#i’m not shedding any tears over people who go out of their way to be aggressive to random people for no good reason

[yelenasdiary]

Hello…I didn’t expect to make this request, but I didn’t know who else to turn to, and you’re the most active writer I’ve followed for so long that is still around. (And I’m happy for that, sincerely)

Well, before I request something, let me explain why. I…I’m saying goodbye. (Not that way, don’t worry) I’m saying goodbye…to the fandom…specifically, to reading Natasha x reader fics. I tried for a while to hope for fics where Reader was more of the knight in shining armor, masc presenting woman, or the top in the relationship, but…well, that didn’t happen much. And I’m not bashing on anyone for writing reader as more of the opposite. Not at all, everyone is entitled to write how they want to write….but I can’t just keep coming here and continue to see it be the same troupe. And no matter how much I request for one (and when requests are asked and open) it never happens, and instead it’s something else I didn’t request. So…I think it’s best for me to bid farewell. I cant force writers to write what I want, that’s not how it works. It’s a dick move

Here’s what I want to ask…for my final Natasha x reader fic request:

Reader is a soldier for the United States Air Force. Natasha has been busy as an Avenger. Reader, on leave, tried to spend time with Natasha but was always met with rain checks. On top of that, Natasha has always treated reader as the frail, need to protect, girlfriend, and reader always made it clear she wasn’t much for the pillow process type.

Anyways, reader decides to re-enlist for another deployment and begin a new life, maybe somewhere in Germany I don’t know. But, as she’s packing to leave is when Natasha FINALLY decides to give her the time of day….but it’s too late.

Reader sits Natasha down and says along the lines this, “I’m not the person you want…and we’ve just become different people and are pursuing different things….” She’d go on about how as much as she loves Natasha, she can’t be the partner she expects of her. She’s tired of being made out to be this woman that’s made to be the trophy wife or something like that. That she should find someone who can connect and click with her. Be her true soulmate.

Natasha is heartbroken and wants to fix things. Not expecting this at all. Pleading for a second chance but reader stands her ground. No tears shed, but she’s not cold to her either. Reader leaves, Natasha follows her all the way to the airport, tries one last time but reader doesn’t give in….she bids the redhead farewell…and thanks her for the memories that were amazing. She wishes nothing but happiness for her and a happy life.

…that’s it. Write it, toss it away, it’s fine. I’m just going to leave this here, do with it what you want.

Thanks for the fics you made, specifically the ones where you portrayed reader as the knight in shining armor.

Signing off.

A Final Goodbye

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Masc! Reader

Summary: You take a step back and do what is best for you, and Natasha. 

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this in, I am sorry to hear that you’re leave and I do hope that you’re still around to read this. I do apologise for it taking me a while to get it out, I also just want to say that I do not consider myself a masc lesbian so I do apologise in advance if anything in this is not giving that representation. Rest assured, this is Reader being the lead in this. I hope you enjoy x

You took a deep breath as you zipped up the last duffel bag, feeling the weight of your decision settle across your shoulders. Your small apartment almost empty, leaving most of your belongings in storage. Carefully, you placed the duffle bag with the others before taking a moment to gather your thoughts. 

It had been playing on your mind for a while now, keeping you up at night while you tossed and turned endlessly, wishing things were different but too much had changed over time. You tried to spend time with her, but you only met with rain checks or last-minute cancellations. You missed her but you couldn’t stop thinking about the drift between you two. 

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, the woman you fell for. At first, things were great, you both were on the same page and were very much in the ‘honeymoon’ phase almost every day but like all couples, there were things that you would argue about and there were plenty of things that made you both frustrated. One thing you couldn’t understand was why Nat would consistently treat you like a frail and need to be protected girlfriend. As much as you loved that she cared for you, you hated being treated like a pillow princess. It wasn’t you. 

You didn’t need saving; you didn’t need protecting. You needed somebody who understood you and loved you for you. You always made it clear to Natasha that the pillow princess type wasn’t you at all, you always reminded her that you didn’t need her to protect you from every little thing, after all, you were a soldier. But something about being firm with her just didn’t stick. So, you made the decision to re-enlist for another deployment, making sure that the next time you returned, things would be different. Not just for you but for Natasha as well. 

Natasha knocked softly on the door; it was time. You took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, meeting her soft green eyes for the first time in weeks. Her famous red locks still damp from the rain outside, her expression a mix of relief and uncertainty. 

“Hey,” she said softly, her eyes locking with yours. 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled on your lips, “Hey, I’m glad you could come” you replied, opening the door wider for her. 

 “I’m so glad you’re still here. I… I thought you might be gone already.” She said softly, her eyes darting to the small pile of duffle bags. 

“I leave tomorrow” you replied, watching as Nat turned around to face you once more. “Can we talk, please?” She asked, her gaze locked onto you. “I want to give you time to talk but I really need you to listen to me first” you said as you gestured that the two of you take a seat. Natasha let out a soft sigh, deep down she knew she wasn’t leaving your apartment the same woman she came as. 

The two of you took a seat at the dining table, the cold surface somehow bringing a little comfort to you in this moment as you gently reached for Natasha’s hand. You looked into her eyes for a moment, taking in the beauty she held. 

“I love you so much, I always will but I need to honest with you, with us. This isn’t so much about the fact our schedules suck and the rain check are rain check. This is about us and how I’m not the person you want” you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath in before continuing. “We’ve become different people. We’re pursuing different things and different dreams. I can’t be the partner you expect of me. I’m tired of you only seeing me as this fragile person who needs to protect. I’m a soldier, I’m in the air force. I can hold my own and I want to be respected for that” you added. 

“Detka, I do respect you. You’re everything to me, I don’t mean to make you feel like that….I just, I care about you so, so much but I can’t deal with the thought if something were to happen to you” Natasha pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes.

