was talking about and why he was rambling incoherently, "It's in London. I'll be in London." He concluded. Watching her expression.

You can say many things about Liana, but she doesn't know how to hide what she feels. Her emotions always go a step ahead of her. She wears them on her face like a parade of shame. Blushing too easily, shaking when angry, crying immediately when hurt. She can't lie about feelings. Either she feels them, or they're not there. "Are you serious?" she asked, her eyes starting to sparkle. She wouldn't be alone. Patrick would be with her. So many possibilities. "Tell me it's a good thing and you don't hate me," he said, completely nervous. "Pat, this is the best news I've heard in the past month. I could kiss you," she said and jumped on him in a hug. For the first time in a month, Liana was happy.

Art’s parents recognized them in the middle of their conversation with, well, Art. "Liana, you even look more grown-up. I can't believe you're leaving us like this," Christine, his mother, pulled her into a hug without a second thought. "Mom, let her breathe..." Art said. There was no visible discomfort on him. He was acting as usual. "How are you, sweetheart? Are you eating properly? You look thinner!" she examined her from all angles. "Are you taking care of her?" she turned to her son, who swallowed nervously, unsure how to approach the situation. "Everything's great, Christine. I'm eating all the time," she smiled. Both Art and Patrick knew it was a fake smile. A smile that looked like she had practiced it in front of a mirror. One that revealed teeth but didn't characterize her.

"Unfortunately, we probably won't be able to stay for the game. I just wanted to say hello and wish you good luck," Liana didn't look at Art at all, just glanced at him and saw his fingers moving uncontrollably. "Why, honey? We wanted you both to have dinner with us afterward. To catch up. I'll tell you about all the places in London where you can go and feel surrounded by Americans, so you won't be alone for a moment," his mother was lovely. She really loved Liana as if she were her daughter. It warmed Liana's heart and at the same time made her so angry. How could Art take and destroy such a relationship for a momentary whim?

"I already told Art earlier that I have some project due tomorrow, and Patrick said that if he's already here, he could help me. I hope that's okay." She still didn't look at him. Patrick, on the other hand, looked at him. Art changed colors. He didn't know how to handle the current situation. Throughout it, Liana was better than him at maneuvering the situation. "And besides, I won't feel alone in London. Patrick will be with me." This time she looked directly at Art, and her smile was genuine. It was unmistakable. "Really? How did that happen?" Art's father, Tim, intervened in the conversation. "Long story, something about a coach whose name I can't remember, but it's so great that everything worked out like this, and I won't have to start from scratch." She spoke quickly, lowering her gaze from Art just to give her attention to his mother, who nodded with a smile of her own, not understanding everything happening beneath the surface in this conversation.

"It's a shame you can't stay for the game; after all, you're his lucky charm," she said after a few more exchanged words. "Maybe it's time to find a new lucky charm," Liana replied, and everyone laughed. Some genuine, some fake.

Patrick, at that moment, observed Art, whose gaze was already fixed on him and didn’t let go for a second. Art didn’t laugh. Hello there!!! How are we doing? Patrick is really stepping up his game for our girl! As usual, I'd like to hear any thouths you have. I really love talking to you and getting to know what you want for the story.  you can always ask to be part of the taglist :) taglist: @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[inkblot22]

Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man. 

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough. 

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.” He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely. 

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper. 

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.” 

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier. 

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

[artiststarme]

Ex-fucking-cuse you

Thank you to @carlyv for the title idea! I don’t know if I really like whatever this is but other people seem to so I’ll leave it be. Let me know what you guys are thinking in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Whenever he had shared his feelings in the past, he’d had them stomped on. From crushes to life goals, anyone he’d ever confided in had laughed in his face. The first memorable time had been when he told Tommy about his crush on Heath Sellers at recess in fourth grade. Tommy H. told him that he wouldn’t be friends with a fag and if he ever mentioned liking a dude again, he’d kick his ass. That circumstance really showed Steve that he couldn’t trust anyone. If he couldn’t share what he was thinking with his best friend, who else could he tell?

The second time was with Nancy Wheeler. Steve told her he loved her even though he knew it was too early into their relationship and he knew she was still grieving Barb. But he still told her and all she did for the first few times was call him an idiot afterwards. Steve loved too much and too hard. Sure, after a few weeks she said it back but Steve could tell it wasn’t genuine and was most likely said out of pity.

The fact that she called him bullshit just two weeks later kind of cemented that fact in his mind.

It made him feel sort of hypocritical. He told the kids to be open and honest, prided them on their communication. And then he neglected to do the same. He hid his nightmares and semi-suicidal thoughts behind an impenetrable wall that no one in the Party could breach.

Until Eddie.

For months, Steve hated Eddie because it felt like he was stealing the kids away from him. He was jealous that they shared a common interest that he couldn’t understand and was gearing up for the kids to leave him behind. But then, Eddie told him that the kids worshiped him and he’d been jealous too. Jealous of the cool babysitter that influenced their actions in DnD and could do no wrong.

Steve felt like Eddie could truly see him, could understand Steve, and liked what he saw. He could tell that Eddie was going to be a great friend of his, or more. He liked more.

But when he ran back to the trailer park after flambéing Vecna, he saw a blood soaked Eddie being cradled by Dustin. His slow paced jog turned into a full blown sprint. Steve yanked Eddie out of Dustin’s arms and made a mad dash towards the portal in his trailer. He wasn’t going to lose the one guy that made him feel more understood than anyone else had ever made him feel.

The girls and Dustin tearfully followed them but Steve couldn’t spare them any attention. He was solely focused on the sluggish bleeding of Eddie’s wounds.

“Ow, Harrington. Calm the fuck down.”

“Eddie?!” The metalhead’s eyes were blurry but somewhat focused on Steve’s face. “Hey man, you have to stay awake. When we get out of here, you can teach me all about your shitty yelling music and nerd game, okay?”

The blurriness lifted slightly as pure offense filled his face, “ex-fucking-cuse you. That “shitty yelling” is true music unlike your Tears for Fears garbage or whatever the hell else you listen to. I have taste. And yeah, Harrington. I will be teaching you Dungeons & Dragons when we get out of here. Lugging my body out of here when I was trying to make a noble sacrifice is disgraceful.”

“You’re not allowed to die, Eddie.” Steve said, panting with exertion and stress.

“That’s not up to you,” and then he passed out.

“Fuck!” Steve screamed. That fucking dramatic shit, if those were his last words, Steve would bring him back just to kill him again.

