#and try to forget or remember how breathing works still not sure which is better

[just-sauntered-vaguely-downwards]

okay so I'm worried my skin might catch fire I feel so hot, trying to remember how breathing works (or I should try to forget? maybe I'm thinking too much about it...), but all I will say for now, possibly for quite a bit I honestly don't know, is no matter what is true or not, I am so so sorry if this is triggering anyone else. And I'm sorry if me posting just ads to it.

But as someone whose own ptsd is raging rn, so much it's in a phantom sensations phase, please know (and this is half me talking to myself), this can be the last thing you see before you allow yourself to close your app or browser. You can turn off your notifications. You can wait til there's more information, or you can block it all out. you can post or not post. you can distract yourself with other things so you don't start to obsess.

whatever you do, your job is to take care of yourself first and foremost.

Edit to say I need to follow my advice and most of my notifications are currently off. I need to give myself space not only emotionally but because I have an extremely important test in two weeks that I can’t have anything else put me at risk of failing.

That said, my inbox and comment notifications are still on. Just in case anyone does need support, especially what I mention in the tags. Cute or funny distracting messages are very welcome.

[bloggerspam]

Cousins, Clones and Conning the Family

Family Reunion AU, where cousins Maddie and Clark try to smuggle their clone children into the family reunion that happens every 5 years and pretend they've been there the whole time.

Spoiler alert, one of them does significantly better than the other. Mainly Kid POV, and also on AO3! Multichapter. ===

The problem with big family reunions, Danny thinks, is how utterly fucking lost Danny is all the gosh dang time.

"Well now, you're Maddie's son now ain'tcha? How old is you now?" The woman standing before him guffaws, ruffling his hair. He lets it, trying desperately to remember the speadsheet Jazz created for the family and (obviously) failing to recall this woman's name.

Agatha? Selene? Riri? No, Aunt Riri is over there—

"Yes ma'am," Danny smiles up at the unnamed aunt, accent going a little twangy like it always does at these functions, "I'll be hittin' 17 in a coupl'a months or so."

"My, my, you youngin's sure grow like weeds!" The aunt coos, gesturing to a height by her hip, "You used to be this tall last time I saw ya, betcha don't r'member me now do ya?"

It's a trap. If he says he doesn't remember, which is expected at reunions such as these that happen every 5 years or longer, she'll start going on and on about the stories she has of the family. Danny would have to stand here and demure and laugh at these cousins he doesn't really remember too well, but know enough to know that she's gotten them all mixed up.

"Pshaw," Danny doesn't react when a whisper breathes the answer into his ear, "I'd never forget a pretty lady like you, Aunt Helena!"

It works like a charm.

The second he's out of her clutches, he feels around for a cold spot. There, trailing just behind him, is Ellie. She's not invisible anymore, so he tucks her under his arm and bee-lines it towards the metaphorical kid's table.

"Thanks, Ellie. Weren't you supposed to stay with Dad?" Danny leads them around, trying to avoid any other mishaps. "Did Jazz send you?"

"She made me flashcards!" Ellie smirks up at him, ignoring his other question and pulling a corner of an index card out from the palm of her hand. She's always been better than him at manipulating the ecto in her body, for obvious reasons. Danny's not bitter about it at all.

"Damn, all I got was a presentation." Danny grumbles. Jazz and Dad somehow know every single one of their family members, which is ludicrous when even Mom doesn't know despite it being her side of the family.

He still can't really believe how big his family actually is, but he supposes that's natural. He only sees them once every couple of years, the only relative they see even on a remotely regular basis is Aunt Alicia, who has no kids and refuses (rightfully so) to remarry.

Danny's fine with that, he gets the best of both worlds after all. Cozy holiday stays with Aunt Alicia and he has places to stay all over the country if he really needs it, no questions asked.

Plus, crazy as they can be, these reunions have always felt like a big country festival for Danny.

"She likes me better." Ellie snickers, tugging him back to avoid Uncle Charlie's drunken stumbling.

"Everyone likes you better," Danny rolls his eyes, pushing Ellie's head down and ducking to avoid a stray kid's toy flying overhead, "I like you better."

As if somehow knowing Danny's being self deprecating again, Jazz shows up to smack him on the head. "I like both of you equally in special ways."

Danny makes a disgruntled noise, grumbling as he rubs his head, "Mooooom, Jazz is therapizing me again!"

Even though he was only half joking, Mom does show up specifically to laugh at him. "Honey, your father and I love all our children equally!"

"It's a secret," Dad says from behind Jazz, kids climbing all over him, "But Ellie's the favorite!"

"Jack!" Mom yells at the same time Jazz screams, "Dad!"

Ellie dissolves into giggles, making everyone but Dad helplessly laugh. It's good to see Ellie laugh, she does it a lot but it still doesn't feel like it's enough. Danny picks her up, giggling mess and all, and tosses her at Dad.

She lands, as expected, straight into the pile of children who scream and accept her easily.

"Nice." Jazz chuckles, this time patting him gently on his head in approval. Danny shrugs, dusting his hands off and heading back towards salvation: the food.

He and Jazz mingle a bit, exchanging greetings and school updates with the Aunts and Uncles they occasionally bump into, making their way slowly through and keeping an eye out for the other cousins.

Eventually, Jazz gets nabbed by Cousin Dermot just as Danny reaches the table, tossing a pig-in-a-blanket into his mouth and chewing with glee. The locals of the family usually something potluck style—and though Dad's genes are strong and the Fentons can't cook, the bulk of the Walker family definitely can.

In fact—Great Aunt Martha said she was going to bring some mini pies right?

Danny spies a pile of them in the middle of the large table and reaches for one, only to bump into the spikes of black fingerless gloves.

The gloves are, of course, attached to someone else.

It's a boy, around Danny's age, in a spiked leather jacket (matching the gloves) and white tee shirt with ripped jeans. He's got the tiniest John Lennon sunglasses and piercings everywhere—it makes Danny squint at him, with how much the sun keeps catching on everything—the spikes, the piercings, the metal arms of the sunglasses, is this dude also wearing lipgloss?

Danny's not judging, a guy can appreciate proper hydration to avoid chapped lips or even just for the aesthetic, but it doesn't help with the glare.

"Sorry, my bad." Right, okay, city slicker then. Not that Danny's much of a country boy or anything. "Did my spikes get you?"

Maybe Cousin Jenny brought a plus one? Danny eyes the guys jeans—they look tight. Was Cousin Mark into guys? Is this dude a guy or possibly a masculine girl? Ack. Stupid sun frying his brain.

"It's okay," Danny says, blinking away and tossing mini pie to the other person. "Aunt Martha's pies are worth the minor injury. You comin' in with one of the cousins?"

"Uh, yeah." Citypunk looks at Danny nervously, "I mean, I am one of the cousins." The guy bites his lips, shrugging, "Uh, one of the Kents, actually. Ma's real proud of the pies."

Danny blinks.

"…You're not Jon." Danny says, very carefully and slowly.

"…No…" Stranger Danger draws his vowels out, "I'm Conner. His, uh, older brother? Can't blame ya for being confused though!"

"…You can't." Danny agrees, because out of the two them, Danny definitely isn't to blame for the confusion.

"Yeah, lots of cousins, and all," Curiouser and Curiouser beams at Danny, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck, "Plus, I know Jon's more sociable at these things."

"Right, he really is rambunctious, that guy." Danny nods, as if that's the problem, and not the fact that Danny knows every single cousin his age. Big as his family might be, Danny's generation came out the smallest. Cousin Jenny and Cousin Mark are the only two his age.

With Ellie and Jazz each being four years younger and older than Danny, and the other cousins being well beyond those ages in gaps, there is no way this guy is a cousin.

"Don't worry," Punk'd laughs self deprecatingly, "I know he's the favorite. even if Mom won't admit it."

Danny feels a vein throb in his right temple.

He's unsure if he should slowly back away or get up in the guy's face. It's just—now that Danny thinks about it, if wedding crashing is a thing, does that mean family reunion crashing is a thing too?

What's the protocol here? Should he fight this guy for having the audacity to use Great Aunt Martha's name in vein?

Wait, no, that's Jesus.

Is Great Aunt Martha Catholic? ...Is that the one with Jesus, or was that Christianity?

Wait, Danny, you knuckle head, Uncle Clark was adopted. Conner could be adopted too! Even though he looks exactly like that Uncle Clark when he was younger…

"Is this your first time at a reunion?" Danny ventures, "We only have 'em—"

"Every 5 years, yeah." Conner huffs, "Nah, I just used to hide with Ma in the kitchens."

Okay, clearly Great Aunt Martha isn't in on this, because Danny used to hide with Great Aunt Martha in the kitchens. Danny's about to lose his shit on this guy—or maybe sic Ellie on him. Whichever is worse.

"Oh yeah? That's must have been cozy." Danny grits out, taking a deep breath so his eyes don't flash.

"Yeah, it was!" Conner beams shyly. though all Danny sees is a smug smirk. "She's real nice-like, I'm sure you know. Real lucky to have her for a Grandma."

"Real lucky." Danny agrees, because Great Aunt Martha really was one of the better Great Aunts. Though most of the Walker Kin were hardy and tough, in that badass kind of way. Mom really liked Great Aunt Martha's lessons on bull wranglin' back when they were younger. "Speakin' of, she ain't here?"

"Nah," Conner makes a sad little pout. "She hadta stop by Auntie Agatha's for an emergency. She left two days ago, so she's runnin' a little behind. Cl—Dad went to go pick her up."

Danny squints at the possible imposter. That sounded like he was going to call Uncle Clark by his name, which makes things confusing for Danny. Guy will call Aunt Lois Mom but he won't call Uncle Clark Dad easily?  Maybe he's a kid Aunt Lois had before marrying Uncle Clark? But Aunt Lois would never hide a kid, and Great Aunt Martha would never let her treat a kid like that. That's not even taking into account that this kid looks way too much like Uncle Clark for it to be a fucking coincidence. Plus, Danny knew about Aunt Aggie's emergency and how she might not be making it to this year's reunion—this gives Conner's story credibility.

But Danny knows that the best way to lie is with truths, even if the truths are confusing.

So what the hell is going on? Is Clockwork fucking with him? Did an alternate timeline get switched with his?

It wouldn't be the first time, but Clockwork at least had the decency to let him know at least.

"What the—" Danny blinks, as Conner picks up a very familiar, eye-searingly green colored post it note that was stuck to the plate under a mini pie. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah," Danny huffs. taking the note and rolling his eyes as lies roll off his tongue, "Sorry, y'know how it goes with Jazz."

"Oh, yeah." And Danny has to give it Conner, he at least rolls with the punches real quick, "I heard about it but didn't ever uh, see it in action."

"Really?" Danny feigns surprise, head pulsing in irritation at the words all is as it should be written in purple pen. There's no mocking smiley face, but Danny feels it in the ink anyway. "Thought she got all the cousins at the last reunion."

Conner chuckles nervously, "Oh, yeah—Guess I'm just, easy to miss you know?"

"Uh huh…" Danny eyes the guy and his piercings and very distinct style, from the tip of his clearly styled hair and needlessly ostentatious big black studded boots. "…Right."

Conner laughs, wincing. "These're new. High school debut."

"…You're a freshman?" Danny tilts his head, squinting.

"Junior." Conner automatically corrects, before stiffening. "…I just wanted to reinvent myself for Junior Prom."

"Right." Danny repeats, drawing out the vowels and finally giving up. He can tell Conner already knows what Danny is going to ask, and is trying to exit this conversation post-haste.

Fortunately for Conner and unfortunately for Danny, Jazz comes barreling in, almost knocking the former out in the process as she grips the latter's biceps tightly with her eyes wide and nervous.

Unfortunately for Conner and fortunately for Danny, though the look in Jazz's eyes thoroughly distracts the latter and gives the former a window to escape, Jazz's hissed out words end up keeping Conner rooted to the floor.

"Baby Jon has powers!" Jazz hisses as she moves Danny away from the possible imposter a couple feet. Even though she says it low enough for only Danny to hear, Conner's wide eyes as he whips his gaze towards them suggests that Jon's not the only one with powers.

And then words actually register along with that thought.

Danny hisses out the first thing he thinks of. "Since when?? I thought he took after Aunt Lois!"

"Since now," Jazz gruffs, switching her grip to drag Danny away, "and I need you to do something about it!"

"What?" Danny doesn't struggle, going along even as he eyes Conner who seems to be following them at a distance. "Why?"

Jazz pushes him towards the kid's area, rushing out a frantic "He's in the bounce house with Ellie!"

Danny freezes, or tries to even as Jazz keeps tugging him along, before shaking off her hand and booking it towards the bounce house.

Once the bounce house (a castle) comes into view, Danny clocks several things in succession:

One: Ellie and Jon are thankfully the only ones in the bounce house right now.

Two: Ellie and Jon are laughing, and through the mesh Danny can see Ellie watching Jon jump way too high to be considered normal.

And three: The bounce house is about to fucking tip over.

There's a gaggle of Aunts herding the younger cousins towards the food that's dense enough for cover, but sparse enough for Danny to dash through.

Between one blink and the next, he disappears.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis, Ch 5 Part 2

masterpost shhhh migraine, hell week, worked like 14 hours yesterday. no editing please <3

Kon leaned against the open door frame between the hall and kitchen. He watched Lois peel an apple with practiced ease; Jon hated apple skin. Kon had no idea where Jon got that from, considering Clark would eat most things and Lois was snacking on the peel as she worked.

“Need anything, honey?” Lois asked without taking her eyes off the apple and the sharp knife in her hand.

The nickname always made Kon feel equally warmed and uncomfortable. Honey—someone Lois cared about. She had cared since about fifteen minutes after she’d met him. The first fifteen she’d spent chewing Clark out.

Kon cleared his throat. “Yeah. I actually wanted to ask you for some advice, if you’ve got a moment.”

“Welcome to my parlor, pull up a chair,” Lois said with a grin. “Want an apple slice?”

“Sure.” Kon took the offered slice and went to lean against an open spot of counter. He took the excuse of eating the snack to try and gather his thoughts. “So, um, what sort of activity is good for a first date with someone you already know?”

Lois almost fumbled both the apple and the knife with how quickly she spun to look at him. “No! Really? Who made the move first, you or Danny?”

Kon crossed his arms. “That obvious?”