You smiled softly, trying to keep your own tears from building up, “I know you respect me Nat, but, when you’re around others, you’re not the same. We go from being one to two different people and somehow, you think I’m the one who needs to protected and treated differently….” You paused for a moment, your thumb stroking her soft skin. “We both know that love is such a big, beautiful and powerful thing. It means a lot of things and one of those things is knowing when to let go. You deserve somebody who can give you everything you want, but we know deep down it’s not me” you added. 

A silence fell between you both, Natasha’s face falling, her defenses crumbling as you continued. “I want you to find happiness, even if that means without me. You deserve it.”

“But… what if we can work it out? I can be better, I promise” Natasha said, pleading, her voice breaking as her tears began to fall freely down her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry Nat, but it’s too late. I need a fresh start, and I think you need one too”

Natasha’s expression shifted from desperation to heartbreak as she nodded at your words. Wiping her tears on the sleeve of her shirt, she stood up. “I don’t want to hold you back” she said softly, barely able to look into your eyes. You stood up from your seat, swallowing the lump in your throat as she reached out to hug you one last time. 

“Please be safe” she whispered, “and write to me whenever you’re ready” she added, hugging you tightly. You hugged her back, allowing yourself to feel the love she has for you one last time, hugging her just as tightly back. “I promise” you replied in the same soft whisper. 

As you two parted, you smiled softly at her, hoping it would somehow ease her broken heart a little. “I know this wasn’t what you expected but I want you to know that all the memories we share and the time we had, it was beautiful, and I will forever cherish them. I want nothing but love and happiness for you, don’t hold yourself back from find another love. Be happy Nat, you deserve that” you said.

To your surprise the redhead returned a soft smile, “I will always love you” she spoke ever so gently. 

“And I will always love you” you replied. 

Natasha turned, and headed for the door. You watched her leave, closing the door gently behind her, taking with her a piece of your heart. You took a moment for yourself, part of you broken from the words shared but the other half excited knowing a new chapter awaited. The memories of Natasha would always be with you, reminding you that love can be found again.

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[childrenofcain-if]

this goes without saying but i won’t hesitate to block/ban accounts who feel way too comfortable to be aggressive and hostile unprovoked. i don’t care what your issue is or if your grandma died yesterday, it’s not my responsibility to act like i’m your regular customer service assistant who’s going to baby you and go “i’m so sorry 😢” at every inconvenience you feel.

if you’re incapable of being civil, it’s not my responsibility to be on the receiving end of your hostility. if you have a major issue, drop me a DM or an ask, although i’m more likely to answer DMs since i get around 20 asks per day. i’m a law student who has to study as well as write this story, i have neither the patience nor the time to babysit you.

maybe you can find some other author to strongarm and feel nice abusing, but i’m not the one. i give y’all an inch and you take it a mile, take your audacity and shove it up your ass.

[peapod20001]

Ooooohh godd.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, fade-to-black, nudity, suggestive descriptions, dirty jokes, etc.

A/N: Taglist is full.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Johnny watches you slap another news clipping to the board he’d bought you for thirty-two dollars and twenty-three cents, tired eyes blinking slowly. Standing in his apartment’s living room in his boxers and an oversized shirt, he’d woken up to the sound of muttering, and it had been just that for the last week. 

When he’d allowed you to live in his spare room until you could find a new apartment building to call your own, he didn’t expect you there to be so much grumbling. Like a little bug in his ear—not that he minded all that much. At least, if you were that bug.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “How did he find me? How did he know I already knew so much about the case?”

He, the arsonist.

Your entire building had been a total loss—and, sure enough, the lock had been busted off of your apartment door just like the scene of the fires that resulted in casualties. You had been targeted, and it wasn’t just an accident. There was intent there; a threat. 

Stay away from me, or else. 

Johnny had sighed long when he read that in the report he’d gotten his hands on—there was no way in hell anything was stopping you except…well, except yourself.

While he had envisioned one day potentially asking you to move in with him, he hadn’t expected that to happen so soon. Certainly not before the first fucking date. He hadn’t even gained the courage to ask you out yet, and here you were—pajama pants polling at your ankles and Johnny’s baggy sweatshirt loose around your shoulders. The Scot stands with the heat of sleep and attraction on his skin. 

He tried not to stare, really he did, but the way you looked in his clothes was too much of a distraction for his own good. 

The man clears his throat, face burning. 

“I’m beggin’ you to give it a rest, Dearie. At least five minutes.” Johnny sighs. “It’s not healthy.”

He doesn’t think he’s seen you shed a tear over your apartment—about your belongings. In reality, he was taken aback by it. Soap wouldn’t have blamed you at all…but you just seemed angry. It worried him, but the emotion was well within your right to hold. Just as it was within his right to try and keep you from rushing into danger.

“Not now,” you grumble. “Not until I know how he found out my room number.” 

“You aren’t exactly unknown.” The fireman walks closer to your standing form, hand moving up to scratch at his back as he gunts. “Mostly everyone who would care to look into your career knows about you. It wouldn’t be hard.” 

Johnny moves his vision over the board, pausing before he licks his lips.

“...They’ll be needing me in today, Hen,” he breathes. 

Your lips tighten, and you glance over quickly to find blue eyes already looking. Snapping your attention back to the board, you push back against the burn of your face.

“It’s your job, I’m not going to tell you not to go in.”

“If you need me here, then I can—”

“John,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a heavy frown and turning his way. “No way. Go in.”

Johnny’s serious face doesn’t lessen, and you’re struck with how often those lines on his face are becoming commonplace.

You wouldn’t say that you were taking this well. 

Forcing yourself to work; making your mind push back at the deep pit that seemed to be growing. Everything you’d worked for—everything you’d had. Gone. Up in smoke.

Two people had died in that inferno, and you can’t help but put that on yourself. 

Fingers going up to tap at your chin, your attention goes back to the board, the heavy weight of bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. You’d tried to re-write what you had in your notes as well as you were able, but there had been a reason for making a physical board in the first place. 