Steve’s feelings were threatening to overcome him as his hands shook while he put Eddie into the car. Nancy held one of them and gave him a look of meaning. “I’ll drive.”

“Um, yeah, yeah. Okay, thanks. Henderson! Keep pressure on his wounds. We need to stop the bleeding.” He desperately put pressure on the worst of the wounds on his torso and prayed to a god he no longer believed in.

And then they sped towards the hospital.

Steve was there when Eddie woke up, just as he had been in the four days he’d been unconscious while recovering from shock. He was trying to read the dancing letters in The Hobbit but when he looked up and met Eddie’s eyes, the book dropped from his hands.

“Didn’t take you for a fantasy nerd, Harrington.” Eddie mumbled, his voice hoarse but unwavering.

“We need to talk about your theatrics, man. You almost gave me a heart attack, Eddie.”

“Oh, we’re on a first-name basis now? If I’d known all I had to do was risk my life to be in King Steve’s court, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” Eddie smirked at him.

“I’m not a king anymore.” Steve said and shook his head. It’d been a long time since anyone had called him that and he didn’t like the way it sounded on Eddie’s lips either.

“My apologies, Steve. You’re not a king, you’re a paladin. And that’s better than any noble.” Eddie said wisely.

Steve had no idea what the fuck any of that meant or what a pal-man was but he could listen to Eddie rant at him for hours as long as he kept looking at him like that. His face was fond and his lips, though scarred with a vicious bite marring their softness, smiled softly at Steve.

He coughed a bit to clear his throat and tore his eyes from Eddie’s lips to his amused eyes. “Um, do you said you were going to explain your screamy metal shit?”

That got Steve his desired reaction and Eddie squawked. “You motherfucker-”

As Steve listened to his enraged ranting, he made himself a promise. He was going to be more like Eddie. He was going to be more free with his feelings and he would find a way to talk to his friends about them. But for now, he’d listen to Eddie’s virtriolic soliloquy about the merits of metal artists and the importance on nonconformist music in “this sweaty armpit of a state”. And Steve couldn’t be happier.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @carlyv

[vodika-vibes]

Sowwy to pop up but I saw the "gentle care" thingy...

A'den after rescuing his rebel s/o from Empire and "What did they do to you?"

All Alone

Summary: Six months ago you became a guest of the Empire. The only reason you’re still alive is because someone thinks you’re more useful alive than you would ever be dead. And now, you’re beginning to think that no one is coming for you.

Pairing: A'den Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: Torture, suicidal ideation

A/N: So, yesterday appears to have been a fluke, because I'm feeling pretty solid today. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

There was always the risk of you getting captured, or killed, when you were on a mission. It’s one of the things that the leaders of the Rebellion warn people of when they join the Rebellion.

But no amount of warnings or training could have prepared you for the reality of being captured by the Empire.

Honestly, killing you would have been more merciful than what is actually happening to you.Which is probably part of the reason that you’re still alive. 

Sleep deprivation is somehow worse than physical abuse. You expected the physical torture. You expected the cattle prods and the knives and the asshole coming in to slowly pull your fingernails out.

You didn’t expect them to force you to stay awake for 30 or more hours at a time before they allowed you to have any sleep.and even when they let you sleep, it’s barely for five hours before you’re starting your next 30 hours without sleep.

At this point, it’s hard to think straight. Your memory is hazy, and your coordination is shit. Not to mention, you feel awful. All of the time. You know that there are some serious side-effects to long term sleep deprivation, but you’re so fatigued that you can’t remember a single one.

Your head (which had been forcibly shaved when you arrived as a way for them to dehumanize you) thumps back against the biting cold of the cell wall as the siren, designed to keep you from being able to fall asleep, blares through your cell. 

Absently, as you watch shadows move outside your cell, you wonder if anyone is going to come for you. Probably not anyone from the Rebellion, it’s not like you’re important enough for them to risk another person to rescue you.

A’den might save you, if he knows that you’ve been captured.

Your hazy gaze drifts to the ceiling of your cell as your tired mind clings to the memory of A’den like a lifeline. You miss him. You miss his laughter and the way he hugs you. You miss the feeling of safety that he gives you.

And you regret that the last conversation you had with him was a fight.

He hadn’t wanted you to join the Rebellion, claiming that it was too dangerous and that you should leave the fighting to men like him, and his brothers. 

Time and distance has allowed you to see that he just wanted to keep you safe, that he was terrified of losing you. 

But at the time you had just lost your entire family to an Inquisitor and you had been so hurt and so angry that you accused him of not caring about your family, and trying to control you. 

A’den had looked so lost and wounded at your accusation that even the memory of the look on his face makes tears burn in your eyes. 

You left without telling him. 

Without telling anyone. 

Now, with the benefit of time and the cold reality of your current situation, you can see that your actions were the result of a deep depression that you hadn’t wanted to admit to.

A part of you, a large part of you, joined the Rebellion to die.

The cold, bitter, reality is that no one is coming for you. You’ll stay here, in this cell, until the sleep deprivation, starvation, or torture kills you. And you’ll probably deserve it.

Poor A’den. You hope that, one day, he’ll forgive you for what you said. You didn’t mean it.

Your eyes drift shut, only to snap open as the siren blares in your cell again. And your head thumps, painfully, against the wall again. 

You want to go home.

You want a triple cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake.

But more than anything, you want A’den.

A’den stares at the facility in front of him, a frown hidden behind his helmet.

Six months. It’s taken him six months to learn where his cyare has been taken. He doesn’t even know if she’s still alive.

Stars, he hopes so. He’s not sure how he’ll react if he breaks in and only finds her body.

It’s been nine months since he’s seen his cyare. And those first three months he spent lost in a haze of mingled despair and rage. Heartbroken that she thought that he was trying to control her, and furious that she would leave without telling him.

Buir told him that her actions, and then things she said, were the words and actions of someone who is in the middle of self-destructing, that he can’t take what she said seriously. 

And he knows that. His gentle cyare would never lash out at him like that. But he was still hurt about it.

Then the report came from the Rebellion cell that she joined, telling them that she’s become a prisoner of war and that the Rebellion has elected to not go after her.

And all of the anger he had been nursing vanished, replaced with a biting terror he’s been trying his hardest to not allow to control him. It hasn’t worked.

But finally, finally, he’s found her. All he has to do is go inside, grab her, and then bring her home. And everything will be fine. 

A’den exhales slowly as his comm crackles in his ear, “We’re in position,” Ordo says, “You ready, vod?”

He activates his comm, “I’m in position.”

“Good. We’re going to make this quick. Get in and get out.”