“Honey, you forget I fell for a Midwestern dork myself, I know what that looks like,” Lois said as she motioned with the knife. “Besides, you were cuddling with him. You only let your group cuddle with you and even then you shove them off half the time.”

Kon opened is mouth to protest, but couldn’t actually find any words to defend himself with so he just frowned.

“Well?” Lois asked with a teasing smile. “Who made the move?”

“Me,” Kon grumbled. “A little one, but then Danny made me talk about it, and I maybe kissed him.”

“Look at you go! Proud of you, kid,” Lois said.

Which was a surprise.

“…yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it was clear that you were sweet on him. It’s too easy to do nothing about a crush. I’m proud that you did something about it,” Lois said. It sounded true.

“I… thanks,” Kon said. He rubbed at his cheek. “But I don’t know what to do for a date. Dates weren’t exactly something that Lex had downloaded into my brain like math.”

“I wouldn’t trust anything that Lex thought about dates anyways,” Lois said dryly.

Kon thought abut that for a moment. “Yeah, okay, true. But that still doesn’t help.”

“We’re getting there!” Lois said and tossed another piece of apple at him.

He caught it and munched on it as a way to stay quiet.

“A movie date is still a classic,” she said. “But if Danny is feeling better, there’s always bowling or roller skating. There’s this grate place—I did a story on the women there once—that’s a roller derby rink but when there aren’t matches, it’s just a place to skate. They use the funds to help pay for the team, but it’s also set up to be a safe place for queer teens and young adults to hang out at. That might be something fun.”

Kon thought about it. “…that could be fun, yeah. Do you remember the name of it?”

Lois shook her head as she piled all the apple splices onto a plate with some cheese slices. “Not off the top of my head, but I can pull it up at work tomorrow and text you to it, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Kon said and stole a slice of cheese. “We wouldn’t do anything before Friday anyways, bit chem test coming up.”

“Ugh, chem, please tell me you don’t need any help with that one.”

“Nope, that I did get downloaded into my brain,” Kon said with a grin.

“Well, about time Lex did something useful,” Lois joked as she headed off to find Jon with the snack plate. “Other than making you I mean, honey!”

Kon ducked his head an rubbed at his cheek. Under his breath he mumbled, “…thanks, Mom.”

[girlfromflor]

went through hell yesterday and now I'm thinking about kyle garrick who takes care of you so tenderly when you're feeling sick – at first, at least.

he doesn't even question why that night, he just asks "what are you feeling, my love?" concern taking over every feature of his beautiful face.

to which you answer "headache... feel like throwing up," with a big pout and shaky hands from nausea.

he makes something salty and light for you to try and eat at least something, but as you shake your head and say with trembling voice that you "really can't, kyle", he nods and helps you walk all the way to your bedroom where he sets you down on the bed and gives you a pill to help and soothe the headache.

he watches as you drink it grimacing and he can only say "i know, baby, but you can sleep now. and you'll wake up feeling better tomorrow, eh?"

he let's you hide your trembling, cold hands underneath his shirt. you forehead tucked in chest as he hugs you until you're asleep. and when you wake up, he's still there – by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing he ever came across.

when he wakes up, the very first thing he does is make sure you're feeling 100% better. once that's out of the way, he asks "now, tell me what happened yesterday, love."

you, as guilty as you could feel, answer him with a mumble. "forgot to eat dinner yesterday..."

you can feel the way the soothing brushes of his fingers in your skin halt for a second, before he's questioning "did you, baby? what was it that you were doing that made you forget to eat?"

he knows you get caught up in your own head sometimes, that you get so entranced in your hobbies that you forget to do the most basic things for your own comfort. you tell him that you were just distracted with a new tool you got that would help you finish your project of the moment, to which he answers with a sigh.

"baby, i know you were having fun and distracted, but what is the rule for when you have a new project you're working on?"

he waits as you take your time to answer. he's always so patient with you, it makes tears well up in your eyes. "i have to set up an alarm and always prioritize things related to my health and comfort..." you answer firmly, you had to repeat that a lot of times for you to not know it by now.

"hm, that's right. so, if you remember that, how come you forgot about it yesterday?" he's not mad, you can tell, but he's worried. worried something else got to you and that you actively neglected it other than just forgetting.

"'s just that i didn't have my phone close, so i couldn't have heard the alarm go off. 'm sorry, it wasn't on purpose..." you rush to answer, voice slowly being enveloped in anxiety, but he just sushes you with a kiss to your cheek.

"c'mon now, baby. you know it's okay. this isn't for me, is for you," he says and pull you closer in his embrace. "go on, say it, baby. you don't have to be sorry."

"it's okay... it's okay, and this is about me, not you," you take a deep breath and that works for calming you down. kyle always knows how to keep you grounded.

"yeah, that's right, love." he plants another kiss in your cheek, and then one to your nose. "but you cannot neglect your meals like that, can you?"

"no, i can't..." the response comes automatically, you feel so safe with him knowing he's taking care of you that you don't mind whatever punishment he'll give you for not following the rules.

he hums in agreement, deep tone of his voice rumbling in his chest. he's already moving out of your arms and finding his place between your thighs, holding them spread to his liking.

"'m gonna use my mouth on you, and you'll feel really good, baby," he points out, matter-of-factly. "but just when you're about to cum, i'll stop," he adds, and you can feel yourself squirming already. kyle is too good with his mouth, and he knows that.

"and you'll take it. my good, precious baby can do it, yeah?"

fuck, this is going to be a long morning.

[elssero]

so… head?

e.kirishima

♰ nsfw/suggestive content, pussy eating, slight angst to smut/fluff with kiri being a d1 eater <3 part1

you step hurriedly into your apartment and you feel as though you can finally realise the breath it feels like you’ve been holding your entire walk- no run home. you open your phone to find messages from each of them, mina asking where you went and denki excessively apologising asking if he made you uncomfortable. their messages are filled with worry- your not like this, your strong- so strong. if anyone knows how to take a joke it’s you, which is why you running of has them so worried.

you shoot mina quick message- something along the lines of being tired because of work and promising you’ll make it up to them next time, that seems to calm them down a bit.

despite having basically ran the entire way home in nothing but a mini-skirt you still feel hot all over- not a warm hot- no definitely not. you feel hot inside. you decide a cold shower is a definite and you strip as fast as possible, the material of your clothes are sticking to your skin and you need to wash this feeling away immediately.

with the high of drunken state now completely gone you step under the water with a hiss- it’s freezing. that seems to derail your attention long enough for you to shower completely.

settling into your couch in much comfier clothes you pick up your remote and browse through your tv services- trying to find something to take ur mind off whatever the fuck tonight was.

you can’t though- you can’t stop thinking about kiri, and how hot his breathe was against your skin, the look in his eyes when he spoke to you, his voice low- almost desperate. you take a quick peek at your messages- more from mina, photos now of everyone together, without you. a few more from denki, clearly now alot more drunk as he’s slurring even more apologies, he’s blabbering about cancelling the head plan and you can’t help but giggle at his typos. without realising your eyes gravitate towards kiri’s name on your wall of messages- he hasn’t text.

should you feel so disappointed? you knew he was only saying those things because he was drunk- of course he was but that doesn’t stop the little hurt u feel creep up on you when you realise everyone else has messaged you.

you contemplate for a moment- how do you move forward from this? at first glance it could be easy enough, you don’t work at the same agency as kirishima so the only time you see him are during your groups weekly get togethers, you debate in your head for a moment before deciding that you’ll face him when your ready, until then you plan to avoid him. saving both you and him from the embarrassment of having him either a- forget it ever happened or b- have him probably apologise for joking around and tell you he didn’t mean it.

you can’t even decide which option you’d rather- having him forget would mean you would never need to bring it up with him, he could live in blissful ignorance while you take your sweet time getting over it. kirishima is so sweet though, your sure if he remembers tomorrow morning that he’ll attempt to apologise for his attempt to make you feel better- you’d rather he didn’t say anything at all.

you spent your week diving head first into work, hardly giving yourself a moment of rest- you put yourself forward for every patrol shift you can get. upping your daily patrols to minimum 2 a day, sometimes even 3 if your struggling to sleep and decide to take a night shift.

to say your friends are worried about you is an understatement- you’ve never been one to overwork yourself, you always seem to have a perfect balance between your work and person life so to see you completely ignore anything personal has them almost frantic for you.

sero messages your groupchat about plans for friday, he invites everyone up to his place- clearly excited about his new minibar finally being set up. you smile at the message but not respond quite yet. not until you see a message from a certain red head matching his excitement in his own message confirming that he’ll be there this weekend. you frown slightly reading his message- it’s clear he’s talking to everyone else fine so it seems to be just you he hasn’t spoken to all week. you decide not to reply straight away, instead finishing your second patrol of the day in hopes of going straight home to sleep after.

the patrol goes by quickly and suddenly your on your couch again, unable to sleep while endlessly scrolling to try find something to watch. without any luck you open up your messages again to see the rest of your friends all confirming their availability for the friday coming, your frown from earlier re-appearing on your face as you send a quick message to your manager asking them to set up your schedule for you to be out on patrol again on friday night.

you scroll up the chat messages so you can send a direct reply to seros message in the chat inviting you all over- your reply is short and sweet, letting your friends know that you’ve been scheduled for patrol on friday night and are unable to make it this week. you tell them to have a good time without you though! sending the message while you ignore the tight feeling in your chest.

you want more than anything to be with them on friday but you can’t- your not quite ready to face them yet. especially kirishima who you’ve assumed has forgotten about your drunken conversation.

you get a couple pitying messages in the chat- your friends expressing their disappointment at the fact you won’t be there- telling you that they’ll miss you and it won’t quite be the same without you. nothing from kirishima though- you ignore the way your brain immediately picks up that he hasn’t said anything about your absence and decide it’s late enough already, you need some much deserved rest.

the following weeks go by in a blur, you work, you eat and you sleep. your life seems to be moving in a constant wheel of the same activities day after day- your colleagues are now taking notice of your unceasing interest to pick up every shift your offered, your manager even taking a moment to tell you to slow down, you don’t need the extra patrols your doing great on the rankings as it is. you ignore her though, telling her it’s not about the rankings- you just want to work as much as you possibly can so she, against her best wishes schedules you for yet another friday night patrol.

this will be the forth week in a row you’ve missed out on your friends hangouts and you can tell their starting to get increasingly stressed about your constant absence- mina phones you while your in the office to ask where you are, she’s been stood outside your apartment knocking like an idiot. it’s nearly ten pm and she lets out a groan when you tell her your still not home- promising to be back soon.

she’s not there when you arrive home an hour later, you find a message from her almost begging you to talk to her- she’s troubled by your unwillingness to spend time with her and you do your best to soothe her worries- promising to try and make it next week.

your settling down for bed when you hear a knock at your door- it’s nearly twelve at night, who the fuck is at your door so late?? you pray it isn’t mina- not believing in your ability to face her without breaking down, you head to the door anyway.

you open it quickly groaning at the light coming from the hall outside your apartment to be met with none other that eijirou kirishima standing breathless at your door.

your mouth drops quickly before you pull yourself together, you give him a questioning look before finding it in you to speak. “what are you doing here?” it’s not much but it’s all you can muster right now.

“i- “ he doesn’t continue, he looks almost as shocked to see you as you are him, despite him being the one knocking at your door close to midnight. “i had to see you.”

you raise an eyebrow at this- what the fuck is he doing here? in the middle of the night, stood outside your apartment alone.

“right… do you wanna come in?” you don’t want him to come in, infact you would have rathered if he hadn’t came at all but that’s not the situation you’ve found yourself in.

“please.” is all he replies and you look at him a little starstuck, he still sounds breathless- as if he ran here but you let him in despite your worries.

he follows you into your dimly lit apartment- you watch as his eyes dart across the room, stopping quickly at the pile of packaged food wrappers on your kitchen island as a pang of worry hits him even harder. you stay silent as you guide him to your couch and urge him to sit down next to you, taking note of your silence he begins to speak.

“so uh- how have you been recently? haven’t seen you in awhile..” his sentence trails off and you don’t even look at him when you answer with a quiet “i’ve been good.”

“i- okay look. i came here to apologise to you” you turn, looking at him now, this seems to increase his already nervousness- “i think- i think that i made you uncomfortable a couple weeks ago and i just want to apologise-”

“-it’s fine” you cut him off you begin to look away from him again now as you continue, ignoring the knot in your stomach as you realise you had been right- he had just been joking last month. “everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk.” you finish off your sentence and take a quick drink of your water next to you- your mouth is dry.

“what.”

you snap your head to look at him- your eyes meeting his with an expression you didn’t expect- he’s hurt? confused? your struggling to read him but it’s clear he isn’t happy.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he continues seeing as you don’t reply to him.

“what?” you answer back- your confused now, your talking about the same night are you not? “i’m talking about at the bar? when you made that joke about eating me out to make me feel better?” your calm. collected. surprisingly so- especially about a topic like this- you say it like it’s nothing. a stricking difference from when you last spoke and you physically ran away from the man infront of you. you’ve had alot of time to think about this situation over the past few weeks and you’ve decided it’s far easier to just ignore the way his words have you warm feeling inside for the sake of your friendship- for the the sake of group.

“i wasn’t joking.”

his eyes don’t leave yours as he replies- he looks even more broken now- “you thought- you thought i was joking?” he’s rushing his words out now, almost as if you can’t hear him.

your eyes blow wide open- your shocked as you look at him and he seems taken back-

“kiri please- i’m fine you don’t have to do this” you stand up now, you attempt to walk away but you don’t make it far as you feel a grip on your wrist as you turn away from him. your spun around quickly now face to face with the red head.

“i wasn’t joking- i wouldn’t joke about something like that-” you hear him- he sounds desperate- your eyes soften for a second as you look him in the eyes.

you take a breath. a slow one. you decide not to respond- not trusting your voice.

“i meant it. every single word.”

you’ve had enough. you’ve fought these feelings for far too long too continue to doubt yourself now. you move faster than you can think as you pull him down to your level by his neck and crash his lips onto yours-

the kiss is fast and passionate he’s pushing back into you now- wrapping his huge arms around your waist pulling you down onto the couch behind him, you rest on him straddling his waist as you push himself further into his mouth. you kiss for a minute- tongues pushing against the other feverishly before he parts from you.