Johnny watches you, his brows tight and his fingers twitching. Sighing, he fixes his feet and lightly places a hand on the back of your spine, blinking quickly your eyes dart over before the tension begins to bleed from your muscles. 

Your gaze begins to soften, but your voice is still a light firmness. “Stop that.”

The man blinks. “Stop what?”

“Stop being all…” You huff, sagging into his hand. “You.” 

Johnny pushes a chuckle, shifting to stare at you fully and letting the smirk move over his lips. His fingers move along your back, rubbing tiny circles as the room goes airy—how quick it was that you could fall into this sense of attachment. To anyone outside of the apartment, it would seem the two of you were in a strange relationship, and that would be true to some extent. 

Your face heats up, and Johnny’s large palm flattens. He moves and presses his nose into your hair.  

“Now what’s that supposed to mean, then?” He grunts, and you can feel his flickering smirk as clear as day. 

Leaning over into him, you sigh, glaring at the board as your heart patters. 

“It means you’re distracting me.”

Johnny hums, thumb moving up and down over the knob of your spine.  “Talk to me,” he mutters. “Let me help, aye?” He blinks slowly, face hot and his lungs palpitating in his chest. The man cared about you so much—his heart ached for what you’d been put through. Losing a home like that. 

Your lashes flutter, a near purr emitting from your throat at the hypnotic movements of Johnny’s grip. Like a damn harpy, he was digging his claws into you; it had been happening for months. Of course, you’d let him touch you—how could you not? Even his sense of courage and justice was something that let you know his character, his honor. 

This case was just as important to him as it was to you. 

“Go,” you mutter, shifting your head so that you can stare at him. Johnny’s visage pulls back, his stubble moving with the worried angle of his lips; his skull tilts, almost like a dog cocking its snout. “We can figure something out later—if I get you fired I’d finally gain a conscious.” 

Johnny sighs, looking you up and down. “...I’ll be making dinner tonight. Just,” he breathes, and as his hand leaves you, your body fights the instinct to shiver. “Wait for me, Bonnie.” 

You take in the closeness between the two of you—how your bodies melt into one another as if on instinct. Something was startling about how easy it was to live in the same apartment as Johnny. It had almost been too easy. Sharing food, blankets, and looks.

Your eyes follow after Soap as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before turning and walking back to his room, bare feet padding over the floor. His legs move, small burns and scars all over before your vision travels up the broadness of his back; the stretch of his arms as he brings them up with a groan to itch at his head.

Licking your lips, the sight is enough to quiet your mind. Seeing how, like water, his clothes morph into the swell of his thighs and the…your face bursts into fire, and your head snaps away. 

Clearing your throat, you blink quickly and try to re-focus on your board of suspects.

—

Johnny tightens the belt over his waist, huffing softly as he walks into the fire department’s bay door—passing the red trucks and patting the dogs as they come up to mob him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, the clicking of little claws tapping over the concrete floors and the panting of hot breath. “Good to see you too, little rascals.” 

The fireman looks around the area, seeing some of the boys mulling about doing repairs or fixing up the slight mess. Johnny motions a hand when he’s greeted, and before long he’s entering the main hub of where he wants to go—the kitchen. 

Grabbing a cup, the Scot’s intention is to get some water before settling into his desk and diving into something that can take his mind off the woman living in his apartment. Licking his lips, Johnny gets momentarily lost in the remembrance of your skin—your determination. 

He’s angry. Angry that someone’s done this to you; had disrupted your life so violently. A question was stuck swirling in his head as he began hearing the murmuring from the walk-in pantry. 

What would have happened if you hadn’t been with him that morning? 

“What do you mean ‘that was you?’” Johnny’s fingers freeze around the rim of a glass, blinking into his own smaller reflection. Brows furrowing, the Scot’s head swivels to the kitchen pantry and the barely cracked open door and the voice that emanates from it.

For some reason, the stagnant air after that sentence makes Johnny’s spine straighten. Blue eyes stare blankly, and fingers twitch as the same voice starts again.

“I thought you said it was over?! That the last one was,” a strangled word, a fast inhale. “We had a fucking deal.” 

Heart slow in his chest, Soap stares the longer this seemingly one-sided conversation goes on. There was something off—the words seemed hurried; panicked, even. It wasn’t the usual emotions you had when having a talk with someone. 

Taking a steady step back, the Scot remembered how fast your pulse had run when he had you at his chest a week ago—the fast slam and the whites of your eyes on full display. Even if you didn’t confess it to him, Johnny knew you’d been afraid of the fire. Fearful. He knew you weren’t sleeping. 

Maybe the fireman was being paranoid, but anything that he didn’t understand made his hackles rise like a feral dog—certainly with you, technically, under his watch now. Everyone was a potential threat. Face stiff, Johnny begins walking over to the pantry with nearly silent feet, boots softly flattening to the tile floor.

Stopping outside of the door, his ears hone in. 

“This isn’t right! There’s a difference between what you do and what I do! We stuck together, but this is it. I’ve covered for you—I’ve tried to smooth everything out, but this isn’t something that I can look past anymore. She wasn’t even involved yet!”

Johnny’s lips tighten, his eyes burning through the barrier until he lifts his hand and settles it loosely on the doorknob, not pushing even as the thin material shifts minutely. The alarms in his head were going off, and he didn’t like that. 

Muscles tight, the Scot moves a bit closer, shoulder just beginning to touch the wood before—

Kurt Matthews, one of the rookie firefighters, shoves himself through. 

Johnny strangles a gasp as the two men nearly collide with one another, only shoving out, what he hopes to be, a casual call of, “Hell’s bells. Careful there, Kid.”

The man’s wild eyes lock on him, stumbling back before Soap’s hands move to grasp his arm, a dark phone held lightly in Kurt’s hand. Johnny looks at it silently before he forces a blank chuckle. “Sorry, then. Was going to get some bread—you know how it is, eh?” Kurt looks frazzled, a sheen of sweat over his face; eyes tiny. “The boys never fill up the bread box after they finish a loaf.”