“Understood.”

Ordo doesn’t reply, but a massive explosion on the far side of the prison sends the Stormtroopers running in that direction. And A’den makes his move. He moves from his hiding spot so he’s able to slip into the facility.

The plans that Jaing got for him suggest that the prison is kept in the lowest levels, his brother also said the elevators will be the easiest way to get in and out of the lowest levels. 

So that’s what he does.

As soon as the lift stops and A’den finds himself on the lowest level, which stinks of blood and fear, he steps into an empty security room. A quick check of the prison log, and he finds her and her cell door code.

She’s in the last cell.

A’den quickly copies the door code onto his datapad, and then he jogs down the hall. He should, probably, free the other people being held here. But, honestly, he doesn’t care about them. 

His only concern is the woman locked in the cell he’s now standing in front of.

A’den keys in the door code, and the door slide opens.

And there she is.

He almost doesn’t recognize her. All of her hair has been shaved off, and she’s so thin that he’d bet that he’d be able to count her ribs if she lifted her shirt. She’s also covered in bruises in various states of healing, deep cuts of which some are clearly infected, and electrical burns.

But, as her gaze lowers from the ceiling to focus on him, he knows it’s her.

Even when they’re hazy with exhaustion, he’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

A’den makes sure that the door won’t shut behind him, then enters the cell and drops to a knee in front of her. Worryingly, she doesn’t say anything, she just watches him. 

Slowly, he doesn’t want to scare her, he reaches out and touches a burn scar on her throat. Now that he’s closer, he’s making out some details of her injuries that he hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. Like the fact that she doesn’t have any finger or toe nails, and that some of her burns continue under her clothes.

He swallows his rage with difficulty, “What did they do to you?” He doesn’t expect her to answer, not really.

His rage becomes much harder to swallow when a siren fills the small room, causing her to jolt. The siren explains the dark circles under her eyes and her silence.

She probably can’t tell if he’s real or not.

Oh, his poor cyare.

“We’re going home, cyar’ika.” A’den says to her, as he carefully gathers her into his arms, his heart breaking when she flinches, but doesn’t try to pull away from him.

And then she sighs, “Home?”

Her voice is raspy, and he didn’t realize that he could hate anyone more than he hated the Kaminoans, but the Empire as a whole has suddenly jumped to the top of his list. 

“Yeah, baby, home.”

Her head falls to his shoulder, and A’den knows it can’t be comfortable. She’s basically a walking bruise at the moment, and his armor isn’t the softest thing in the world.

“Even if this isn’t real,” She mumbles against his armor, “It’s a nice hallucination.”

Her words make him want to kill someone, or cry. But A’den doesn’t do either. Instead, he gently gathers her into his arms, and carries her out of her cell, then out of the prison as a whole.

No one stops them.

They’re going home, and A’den will kill anyone who tries to stop him.

You wake feeling warm and pain free.

Both of which are surprising. You haven’t been warm or pain free in ages. 

You also wake feeling surprisingly rested. Oh, you’re still tired, but you no longer feel heavy with bone-deep exhaustion. 

But, the most surprising thing is you wake up in a hospital room. A Mandalorian hospital, based on the music softly playing in the room.

For a moment, one terrifying moment, you think this is a dream. That you’re dreaming that you’re safe and warm, and in reality you’re still sitting in your prison cell.

Then a warm hand squeezes yours, and you turn your head to look at A’den. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept well in days, but he’s smiling at you. “Cyare,”

“A’den,” You reach for him, only to pause when you see your fingers are covered in bandages. 

“The doctors are trying to heal your fingers,” A’den explains, as he catches your raised hand and presses a kiss to your palm, “In spite of your injuries, you’re going to be alright. Well, now that you’ve had a round of antibiotics.”

“Antibiotics?”

“You had several pretty nasty infections,” He clarifies, and then he brushes his fingers against your cheek, “You scared me, cyare.”

“...I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t mean anything I said to you.” You say quietly, “I was hurting and I wanted-”

A’den presses a finger against your lips, “I know. I’m not angry at you, cyare. Once you’re healthy, we have a mind-healer that you’re going to spend quite a bit of time with.”

It’s probably a good idea. “Do you still love me?” You ask, your voice tiny.

His smile is soft, “How could I not? You’re my cyare.”

The last of your fears soothed, you reach up for him, and A’den allows you to pull him into a hug, though he’s careful to not rest his weight on you. “Thank you for coming for me,” You whisper, “I love you.”

“Always, cyare. You’re not alone in the galaxy after all. We’re partners.” He kisses your forehead, and then catches your lips in a very gentle kiss, before he pulls back, the look of adoration on his face not fading for even a moment.

And, as you cling to him, you can’t help but think that, maybe, things will actually be alright.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@kimiheartblade

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@bb8-99

@falconfeather23435

@dukeoftheblackstar

@continous-mistakes

@trixie2023

@mira-loves-star-wars

@adriennelenoir

@rebell-ious

@silly-starfish

@heidnspeak

@maniacalbooper

@padawancat97

@justiceandwar98

@cdblake1565

@cc--2224

@wax-birds

@tiredbi-peach

@sweater-sloot

@etod

@lonewolflupe

@bad4amficideas

@kiss-anon

[blond3ang3l]

Risotto! X tattoo artist reader!

This for my moot @rousseau-vargas since we are the biggest risotto lovers🙏🏽

“What do you mean you signed us up for a damn con? You want me to work for free? You’re out of your mind Micah.”

“Oh cmon dude, just this one time. If we do the most tattoos we’ll win hella money! Please, I will even pay you extra this week.”

You couldn’t help but kiss your teeth in response. This is ridiculous. A last minute tattoo con? You had plans today and now you had to cancel all cause your dumbass boss liked to wait till last minute. It annoyed the hell out of you when he did this cause it wasn’t the first time either.

Once you got to the con it wasn’t much better. It was fucking packed with people. And some of the people were dickheads. You had clients wanting big ass intricate designs when you literally still had a million people to do. It was hot and crowded and for some damned reason everyone just wanted to be a dickhead.

You were already 2 hours in and had done a little over fifty tattoos by yourself. You felt the pressure on you because you were the head artist of your shop. You had been going this since you were just a dumb teen doing sick and pokes on yourself. After you got done what felt like the millionth tattoo you were rightfully annoyed. You still had 3 more hours left and you felt like you couldn’t catch a damn break.