“i can’t believe you thought i was joking. f-fuck when i said id do anything for it i meant it.”

you can’t help the blush that erupts from your face at his words.. your lost for a second before you answer him.

“s’not my fault, it took me by surprise- i’ve never had anyone express interest in that before..” you lean into him again, mouth hovering slightly about his- you can feel his long breaths against your lips as you pause, lips turning up into a slight smirk as you continue- “especially not like that”

he’s looking at you with half lidded eyes again, his current state reminds you of his one in the bar- you feel like an idiot, you can’t believe you didn’t see it then. he wanted you. he so clearly wanted you and you were so wrapped up in your own insecurities that you missed it.

“like what?” his voice even more breathy now- he doesn’t move closer to you but you can feel his breath growing quicker, he’s longing- wishing you’d just close the gap between you and him.

“desperately” is your answer, slow and seductive as you close the distance, pushing your mouth into his without giving him a second to think, he groans at the contact and you let your full weight fall onto his lap as you straddle him properly now- without hovering.

his hands roam the plush of your waist dipping down to your thighs, they’re bigger now that you’ve fully sat down on him and he moans as he squeezes his hands into the fat of them, pulling you closer to the buldge in his pants. you feel it at your core- he’s hung you don’t doubt it for a second as your rock yourself against him- craving some sort of pleasure as he moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss.

“p-please stop that.” he moans it out “if you keep grinding on me like that i won’t be able to do what i really want to.”

your suddenly flipped over, your lying down back against your couch as you use your arms to hoist yourself up as your eyes follow kiris figure, he kisses against the fat on your stomach avoids the material your small sleep shorts.

he ducks his finger under the band and looks up at you- hunger in his eyes. “this is what i really want… if you’ll let me.”

you nod- far too quickly as you mumble an audible yes before you can let your insecurities get the better of you again. he wastes no time pulling down the hem of your shorts- exposing the full view of your pussy to him.

he stalls for a second- just looking before he moves. the second is enough time for you have second thoughts.

they’re quickly shut down when he audibly whines “h-holy fuck baby look at you.” he’s crazy. he must be fucking crazy. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen- can’t believe i get to be the first to taste it.”

you don’t have time to be shocked as he dives straight into you and you immediately let out a loud moan, it’s pleasure like nothing you’ve ever felt before. he’s lapping you up like he’s starved, you don’t think you could stop him now even if you wanted too. (which you definitely don’t) he refuses to come up for a breath, he’s taking long fast licks against between your slit before he begins to suck.

that must be it. you think. when women around you talk about how pleasurable getting head is this must be the feeling they talk about. your eyes shut and involuntarily as your hand rushes to grasp the hair on his head- pulling him closer to your core.

he moans into your pussy at the pulling of his hair and you feel it. you feel him fucking moan into your pussy as he drinks you up, you can’t even comprehend how wet you are right now. you’ve never felt this good in your life.

there’s a knot in your stomach you feel getting heavier- you need to realise it- you want it more than anything.

kiri feels as though he may as well be in heaven, he looks up at you for a second and nearly cums right there. your heads thrown back- eyes shut and mouth agape, your panting, making noises that move directly towards his cock. it twitches in his pants again- pre-cum dripping as the already existing wet patch continues to grow.

he needs you- he needs to pull an orgasm from you and he needs to do it soon. your thighs are soft around him, he’s keeping a firm grip on them as he feeds on you, fuck, it’s too much for him-

your in no better position than he is, your gasping for air at this point, paying no mind to the erotic sounds leaving your mouth, all you can do is grind down onto kiris face- chasing the realise.

you find it- it comes fast and hard- you let out a loud moan of his name as you reach your high- legs attempting to clamp shut around kirishima head and he only moans in response to the plush of your lights strangling him.

he waits for a second- let’s you calm down before he manoeuvres you to sit you up straight. your eyes begin to open as you find yourself face to face with an extremely red kirishima- your slick still dripping down his face, he’s smiling at you with nothing but admiration. he picks you up effortlessly and moves you towards your bedroom, he cleans you up and places you under your covers within a few moments, he joins you in bed without changing himself and it reminds you-

“what about you?” your eager- despite your tired state. “don’t worry about me baby” he’s quiet- he sounds nothing but content.

“why not?” your extreme tiredness making you almost delirious.. but you know you want him- to finish at least.

“i kinda- i already kinda came.”

no fucking way.

this is the longest i’ve written and god did it take FOREVER (maybe a couple of hours)

@von-studios part 2 baby <3

[oimitocat]

STRAY KIDS REACTION….

… to boyfriend!reader being angry and they find it hot (nsfw warning) (hyung line!)

ᡴꪫ CHAN… was extremely similar to you. you’re a lay-backed person, sure sometimes you have episodes where you’re not exactly in the mood to socialize but still, you’re charismatic and let things slide more than he does. you always say it’s because you don’t have energy to entertain that stuff.

yet, seeing you angry — TRULY angry, was something he’d never think he’d get to see. so color him surprised when he hears you shout and pace. the furrow of your brows, your darkened eyes. you looked… good. that tone, he’d never heard it and… it stirred something in the pit of his stomach.

“something wrong?” he asks after a while of eye fucking you.

“company said i need to go on a damn hiatus because some shitheads are spreading a rumor. i could care less, why do they have to make it seem like i’m anxious or whatever?”

chan blinks. “rumor?”

“yeah, super stupid. all i did was call them to say i wasn’t happy with how our last show ended. dude, they literally couldn’t get my headset to work, i had to wing the timing and stuff. their lack of work effort pisses me off.” you groan.

“i know but…” chan pauses when you glare at him. he swallows, “hey, i mean a hiatus is good. you get to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest-“

“i get to have you all to myself without worrying about you missing out on your schedule.”

“if you’re bored, play with me. if you’re angry, take it out on me. you’ll have all the time to do so.” he grins.

you blink, “i- what?” and you can’t even be angry anymore… just frustrated. but chan will also take that.

ᡴꪫ MINHO… had the habit of annoying you and frustrating you sometimes, but never actually making you angry. as idol’s there is a lot of things that can drive you mad. minho for example hates wardrobe malfunctions. fans went crazy over some clips of him angry and upset over a few outfits and so have you.

you never really cared for much, at the end of the day you get a nice paycheck and you’re good to go. still, that doesn’t mean you don’t care about your job. so when he sees that your mic isn’t working and you’re more than upset at the lack of resolve from the sound techs…. he simply cannot look away.

even when you get off the stage, you’re glaring and absolutely not in the mood. everything you do is with anger— ripping off your headset, wiping off your sweat, loosening your outfit. goodness, you look delectable.

“you mad?” he asks teasingly, of course he has to tease.

“i’m not in the mood minho.”

oh! that anger had a pretty tone. “fuck,” he breathes out, pressing himself closer to you, “you gonna take it out on me?” and your eyes bored into him.

he definitely didn’t regret it later.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. didn’t know you could get angry. he’s only seen you be all soft and gushy. he’s seen you be defensive and stern but never angry. he’s literally making his way to the studio when he hears your voice boom outside the door. worried, he walks in and sees how your standing and yelling at the other producer.

“what’s-?”

“-how long it’s taken us to keep these files and you forget to save them?!”

the producer fidgets, “doesn’t change have a copy? he always has a copy-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE COPY IS THE SAME AS WHAT WE WERE ADDING TO IT YESTERDAY! you can’t recreate something that was authentic!” you pace, pulling at your hair, “shit man, i worked so hard on that!”

“y/n calm down,” he tries, “what file is it-?”

“changbin, i literally cannot right now.” and you leave.

in the end the file wasn’t deleted, just misplaced in the wrong folder to which it was saved. still, the lack of clarity pissed you off. you didn’t want to work that day and changbin was trying so hard to coax you. yet, seeing you mad was so good for some reason. changbin knew he could make you feel better (totally not feeling you with his hands? and you being angry was making things fun.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. doesn’t remember a time where you’ve been angry. he’s also never even wanted to. he doesn’t like noise and he remembers how you always say you blow up when angry. hence, when he hears you slam your fist on the desk, he jumps. you’re dramatic like him, so he tried not to think much of it except…

“are you kidding me?” he hear you say with an ominous tone. low and sultry, makes him pause. “so you’re saying that you’re wasting my damn time.”

he peeks over at, seeing you frown and glare at the wall while on the phone. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on you… his mind starts to wander…. would that expression look at him? you’re talking, angry, clearly. and it’s so…

“why are you angry?” he asks when you hang up with an insult and throw your phone of the desk.

“cus apparently i have to do everything myself. why the hell would you-“ and he zones out, watching your angrily rant.

you plop down on the chair, angry. he stands and walks over to you, desire in his gut. “baby don’t be mad…” “well i wouldn’t if they did what i was paying them to do.” “-let’s get your mind off that, yeah?”

and boy did he.

[luimagines]

Can I request a thing for Kid!Hero Reader where, before their journey starts, they meet the chain in the marketplace while walking around with the ghost!chain? Kinda like the thing i sent where the chain catch a glimpse of the triforce on their hand?

-🍄

Imma have to dig deep to remember all of this mushroom. But let's see what I can do. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You weren't entirely what to expect but the uncles and grandpa's that followed you around today where a little more quiet than usual. More tense. Which is strange because that's never happened before.

They were always talking. If not one, then another.

But they all seemed to be waiting on baited breath for something to happen.

You tried to ignore the feeling that they were intensely watching everything you did. You wanted to go back to bed and forget the feeling of uneasy but you needed more eggs. And you need more butter.

Deciding that it's better to get it over with, you hike up your big kid pants and go to the market to go get the groceries.

"...Do you remember who they met first?"

"Not a clue. Stop talking."

"Please talk to me." You whisper to the voices beside your ear. "Where did you all go?"

"We're here." The oldest of them speaks calmly, a whisp of a touch over your head. "But today is important. We can't change what's about to happen."

"Will it hurt?" You ask to the wind.

Another whisp of a breath over your cheek. "No. We will protect you as we always have."

"Ok, Grandpa. I'm trusting you." You gulp and continue to walk. With the feeling of the heroes behind you, you take a deep breath and continue on with what you head planned to do.

"Over here!!" A voice calls out.

It almost gives you whiplash. You know that voice.

But it wasn't distorted or faint. You heard it.

A group of boys crosses in front of you. They were all of various ages but recognized a few of them.

"Captain." You say without thinking. He was always wearing that ridiculous scarf.

The young man in question stops and turns to you with such startling speed that you gasp and take a step back. He's so... young.

"Great work, Captain Obvious. You scared them."

"That's not how I remember it."

"Shut up all of you."

You somehow find it in yourself to wave.

He smiles and waves back, getting down on his knee to meet your eyes better. "Hello there. What's your name?"

You tell him your name, staring at him non-to-subtly.

"Where are your parents?" He asks you, catching the attention of the other boys in the group.

You gasp, seeing the bigger guy. He has a scar and paint on his face. You know him too. He's less grumpy. "Grandpa?"

The younger Captain raises and eyebrow and turns to look at those whos attention you've caught.

Oh... You think you can see it now. These are your uncles and grandpas. But they're... here... and Alive? And young. So young. One of them can't be that much older than you but you know him too. He was a pirate when he was a boy. He told you that.

"Relax." The wolf man whispers to your ear. Fur brushes past your other cheek. "We've always protected you. Always have, Always will."

A golden glow shines on your hand.

With a gasp you try to try to hide the calling card for trouble.

Their eyes narrow at once. Of course, they'd recognize it.

Feeling awkward from all their stares, you waves again- with your other not glowing hand. "...I was shopping for lunch. You can come to my house. We can all eat?"

"Oh poor thing. I'm so sorry we scared you so much."

"They're tough. We made sure of it."

"Don't worry Little Buddy. You're doing great."

"We'll be honored." The young captain smiles and it's warm. You smile back. He was always charming but it's different this time.

You don't know how to explain it to them. To tell them just how much they all mean to you... But you don't have to.

They already know.

"We're still here. Right beside you. Every step of the way."

[lovemepartly]

red hair-bf!gi-hun headcanons

— not necessarily red hair gi-hun, just post games gi-hun. he comes home to you broken, thinking he doesn’t deserve your love, but you want to pick up the pieces. 

warnings: 18+, smut. a little bit angsty maybe idk? not proofread

a/n: um i hit a tiny bit of a writer’s block😅 i’m trying to push through it and work on finishing my drafts + answering your guys’ requests!! sorry for the long wait if you requested something 💕

read my pre-games bf!gi-hun headcanons here!

sfw ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

• gi-hun is definitely a lot more quiet now compared to the easygoing, carefree guy that you knew before the games. he'll zone out a lot, not because he's disinterested in what you're saying but because his mind keeps replaying the worst moments of the games.

• his love language is acts of service! despite zoning out a lot, he's really good at noticing tiny details. he'll help with chores around the house and cook for you— although most of the time they're either really simple plates or half-burned.

• gi-hun definitely has survivors guilt, which makes it hard for him to celebrate happy events like his birthday. shower him with love on days like this! bring him a slice of his favorite cake, put a candle on it, and sing to him, and trust me, he'll already feel a little bit better.

• gi-hun's always hated sleeping without you, but especially now, he finds it so much harder to sleep alone. he's either always at your place or you're at his. he's definitely the bigger spoon now, needing to wrap one arm around you while he sleeps to make sure that nothing happens to you.

• speaking of, gi-hun has frequent nightmares about the games. he'll wake up in a cold sweat, eyes wide, and breathing fast and heavy. he'll feel really bad if he wakes you up, but if you do, just hold him softly and press soft kisses to his temple.

• gi-hun told you about the games, of course. forget his obvious personality change, how else could he explain the 45.6 billion won in his bank account? although that being said, he never directly talks about the games. he won't tell you exactly the things he saw, the people who died, the games he played. it's all too hard to verbalize.

• you've always been his anchor, but especially more after the games. gi-hun only feels happiness and safety when he's with you. he reiterates it to you so often, but he really doesn't know what he'd do if something happened to you.

nsfw ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

• honestly? hot take. most of the time, he's so careful and so gentle with you. before, sex with gi-hun was messy and quick. now, it's almost reverent the way he treats you, his hands ghosting over your skin like you're the most fragile, precious thing in the world— and to him, you are.