“What?” Matthews quickly mutters, before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Yeah, right, whatever.”

He swiftly moves past the Scot, brushing shoulders. The mohawked man’s nose pulls in, and blue eyes watch the disappearing individual. 

Johnny’s throat swallows down saliva. 

Kurt Matthews smells like gasoline.

—

You hear the sound of the TV and sniffle, pushing the heels of your hands into your stinging eyes. 

It wasn’t a question as to why you had waited until Johnny left to let yourself feel the hopelessness that was sinking into your chest—you were surprised you lasted that long, though. Tiny tears dribble out over your cheeks, but you fight them with a growl. 

“Keep it together,” you sigh harshly. “C’mon, keep it together.” 

Your heart jerks when the front door of the apartment opens, and you’re quick to stand up from the couch where you had been sitting, clearing your throat as Johnny’s call echoes. 

“Just me!” 

You divulge immediately into your hurried sentences, waving a hand. The shake in your voice is obvious. “I have some of the names I remember writing down—it isn’t much but I—”

“What happened?” Johnny’s hands capture your face in a swift second; he isn’t even out of his work clothes before he’s over and touching you. It’s like he teleported over at the slightest hint of distress, not even a moment of hesitation. “Whoa, hey, hey,” he breathes a bit slower, softer. “What’s this then, Bonnie?” 

Delicate movements of his fingers scrape your flesh, thumb running as blue eyes come into focus. Your lungs tighten up again at the sight of tense worry—Johnny’s face all hard with the lines of his forehead and the narrowing of his eyelids.

“Let me see,” he utters, tilting your head up so the brightness of your eyes is visible to him; the wetness of your flesh. “Hey, now.” 

The man’s attention goes up and down on the off chance this is physical pain instead of the internal kind. But he knows better than that. So, Johnny stuffs down the hunch he had about the man in his own ranks and places all of his concern on you and your bitter tears. 

Even when you try to grumble his worry away.

“It’s just stupid tears, MacTavish,” your voice cracks as he drags you to him, curling his arm behind the stretch of your shoulder blades in an addictive display that leaves your nose sniffling again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Quit it,” the Scot pleads. “Jesus, Pencils,” he sighs, arms trapping you in just like before. “Just let me hold you, yeah? I swear, you’ll make my heart burst ‘fore I get you to admit you’re feeling something.”

Your glossy eyes flinch into a weak glare. “I’m not that emotionally constipated, jackass.” 

Johnny’s breath moves over your scalp.

“You sure about that?” Your face goes to an annoyed sheen, and from the soft rest of Johnny’s chest, you look over at him. He’s trying a light smirk, but his eyes are still serious. 

Letting yourself melt into him, you take in his scent and the heat he offers you, surrounded by the remnants of his life and future—this apartment that offers you a reprieve. 

You close your eyes and let your hands shift up to grab at Johnny’s shirt slowly, your heart gradually easing. Unaware of the soft gaze watching every second; his own grip tightening.

“...You’re like a dog,” you whisper, tears drying. “Always running over.” Your pause lays out a beautiful scene. “I like it.”

Johnny’s cheeks flare to a bright red. He clears his throat, glancing away from your face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“Hm,” you hum, shrugging and nuzzling your nose into his pulse. You hear it racing. “Up to you, I suppose.” 

The man laughs, chest jerking. 

The silence that falls after is like a blanket—settling thickly over the space as the last of your sniffles finally halt. You didn’t like crying; not in front of others. It was easier to just push through it, but Johnny’s presence made you soft, at the same time you can’t tell if that’s good or bad. But it did make your fear lessen, and maybe that was something you couldn’t overlook. 

You tighten your hold on his waist, and he grunts, glancing down at you as his gut swirls. The man’s half-lidded eyes flutter, fingers flinching along your clothes. The room gets warmer, or maybe it’s just him. 

“I guess,” you begin under your breath, voice muffled by his skin. “I could use your help. Officially.”  

“Ooo,” the Scot whispers. “‘Officially’—look at that.”

You huff, lips pulling up. 

“Well,” the man mutters, chin resting on top of your head as the sun outside begins to dip lower. “‘Officially’ I have some information that my Bonnie little boss might like to hear.”

Your smirk grows wider, your heart hammering faster as your pulse moves with fire. 

“Oh?” Your nails drag his sides, and you feel Johnny’s breath hitch, a low purr emanating from his chest. 

“Oh, aye,” a hand grips your chin, dragging you back until you’re once more blinking into his gaze head-on. His finger pets your flesh, your breath puffing out as he stares down at you. He swallows down the nervousness in the back of his throat, the urgency that instinct pushes away in this moment of anticipation as he watches your face. “But I’m having a moment, it seems—can’t think straight.”

“Why’s that?” You lick your lips and see cobalt blue follow them.

“Because this Hen in front of me has been a damn tease since I’ve met ‘er.” 

Any snappy reply is cut short before it even can fully register in your head, and all thoughts halt the second his firm mouth is on your own. 

You gasp, but there isn’t an ounce of yourself that pulls back, not when Johnny’s fingers play at your shirt-hem, or even when your own slide under his clothes. You don’t pull back when they hit the floor—don’t pull back when your bodies follow suit. 

A dance of fire and ice moves with the writhing of flesh and the passing of heavy kisses; panting breath. Grunts and groans as if every pass of lips and teeth is a knife into supple skin. Tense legs and flexing arms—dragging fingertips digging into every latchable dip even as the dead of night grows longer. 

It’s only after every desire has been satiated that you finally utter about the finer details of this mess. 

Johnny’s hands move down your bare back, slipping to grip your waist and drag you into him as you sigh. Your thigh lifts to rest over his hip, leg hanging uselessly over as it brushes the ruffled sheets as lips find your neck, tiny nips and passes of skin mixing as your eyes flutter. 