When you heard someone sit in the chair for about the umpteenth time you were ready to lose your mind. That was until you seen the man sitting there. Casually dressed in all black the first thing you noticed was his tattooed eyes. The black where white should be and the red where his pupils should be. His shirt white hair covered my a black cloth clashed against his tan skin. He looked like a fucking freak, and by gods you were so thankful he came to you instead of your coworkers.

“So I’m guess you want a tat?”

You cleared your throat when you remembered you were staring. You were met with a shirt grunt and a nod. His voice was so god damn deep and gravely it made no sense.

“Right so what do you want exactly?”

He passed you his phone showing you a design of three different knives, they weren’t exactly simple but it was something you could do relatively quick.

“Where do you want them?”

“Right here.”

He lifted up his and pointed right to his peck. You thought you were going to die there on the spot. You could see the many other tattoos that littered his body. Specifically his sleeve peaking out while he lifted up his shirt.

While you worked on the stencil you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him. He was weirdly quiet compared to everyone else there. And while you worked he barely even flinched. It was surprising since most of the when you tattooed men they would need a break every ten minutes. But he just sat there. He was like a ghost, not moving a single muscle. Hell he didn’t even listen to music to distract himself.

Once you were done he used your mirror to look at the final result. To say he was impressed was an understatement. This was probably his favorite one yet. He gave you a small thanks before leaving like it was nothing. When you went to wipe down the chair for the next person you saw he left you a tip. A gracious one at that. He was so fucking weird and off putting. And you were making it your mission to make him yours the next time you see him..

[super-arrow-legends]

Agatha All Along Rant/Questions:

Ok so I need to clear some things up with you all or at least get some things off my chest about how this show ended.

Why did Agatha have to die?

Aside from Marvels apparent love for killing witches, if you’re going to kill off your explicitly lesbian/queer main character then there better be good reason for it. How many times have we seen the same trope over and over again with no happy ending for the lesbian couple and mostly ending with one dying. It’s overdone and unless there’s a d*mn good reason to back it up then don’t do it. Now, here’s my take.

Rio said it was Agatha or Billy. We know that there are rumors that Agatha exchanged Nicholas for the darkhold and very heavy implication that there was some kind of sacrifice that she had to make that ended up losing her son (re: Billy saying “is this how Nicholas died?”). Then when we actually saw what happened it just seemed like Rio gave Nicholas 6 years to live and then the time finally came to get him and that was it - no sacrifice, no struggle. Unless I missed something. So why did Agatha have to die then? I assumed it would have been like she sacrificed Nicholas because she was going to die and she was allowed to keep living because of it or something (idk). But that would have made sense if then Rio finally tracked her down like “it’s your time”. But that didn’t seem to be the case at all.

I’ve heard people saying that it was her or Billy because Billy is wrongly inhabiting a dead body (fair - he should’ve done with Rio) and that Rio gave her the option to come with her because she was “hiding” Billy. But not in episode 1? Why did Rio spend years tracking down Agatha before Billy even came into the picture? What was her original motive for wanting to kill Agatha? It doesn’t make sense to me.

ALSO - why did Lilia use some of her last words to protect Agatha by telling her how to save her own life? Why did Billy give up some of his power to her? All of that for her to just suddenly change her mind? Like sorry but “is this how Nicholas died?” *kills herself* when we then saw that that was not even how Nicholas died??

I don’t even know if this is making sense to you all. I just needed to get thoughts out. The episodes didn’t make sense either. I would love a discussion on this!

[fluffycatsposts]

Sucker for a Happy Ending

word count-1784 GenderNeutural reader

TW: mention of blood, war, death

Price has horrible nightmares and comes to you

Gunshots, blood, explosion. You’re on the ground, not moving and half blown to bits. He rushes over, repeatedly calling your name, hoping for a response but getting nothing as you continue to lay there. Lifeless. He shakes you, trying to get a response, begging you to respond and to hold on. The world around him is silent as tears fall down his face.

He jolts awake. Another nightmare. They have been haunting him for the past week and all he can see is your body on the ground, but you're not dead, no, you’re in your own room. Asleep. It all started when the Task Force 141 was under fire. Without warning you ran for a wall to use as cover when someone had just thrown a grenade and it landed next to you. You didn't see it until the last second and moved away in time, however in Price’s mind, he had seen you die and has from then on seen you die a million times over.

He glances at his clock, seeing its 3 in the morning. He sits up as he tries to clear his mind but no use. He gets dressed and walks down the hall to your room. Knocking on the door, waking you from your sleep. You’re confused to be woken up at 3, not remembering if there was anything scheduled this early. You get up and answer the door. The sight of you standing in the doorway, confused but awake makes an invisible weight slide off his shoulder. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the hell were you doing?” he demands as he shoves past you, entering your quarters. He stands in the middle of your room like a grumpy grizzly bear, his hands on his hips.

“Sleeping?” you said, confused on why he was here at 3am. “what  were you doing?” you asked.

“Don't get smart with me” he said with a glare that would melt most people in place. “You weren't paying attention to your surroundings.” he grunts, walking closer to you. He stops in front of you, mere inches away. A scolding father would best describe his current expression. You stand there, still half awake, trying to figure out what he meant. “You could’ve died, you daft moron” he growls, grabbing your chin firmly. His eyes bore into you, looking for any sign it’s actually getting through that thick skull of yours.

“I’m sorry. I-I don’t understand” you said quietly.

“The grenade” he said “you should have been paying attention”. You finally realize what he is talking about, everything coming together. The bags under his eyes, him constantly watching you throughout the week after the mission. It now all made sense.

“Captain, I was paying attention.” you said

“Obviously you weren’t, or you would have moved when it first landed next to you.” He said. “It wasn't a drill, it was a live situation”  he snarled. When you are in danger, his usual gentle fatherly demeanor flies out of the window. Fear makes him aggressive, and he is terrified of losing you. He grabs you by the arms and shakes you like a ragdoll, “You could’ve died. Your body could have been pulverized because you just decided to not pay attention.” he bellows. He stops shaking you, hands digging into your arms. “Do you even understand what you just did to me?” he demands a face close enough that your nose would have touched if he leant in.

“No sir?” you said quietly

“I saw you stand there, not moving until the very last second.” he practically spits out, “I thought you were going to die. Do you know what it was like for me to watch you just stand there?” he lets go of you, stepping back. He looks away for a moment, breathing heavily. It's a sign that he’s trying to reign in his anger, not scream at you. He looks back at you, searching your face. “What were you thinking? Standing there like an idiot?” he demands, stepping closer to you again. He lifts a finger and points it at you. “Explain to me what the hell possessed you to do something so goddamn stupid and reckless.”