• he definitely overthinks himself, his tendency of asking "is this okay?" still prevalent. but now, it's filled with his mind literally stalling, as if you haven't kissed him a hundred times. sometimes, you swear you hear a shaky breath and you think he's trying not to cry. he'll never admit it directly to you, but he values the intimacy aspect of sex so much more now. but most of the time, gi-hun really doesn't think he deserves love like this.

• used to love being praised, now is the one praising you. it's quiet and subtle, just his breath against your collarbone as he whispers, "you're so good to me..." also absolutely uses "i needed you" so much.

• remember how i said he was gentle most of the time? sometimes he loses control, like a switch flips in his brain and he's a man starved for you. his thrusts are deeper and harder, fingers gripping your hips just a bit tighter, his moans of your name louder. it's mainly triggered by his newfound possessive tendencies and the fact that he really can't lose you.

• gi-hun was never good at aftercare, but he's much better now, because he wants to be better for you. he'll clean you up gently and get you some water, but also needs to holds you asap after. aftercare is just as important for him, needing to feel your love and your bare body pressed against his, as his fingers play with your hair and he presses soft kisses to the top of your head.

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns Part 8

@crowleythesexydemon

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 9

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.6K Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky knew something was wrong the moment Bob walked into the gym with a clipboard.

Not a weapon. Not an energy drink. A clipboard.

“Uh-oh,” John muttered, ducking into the hallway like he could sense it too.

You, meanwhile, were upside down on a mat, mid-stretch, and waved. “Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

“I have prepared a schedule,” Bob announced. “For Bucky’s courtship initiative.”

Bucky dropped his dumbbells mid-rep.

You blinked. “Wait. What now?”

Bob beamed. “I’ve been doing research. Love is a very specific chemical cocktail involving serotonin, oxytocin, and sometimes pancakes. I’ve created a multi-day plan to help Bucky seduce- no, woo you properly!”

“Bob,” Bucky hissed, red-faced. “What the hell-”

“I even made themed days,” Bob continued proudly, flipping the clipboard to reveal a chaotic chart with glitter stickers. “Today is Compliment Blitz Tuesday. Tomorrow is Proximity and Eye Contact Wednesday. Friday is tentatively titled Emotional Vulnerability & Muffins.”

You looked like you were trying very hard not to laugh. “This is… a lot.”

“It’s science,” Bob said solemnly.

Yelena, walking past the gym with a smoothie, peered at the clipboard. “You missed Subtlety and Dignity Day.”

“I moved that to next month.”

Hours later, Bucky was still simmering with embarrassment, crouched behind a case of gear to avoid further romantic sabotage. You popped your head around the corner, grinning.

“Hey.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re gonna laugh at me again.”

“Nope. I promise.” He squinted at you. “Okay, I might laugh again, but with love.”

He gave you a look. “Bob told the entire base I was trying to woo you. With pancakes.”

You leaned a shoulder against the wall beside him. “Honestly? It was kinda sweet.”

“Sweet?” he echoed, startled.

“Yeah. I mean, chaotic and absolutely deranged. But sweet.”

He looked at you then, really looked - eyes bright with amusement, arms crossed, completely comfortable in his space. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to talk to you without falling further in love.

“So,” you said casually. “Which day is today again?”

“Compliment Blitz Tuesday,” he muttered.

You waited, tilting your head. “Well?”

He sighed. “You’re the smartest, kindest, funniest person I’ve ever met. You’re stupidly good at your job. And… your laugh makes me forget all the awful things I’ve seen.”

You blinked.

He immediately panicked. “That was too much. That was too much. Forget it-”

“No,” you interrupted gently. “That was… perfect.”

And he forgot how to breathe.

On the observation deck, Alexei stood beside Bob, overlooking the city. “You are reckless and emotionally unstable,” he said.

“Thank you,” Bob replied.

“But I will admit… that plan sort of worked.”

Bob smiled. “We’re getting closer.”

“To what?”

Bob pointed dramatically. “To love.”

Bucky walked in like a man going to war.

Bob’s clipboard was missing (mercifully), but everyone knew what day it was. Ava had smirked the moment he walked in. John made a show of stretching like he was prepping for a very intense eye contact session.

And you? You were curled on the couch in one of Yelena’s hoodies, reading a book and drinking tea, looking so cozy and unbothered that Bucky’s entire internal monologue short-circuited.

He sat down on the couch beside you. Close. Not too close. Just close enough to fulfill Bob’s mission parameters for Proximity Day.

You looked up. “Hey, stranger.”

His heart did that thing again - the one where it tried to climb out of his chest and swan dive into traffic. “Hey.”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “You?”

You smiled. “Getting through this book. Might need backup on chapter 10. Feels cursed.”

“I’ll be here.”

You grinned. “My proximity hero.”

He laughed before he could stop himself. Progress.

Bob passed by with a tray of snacks and whispered, “You’re doing great,” like a football coach mid-game.

Then tripped and almost face-planted into a plant, causing Alexei to shout, “COMMIT TO THE ROLE, BOB!” from the hallway.

You didn’t look up from your book. “Should I be worried about whatever weird cult the team is running now?”

Bucky blinked. “Only if they try to bring out the muffins.”

You chuckled. “You’re different lately.”

“Different how?”

“You seem more… I don’t know. Present. Calmer.”

He thought about that. “Maybe I’ve got better reasons to be.”

You tilted your head at him, thoughtful. “That sounds like the next step. Eye contact.”

He stiffened. You met his eyes, warm and curious and completely unaware of the internal free-fall happening behind his blank expression.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

Yelena, Ava, and you were partnered up for drills. Bob was running the session, which meant it had turned into more of a dance class meets improv theater. Alexei had inexplicably brought out an accordion.

Bucky stood to the side, pretending to check equipment, but really just watching you. The way you moved. The way you laughed with Ava. The way you stuck your tongue out at John when he shouted unsolicited notes from across the room. You were magic.

Absolute chaos in a hoodie and combat boots. And Bob’s dumb mission? It wasn’t even about proximity or eye contact. It was about watching you live - really live - and realizing how much he wanted to be part of that.

To be someone you chose.

That night, he found you alone again, looking out over the city.

“Hey,” you said, nudging him with your elbow when he joined you. “We survived another day of whatever this week is.”

He nodded. “You make it survivable.”

You smiled. Quiet. Soft. You stood like that for a long time, close but not touching, the kind of silence that spoke more than any plan Bob could draw. Bucky didn’t need proximity to know how far he’d fallen. But standing next to you?

He really, really hoped you might one day fall with him.

Val’s orders had been clear: in and out, no fireworks, no attention.

Bucky had paired with you without argument - mostly because you’d wordlessly slid the mission file across the table to him before Val even finished reading off the details.

And now, beneath the cover of darkness, the two of you were crouched outside an abandoned safehouse with faulty comms and a growing sense that something was off.

Bucky scanned the perimeter. “Movement. Inside, second floor.”

You nodded, adjusting your gear. “I’ll take the rear. You breach.”

He paused, eyes on yours for a moment longer than needed. “Be careful.”

You smirked. “I always am.”

It was supposed to be abandoned. But as soon as Bucky stepped through the crumbling hallway, he knew you weren’t alone. Footsteps. Heat signatures. Wrong ones. His instincts kicked in just as the first shot cracked past his shoulder.

“Ambush!” he shouted into the comm. “Fall back-”

Your voice came back, breathless and sharp. “Negative. I’m pinned. East stairwell. Two armed-no, three.”

His stomach dropped. He could hear you breathing. Fast. But steady. You were holding your own.

Bucky crashed through the corridor, taking out one of the gunmen with a brutal blow from his vibranium arm. Another was downed by a precise shot from his pistol.

And then - he saw you. Back to the wall, blood at your temple, eyes on fire. But alive.

You ducked as Bucky sent the last guy through a table, and before he could even breathe, you were grabbing him.

“Are you okay?” you gasped. “You were out of range- I didn’t-”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked. “You-your head-”

“It’s nothing.” But your hand was shaking.

And then a beam overhead creaked, dislodged by the earlier fight, and came crashing down toward you - too fast, too heavy, too-

You shoved him hard to the side. It missed him. But it clipped your shoulder, and you went down hard. His voice ripped out of him like something primal.

He’d carried you the last block to the rendezvous point. You weren't unconscious. Just exhausted, banged up, and hurting.

“You’re an idiot,” you rasped.

“You threw yourself in front of a steel beam.”

“Because you weren’t looking up, Barnes.”

“I never look up,” he muttered, trying to keep pressure off your shoulder. “That’s why you’re usually next to me.”

Your eyes fluttered, blurry and half-focused on him. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Liar.”

“I’m…” He trailed off. Swallowed. “I’m scared.” That made you go still. “I’ve been scared since I met you,” he added quietly. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

Your lips parted.

Then Bob’s voice came over comms: “Extraction team inbound. Is Bucky crying? Should I bring tissues?”

You snorted, pained but amused.

The next day in the med bay, you were patched up and teasing him again by afternoon.

The others came and went - Yelena brought snacks, John complained about the mission logs, Ava threatened anyone who interrupted her nap on the spare cot. Alexei brought a bear-shaped balloon. Bob made a chart called “Times Sunshine Has Saved Bucky’s Life” and pinned it above your bed.

But it wasn’t until everyone else cleared out that Bucky sat beside you again, quiet, fingers fiddling with a cold pack he wasn’t using. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you replied. “We make a good team.”

He looked at you then. And it hit him again.

Not a crush. Not a passing thing. But love. Big and terrible and aching.

And after this mission, after the way your voice had sounded when you yelled his name-

He wasn’t going to keep pretending it wasn’t real.

[stellar-haikyuu]

in your hands ☆ shirabu kenjirou x reader

synopsis: when life gets to you, shirabu reminds you that your future is in your hands. details: hurt/comfort | romantic relationship | ~1k words | gn! reader warnings: mentions of anxiety about the future and expectations. self-insert/heavily self-indulgent. very dialogue-heavy, rushed ending, not proofread. not my best work but i needed it for mental processing.

“I’m not sure you’re cut out for it.”

For a dreamer like you, these are the sentiments that hurt you the most.

“You’re not assertive enough.”

While you excel in some aspects, it’s easy to look past that.

“Maybe you should do something else.”

A part of you will always direct your attention to any sign of dissatisfaction, doubt, or disappointment.

“I expected more from you.”

While you know it’s better to process your feelings before letting them go, your mind holds on to them with an iron grip.

“You’re too quiet.”

And their words run circles in your head until you can’t keep up.

“There are times that others overpower you.”

You know you shouldn’t exist to please others, but you can’t help it.

It’s too-

“You’re staring.”

You register the sound of a door closing, followed by the sound of footsteps.

The chair next to you is pulled out, and Shirabu takes a seat.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, bewildered at his sudden statement.

He points at your laptop screen, which has blacked out. Huh.

“You’ve been staring at it for five minutes. There’s nothing on the screen.”

You splutter. “What? You were watching me?”

“Yeah. The whole time I was in line to borrow these books.” He places a stack of science textbooks on the table. “So, what’s going on?”

“Me?”

“You’re spiraling, aren’t you?”

“I, what-”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “What did we agree on last time?”

“To talk to someone if I’m having a problem…” you mutter.

“And what did I say about talking to me?”

His gaze is steady, expectant. You almost forget to respond.

“That I’m not,” you avert your gaze before continuing, “...a burden.”

He hums to himself. “Is it your mid-semester grading?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “What gave it away?”

Shirabu briefly shows you an email notification on his phone. “I also got mine earlier. That’s why I told you I’d be late for this study session. My professor suddenly called to meet.” 

He puts his device on the table and pauses, almost like he’s thinking hard about what to say next. “And, you remember what happened during your last grading consultation, right?”

You nod silently, staring back at your reflection on your laptop screen.

There’s a stretch of silence as the two of you wonder how to start the conversation.

You’ve spent the last six months feeling like your understanding of reality has shattered.

Feeling like you’re not enough. Stupid. Incapable. A waste. A fraud.

“Hey.” Shirabu cuts through your train of thought, gently easing the wrinkles on your forehead. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to confront what you want to avoid.

“I’m going to the hospital for my next internship site.” You start.

He nods. “And I’m going to help you prepare for it, remember?”

“Yeah. But I talked to my adviser earlier. She suggested that I switch to another location.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What, why?”

“I don’t know, maybe she thinks I can’t do it…after everything that happened.”

At that, Shirabu’s expression shifts into something like frustration. “And do you plan on switching?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I still want to try, but a part of me thinks she might have a point.”

“Then, go try,” he says, resolute. “Did she actually tell you that you can’t do it?”

“Not really.” You put your face in your hands. “I think it was implied. I’m still an anxious mess. That much is clear.”

“So, she thinks that pushing through will result in the worst-case scenario?” 

“I suppose,” you sigh. “Like I’ll have another anxious breakdown or some shit.”

Another silence. You hate these moments—reminders of tense meetings with supervisors, their disapproving gazes, their clipped words.

Suddenly, Shirabu drags his chair closer, then takes one of your hands in his. You almost jump at the gesture.

“What do you gain from running away?” He asks, voice softening. 

You think it over as he kneads over your knuckles.

While the upcoming months fill you with dread, you find yourself wanting to push forward.

The idea of losing this opportunity genuinely frustrated you. It was what you’ve always wanted since you heard about it.

You’d be stupid to let it go. 

“Regret,” you reply.

Shirabu nods, satisfied with your answer. “And is the worst-case scenario the only possible outcome?”

Scenes immediately flood your mind. Supervisors berating you, freezing up in front of patients, being told you’re not good enough, failing to overcome your anxiety, realizing that you’re not as resilient as you thought you are-

“Is the worst-case scenario the only outcome?” he repeats, nudging your knee.

Your head goes blank.

“Do you remember how happy you were when you finally understood your adult client’s cases before?”

Yes. You do. Sometimes, you never wanted the sessions to end.

“Your past supervisor said that you’re capable of adjusting and learning quickly, didn’t she?”

You recall the satisfaction of getting techniques right, seeing progress, and celebrating small victories with clients.

“Do you need to be perfect to learn something valuable?”

You shake your head, and in response, Shirabu squeezes your hand.

“So, is a challenge equivalent to your downfall?”

“No.”

Shirabu hums to himself, satisfied with your answer. “And we’ve been working on your coping strategies, remember?”

“Yeah.” You smile, thinking about everything Shirabu’s helped you through.