The fireman makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat, hand sliding to hook under your kneecap, caressing. 

“So attentive,” you murmur, and your fingers run through his hair, itching at his mohawk as the longer strands slip through. Johnny burrows closer, nose pushing your head upwards as he kisses the space where your neck connects to the underside of your chin. 

He chuckles smoothly, stubble scraping along as you shiver at the sensation. The hard press of his pecs shove into you, and you lightly breathe; fingers twitching.

“How are we feeling?” Johnny grunts in between his worship.

“Energized,” you grin, half-closed eyes shimmering. 

The man smiles widely, grip sliding downward slowly as he chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Not like that,” you groan, shoving his hand away as he laughs, rolling onto his back and folding his arm over his eyes. 

“Ah,” Johnny’s chest jumps with his amusement, itching at his bare abdomen for a moment. “Worth a try, then.”

“Dog,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve had enough of a fill.”

“That’s all up to opinion, Dearie.” He smirks, peeking at you as your face heats up.

Shoving at his shoulder, he laughs again and pushes up, hands melting into the mattress beside your head as he looms above you as a large wall. 

“I’ll never have enough of a fill when it comes to you and your wet c-”

You snap a hand to his mouth, covering it as you glare openly, sneering. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never have me in this bed again.”

Johnny’s glinting eyes stare from above your hand, and you feel his smile as clear as day as his face stays stuck close to yours. 

A teasing kiss is leveled on your palm and you roll your eyes, pulling away to lightly push at his forehead. The Scot lets you shove at him, and you sit up fully as he grunts and rests his back on the headboard. 

Shifting your body, you straddle his lap and grasp his chin.

“A few hours ago,” Johnny’s eyes are blown, and you feel his touch on your hips. He hums in question, barely listening above the squeeze of your legs. “You were going to tell me something—a lead.”

“Was I?” The fireman breathes, licking at your finger as it goes to rest on his bottom lip. 

You cock your head with seriousness and a level of amusement in your gaze. “You were. Tell me.”

“You need to work on your pillow talk, Pencils.” Johnny sets a sloppy kiss on your collarbone and sighs. 

There’s a moment where you both stare into one another, and the gravity of this begins to set in once more. Carnal desire and feelings aside, there was always an edge to the both of you—this need to be seen through whether for some sense of justice or care. 

“Kurt Matthews—rookie fireman,” Johnny grunts, looking away for a quick moment. “Heard him speaking on the phone, got a bad feeling ‘bout it that I can’t place. Might be nothing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you.” 

“Kurt,” you breathe, brows pulling in. There’s a long pause. “Kurt Matthews…that sounds familiar.” 

Hopping off Johnny, the man groans softly, a slightly needy look following after as your bare body slips away. He knocks his skull against the headboard, side-eyeing your backside as you hurry off to your board. A light smirk makes itself known before your voice snaps him out of his memories. “Stop looking at my ass, MacTavish!”

His face goes beet red as he grunts, quickly snapping his eyes away. 

You wrap yourself into one of the blankets that was on the couch, letting it hang off of your shoulders as you snatch one of the papers on your mess of information. 

“A fireman,” you mutter to yourself, finger running down names and brief descriptions. “An inside job? No, that would be…” Your eyes spark to life as Soap shuffles in, running through his hair. “That would be one hell of a story.” 

Attention locked in, your eyes instantly stop on your own chicken scratch—the name at the bottom of the page. 

Kurt Matthews. Witness to fire on the fifth; one dead. 

“Off duty? Or not hired yet?” You ask, lips tightening. “Why was he at the scene? Johnny,” your curious voice calls to him, and he slips up behind you, flattening his front to your back. You lean into him, showing him the paper. “When did he get taken on into the department?”

“Month ago,” Johnny’s face pulls, frowning. A name catches his attention, and he tilts his head. “Why’s Duncan on there?”

Your attention moves to the scribbled title. Johnny continues as you read, your stomach sinking. 

Duncan Ballard. Employee of Warren Electrical. No involvement.

You wave a hand. “He has nothing to do with this case. That was back when I was looking into the money laundering—”

“They’re cousins.” 

Your body twists, face confused. “What…?”

Johnny blinks, glancing at you and then back to the paper, he vaguely gestures to the two names. “Duncan and Kurt—they’re cousins. Met him at one of the department cookouts. Strange bloke, but I never thought much about it. Just thought he liked the profession a bit because Kurt was getting involved.” 

You stare at him, a million thoughts dashing from behind your eyes. “Duncan was the man I interviewed about the Warren Electrical case. He was cleared by the police,” you stutter, looking to the side. “He was the only employee of the company that didn’t confess or implicate someone else. There was no evidence to…”

You trail off before your spine tightens. Your body pushes itself out of Johnny’s hold, rushing to his computer and opening it like a bat out of hell. 

“Give me the name of one of the fire victims.”

The Scot watches after, hurriedly forcing out, “Mike Lane.”

An article pops up—one that you hadn’t written but that another journalist had. Warren Electrical Employee Exposes All. 

“Another,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the screen.

“Kit Cannon.”

Warren Electrical Employee—

“Johnny, one more.”

“Hadden Taylor.”

Warren Electrical Employee—

Your throat closes for a moment before you force out in the middle of Soap easing out another name, still not sure where you’re going with this. “He’s trying to kill off anyone who snitched.”

Johnny pauses, coming over to look as he thinks—as he looks over the articles you show him with a grim face, he tilts his head.

“Even then, why were you a target? All you did was interview him. And why now?” 

“He knows I have all of the resources,” you begin. “If anyone can catch him, it would be me—I interviewed him when he was in temporary custody. It would have seemed like he didn’t have a choice unless he wanted to keep his appearance of innocence.” 

Your mind struggles through the potential answers. “But you’re right—why now? Is it because of the trial coming up? And how does this connect with Kurt?”