“I just didn’t see it when it first landed” you said “ when I saw it, I had thought to use myself to cover it instead of moving away to protect the others”

His heart feels like it's in his throat at the thought of you getting near it, much less using yourself to cover it. “You idiot!” he snaps, grabbing you again. He grabs you by the biceps, giving you a shake. “Don't ever do that again, you hear me ?!”” he smells giving you a shake. You nod, agreeing. He gives you a pointed glare, searching your eyes. He wants to be sure that you know exactly What you did was stupid and dangerous. “I mean it, you daft prick. Next time, you get away from the grenade, no thinking.” he warns, not dropping the grip on your arms.

“Ok!” you agree. He tightens his hold on your arms, pulling you an inch closer. 

“You have no clue what it does to me to see you get that close to danger, do you?” he asked. He can’t stop thinking about cradling your dead body in his arms every time he goes to sleep.

“I’m sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!”

He lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Scare me?” he repeats “don't you get it? I thought I was going to lose you, you stupid moron. I thought I watched you die” he hisses.

“But I didn’t! I’m still alive!” you argue. A frustrated sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head at you. 

“You’re here and alive right now, but what happens next time? Or the next?!” he demands. He squeezes your arms, the thought of losing you, slowly driving him mad.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised.

He lets out another scoff. “How do you know it won’t? You weren’t even paying enough attention and barely made it out alive this time. You wont notice next time, how the hell am I supposed to trust you to pay attention?” he snaps. The grip on your arms is a bit painful at this point.

You wince a little, “I will be more careful” His expression darkens as he sees you wince from his grip. It wasn’t his intention to grab you so tightly he hurts you, he’s just trying to get his message through.

“You have to more than just careful” he says in a lower, slightly calmer tone. “You have to be more aware. You can't be on just instinct while in combat or you’ll end up dead”. He looks down at his hands, looking a little guilty that he squeezed your arms so tightly that it hurts. Slowly, his grip on them relaxed, shifting to gently rub the no doubt sore skin. “That was dangerous, you're lucky that you didn’t die. How can You promise that you won’t do something that stupid again?” he asks, looking back up at you. He isnt letting you go until he knows for certain  that your head isn't all the way up your arse.

“I’ll make sure to be more aware of my surroundings.” you said “more observant”

He signs, raking a hand through his hair. He looks tired, the stress of almost watching get blown to Hell was wearing him down. “Good God, you have no idea how stupid that was, do you?” he grumbles, walking past you and taking a seat in a chair. He drops his head in his hands, trying to ease the headache from his constant worry about you. “You got any idea how hard it was for me to watch you put yourself in danger like that?” he mutters, dropping his hands in his lap. You are sitting on your bed. “You don’t, do you” he asks, peering up at you from his seat in the chair.

You were quiet for a moment, looking at him. “..want a hug?” you asked quietly. His expression darkens as he looks at you. Does he want a hug? What hell of a question if that?

“Of course I do, you idiot” he snaps, standing up and stomping over to you, grabbing you and pulling you into a tight bear hug. He holds you against his chest for a while, arms wrapped firmly around you. He buries his face in your neck, he can smell the scent of your shampoo. “You better never do this to me again” he mumbled to you, the anger that drove him here melting into frustrated worry. He holds you as tightly as possible without hurting you, like you would disappear if he even dared to let you go. His breath is warm against your skin, the sound of it shaky with pent up worry of the last few days. “For a minute, all I could think about was cradling your dead body in my arms,” he mumbled.

“But you don’t have to think about that anymore,” I whispered. He tightens her grip on you, as if you were going to disappear any second.

“Stop doing stupid stuff from now on, then I won’t have to” he mutters. His chest is pressed against yours, the beating of his heart rapid in its thumping. You leaned back a littling, pulling him into the bed.

“I think you need to sleep,” you whispered. He lets you drag him to the bed, letting you pull him on to it. He lays down with a tired huff, reaching and wrapping his arms around you more tightly.

“I can’t sleep” he mumbled, holding you to him like his most precious treasure.

“Wanna watch a movie then?” you asked. He lets out a small hum of agreement, one hand coming up to run fingers through your hair.

“Sure, " he said quietly, “as long as I don’t have to move.” he adds with a tired chuckle. You grab your laptop that was on your nightstand, it was a bit of a stretch, but you managed to grab it. You  logged into Netflix.

“Anything in mind?” you asked, browsing through everything. He shakes his head, continuing to lazily run his finger through your hair.

“I don’t care, pick something” he hums, closing his eyes. Looking through. You picked Five Feet Apart. He quirks a brow at your choice, opening his eyes to look at you. “Really?” he grunted “you picked a romance movie?”

“It's a good movie, or so I hear” 

“ I never pegged you for the type to enjoy romance movies,” he uttered.

“Im a sucker for a happy ending”

[komorim]

to generations after us

-> kamisato ayato x f!reader

[ synopsis. ] a while has passed since the death of your husband, and everything seemed to have changed but nothing seemed to have changed at the same time. your routine and life will always be constant, yet the scenery and people of inazuma will never be identical to the ones before. and neither will your heart.

‣ when the sky weeps ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

[ content warnings. ] character death. reader has children with ayato. angst. mentions of suicide. suicidal thoughts. there’s not a lot to say; it’s not dark content. reader is a kitsune from japanese folklore.

[ word count. ] 1.7k

[ author’s note. ] hooray! the first one shot of my pair of one shot collections! i’m starting to regret making myself suffer through writing twelve oneshots, but it is what it is :p please bear in mind that updating of the collections won’t be very fast (like any of my updates :x) but i will try to upload two at a time, one for each collection. i originally planned on having the initial upload be four one shots so you all have something to read while i’m cooking up the rest, but i only got three done and i decided to just post one first :x

day one, day two, day three. how many days has passed was originally clear to you at first, but then there came one point in time that you lost track. when you lost track of the number of days passed since one of the biggest milestones in your ever lasting life.

since the day your husband, the love of your life, the father of your children, had passed away.

looking back on it now, you don't believe that your life had much of a change after his death. after all, it wasn’t your first time experiencing loss. yet this time was somewhat different. it wasn’t just a friend or a mortal you had attachment to that passed. no. it was your husband, the one who who married you, the one you mothered children with, the one you gave your heart to.

the first couple of days were dreadful, trying to comfort your children from the pain of losing their father and having to deal with awful words thrown at you because you haven’t shed a tear.

but what do they know?