From telling you to seek help, talk to your parents, reach out to your friends, advocate for yourself, and make time for self-care? There’s progress—while it isn’t linear, it’s there.

“So, to hell with people if they think you can’t.” There’s a hand under your chin, tilting your head upwards. “Look at me.”

You listen, meeting his sandy irises. 

“They can’t tell you what to do. The only thing that can stop you is the decision you make.”

You inhale deeply, letting the words sink in. 

He’s right. They have no control over your life.

With a burst of courage, you make your final decision.

“I’ll do it.”

Somehow, the weight on your shoulders disappears at your statement.

"That's it, sweetheart." Shirabu presses a kiss to your forehead. "Your future lies in your hands."

masterlist

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday,

Sadly, my week has been filled with unfun drama, so I was hoping to ask for some fun drama? Maybe magnus being petty towards the siblings/Clary? Something fun and dramatic but not *too* serious? (Sfw or nsfw)

Thank you 🩵

I'm sorry your week has been so hard. unfun drama is really the worst. it's kind of soul sucking so I hope your days get better!

and I hope you enjoy this as some fun drama! its dramatic but its not really serious?

Magnus being petty and dramatically threatening Simon with a little curse. I think think this counts as fun drama? I think it's fun. even if Simon doesn't. If it doesn't i'll try again so let me know.

The Incident described in here happens in dressed to kill where Simon got really drunk on plasma shots or whatever and danced naked on the Institute roof in the sun and when Alec for the sake of the shadowworld(after Izzy begged him) sacrificed himself by going to get Simon down. Simon hugged him, yelled 'teach me how to fight future brother in law' and then because Simon has terrible impulse control. he groped Alec's ass with vampiric strength. hard enough to leave bruises and Alec used an iratze because 'magnus would be upset' and threatened Simon into silence. which lasted until the next time Simon forgot how bad plasma shots are for his continued life expectancy.

part leading up to this (because its been a while)

um part of the reason its supposed to be fun drama is because of how ridiculous by outside standards Magnus and Alec are for each other. seriously if its not your cup of fun enough let me know!

<3 lumine

-

dressed to kill

Simon steps into the Institute greenhouse and inhales.

Even if he doesn't need to breathe, the greenhouse smells fresh and clean and alive in a way that’s rare.

It’s also a lot less intimidating to come here alone after he got to teach Alec how to act like a mundane. Not that Simon is sure he actually succeeded.

The thought of Alec makes him wince.

Simon really, really hopes that Lily was also too drunk to remember what he said several weeks ago. And that Maia just won’t bring it up. Ever.  He and Jace had gone out drinking after they’d both had separate instances of seeing Clary. Without her noticing them at all.

Jace had eventually been hauled back to the Institute by Alec, but after Maia had offered to continue drinking with him and Lily had joined, Simon had drank to forget and have fun. 

It had been a mistake and Simon still has regrets that he’s trying to not think about. Which is why he’s trying to settle his mind before he and Izzy go on their date. Since Simon isn’t busy and doesn’t want to run over right before, he’d decided to let himself have a moment to just relax and pretend he is still alive.

Breathing in and out the calm peaceful air of the greenhouse.

“Hello Simon.”

Simon has never heard a sentence sound so deadly, or his name be spoken so viciously. 

Magnus melds from the shadow of a tall, dark tree and the shadows seem to follow him.  The bright light of the greenhouse that Simon once thought of as dangerous now seems a flickering ray of hope. Dimming until the greenhouse is covered in a thick, dense fog that’s suffocated all light.

Simon swallows his own venom, terror flooding him.

“I’ve heard some rather interesting rumours of late.”

Simon swallows another mouthful and tries desperately to hide a whimper.

His unbeating heart suddenly feels like it’s trying to pound its way out of his chest, just from how much he’s shaking.

He feels cold.

Like he’s died all over again.

“Magnus.” It comes out in a squeak of dismay and when Simon tries to clear his throat and start over, he chokes on it instead. “Uh, rumours? Yeah. I’ve heard a few. Oh! Like Raphael was telling me the other day that—”

“Simon.” 

Simon stops talking, not even bothering to think of a protest at the interruption. He hadn’t really thought his attempt would work. But hey. At least in his final and permanent death he could promise himself and Izzy that he’d tried to save himself.

No matter that if he hadn’t drunk too much with Lily and Maia that none of this would have happened.

Either time.  He really should know better by now.

He’s been pointedly avoiding Magnus’ eyes because currently Simon thinks they might burn him alive like the sun used to.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Or did you think Alexander and I wouldn’t realize who started it.”

“You told Alec about the rumor?” Simon has a sudden and horrified realization. He had realized that Magnus would end up hearing the rumors.  He just hadn’t thought so far ahead as to realize Alec might also know.

“Alexander told me. About everything.”

Simonis fangs shiver in terror.

Oh no.

That’s worse.

Alec has to be furious. Even more furious than Magnus considering he’s made Simon promise to keep his mouth shut about this.  And Simon had meant to. Until that last plasma shot and Maia had mentioned something about Magnus always walking around places with his hand on Alec’s back or ass.

And Simon had just mentioned a tiny little thing.

About having grabbed that same ass.

And maybe about how it felt, since no one else living or dead besides Magnus — who was not telling — knew.

“I was drunk!”

“Both times? How convenient for you.” Magnus hisses the words and Simon really wishes that time travel or shadowtravel or any kind of travel that would get him out of Magnus’ range was possible.

He tries to run but his feet won’t move.

Rather by magic or his own fear he really doesn’t know but Simon hopes he has more self-preservation than to just stand here with Magnus, an avenging and possessive god of wrath.

“I think that perhaps, you haven’t quite learned your lesson about how things work.  You don't touch what belongs to me, especially in my territory. Even after I’ve been so gracious with you. You especially don't mark what's mine.” Magnus takes a step closer and Simon feels his spine curdling in despair and he wants to wail.

“No downworlder bar in my territory will serve you. If I find anyone who has, I’ll shut them down and make them wish they were dead. And I’ll make sure everyone knows it was because of you. To the point where you’ll have nothing but enemies no matter where you go.”

With that Magnus steps back, the fog receding from around him and Simon feels like he can move again.

Simon is relieved. So relieved. Besides after this he really does think he might never drink again. So Magnus making that decree is fine. More than fine. Its downright generous since Simon once saw Magnus set someone on fire for ogling Alec too long.

“And Simon.  I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you but just in case. Any impure, covetous and vile thought you have about Alexander will only curse your dreams and feed your nightmares until the ability to desire no longer remains. Not that you’d dare, of course.” 

The worst thing is, Magnus smiles as he says it. All deadly teeth gleaming in a maw that threatens to maul him and then spit him back out.

Simon nods in what he hopes is a believable manner and runs.

He’s fucked.

—

“He’s not going to be able to speak to either of us for months again.” Alexander mutters from the hidden swing that he and Magnus had been cuddling on. The warm lights of the greenhouse dapple over his face, the only place having actually turned dark in Simon's mind.

Magnus would never risk Alexander's plants with weather magic.

As it is, Alexander doesn’t sound upset. If anything there is a smile on the plush, bruised curve of his mouth.  Magnus’ darling shadowhunter had remained silent and hidden, letting Magnus deal with the invading pest rather than let his presence be known.

A rather thoughtful endeavor.

For Simon. Which means that it was probably actually for dear Isabelle's sake.

Magnus might have actually smote Simon if he’d dared to look at Alexander with how angry Magnus currently is.

“Oh please, if that turns out to be true you’ll be thrilled.” Magnus gives one last glance to where Simon disappeared to before fully devoting his attention where it belongs.

On Alexander. 

“And besides, sweetheart.  I’m being very generous. Normally I’d do far worse than just scare, threaten and mildly curse someone who dared to touch my ass. Leaving irazte-deep bruises on it of all things.”

“Still actually my ass.” Alec mutters, a gentle provocation to tease at Magnus’ possessiveness.  Which is already rather heightened considering that until recently, Magnus had been the only one with the privilege of knowing what Alexander’s ass felt like.

And until a week ago he’d still been under the impression that he remained the only one with that privilege.

The fact that he isn’t makes him murderous.

"Oh you still think its yours do you?" Magnus' question is met with a smoldering gaze and a flirtatious smile that strike true.

Simon is utterly lucky that Magnus is amiable enough towards him to not take his hands for such an offence.

Looking at Alexander, beautiful and decadent and absolutely tempting causes bitterness to course through his body as he rejoins his boy. Nightmares are a small price to pay for what Simon stole.  If anything Magnus is being far too nice. If only because it will upset Izzy who will bother Alexander.

Simon doesn't deserve the honor of groping Alexander's ass and worse, he's insulted it through the Shadowworld. Alexander's ass is perfection incarnate. It's not Alexander's fault he doesn't have enough time to rest and properly eat enough.

Magnus is still working on that.

Still, it makes something in him seethe. It wasn’t enough that Simon groped Magnus’ ass — by proxy of Alexander — and left marks that had no business being there. Or the fact that he's spreading rumors deriding the sanctity of Alexander's body.

No. 

Then he had to come and interrupt Magnus’ sacred time with Alexander in the Institute greenhouses. Which has ruined the mood for their current location.

Still, Alexander has redirected his ire by provoking him and since Magnus can’t kill Simon he might as well prove Alexander wrong.

Because it is Magnus’ ass. 

Because Alexander is Magnus’.

“I rather doubt you’ll be able to say it’s not mine once I’m finished with you.” Magnus purrs, opening a portal and offering his hand invitingly. A daring smirk on his face as Alexander quickly entwines their fingers before devotedly kissing Magnus’ knuckles.

Then his boy smirks, smoothing tempting and daring in the curve of his lips as his eyes glint playfully.

“I look forward to your attempts to change my mind.” 

-

AN:

Alec wasn't trying to save Simon. he doesn't want to talk to Simon. he can't believe that he's having to deal with rumors of his ass going around the shadowworld because Simon can't handle plasma. all while also dealing with mundanes constantly in this verse. alec's mundane (Simon counts still) limit is exceeded. he's magnus' problem now. Magnus is the high warlocks. Simon is a vampire. therefore its now a downworlders problem and Magnus' right to deal with his partner being insulted. it's not just because Alec is too tired to deal with him at all (100% is even if alec's reasoning is valid)

Yes Simon is incredibly stupid to be more scared of Alec knowing than Magnus. Magnus is the one who's still mad, Alec is irritated and annoyed but the only reason he's actually upset is because it upsets Magnus. Magnus is the one writing a dossier on Simon and planning on infiltrating his dreams just to be safe. he'll take Simons memories if he has to. he's just that extra.

Alec is trying redirect Magnus tho because he's a good partner like that and Magnus can be productive rather than destructive. like neither of them lose if Magnus wins their latest game. Alec is very pleased that Magnus is so possessive of him. He'd preen about it more except he doesn't care enough about other people to go out of his way.

if it was anyone else Magnus probably would have killed them. he's being super nice to Simon and its killing him inside a little. he's like 'YOU CANT TRUST ANYONE THESE DAYS'

Izzy is going to find out about this and is going to have so much fun all:"Alec and I have similar training regimes, is my ass flat too? whose do you like better?" and Simon is going to want to die. more than he already does.

[archive-of-ink]

Really Somthing Part 2

(found on pinterest)

Summary - After the events of the night before Joel finds you in the same place.

Word Count - 2.7k

Warnings - mdni 18+, angst, crying, some language, mentions of virginity and f!masturbation. Kissing, groping (none of the fun stuff yet im sorry) difficult conversations

A/N- i kinda feel like this is everywhere but i'm tired of looking at it so i hope its ok. i promise there will be smut in the next chapter, i've never wrote it so im a lil scared tbh but ok here, hopefully this is readable. *i have made a few edits but nothing much changed.

the lovelies who requested to be tagged - @preciosapascal @vixorell

 Your birthday came and went. There was no class that day so you spent the hours at work.  Your coworkers remembered and brought in cupcakes during lunch, your mom brought you a coffee on your break and you even got a text from a classmate. Your family took you to your favorite restaurant and it was nice. As far as birthdays went, it was great. 

Time seemed to move too fast yet too slow and left you with that feeling in your chest like something was trying to claw its way out - a discontentment you knew all too well. There was something different though. It was something new though not completely unknown. Stronger, more persistent. 

 The ghost of tobacco on your tongue and the warmth of his hand spanning your stomach were  the grounding reality to the images your mind conjured. Those lips trailing down your throat, top of those greying curls with your thighs wrapped around his head, him hovering over you, filling you.  

   You couldn’t really know what is was like. Your experience started and ended with your own fingers but lord, a girl could imagine. 

 You spent the entire day wondering, fantasizing at your desk, on the way home, at the dinner table with your parents trying to ask you about your day.  

   You felt guilty, for which part you didn’t know. Sure, you were inexperienced but you weren’t a prude. It wasn’t like any mention of sex had you flustered and stuttering. There was no morality attached to your virginity. It just hadn’t happened yet and you didn’t want to rush it.

In all honesty, you expected it to be awkward - all fumbling hands and clammy skin grating with a stranger, half-drunk and deliriously making the impulsive decision to rid yourself of a label you never cared about or hesitant, unfulfilling and boring with a boyfriend you liked just enough. It  was going to be everything that sent your anxiety spiking through the roof. 

   So you ignored it, it wasn’t like you had a line of suitors down the block waiting for you. If anything you were a shut-in, introverted to the point of parental concern.  

  Obviously, your thing with Joel was another issue of its own. It was all in your head, you knew that. It lived on as some forbidden romance-esque fantasy. He was twice your age and your dad’s closest  friend - anything more than a crush was dangerous territory. 

Last night, you had crossed that line and you weren’t sure how you supposed to go back to pretending this was all in your head. You would have to, you knew Joel never meant for it to mean more than what it did.

  The more naive part of you expected a text, some acknowledgement of what happened. The more logical part knew he didn’t owe you anything. He’d done you a favor more than anything, entertaining some girl’s half-assed teenage rebellion and that was that. 

He was a busy man, there was a multitude of reasons for his silence. Contracting couldn’t be an easy job and Sarah, despite being nearly eighteen, never let the man breathe. 

But still, the disappointment curled in your stomach as laid across the back porch swing, eyes closed and letting the breeze wash over you. Maybe it was better if you pretended that it didn’t happen, move on and forget about it. You could avoid the disappointment and embarrassment of rejection.