“He smelled like Gasoline when he walked past me,” Johnny adds, rubbing at his chin; itching at his scar. He spares you a look, mulling over the words that he’d heard in the pantry. “...I think he’s trying to cover his cousin’s crimes with his own. Make it seem like they’re all a part of one damn scheme.” 

“He’s the one going for the abandoned buildings,” you agree, nodding a few times, looking over into Johnny’s eyes. “Kurt Matthews and Duncan Ballard. Okay. We have our leads.”

Before the Scot can speak on it, you’re rushing past, grabbing clothes from the floor and shoving them on. His face moves in, confusion overtaking his building shock. 

“What are you doing?” You shove into your pants, not sparing a look before you button them. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

Johnny’s left in the middle of the room, naked, watching after you with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief. 

“...What?”

—

You hang up your phone with one of the many people you know in the city, dropping it to your side as you and the fireman stand in front of your car. You have an address for Kurt’s home—not one for Duncan, but that can happen later. With what Johnny had said not moments before, Matthews was expressing hesitation. Go for the weaker link first. 

The streets are lit up. It’s still night out but the long hours are beginning to thin into morning; it can’t be later than three AM. Vehicles rush past, and, occasionally, people walk to wherever they are off to. The city never sleeps, just as you don’t. 

“Woah,” Johnny grabs onto you before your hand can latch onto the driver’s seat door. He waves his other hand and stares at you heavily. “We can’t just go into this with our dicks in our hands, Bonnie.”

“Thankfully, I don’t have one of those,” you huff. “That’s why I keep you around.”

“That isn’t,” Johnny sighs aggressively, shaking his head. “I’ll not have you in danger. We need to pass this along the chain.”

“The chain,” you grumble, “hates me. We’re the best bet right now.” Raising a brow you point a finger under his nose. “If I recall, you asked to be involved.”

Johnny frowns heavily, looking unimpressed until he takes a deep breath. He rasps out, “You’re lucky you’re damn near a goddess—”

His phone goes off in his pocket, and not a second later, he’s answering as you mess with your satchel. Taking out a piece of paper, you try not to show how much his little comment made you want to float into the air, giddy, nearly, as you write down Kurt’s address sloppily. 

“MacTavish,” Johnny grunts out, turning slightly away. 

You open your car door, but a hand moves out and keeps it closed enough to a point where you can’t slip inside, you pout and Johnny raises a brow as he listens. Your eyes notice how his jaw clenches, and he lets off an aggressive sigh like a boar when he registers the words being said from over the line. 

Your heart drops when you watch his shoulders sag, hips moving as they situate themselves.

“Right. I’ll be over.” Cobalt eyes snap to yours when the call ends, deathly serious. “One of the boys had to run out tonight during his twenty-four-hour—family emergency. I was on call for him.” 

You open your mouth to speak. 

“No,” Johnny points at you, digging out his own keys from his pants as he backs up. He shakes his head. “No—you’re not going alone. Don’t even ask it, Pencils.”

Your loud scoff echoes. “I didn’t even mention it!”

“You fucking thought it,” he grunts, glaring. “Get your pretty arse back inside the apartment and we do this together tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes,” you wave a hand, stepping back onto the sidewalk as the Scot moves to his vehicle only two cars down, sarcastically monologuing. “All naked and waiting to be ravished by your brutish body. Whatever will I do without you, my brave firefighter?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Soap mutters to himself, and just as he unlocks his car and opens the door, you’re there at his side. A light kiss is pressed into his flesh, and he freezes. 

“Be safe,” you mutter, and he melts—tension loosening. He smirks and glances over, carefully grabbing your face before connecting his lips to yours with a low groan.

“Maybe you should be naked and waiting for me—”

“Go!”

Johnny chuckles against your lips. “Keep your head on for me, Pencils. I’ll be back soon, and we can find the fucker that did this, eh?”

As he gets into his car and drives away, you watch after him and bite at your lips. And then as he turns the street corner, you jog over to your car and slip inside.

—

The home was run down.

It wasn’t a place where you would want to raise a family, and neither was the neighborhood. In fact, barely anyone seemed to live on this street, and even if there were entire rows of houses, there weren’t even any lights on—nothing illuminated the streets except the lamps, and you were parked under one with your satchel in your lap. 

Experience didn’t mean you never get nervous.

You feel the clamminess of your palms as you flex them, replaying Johnny’s words in your head over and over. You knew the house was here, so, you could always just…come back later. There was no harm in it. 

Yet, your eyes narrow, and your rage builds. 

This fucker was related to the man that burned down your apartment building—was potentially covering for him so you wouldn’t break the case on Duncan killing off the snitches for Warren Electrical’s schemes. But all because of an interview with him? All you’d done was sit down with the guy; why did he feel the need to track you down? Breaking into someone's house and lighting it up with matches was personal—incredibly personal. 

Duncan had given you a warning to keep away, and you hated warnings with a fiery passion. If anything, it had just set you on his ass more. 

“Okay,” you huff, and reach inside of your satchel, flicking on the recorder you stuffed inside and stating your name, age, and important information. 

And then you open the car door and exit. 

Speed walking to the door, you look down the dark streets and hunch into yourself, the calls of crows and the wind moving the overgrown grass. Cracked concrete hits the ground as you kick pieces away, and at the two steps leading to the front door, you think that perhaps this might be a bad idea.

Bad ideas are what make good articles.

You hum, face innocent. “Johnny’s gonna fucking kill me.”

Knuckles raising, you send three firm knocks into the paint-speckled wood, and wait. And wait.

And wait. 

Your face tightens, your legs shifting minutely as the seconds draw long. A part of you is somewhat relieved until you hear a small creak just when you’re about to walk away. You freeze, and your eyes move slowly to the glass of the side window in a gradual glance. 

Your eyes lock onto a face staring back. 

Gasping, your foot takes a rapid step backward, but before you can rush away, Kurt rips open the door and pleads in a tiny voice as he grabs your arm. You flinch, raising up a heavy fist. But his words stop you from sending it forward.