as a mother, how could you make your children worry for you when they’re already mourning? how could you cry your heart out and voice your desire to die with him? you didn’t have the liberty of doing so.

so you could only resort to silently weeping as your hand rests over what was once ayato’s side of the bed. in the middle of the night, all you could think about was how regretful you were that you weren’t by his side, how you couldn’t hear his last words nor caress his face like you once did one last time. yet after weeks of barely sleeping, you still had to act as if you were okay in order to not raise the attention of your children.

though day by day, you continue such behavior and the negativity that surrounds you only grows.

seeing the kamisato estate as it was before, the same the last time you saw ayato slowly crumbled your will into pieces. you can almost see him in the shadows, smiling at you as he calls you to come join him for dinner, frowning as he scolds your laziness, smirking as he looks at your flushed face when he walks out of the shower half naked, humming as he walks down the hallways.

it’s all too familiar.

everything and anything reminds you of him. his cologne is still placed in the same place last time he used it. his toothbrush still sits in the stand next to yours. his coat still hangs by the door. his shoes still rest on the rack.

nothing seems to have changed, but everything did.

the streets on inazuma city still look the same as when you and him last went on a date. your favorite food stand is still selling your usual order. the trees are still in full blossom.

yet your loving commissioner isn’t there anymore.

how are you supposed to keep pretending? how are you supposed to reassure your children again and again that you’re taking his death well when that red moving object in your chest cavity has long withered and died?

how can you hug them and looks at them when their features resemble half of his?

you had missed him too much, and wanted to feel him and smell the scent of him terribly. you wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and ask for him to comfort you as he always did. then your attention fell onto the the white coat he wears everyday. it was bound to be covered in his scent, and after contemplating whether it was worth it to destroy the way he left things, you gave in to the urge.

bringing the coat back to the bed, you cuddled up to it and hugged it tightly, breathing in the faint scent of ayato. the crumpling of paper you heard was odd, knowing that it wasn’t a sound a normal coat was supposed to make. and when you pulled out the now slightly wrinkled envelope, tears started to pool in your eyes when you recognized the familiar penmanship.

you opened the seal carefully, not wanting to destroy the last thing he left you, and you pulled out the piece of paper that has already aged. it made you wonder how long ago he had first wrote this.

how long ago was he expecting his abrupt end.

my dear, the love of my life, my darling fox,

you hadn’t even begun to read its contents before a choked sob forced its way through your throat, emotional already at the mention of his pet names for you. names that you loved to hear.

how are you doing? probably not so good since you most likely are reading this after the news of my death. you can almost hear his light chuckle. i once remember you asking me why it is that i started to keep one hand in my pocket out of habit. now you probably know why. even without me telling you, you were always so very smart and perceptive. which was why it made me so nervous trying to keep this letter a secret. as your beloved husband, i know i shouldn’t be keeping secrets from you, but i had to. i knew you’d give me an earful if you knew about me writing such a letter when i’m “so young and have many years ahead of me.” but i had to write something like this soon. because who knows when i might die? the thought of it breaks my heart as well, but we both knew this would happen one day. after all, i am a mortal. if i had the choice, i would sell my soul and more to obtain immortality, since how could i bear to just leave you one day? but it’s the inevitable truth that my end will definitely come before yours. so i keep looking, keep staring at your face and features, trying to engrave them into my mind and heart and soul so that i never forget you even long after i’ve passed. even as i write this, i often glance up at your sleeping features on the bed. how beautiful you are. and how it saddens me to imagine those beautiful features i love distort into pain and grief. which is why i hope i can stay longer, just a bit longer. one more minute, one more hour, one more day. i hope that with my presence, i can make you smile for that much longer. though i understand that your smile from the day i die on will probably only be for the sake of presentation. to reassure, to comfort. after all, you never truly smiled until you fell in love with me. and that’ll always be the proudest achievement of my life. but please, don’t be too saddened by my passing. i understand the love you harbor for me, but please don’t let it be the reason you’re awake at night. a mortal’s life is short compared to yours, and you still have many years, many decades, many centuries. without me, you still have our children, and their children, and their children, and many generations after. you are never alone, my love. and there will be much, much more people in the future who will love and accompany you as i did.

the letter wasn’t complete, since you had a habit of calling him to bed every time he stayed up working. but you knew the purpose that the letter was supposed to serve. to make you feel better. but the day by day torture and regret that you put yourself through has already put you into an abyss so deep that a simple farewell letter couldn’t pull you out.

you became secluded, just like how your life was before a certain kamisato rudely interrupted.

he swept in, rescuing you from fox hunters when he was no better. the hunters wanted your life, and him making you fall in love and then leaving is no different. and the more you think about it, the more resent grows, and the moment of comfort that the letter brought you was long forgotten.

he wooed you with his sweet words and warm smile until you willingly handed him your heart. and then he left you alone, just like nothing had happened. but what was worse was that he didn’t just leave, no, he took your heart with him too.

you were used to loneliness for centuries. you enjoyed the leisurely life you had. but now that you’ve seen happiness, seen companionship, seen love, how were you supposed to go back to your previous life?

it’s cruel. what he did was unforgiving. and asking you not to despair? it was selfish.

he was alike a caretaker that has made an animal dependent on him and then pushed them back into the wild. a caretaker that stripped the abilities of hunting and survival from a wild animal before abandoning them once again. a caretaker that rescued an animal in need before blowing out the fire of hope.

how could he? more importantly, how are you going to survive without your caretaker? you’ve grown used to it all in this habitat that you loved, and now you can’t imagine a life without him.

you’ve grown miserable, resentful, to the point that you can’t help but want to tell him that you’ll never forgive him for the rest of your life.

but you can’t. you love him too much, gave him your all and more. he’s the man you loved, the first and only man you loved, and the one that loved you the most. how could you ever have it in your heart to hate him? how could you hate someone that first thought about you when the idea of their own death comes into mind?

one moment you’re screaming, sobbing from all the pain and anguish, and the next you’re begging for something, somewhere, that they could bring him back to you.

because without her caretaker, the silly fox that already gave her heart away would die in the wild.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[din-miller]

To Be Without You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gn!Reader

Word count: 715

Summary: Comfortember day twelve – dreams

Warnings: nightmares, mention of child death, hurt/comfort

A/N: you can’t get Comfortember without pain. That’s my justification for this. Also this is a day late by 13 minutes and that’s because I spent the usual three hours trying to name this shit.

You’ve been here before, on this desert wasteland, air dry and lungs full of sand, but it wasn’t like this last time. You weren’t staring down at the broken bodies of your husband and son.