   You swore to yourself, no matter what happened you wouldn’t be that girl. The one who makes a big deal out of one little kiss, the one desperately pleading for more than a man wanted to give, you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of him. You were better than that.

   The porch door creaked open. You lifted your head from where it laid on the swing’s armrest, legs still stretched out across the seat and peeled your eyes open. It took a second for them to adjust to the dark and make out the figure in the doorway.  You expected your mom or sister but instead, you were met with those brown eyes, lit by only the moon and faint glow of the porch light. You didn’t know whether to be relived or worried. You adjusted yourself so you were sitting with your legs tucked into your chest, chin resting on your knees.

  Joel had come from work, dirt crusted jeans and boots proof of his labor-intensive day. Arms crossed against his chest, that green flannel rolled up and pulled taut against his broad shoulders, his face was stern but the softness was there in the corners of his eyes, the slight upturn of his mouth. Despite your anxiety and disappointment, mix of relief flooded through you.

  “Hey darlin’” He said, moving closer to the swing gently rocking in the breeze and wrapped his fingers around the chain suspending it, veins flexing on the back of his hand as he brought it to a halt.

  “It's late.” was all you were able to say, not trusting yourself to speak further. 

  He huffed a laugh and shook his head, lowering himself to sit next to you. The chains clanked and the swing rocked against his weight, the tips of your toes brushing the denim of his thigh. 

 Silence lingered though you could tell he had something to say but the only noise that came was the rustle of his hand reaching into his jean pocket, pulling out his carton of cigarettes and a lighter. 

 It was the same as everytime you watched him do it in the last three years, the same as last night. He stuck one in the corner of his mouth, cupped the end to shield it from the air and brought the flame to the colored end and lit it a bright cherry red. 

  “Y’want me t’ go?” He said around the cig, a puff of smoke escaping into the night air. 

  “No!” The words came too quick and heat rose in your face. You had half the mind to make a run for it, to lock yourself and never come out. Instead, you kept talking. “I just- I guess I thought.” 

    “Thought what?”

 He wasn’t looking at you.  

   “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about any of it.” You said, quiet, arms hugging your legs tighter, you studied his profile.The strong arch of his nose, the little scar across it, those cheeks and that mouth, a curl falling across his forehead. He was so pretty it hurt. And it was like it hit you all at once, the realization of the situation you were in. “You kissed me, Joel.” 

   “Ain’t happenin’ again.” It was more of a grunt the way he said it, like he had to force it from his throat and your stomach dropped. The sting of rejection was one you would never acclimate to though you expected it. Your gut reaction was to yell and cry and ask why he would do that in the first place but you knew why, you knew it was a spur of the moment thing and didn’t mean anything. You let your eyes close and took a breath. “Ain’t right.” 

 You blamed the burn in your eyes on the smoke billowing next to you and blinked hard. 

  “Of course not. I didn’t think you - I understand it’s not like that for you.” You tried not to sound wounded, like a child with her feelings hurt. Instead, you plastered on a shaky smile and ignored the lump in your throat as you tried to lighten the mood.  “As far as birthday gifts go though, it was pretty great.”  

  The words tasted like ash, thick and bitter in your mouth. It wasn’t his fault that what started as an innocent teenage crush had morphed into something more, something twisted and wrong.  

  His gaze lifted to yours. His brows were furrowed, that line appearing between them, lips downturned. You tried to look away in time, tried to pull away from those honey brown eyes tinted against the glow of the dying cigarette but the tears escaped. You turned, hands coming up to swipe them away and let your bare feet hit the wooden planks, trying to make your way across the porch. You needed to go, to move. You needed distance to breathe before you couldn’t hold it together any longer.

 “Oh, baby no.” His voice was quiet and rough, like he felt guilty for telling you what you already knew. He came after you, quick footsteps and a heavy hand on your shoulder. You let him turn you towards him but didn’t look up, kept your eyes focused on the black sky and ignored the tears still streaming. “Hey, look at me.” 

   You shook your head and hugged your arms closer. Embarrassment and shame filled you. This is exactly what you said you weren’t going to do, be the girl who made a scene, who couldn’t let go of one stupid kiss. You were acting like a stupid fucking teenager and that excuse expired twenty-three hours ago.

   Joel’s hands cradled your face, calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that were falling in slow droplets. He guided you to turn to him, eyes meeting without choice. Confusion mixed with your despair at his pained look, there was more emotion on his face than ever before and you didn’t know why. You had to suffocate the small flame of hope that flickered inside of you. 

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t want- “ You were rambling, voice thick with tears. Eyes roaming anywhere but his,“I know it’s not right and that you don’t- I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. I don’t know what I was thinking last night.” 

  “No, sweetheart. Need ya to look at me.”  You listened despite the anxiety and shame running through you. The sight of him ailed the panic a bit, making it just that much easier to breathe. You braced yourself for the placating, the it’s ok, but we won’t talk about it ever again but it never came. “You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. You ain’t put in any situation I didn’t wanna be in. I mean look at ya.” 

  He said the last bit like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it, like a though escaped. That flicker of hope building as he kept talking, the darkness of his eyes causing something else to kindle. 

   “Old man like me ain’t got no business wantin’ you the way I do. ‘m old enough to be your daddy. Hell, ‘m older than ‘im ” He let out a laugh, humorless around the edges. Your heart was in your stomach, mind trying to process what he was saying. “Baby, I ain’t putting you in that situation. Ain’t gon’ let you get hurt like that.” 

  It took a delayed second, your eyes tracking his face before you understood. Realization dawned, tears slowing and a small grin pulled at your face. 

  He wanted you, in some realm close to the way you wanted him. A girlish giddy feeling filled your chest and you leaned into his touch, just an inch. But the longer you stared, the more you understood.

  “Joel.” You whispered, more of a plea, looking at him through blurry eyes as processed what it all really meant. Three years spent pining, dreaming and wondering of something so out of reach was in front of you. It was right there but you ran the possibilities through your mind and there was the catch.  

  It would change everything, ruin everything. This wasn’t only your heart on the line, there were people who existed outside of this. And you saw it, the destruction it would leave when they found out, the disappointed look on your mother’s face, the betrayal on your father’s, the confusion on Sarah’s that morphed into disgust as she ran the numbers and realized. 

   “I know, baby.” He said, pulling you into him as your face crumpled. An arm banded around your waist and a hand came up to stroke over your hair. He engulfed you in warmth, smelling like cigarette smoke, sweat and wood and something so familiar your chest ached.  Your fingers gripping at the fabric of his flannel as your body shook.

And he stayed there, hand rubbing over your hair and murmuring words you couldn’t make out against the top of your head until your breathing evened and the tears slowed. When you were calmed down, you pulled back far enough to meet his eyes. to see the concern and worry written across his features. 

    The urge to ail it, to calm the despair, to smooth away the line between his brow and the frown of his mouth was too strong to ignore. You found yourself trailing your fingertips across his cheekbones, the rough hairs of his beard and tracing over his strong nose, coming to land on his jaw. 

 You should’ve moved away, took a step back and walked back into the house. That night a distant memory that no one ever spoken of again, to be forgotten in time but then you were pushing yourself to your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to the scar that was nicked into the skin there. His shoulders tensed underneath your hands and you thought he might push you away but his arms pulled around you, closer and he sighed quietly, barely there. 

 Its a memorization game of sorts - the way your lips drew a path down his face, the way they moved to his stubbled cheek and down to the corner of his mouth, the need to remember this, to bide more time until you figure out how to make this work.  

    “Baby.” He breathed and you felt his resolve waver. The fingertips against your back flexed, a shaky breath that brushes across your lips. “If we do this-” 

    “I know, I know” 

And you did. This wouldn’t be a fantasy of happily ever afters with family dinners and wishes of congratulations, where everyone got out unscathed, where relationships weren’t beaten and bruised beyond repair. There was no guarantee of anything but hope was persistent, that flicker turned to a flame that licked up inside you until you were burning with it. 

    It would be the end of what you both knew but it was everything you wanted, something you never dared dream a reality for fear of the rejection that nearly shattered you a moment ago and he wanted it too. You couldn’t walk away. 

    There was no more pretense of teenage rebellion or forbidden birthday favor. Whatever this was, whatever it would be was real, tangible. 

  With one last look through your lashes, you were shifting, nudging with the hand on his jaw for his mouth to meet yours - careful at first as warmth invaded you, spreading sparks through you at the slightest contact and pooling in your stomach. His fingertips flexed into your waist, letting out a shaky breath that brushed across your chin and that thin thread holding you both back, the hesitancy snapped. 

  Then you were licking at the seam of his lips, barely there flicks of your tongue silently asking for more. He gave it, mouth opening so you could taste the tobacco that laced his tongue. You wound your hands into his hair, tugging on the curls enough to have him groaning in your mouth, the rumble against your chest sending shockwaves through your nerves.   

   Joel left your mouth to trail open mouthed kisses over the underside of your jaw and neck, your head falling back to give him better access. His lips pressed your pulse point once before his teeth were there, sinking into the skin and biting just hard enough that it had you gasping, a wave of arousal pulsing between your thighs causing your fingers to tighten into his hair. 

   You were hot all over, the kind of hot that had nothing to do with the summer air but with the hands that’s were roaming your body, smoothing over the skin of where your shirt had ridden up, the feel of him half-hard and pressed against your hip, the persistent way he was back on you, devouring you as he licked into your mouth. You felt it before, small and fragile more akin to a flicker than a flame but this was intense - all consuming and threatening to burn you alive. 

   “Joel.” You breathed, you couldn’t wait. You pulled back to look at him, hands sliding down to the back of his neck.  “Need you to touch me. ” 

  You lost the fight the second he stepped onto the porch that night. You wouldn’t be able to justify it when it inevitable blew up in your face, there was no excuse for sleeping with your daddy’s best friend  But Joel was there, wrapped around you all warm and solid and you couldn’t move, couldn’t bring yourself to break away from him, 

   He hesitated, eyes widening a fraction and you were worried he was going to push you away, send you back in the house like the night before but he nodded.

    “Okay, baby.”

[timdrakesmissingnotebook]

Coffee Shop

summary: tim drake's favorite coffee shop has a new barista.

pairing: tim drake x reader

notes: this is the first time i write something since my art block started, please be nice 🙏🙏🙏

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There's just something about you.

Tim thinks it was the destiny for you two to meet. You were the new barista on his favorite coffee shop and he was your first client. Tim remembers shooting you a look of sympathy as you fumbled with the coffee machine, forgetting which buttons to press as you grew more and more nervous.

"I'm sorry about the long wait, it's my first day here." You explained with grimace, trying to figure out the right commandent.

"It's okay, don't worry about that." He smiles and leans towards the balcony, pointing at the machine that was giving you headache, "I think you should press the red one."

"Oh, yeah!" You nodded, doing as he told you. Meeting his blue eyes, you find yourself letting a soft laugh fall from your lips, "You are very kind. Thank you, Mr...?"

"Drake. Tim Drake. Nice to meet you." He smiles again and you feel your own growing wider.

"(y/n) (y/l). It's nice to meet you too."

Tim never had felt this way before. Sure, he has had his fair share of partners on the past, though a lot of them worked better as friends. Tim did love them but, damn, nobody ever made him feel this way.

Maybe it was the way you'd always get his orders right. Or maybe it was how you always had that beautiful smile on your face. It could even be that you were kind to everyone you meet as you went by your way. He didn't know what made him gravitate towards you, but honestly, he didn't really mind.

Tim never thought he'd say it, but he started to look forward to going to work. Going to work meant that he was going to visit the coffee shop, and going to the coffee shop meant he was going to see you. And honestly,

He was head over heels for you.

"Mr. Drake? Are you okay?" You ask on a random tuesday morning, curiously watching him from behind your lashes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He blinks and smiles at you kindly, "Also, I told you to call me Tim, (y/n)."

"Mr. Allis will kill me if he hears me call you by your first name." You laugh, and shake your head, "Anyways, black coffee with a hint of vanilla, right?"

"Right." Tim nods and leans towards the balcony to stare down longingly as you moved.

You look up at the boy and raises one of your eyebrows, a small smirk creeping on your lips, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tim lets a sigh out. Honestly, go to hell with his self control. He opens his mouth before he can think better of it, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Uh?" You stop your motions to look at him, "I- I don't. Why do you ask?"

"Look I-" The man starts, but closes his mouth. Breathing deeply, Tim ignores his flushing face and opens his mouth again, "I know a place. If you- I was wondering if you'd like to, I don't know, maybe hang out with me."

You stare at him for a few moments then asks quietly, "Are you asking me out, Mr. Drake?"

Tim flushes and coughs awkwardly on his hand, "M-Maybe? I mean, you don't have to if you feel uncomfortable. Damn, I made you uncomfortable, didn't I? I'm so sorry, I just really like you-"

"Tim." You call out, stopping his rambling and stealing his attention. Smiling down at him, you tilt your head, "I really like you too."

"You do?" He asks hopefully.

"I do." You nod, confirming, "And I'd love to go on a date with you."

"Cool! Sweet! Amazing!" Tim shoots you a bright beam, "You won't regret it, I promise you."

"I know I won't." You utter as a red blush creeps onto your face, "I'm gonna give you my number. That way we can actually work it out."

The man nods excitedly and watches you grab a pen and a piece of paper.

Tim leaves the cafeteria, 30 minutes late for his meeting, with a cup of coffee on one hand and a special phone number on the other.

He still has a smile on his face when he arrives on his office to a frowing Bruce Wayne.

[ragnarockz]

*DON'T FORGET TO USE AGNES' OWN BELT!

Tip Jar 💰

Also, shoutout to @byulyi for dming me like, "VIDAL USING AGNES' OWN BELT!"

YES. EXACTLY. YOU'RE RIGHT.

Music inspo (I got the radio on today): Bullet with Butterfly Wings - The Smashing Pumpkins, Tired of Waiting - The Trews, Glycerine - Bush, RWLYD (Really Wanna Let You Down) - Monowhales, Cutting Teeth - Der Rouge, Laid - James

Vidal doesn't remember who started it. Someone was pushed up against the headboard with a bang which was followed by a loud moan. The two of them stopped to catch their breaths for a beat or two. Agnes' hands came down; around to encompass Vidal and shed her of all her clothes. She tossed them onto the floor in abandon and Vidal tried to close the gap between the two of them with her lips, tongue and, teeth.