“No! No, you can’t be here!” Your eyes blink rapidly, stuttering through your initial panic.

“What?”

“Leave!” Kurt snaps, eyes wild. “While he’s still asleep—he can’t see you here or he’ll—” There’s a splash of liquid and you shout. Kurt lets go of you quickly as he looks down at himself as his clothes get flooded from behind. 

The sharp smell hits you before your ears twitch to the sound of a lighting match. 

Kurt screams, snapping around as you fall backward off the steps, slamming into the ground with a panicked flinching in your lungs. A large shadow stands in the doorway. “I didn’t say anything—I didn’t—!”

Kurt Matthews goes up in flames, and in the fire and the rabid screams of sizzling flesh, you’re left shouting in pure fear. Duncan’s familiar face was illuminated by an orange and red inferno and he watches you blankly with a box of matches in his right hand.

You run off so fast, your heels get kicked off in a flurry of a chase.

TAGS:

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[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * hey stephen!!

warnings: none pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo a/n: the ending is a little rushed but I was on a time limit here 😣

It was an undeniable fact that Luke Castellan was the heartthrob of camp. Girls (and boys too) from various cabins take their chances on the Hermes cabin counselor. Yet to your surprise they got turned down everytime, even the most beautiful from cabin ten. You wondered many times why Luke never went out with anyone but it never bothered you. You were hopeful that the spark you saw when he was around you meant he liked you but your chances were slim, you must be delusional to think such a thing

Although out of all the girls who tried tossing rocks at his windows, or grasping his attention in any way you were the one waiting even when it was cold. And you were the one he always let in. Mostly this makes you think that you might never be alone because you know Luke will never turn down an opportunity to be alone with you- or even with people around- it doesn’t matter because he’ll go out of his way (occasionally discarding camp duties) to get to spend sometimes even a minute with you

Tonight however Luke wasn’t in sight. The nightly campfires were one of your favorite actives in camp- possibly getting to take the number one spot- and today you would be singing a song you had spent the past weeks creating. Usually you would let your siblings take over the musical part of the evening but on this night you decided to bring out your guitar to play your new melody. You wrote this specific song- and you were too embarrassed to tell anyone- for Luke, so when you’re in this current predicament it worried you that he wouldn’t be here to listen to it.

What worried you the most was that Luke never missed campfires. Occasionally with you, yes, but never alone which is why you suspect he’s run off with a girl perhaps. You knew those other girls were beautiful- and your looks couldn’t compare- but would they write a song for him? Probably not.

You sigh and turn to Will Solace on your left. “Have you seen Luke?”

Will ponders for a moment before answering, “He stopped by our cabin right after you left, said he was looking for you”

“And where did he go after?”

Will shrugs. “Away”

You scoff and slap his head. “Don’t be stupid”

He attempts to swat your hand away but you stand up before he can do anything. “I’m going to look for him, I’ll be back”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You feel as though you’ve walked for ages. But maybe because you don’t walk much makes a few steps seem like a lot. The first place you checked was cabin seven, just making sure Luke wasn’t still lingering awaiting your arrival. Next you checked cabin eleven, nothing there either. You looked at the dining pavilion, the lake, the campfire- again- to check he was indeed not there, the forest, which admitted you did not search thoroughly because it was horrifying at night

You’re stuck standing in the absolute middle of nowhere, how you got there was a mystery. You sit on the grass in defeat and as you ponder you feel tiny drops of water falling onto your head, thanks a lot Zeus!

Now you have to find your way back out of this stupid forest in the rain. You stand up before it starts pouring, and admitted you may have shed some tears. You turn left, and the back right, absolutely no clue where you came from. You’re lucky for your godly roots because you were given the ability to radiate a bright light from your very own body, thanks dad!

You can’t help but wish more for Luke at this very moment. Whenever it rained he would cover you up to assure you wouldn’t get wet, even if it meant that he would be soaked. You turn off your light for a moment, a second to recharge your drained energy. You allow yourself to take a deep breath before taking on step, bumping into a figure before you

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was my fault” the figure says. And you know that voice, you might even go as far as to say you know it better than anyone. In the moonlight you see the face you’ve searched for

“Where the hell have you been, Luke? I’ve been looking for you all over!”

“I’ve been looking for you all over!” Luke explains

“What?” You say in disbelief “Will said you came looking for me, I was at the campfire by then, why weren’t you there?”

“Well he didn’t tell me that! All he told me was that you left and usually you never go to the fire that early so I thought you came to my cabin to look for me, but I went there you I didn’t see you so I went all the way to the fire and you weren’t here either so I asked Will and he said you just left to look for me!”

You run a hand through your hair. “Oh my gods you’re telling me we’ve both been looking all over like crazy people for each other?”

“I guess so”

you sigh. “Well, why were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to walk with you to the campfire”

“But we always just meet there?”

Luke’s cheeks turn pink. “I wanted to talk to you”

Oh no. Was he going to confess his undying love for you? Or are you just a silly hopeless romantic who feeds into every delusion?

“About what?”

Luke’s nervous demeanor worries you. Was he doing something bad? Did he do something bad? Is he suicidal? Is he in love? Is he getting kicked out of camp? Oh no, oh no! You take one of his hands in yours to calm both you and Luke at once

“It’s nothing, forget it”

You squint your eyes at him. “You’re lying”

“I am not”

“When you said you wanted to talk to me your body language was a clear sign that you knew just what you wanted to say. I know a lie when I see one”

“It’s raining, this isn’t the best setting”

“Well I like the rain, so speak”

“I saw the paper, the one with your song. Will told me you wrote it about me”

that little bitch

“I mean, yes, I did. But it was never clear who it was written about”

“I read it myself”

Your cheeks mirror Luke’s. “So what if I wrote it about you? You’re my best friend, you know this”

“Do you write love songs about all your best friends?”

“It was not a love song!”