No, they didn’t die then, before, you had saved them. So why are you screaming for them to wake up? Begging for them to open their eyes, pleading with the Maker to take you instead.

No, they hadn’t died that day.

So why does this feel so real?

Then, after a heartbeat, Din’s yelling your name but his lips are closed and cold. Blue like the beach you got married on.

The yelling became louder, more persistent, more determined and you closed your eyes, letting your mind focus on the words circling the air around you.

Arms wrapped around you, strong and unwavering and you don’t understand how you’re being comforted when there’s no one around you.

The arms tighten and your eyes fly open, four walls surrounding you; a soft white, nothing like the red specks across the desert sand.

“Cyar’ika you need to breathe.”

It’s Din again. His lips are open as words flow out of them, mute to your ears but they look nothing like the cold ones burned on the back of your eyelids for decades to come.

But look is not enough, no you need to feel the warmth. Which is what you do, the desperate reassurance has Din gasping in surprise, body flying back onto the bed and you wasted no time crawling on top of him.

He lets you lead the kiss, understanding that you need this. You let the anguish inside you bleed into his mouth, letting it mix with the love he’s pouring into you.

It’s enough.

Din pulled back but the warmth of him never left as his forehead touched yours, “We’re all okay. Whatever you saw, we’ll get through it I promise.”

You believe him. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this dream and you know it won’t be the last. You fold yourself against his chest, matching the slow breathing pace he’s set for you. In and out, in and out, once more before a horror creeps up your body and settles in your mind, stealing all the air in your lungs, “Where’s Grogu?!”

“In his room,” Din sweeps his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tears you don’t remember letting fall, “I’ll bring him to sleep with us once you calm down.”

“No, no I need to see him now!”

Din sighed but didn't try to put up a fight with you. He’d lose and you both know it. He kept you tucked against his chest as he sat both of you up, “Do you want to bring him in here or should I set up the pull out couch in his room?”

His arms don’t let go of you as you leave the bed and mumble into his shirt, “His room. I don’t think I can sleep in our bed right now, it’s too much.”

“Okay, I’ll set up the futon for us.” Din said softly, guiding you to your son's room.

You don’t fight off his hands but you do shake your head, “You should go back to our bed. It’s better for your back.”

Din huffed, almost offended, “I’m not leaving you.”

You’re first to enter Grogu’s room, needing so desperately to see him alive, unharmed. You crouched down beside his bed, careful not to wake him as Din started setting up the futon for the night.

“Hey,” Din whispered, hand landing on your shoulder, thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion, “The beds set up.”

“He’s so tiny,” You whispered back, tears building back up but you won’t allow them to fall, “I always forget how tiny he actually is.”

“Knowing our little guy he’s probably bigger than most kids his age,” Din pressed a kiss to his tiny green head and then did the same to yours, “You need to sleep, cyar’ika.”

His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the bed as he held you protectively against his chest, letting you breathe in the scent of his person and the soft chamomile that fills Grogu’s room.

“Don’t let go?” You asked.

“Never.” He promised.

[williamkisser]

♡— Fake dating with the Cowboy

♡— my second fic on this acc!! Yippee!!! I should probably open requests… anyways, thank you to @fishermanshook for showing me the „fake dating” prompt, i IMMEDIATELY knew what character is going to be a great fit for this story! Hope you enjoy!

♡— Warnings: g/n reader, word count is 1100, slightly angst, sort of an unhealthy, manipulative relationship… but it’s all done for the greater good - isn’t it…?

♡— Kevin Ayuso was a man far from being subtle. Which is also the reason you connected the dots and very quickly found out the manor’s own cowboy has got his eyes on you.

♡— Kevin Ayuso, who under mysterious circumstances sailed here all the way from America, knew more than one or two things about how cruel, hypocritical and selfish the mankind could be. He experienced betrayal from his own parents, which resulted in his best friend getting murdered.

♡— Almost everyone in this cursed place had something serious hidden behind their ears. There were murderers, psychopats, outcasts… and yes, while you couldn’t exactly „die” outside of the games - still, being beaten up or violated maybe wasn’t the nicest way of spending your average Monday afternoon, though, does anyone in here even keep track of the time?

♡— Among everyone, he saw something special radiating from you. You weren’t like the others, he knew. There was no malicious intention behind your participation for the prize, right? Well, even if there was, it was now far too late. The cowboy’s mind already deep into delusion and desire to shield you from what’s evil.

♡— Kevin, upon his arrival to Oletus Manor, swiftly obtained the title of a huge flirt. He would try to flirt with almost everyone, men and women, he always got weird stares aimed at him, but he didn’t care. The cowboy was someone undisciplined, liberated, and who couldn’t be tamed. Surely, someone being disgusted by him wouldn’t be a big deal for the man. And besides that, despite all, he is someone extremely respected by the manor residents. All survivors could feel safe near him and his lasso. He was someone unexpectedly reliable. Little did everyone know, literally none of his romantic attempts were honest. Okay, maybe a few…

♡— Not a single person knew, because he refused to talk about his past. He didn’t even like thinking about it. The thought of losing someone close again sent shivers down Kevin’s spine. He promised, both to himself and his past friend, that he’s going to protect the person who accepts and trusts him until his final breath. That someone was you. Yes, maybe slightly manipulating someone into fake love wasn’t something a beloved cowboy should do, but is there any other way?

♡— So, when he began approaching you more frequently, you understood the intent very clear. You were next. You knew you’re not special and he’s did it with so many people, in fact, when you were the freshest blood of Oletus, you were specifically told to be vary of him by a certain perfumer woman. Seems like she went through a rough path because of him.

♡— But…. there was just something about Kevin Ayuso that rubbed you the right way. He was just so thoughtful, romantic, and on top of that handsome. The cowboy already had experience and exactly knew how to get through your shell. It was a classic court game, someone could say. Starting from the smallest simple signs and gestures: smiling to you more often, playfully winking… then, during the matches, he did all in his power to keep you safe from the hunter. You’re not getting hurt on his watch. It all ended with you receiving roses and trinkets under your door, even a poem - though, you were sure it wasn’t his creation. You knew he got you good when you constantly fidgeted with the beautiful pearl necklace he gave you. You fell into his trap.

♡— It was actually quite funny to him, how he’s being so dedicated to a fake act. He just hoped you won’t find out the truth any time soon.