She had gone for Agnes' neck; sucking and biting as Agnes peeled away more layers of clothing from Vidal's body. She felt warm; her body reacting to this sudden spark of need. Agnes was silent as she worked and Vidal knew there was something eating away at her inside. There was no need to press the detective. Agnes' way of dealing with shit had gotten better, healthier since Vidal entered into her life. A lot of it was met with sex first and soulful talks later.

Vidal pulled away from Agnes neck and hands. Crawled backwards onto the bed to create space now between them. She leaned over the bed, reaching for the night table's top drawer. Vidal could see the hungry look on Agnes' face from the corner of her eye as she dragged out her strap. Vidal heard a groan caught in Agnes' throat; a desperate plea that signified Agnes wanting to be on the receiving end tonight. That was fine with Vidal as she knew Agnes' mind was probably churning through whatever bullshit she was struggling with. The woman wanted to be fucked good and senseless so all those thoughts would quiet and die in her mind; the bliss of being ruined taking over instead.

Good.

"Take your pants off, Baby..."

Vidal was soft in her words but made sure to let something else linger behind them. Desperation, need. The desire to fill and fuck Agnes the way she deserved. Vidal slipped the harness up and over her body; adjusting the straps and the toy as Agnes got to work on unbuckling her belt and peeling off her jeans. Agnes meant to toss them over the edge of the bed to join Vidal's clothes but Vidal, extended her hand to catch the rumpled pair of pants. Agnes watched dumbfounded; confused.

With Vidal's strap standing proudly erect between her legs; a sight that Agnes couldn't pull her eyes away from, Vidal slipped Agnes' belt out from its loops before dropping her pants over the edge. The agent looked over the well-worn and loved belt. She wondered how long Agnes had owned this and if it was from long before the two of them met. Had she had this when she was still with Alice? With Nicky? She pulled the leather through her grasped palm until she felt the warmth of the metal buckle against her fingers. She bit her lip and grinned.

"What is it, Vidal?"

Agnes' voice brought Vidal out of her thoughts; sordid, dirty little thoughts that made her break into an even bigger smile. She looked up from Agnes' belt in her hands to Agnes' face. Open and honest; on the brink of delving into pleasure. Vidal nodded her head as she crawled back over to Agnes with the belt still in her hand.

"I was thinking..."

Vidal whispers as she takes her place on the bed in between Agnes' bent knees. The detective is staring up at her with a flush covering her face. Her ponytail messier than usual; stray strands of hair haloing her face. Vidal loves seeing Agnes this way; wild and unkempt with something deep and dark bubbling under the surface of her usual I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. There's a look in her eyes that Vidal can only decode as wanting to fully release with no reprimands; to sink deeper and deeper into physical pleasure.

"Yeah?"

Agnes' voice is low and heavy with impatience. She's trying to fiend cool but is losing it pretty quickly. She feels her fingers twitch as she puts her hands to the waistband of her boxers and slides them down off of her hips. Her strong upper legs are uncovered as well as her cunt. Vidal's gaze lands there to take in the dark patch of curls that protect her prize. She wants nothing more than to spread Agnes' folds, rub her clit and fill her deep with her cock. Vidal sighs and Agnes shakes her head against her pillow.

Vidal hands Agnes' belt over to Agnes without a word.

Agnes accepts it; looks it over until her eyes go wide and she turns her gaze to Vidal's face.

Agnes hands her belt back to Vidal but not before pulling away from the pillow behind her; bending and leaning forward with her head bowed. Vidal can see the back of Agnes' neck peeking from behind her ponytail. Vidal swallows hard as she brings Agnes' belt up and around the detective's neck. She slides the end of the belt in through the loop and slowly pulls until it's comfortable around Agnes' neck. Vidal hasn't pushed the prong through any of the holes. Yet.

Agnes moves herself once more, head and neck returning to neutral position before she lays herself down. The belt follows her; the end laying awkwardly against her body. Her knees bend once more and wait for Vidal; hands snaking down her stomach until she meets herself between her legs. Pointer and middle separate to spread her folds. Her gaze never leaves Vidal's, not even for a second.

Agnes on display like this with her own belt around her neck and her fingers prying herself open is almost too much for Vidal to handle. But she does, of course she does, because she wants nothing more than to give Agnes what she wants and needs. And she, needs it just as much as the detective does. That passion they were chasing just moments before hasn't fizzled down; increasing with every next movement, action. Vidal wraps her right arm underneath Agnes' right leg to get in closer to her; the tip of her cock teasingly brushing against Agnes' skin.

"If it gets too much, Baby...you tap my arm to stop, ok?"

Vidal's tone isn't stern but she means what she says. Agnes nods her head and furrows her brow as she sinks in a little deeper into the bed; against the pillows behind her head. She can feel the weight of the belt around her neck and almost can't wait to feel the sensation of Vidal pulling it tighter as she fucks her. Agnes holds back a moan as Vidal uses her left hand now to guide her cock and tease Agnes' folds.

The agent traces Agnes' folds; up and down and looping back until Agnes lets out a low moan and her body squirms in impatience. her fingers that are spreading herself open move to hold the shaft of Vidal's cock. Agnes and Vidal's fingers touch; overlap as they both help to guide Vidal into Agnes. The sudden release of pressure upon entry is heaven and the both of them groan.

Vidal drops Agnes' raised leg to rest on her hip so that she can grab the end of the belt to pull. Agnes quickly snaps back to reality for a mere second to secure the belt prong through the hole she feels comfortable with. Agnes nods her head as she looks into Vidal's eyes. Vidal gives the belt a gentle tug.

Agnes can feel the leather around her neck pulling; pressure as Vidal rolls her hips at the same time.

"ohmyfuckingod..."

Is what Agnes can choke out before she lets her head hang back which only tightens the belt in a different way. She whines as her hands snake up her body to grab at her breasts through her tank top. Vidal can basically feel the drool seeping from the corners of her mouth at the sight before her.

Agnes O'Connor, so open and vulnerable under her, beneath her. Her body completely given up to pleasure; served to Vidal on a silver platter.

It was like a chain reaction between the two of them; working in tandem to achieve this level of pleasure. A roll towards Agnes from Vidal would be accompanied with a yank of the belt and that, would prompt Agnes to squeeze her breasts and pull on her hardened nipples. She had tried, really tried to keep her verbal confirmations down but eventually gave up. Vidal had never heard such sweet and beautiful sounds.

Vidal tried to strategically keep the belt end between Agnes' legs; hoped that when she pulled her knuckles would graze over Agnes' engorged clit. Any sort of friction she could give her girlfriend as she fucked her was a necessity. Vidal wanted Agnes overstimulated and completely blissed out with whatever thoughts eating away at her to disperse.

With each thrust and yank on the belt; the ghosting of Vidal's bony knuckles against Agnes' clit and the constant kneading of her own breasts and nipples, Agnes was without a doubt slipping into ecstasy and leaving behind all the negative baggage that was flooding her mind. It was hard, really fucking hard to toss and turn over all the things that were eating her up inside when her girlfriend was beautifully fucking her into the mattress. Agnes focused on everything, especially the way Vidal looked above her.

Vidal's hair had fallen completely out from her bun and her hair hung down over her shoulders. Her face was concentrated but soft; obviously just as turned on as Agnes was. Vidal had a habit of keeping her bottom lip bit and even still, it wouldn't mute her moans and whines when she freely gave them. The way Vidal's breasts moved with each thrust made Agnes' head spin.

And all the while the belt reminded Agnes that Vidal was in control, calling the shots with each tug.

Maybe the thought alone was too much. Tied up like a dog but, it wouldn't have been the first fucking time.

"Ohgod...ohfuck..."

"That's it...that's it, Baby..."

Vidal watches as Agnes' hands slowly creep up her chest to her neck. Her fingers wrap underneath the belt; blunt finger nails scratching at the soft leather as she pulls it away from her reddened skin. Agnes suck in a deep, loud breath until she does it over and over. Breath hitching and legs twitching as her body slumps even deeper into the mattress below her. Vidal watches in awe as her cock unsheathes from Agnes to reveal a milky-white coat of cum.

Vidal lets go of the belt end so both of her hands are free. Her left gently presses down onto Agnes' lower abdomen while her right replaces her cock; cupping Agnes to feel the dampness between her legs. Nothing needs to be said or asked; muscle memory takes over as Agnes grinds into Vidal's cupped palm.

Eventually the room slows and stops spinning. The two of them catch their breaths. Agnes' shaking hands unclasp the belt and let it fall away from her neck. The metal buckle is warm to the touch and almost feels like it would melt against her skin. the detective swallows and stretches her neck before shifting up to look down between her legs at Vidal's hand.

"You deserve a reward..."

Agnes' voice comes out a little gruffer than normal; muscles trying to calm from being squeezes. Vidal's stomach flips and a deep pang settles inside of her from it.

"Maybe I do..."

Vidal whispers as she pulls her hands away from Agnes to lean back a little. Her cock still stands proud; cum crusting on the silicone as the air hits it. Before Agnes opens her mouth to reply, Vidal does exactly what Agnes was going to propose.

The palm, the hand. Fingers that collected Agnes' cum finds its way into Vidal's mouth; past her lips as she cleans her fingers greedily.

Agnes lets a moan escape followed by a whispered 'jesus fucking christ' and once again, Vidal cuts her partner off.

The agent shifts again until she's hunched forward with her hands hooking under Agnes' legs once more. Her face is parallel now to Agnes' open legs. She can smell the detective's arousal and see how swollen Agnes is. Vidal glances up to look at Agnes' face as she gives her a lazy, possessive smile.

"Just getting started, actually...that was just a taste of my reward..."

[tgmsunmontue]

Wild fields of forget-me-nots - 11/15

During the training for the mission Jake has an accident which results in him losing 10 years of memories.

A lot has happened in ten years. Bradley broke up with him. DADT was repealed. He got an air-to-air kill and a new callsign.

And he doesn't remember any of it.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

PART ELEVEN

                “God I love you, you completely stupid fucking idiot…”

                “Hey baby…” Bradley drawls, not sure if Jake can understand him, tongue thick in his mouth, but that’s what he’s saying. Trying to say. Jake looks so good. He needs to tell him that, painkillers and concussion making him feel drunk. Except he’s in too much pain for that. “You look good…”

                Jake laughs, but there’s a hysterical edge to it and he’s swooping down to press a kiss to Bradley’s forehead.

                “Still trying to flirt when you’re horizontal.”

                “It’s… it’s how I do my best work,” Bradley jokes, and his ribs are fucking sore, breathing hurts. Laughing hurts. Everything fucking hurts. But he’s alive.

                “Not for a while you’re not. We’re walking wounded. You just lay there and look pretty…”

                “Thought that was your job.”

         ��      “Guys. I’m right here,” Coyote states, and his expression is incredibly unimpressed. He’s looking at Bradley like he’s waiting for him to just blurt it out and he shifts, trying to sit up a little, because he knows he needs to do it.

                “Hey, what are you trying to do… stay there,” Jake says, hand on his shoulder, too soft to actual apply pressure but he gets what Jake is trying to do and he slumps back down, what little energy he had sapped away.

                “I… I need to tell you something.”

                Jake’s eyes rove over his face, or he’s more concussed than he thought, unable to focus properly and Jake’s concussion also means he’s unable to focus. God they make a pair.

                “Oh… oh darlin’. You don’t need to tell me anything. I already know.”

                “Know?” Bradley asks, stomach twisting and he thinks he might be sick again. Thinks about Jake turning around and walking out. He wouldn’t blame him. Wouldn’t stop him. “Know what?”

                “I know that we’re not actually married. Although I’m going to marry the hell out of you Bradley Bradshaw. Once we’re both fully recovered and can actually enjoy our wedding night and honeymoon…”

                “Um. Did you get your memories back?”

                “Nope. Not yet. Did read a few hundred letters with my name on them though…”

                “Oh. Oh shit…” Bradley says with dawning horror. He hadn't thought about them.

                “Letters?” Coyote asks and Bradley feels woozy again. Jake doesn’t look upset though, and Bradley scrambles for his hand, needs to check.

                “Yeah darlin’, I’m still wearing my ring. Wild horses couldn’t take it off me.”

                “I’m sorry…” Bradley whispers, and he can feel the pressure in his head, concussion headache becoming worse with the threatening tears so he just lets them fall. “I’m so sorry.”

                “We will be having a very very long conversation. A long overdue one. But it can wait until you’re feeling better,” Jake says quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead and he still feels sick with guilt, but also a little relieved that his letters have already done the job he’d been dreading, despite it not being his intention.

                “You wrote him a letter?” Coyote asks, tone sharp, accusing and Bradley shakes his head and he groans, the action making him feel worse. Jake’s hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw.

                “He’s been writing me letters for years. Since he broke up with me.”

                “What? And you’re just going to forgive him?”

                “Well, seeing as I don’t remember him doing anything that needs forgiving, yes. We’ll cross other bridges when we come to them. Okay?” Jake asks him, and he blinks slowly, nods his head just as slowly.

                He knows there’s a chance Jake might leave when he gets his memories back, but there’s also a chance he’ll stay. He’ll take any chance over zero chance.

…            …            …

                He wakes up later with a gasp, nightmare of explosions fading behind his eyelids. Someone is sitting there quietly, and he shifts, expecting to see Jake. Instead, it’s Maverick and he’s disappointed, clearly does a poor job of hiding the fact if Mav’s amused huff is any indication.

                “He’s gone home. He’s still meant to be resting, and he only went because Coyote insisted he go home and sleep in a proper bed. They’ll be back early tomorrow. Today.”

                “Pretty sure you’re meant to be resting as well,” Bradley croaks, and Mav snorts, stands to get him a glass of water which he accepts gratefully. His ankle is throbbing and he vaguely remembers them saying he’d hurt it.

                “Couldn’t sleep. Needed to check on you. They’ve got me next door.”

                “Good. How are you feeling?”

                “Sore. Don’t think my body can handle any more…” Mav says and Bradley scoffs, but doesn’t shake his head, still doesn’t trust himself to not throw up. “I’m serious. Two ejections in a month are two too many.”

                “What? Two?”