♡— When you two got together, Kevin felt a little more at peace - knowing that you’re his lover, much less people would dare to hurt you, but there was still a lot of things to be done to ensure your safety. He had to make sure everyone knew that you both are now a thing. All hunters, all survivors, all staff. Which led to several moments of him initiating physical and verbal affection in front of the others, whether it made your uncomfortable or not. You were sure some, if not most, were absolutely sick of it, while others were relieved they won’t have to deal with his futile flirting, either way, you couldn’t care less if they like it or not, he made you feel so confident.

♡— The cowboy was a very convincing and caring lover. He’s even convinced the right people to let you sleep together in one dorm. You were head over heels for each other, or at least you thought so. Because you were not aware all he did, he’s done with not love, but worry in his mind. He had his watchful eyes on you all the time. He was paranoid and delusional, thinking even a minute of inattention could lead to you getting hurt. Meanwhile, you just assumed he’s possessive of you, after all, it took him some time to finally find someone.

♡— It has now been… a week? a month? half a year? since you were together, no one anymore could even tell, but to Kevin, each new day where he ensured you were safe was a step closer to saving you from doom. But not all went exactly with his plan. It happened late at night, on a cold autumn night. You were both laying in bed, you sleeping peacefully on his bare chest while you wore his poncho. Kevin was playing with your hair and caressing your face with his hands. He had many thoughts at that moment. All the hugs, all kisses and sweet nothings did something to him. He didn’t know what. But they definitely did. When observing you, he came to a conclusion that his heart is no longer filled with the sole need of defending the good, no. Pure love now took it’s place. That was no longer the cowboy who longed for justice and protection of his loved ones. There now was a Kevin Ayuso, a caring boyfriend.

♡— Kevin Ayuso realized very quickly that playing with someone’s true feelings could lead to the opposite of intentions. Instead of taking care of, he’s hurting his love, That’s why he promised to never tell you what exactly happened. It’s all for the greater good. What he did wanted to tell you, is that you both had to escape this hell to experience safety once and for all. He could show you the world, his world.

♡— He’s constantly having a certain scene in his mind. The cowboy imagines him and you in a deep, dark forest, leaving the Oletus Manor, your past lives, while riding a horse into the new world.

♡— He wishes he could do that. Somehow. Someday. He’ll do anything in his power to achieve this. He’s grateful you trusted him and he is going to make the most out of this love.

♡— And he hopes you never find out what has happened before that one night.

[inthepeakymidwinter]

Losing You (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Thomas works together again with a long lost love.

Word Count: 961

TW: Alcohol

———————————————————————

Thomas Shelby invited me to the Garrison for a drink after work. I helped him sort through all of his balances and tax issues with his business. He was very appreciative and wanted to treat me to a drink after the past month we’ve shared since I came back to Small Heath. We were originally good family friends but my dad went into business and his went into an adventurous criminal career. Naturally, our families separated and Tommy and I didn’t reunite until I came back to Small Heath to start a new life away from my parents.

I walked into the Garrison alone in a black peacoat. It was raining and my hair got drenched. I spotted Thomas at the bar and tapped on his shoulder. He turned around, agitated from a random touch. I backed up and eased into talking to him. “It’s okay Thomas it’s just me” I softly smiled. He softened up and gave me a small hug.

“What can I get for you Y/N?” He insisted, pointing to the bars large selection.

“Irish whiskey” I ordered.

He looked at me strange. As if I’m not supposed to drink so heavily.

“Who caused that?” He asked.

“My dad had a large collection. I’d break in sometimes” I confessed.

“We have a lot to catch up on then” He smirked and called for the bartender to bring two glasses and a bottle of his best irish whiskey.

I followed Thomas to the small room in the front of the bar. We shuffled into the booth and sat across from each other. I waited as he poured us both a drink.

“I didn’t want to start off with this but…Y/N I’ve always loved you for a long time. I really thought we lost each other entirely until now” He admitted out of nowhere.

“How much did you drink before I got here Thomas” I blurted out.

There was no way. It was impossible.

“Enough to know. Enough to tell you” He looked at me with hazy eyes.

I took the small glass of whiskey and downed it. I looked back at Thomas and then back down at his glass. I downed that one too. He saw me nearly die after the second glass but I didn’t care. I had to come to the realization that his words were true. He wasn’t playing games with me like he did when he was young. He was looking at me clear as day and somehow I had to match it.

“Thomas…you didn’t want to celebrate business did you?” I asked him.

He scoffed at my question. “How on earth can I celebrate when you have no use for me anymore. I have nothing in my business left to fix. Your contract is up Y/N. You’re gone from Shelby Company LTD” He sighed and poured a drink for himself. Looking more sad than I have ever seen him.

“I moved to Small Heath to start over. Not to leave” I spoke softly to him and reached out for his hands across the table. He accepted my hands and we both held each other. “I’m not leaving you Thomas” I told him with a smile.

“Well then..we better start drinking” He poured a glass for both of us and we clinked our glasses before taking shots.

After being incredibly drunk out of our minds and reminiscing of our childhood we decided it was time to walk home. We held onto each other for support and because of how comfortable it finally felt to be in each others arms. Thomas was my teenage crush. He was my everything. I know the war changed him, but by the time he came back I was already half a world away and I felt like I lost him forever.

He walked me to my small apartment and I crashed my lips onto his. “So…I need you to spend the night” I insisted. His face lit up and he nodded quietly. I unlocked my front door and dragged him in with me. I closed and locked the door behind us and took my jacket off. “Do you want some tea?” I asked him.

“You have more liquor?” He asked instead.

I laughed, “You need more Mr.Shelby?”

“I just never thought I’d be standing alone with you before” He gazed at me like he’s never seen anyone else in his life. Like I was the only woman in the world. I didn’t know how to react, so instead I went into my kitchen and fetched another bottle of whiskey for him.

I took a shot from the bottle and then passed the bottle to him. “I never thought you’ve seen me like that” I sighed.

“I saw you from the first time you walked into my life Y/N” He told me before taking a swig from the bottle himself.

“Come with me” I held out my hand and he grasped it gently. I walked him to my bedroom and sat down on my bed, kicking off my shoes and untying my hair from its tight bun.

“Do you wanna make up for the years I’ve been gone?” I asked him.

He grinned and took of his jacket, dropping it messily to the floor. Thomas moved closer towards me. Pinning me down onto the bed with each arm on either side of my body. “I’m going to make so much up to you every single day you’re with me” He promised.

Thomas leaned lower and pressed his lips against mine. Softly biting my lower lip and then releasing his hold to look back at me. “I wont lose you a second time” He whispered.

“Damn right Thomas Shelby” I smirked and pulled him back down with my right hand to kiss him again.