                “Yeah. First one was before I came to North Island obviously, only by a couple of days. So. Yeah. That was my second ejection. Then a crash landing. My body is letting me know it’s had enough. Even if my mind is willing, my body is telling me it’s tired… Not as young as I used to be.”

                Bradley sucks in a quiet breath and lets it out silently, wonders if he should ask, if it matters, or whether it’ll give them something else to talk about. The idea that Mav could have died without them talking… Fuck. He doesn’t think he can handle it right now. Not with the one he’s already sort of had with Jake and the bigger one he knows he has coming.

                “I’m glad we’re both alive Mav.”

                “So am I kid, so am I.”

…            …            …

                Someone is running fingers through his hair. It feels nice. He hums, presses into it, blinks sleepily, feels fingertips brush over his eyebrows. The room is dark, but he suspects it’s actually daylight outside now.

                “Jake?”

                “Right here…”

                “Love you.”

                “Love you too. Go back to sleep if you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

…            …            …

                When he wakes again he feels more alert. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room he can see Jake, his arms and head resting on the hospital bed so he can also sleep. He can’t reach him, but he desperately needs to touch him, fumbles with the control of the hospital bed, gasps and breathes through the pain in his ribs as the bed moves him slowly more upright. Fuck. If this is just bruised he’s really glad they’re not broken.

                “What are you even trying to do?” Jake asks, and Bradley can see now that his eyes are open, mere slits watching him.

                “Couldn’t reach you…”

                “You only had to ask darlin’,” Jake says, and he’s pressing a kiss to his forehead again and he knows he’s feeling better because he wants to kiss him properly. Especially now that there’s not the lie of their fake marriage between them. “How are you feeling?”

                “Uh. Honestly? I really need to piss…”

                “There are crutches if you think you can handle them, or I can go and find a wheelchair.”

                “Crutches are fine…”

                Of course it’s not that easy, but Jake is there and helping, standing beside him with his hand on his waist and he gives in to the urge to draw him into a hug, holds him tight and feels his breath catch as he feels Jake hug him back, much gentler, clearly mindful of Bradley’s ribs.

                “So glad I got to come back home to you.”

                “Oh, trust me. I’m just as glad. But don’t think that I’m not also angry with you, but I’m also a little angry at myself for clearly missing how bad you must have been feeling. Loving you has always been easy.”

                “Even now?”

                “Especially now…but come on, get moving before you piss yourself.”

                Bradley grins and does as he's told.

TWELVE

[berryz-writes]

To Have And To Hold...Till Death Do Us Part

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel has spent decades centuries on trying to find his mate. A mate is supposed to be that one constant person in you're life. But as we all know Azriel was damned to an unlucky fate

Note: FIRST TIME WRITING ANGST be nice<3. also yes i will be reverting to fluff again. its my little cosy corner :)

The dry, bland taste of the oats coated Azriel's tongue and he fought to swallow it down. A fight similar to his will to get out of bed every morning. Also similar to the fight of carrying on each day.

Mindlessly stirring his food which had now gotten cold he thought about what he would do for Star fall next week. Maybe he would get drunk so he wouldn't remember the night. Or maybe he would go up to the balcony to get the "best view" but in fact sulk in a corner because he didn't have a special someone to share the night with.

Pulling himself back to reality and berating himself for being ungrateful and forgetting about how much his family had done for him, Azriel watched one of his shadows depart and slowly move across the table until it had reached the open French doors. He tried calling it back but to no avail. Taking a deep breath Azriel continued eating, his shadows were always up to something. Maybe it was bringing back important information. Like maybe who his mate was.

His heart became heavy again at the thought. Still no mate. Azriel had seen so many things, lived through so much and sometimes he thought he deserved a mate. Sometimes when he wasn't so absorbed in self hate he thought to himself maybe he did deserve a mate like Rhys had Feyre or Cassian had Nesta. The thought left him as soon as it had appeared. He shook his head, he didn't deserve a mate. He would ruin her. He wasn't good enough. No where near good enough.

Scoffing at himself for even going down the path of thinking he out of all people could have a mate, he carried on eating his oats, finishing them in record time to get to training with the Valkyries and the priestesses.

***

"Isn't that your shadow?" Nesta asked pointing toward a lone shadow which was making it's way back in to the house, moving across the training ring floor and the edges of the walls before it disappeared completely. She was laying down on the mat, sweat dripping down her face. It had been an intense training session, Nesta having started to channel her anger into physical exercise resulted in Azriel having to hold the punching pads tighter than usual. He was happy for her. Glad she was better now and getting used to her fae body.

"It is" Azriel replied, his confusion increasing slightly. They were acting extremely strange. And the one that had left this morning still hadn't come back. Not to mention the shadows still with him were dancing around as if they were waiting for something. He shrugged it off. It was probably a new bakery or some drama from Velaris they had picked up on. Nosy pricks.

Nesta's silver eyes held concern, "Are you okay?" She bit her lip there was something like recognition in her eyes, as if she once held the same vacant stare that he did. "Are they usually like this?" Nesta questioned again, sitting up and trying to read his expression. He shook his head, flipping his water flask upside down to realise it was empty "They'll come back eventually"

She stood up and brushed her clothes down "You could get it checked. I heard Madja's working late today"

Azriel tried not to get angry. It wasn't as if she would know how it was basically impossible for any healer to ever help him.

"We'll see" He replied instead, already brushing the idea away. All he'd get was an afternoon wasted and a whole lot of poking at his back and wings. It wasn't that big of a deal. Well...that's what he hoped.

***

Flipping the dagger in his hand he began to sharpen the other side, making sure it was as sharp as possible so it would make a clean cut. He didn't need more blood on his hands. Well more than usual anyway. Looking to his right he saw Cassian stretching out his wings and yawning "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up past your bedtime" He grinned. Azriel shook his head a smile on his face even though the joke wasn't funny.

"I won't" Azriel lied. Cassian looked at him for longer than usual as if trying to figure something out. Of course he didn't. Azriel's secrets were too well hidden.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk" Cassian said resting a hand on his shoulder. Azriel gave him a rare smile and patted his hand "I know brother"

Leaving him to sit peacefully on the roof Azriel looked up at the sky. Automatically his eyes searched for the one star constellation he loved. Lyra it's name was. His mother had pointed it out to him when he was young. Said it was one of the constellations that would never leave him. Sometimes it felt like this constellation was the only stable thing in his life. Something that would never leave him and so far it was living up to it's reputation.

***

All fucking night his shadows had been restless, moving about and not letting him get one minute of sleep. Yes he ran on 4 hours of sleep perfectly fine but his shadows didn't even let him close his eyes for one minute without being irritating. Not to mention his shadows from previously hadn't come back. What the fuck was their problem?

Finally giving up he went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of water and stomped upstairs on to the balcony. His shadows were still making incessant noises and moving around too much for this early in the morning. Azriel walked over to the edge of the roof, standing on the edge and freefell down down down.

The air hit him at the perfect angle and gods did he wish he could keep falling. If he hadn't opened his wings at the right time he would have died but who really cared? It was just him after all.

He flew over Velaris, the sun barely visible resulting in a still and quieter city at this time. Not to mention it was Saturday, most of the fae probably nursing their hangovers right now. He veered left toward the Sidra, going past Feyre's bright and cosy artists corner, following his shadow at a leisurely pace as it stopped in front of what seemed to be a row of houses. They were bright and colourful, pale pinks and bright blue's, pleasing to look at. Settling on the roof of a house opposite them he watched the sun rise, his shadows finally calm. It felt like his heart was calm too.

A few minutes of sitting led to one of the rooftop doors opening and......and Azriel couldn't describe what and who stepped out.

She was a goddess.

She was the fulfilment of his dreams.

She was the most ethereal fae he had seen.

She was...gods words couldn't describe her never ending beauty. Moving toward her flowers towards the right of the roof she began to water them, her soft brown hair falling forward and covering her face slightly. His heart hurt. He didn't know why.

He could stare at her for an eternity. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her pink lips looked like they could say the sweetest words. Like they could soothe any pain he had from one whisper of her sweet voice. He swallowed.

He wanted to talk to her. Enjoy her company. Make her smile. Make her laugh. Watch as her eyes brightened because of him.

He could change. For her he could, he thought to himself as she stood up from watering the roses and looked at the sun rise too.

Her cheeks held a slight blush, hair dishevelled as though she had just gotten out of bed. Azriel was cataloguing each and every thing about her, storing it into his memory to cherish.

Clenching his fists and readying himself, memorising what he would say to this oh so gorgeous female he extended his wings.

Softly landing behind her, he felt like his tongue was twisted. Her hair fell in waves down her back, her arms wrapped around herself.

Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat. She whipped round and it felt like time stopped.

Her hand rested on her chest and her eyes were wide with surprise. Beautiful. That was all that went through his mind as he drank her in, looking at each and every perfect feature.

"Who are you?" His heart felt like it would burst from happiness. Her voice was music to his ears. She had straightened up slightly, her shocked expression gone as she patiently waited for Azriel to speak. He didn't want to. What if he messed it up?

"Azriel. Sorry I....I didn't mean to invade your privacy I-" He cleared his throat cursing under his breath for his stupid twisted tongue. Her lips turned up in a small smile as if she was encouraging him, waiting for him to finish. Like she actually cared for what he had to say.

"I just saw you watching the sunset- not that I was watching you...I meant I just saw you here-" A small laugh escaped her as she watched him struggle. He knew one thing. It was that his heart was no longer his. It was hers. His soul belonged to her. His broken and bloody soul was hers however much it had gone through.

Falling in love was impossible he used to think but looking at her now, he thought it possible.

He was so busy in trying to memorise her face he didn't realise his shadows from earlier swirling around her wrists and waist as if they had found their home.

"It's alright. Lets watch the sunset together, the view's gorgeous from here" Her soft voice beckoned him closer and as she turned back around her arm knocked one of the vases. She turned around trying to grab it and in that split second, she fell.

Over the roof and down to where Azriel couldn't see her.

His heart raced as he ran to the edge and jumped down onto the concrete floor, using his wings to slow his descent.

He had heard the sickening thud when she had fallen but he refused to believe it.

He watched as her lifeless body lay there.

Still.

The life in her completely gone. Silence rang in his ears, his throat closed up, he wanted to rip out his heart. Why?

Why?

Why?

Why was all he could think about it as he looked at her broken form. Blood pooled from her head, a puddle of deep red gathering around her hair. His shadows swarming around her, frantically trying to do something.

Maybe if he weren't so useless. Maybe if he had any dignity or shame he wouldn't have stared on and could have helped her. It felt like his voice was lost.

He looked at her dead eyes and when he did it snapped. The golden thread sparkling between the two of them, connecting them, before dying out again. The moment of completeness vanished in a split second.

Mate.

She was his mate.

He let out a tortured scream, his own voice ringing in his ears. His legs weakened as he dropped to the ground next to her, his energy depleted.

Tears slipped down his face and for the first time he didn't wipe them away. Didn't berate himself for crying because this....this was a tragedy everyone should have cried over. But instead it was only him watching her once smiling face lay face down on the concrete.

Why was it him? He hadn't even gotten to see her smile properly because of him. Hadn't been able to hear her speak completely. Hadn't heard the sweet words she was sure to voice if he ever got the chance to get to know her. 

His eyes wouldn't leave her body as he choked out sobs, eyes blurry and wanting to look away from her limp body at the same time. His....His mate.

The word left him feeling empty. All he wanted was right in front of him except she was gone. She was dead and it was because of him.

His hands shook, his control slipping away as time passed, slowly reaching for her. He gently touched her hair ever so softly as if maybe she were sleeping and she would wake up. Slowly moving it to the side, he could finally see her beautiful beautiful face. A face which had been removed of all colour and life.

A strangled sound escaped him as he looked on unable to tear his eyes away. His heart fractured into so many pieces he didn't know what he'd do anymore. How could he live without her? Life wasn't worth living without her.

His mate.

Tears made his vision blurry as he tried to memorise her perfect features. She was a poem he would never be able to memorise. She was the dream he was always so far from reaching. She was his except she wasn't. Not anymore. Because she was gone.

He wished he could take her place. Wished he had died after seeing his mate. He would have died happy. Finally would know what true happiness was before dying.

Any alternate way of living his heart didn't know how to. Without her in his life he couldn't search for any reason for continuing on.

Gods he didn't even know her name. At the thought of this his lips pressed together trying to stop the heart wrenching scream he wanted to release. He didn't even know her damn name.

His mate.

His mate who was lying dead in front of him. Looking down at his hands he saw they were shaking, so was his body. He didn't deserve to live. This perfect female in front of him wasn't able to live her life so why should he, a broken and unlovable torturer?

The glint of his dagger beckoned to him. It would be oh so easy to end things now. Stab himself through the heart and lay down, lifeless just like his mate. At least they would die together. Taking out his dagger he looked at. Really looked at it.

The fates had known.

This was why he had sharpened his dagger. For this exact reason.

If his mate didn't deserve to live neither did he. He lifted the dagger, tears streaming down his face, his heart broken in too many places to fix, no one left for him in this world. Looking at his mates face for the last time he pushed the dagger straight into his heart.

Fitting ending he supposed. After all the killing he had done, he had ended his own life. Blood seeped from the stab wound but he didn't care. He tried to touch her face one last time, extending his hand,  but he couldn't. Because he had collapsed onto the cold floor next to her, unable to touch her for the first and last time.

He was damned. His fate was unlucky.

He was a bastard who didn't deserve anything.

Without even realising his shadows had left him too.

"LYRA" A heart wrenching scream echoed in his ears as the blood emptied out his body. That was his mate's name.

Lyra

If he were still alive he would have smiled and cried at the irony of it all but he wasn't. His eyes now stared straight up as his heart no longer pumped blood.

A fae walking past would see it as a tragedy but it was more than that. It was a man who would never get a happily ever after no matter how much he wished for it. It would be a story passed down to generations. A story with no happy ending.

***

If only Azriel had known that he was in fact loved. That he did have people that held him close to their heart

If only he had known.

Rhys who was waiting in his meeting room for their debrief.

Cassian who had set up a game of chess for him and Azriel to play.

Nesta who thought up new techniques for fighting that she would show him the next morning.

Feyre who was painting his portrait in her art studio.

Nyx who was waiting for his favourite uncle to come home so they could fly together.

Little did they know Azriel would never come home again.

....first and last time writing angst :) if u can even call it that

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