“I believe the terms ‘angel’ ‘love’ ‘kiss’ and ‘perfect’ were all used”

You drop Luke’s hand. “So I exaggerated things a little bit”

Luke takes the paper from his pocket, the rain washing it away almost instantly but he manages to point out every part of the song referring to being in love

“Why are you obsessed with this?”

“Nobody’s ever written a song for me before-” he sighs “let alone the girl I’m in love with”

You’re unsure how to react to such a display of romantic attraction. Do you run away? Do you tell him you like him back? Do you stay silent? Do you ignore him? Is this the part where you kiss?

You do know, however that Luke looks almost ethereal in the rain, an odd observation but you’d admit it’s very true. The silence takes over the moment, almost awkward because you haven’t replied yet- but in your defense what are you supposed to reply? You’ve only seen love confessions in movies and books and they are much better and easier than the real thing you can now confirm

“What about the other girls?” You decide on asking

“There are no ‘other girls’ there’s only been you”

You have no clue what you’re doing. You don’t know if this is the right approach, but you can’t find it in yourself to care because before you know it your arms are wrapped around Luke’s neck, his finding their way around your waist- and equally both your lips connecting. And even in the cold rain you can’t help but feel warm

[imababblekat]

Pushing Buttons

Anon Request, “ Love your content it’s sooo cute! Can I get a snarky sarcastic reader who calls April for a chat on speaker phone then gets into a funny argument with Ralph trading jabs. Like he tries to get April to hang up because their in the middle of something important but reader gives him a snappy comeback. They keep going with everyone listening. Tired of this April is gonna hang up on them but before that happens “Wait wait! give that guys digits he sounds hot! You know how I love pushing a guys buttons!”

A/N: I hope this is okay, gonna be honest I struggled to write this one for some reason. Hope it’s still at the very least readable \TvT/

~xXx~

April hadn’t meant to answer the phone, but Mikey curiously nudging into her had caused her to ultimately accept your request. As if to make a point at your horrible timing as April and the boys were in the mist of a game plan to take down a new gang, you’re voice rang loud through the speaker causing everyone to simultaneously jump.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!! April you are not going to believe what happened to me at work today!!”

April sighed, giving the ninja turtles apologetic glances. 

“I can’t really talk right-”

“I’ll make it quick! I swear! Okay, so I got up at seven like I usually do, right? I was really tired though, so I went to snooze my alarm and-”

Before April could politely ask you to skip ahead to what had happened at your job, the human girl was thrown for a shock when Raphael had suddenly snatched the device straight out of her hand. She went to reprimand him but all he had done was hold a large hand up to block her as he angrily snapped into the call.

“She’s busy. Call back later.”

*click*

April’s eyes had never been as wide as they were in that moment. No way did Raphael just hang up on you of all people. Said terrapin, with a triumphant grin, reached out to hand her back the phone, when it had suddenly started going off again right in his palm. If it weren’t for the growing agitation, he could have sworn it seemed to vibrate with a vengeance. With a hard tap, he answered the call ready to repeat what he had done only a few minutes ago.

“I said-”

“Excuse me!!”

Raphael felt himself fumble at your sudden shout, April standing across from him with a knowing look.

“And who the hell do you think you are, huh?! You do not cut me off when I am talking to my gal pal!!”

Raphael sputtered, caught off for but a second before snapping back.

“Who do I-?! April’s busy! I’m sure whatever little issue you got goin on at work ain’t that important!”

“Oh, and how would you know that?! You read minds huh?! I’d ask if you’re some sort of phycologist but frankly just from your voice alone I’d say you’re need of one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“I think you know what I mean, big boy.”

Raphael felt his blood boiling in that moment, his brothers Mikey and Donnie doing their best to stifle their laughter behind him while Leo simply smirked at his dismay. All the while all April could do was hide her face in her hands at the embarrassment she felt for her close friend on the line.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Would you rather I call you big baby instead? Ya gonna cry about it? Good, cuz sounds to me like you need to shed a few tears. It’s perfectly healthy by the way. Just thought I’d let you know that since you give off the vibe that you’d rather walk around with a stick up your ass then express your emotions.”

“A stick up my ass?! Seriously?! How about I come over and shove one up yours?! You’re just all bark and no bite!”

“Ooo, don’t promise me with a good time~.”

If it were possible, Raph’s face would match the color of his mask at your raunchy response, the suave to your tone not making things any better. It was at the sudden burst of laughter behind him from his brothers and Aprils own snickering that the brute decided in that moment the best course of action was to, once again, hang up the damn phone. 

A groan bubbled up from his throat at he tossed April back her phone, sending a glare to his still cackling siblings. 

“Will ya all stop laughin. Let’s just get back to the stupid plan.”, he glared, arms crossing.

It was Leo, who had to take a few breaths to gather himself, that brought back the others to focus.

“Okay, okay, you heard the big boy. Let’s ready up.”

Green eyes glared daggers at the leader in blue for his jab, the other winking back with a shit eating grin. Raphael stepped forward to make a quip in response to Leo, when a chortle behind him had alerted all the turtles. It was from April, who’s eyes crinkled in the corners as she did her best to bite back some giggles, holding up her phone to show what had caused such a reaction out of her. Each brother leaned in, squinting at the small text on screen and then let out more laughter, Mikey rocking a groaning Raph’s shoulders with congratulations.

On the screen before them, read a text sent by the very person who riled him up quicker then anyone on record.

*Hey girly, you gotta get me your friends digits! Dude sounds hot af 😉💗*

~xXx~

[amirasainz]

I’m obsessed with this blog so much!!!

What about amira was bored and decided to bake the grid baked good, save to say they are more in love or adore her more

OK.. sooo.... the Pierre and Kika part turned kind of smutty (I loved writing it). I hope you enjoy reading and let me know if you have any requests.

-XoXo

I like you, have a cupcake🧁

It truly was a scene out of a fairytale. Amira, dressed in a beautiful green gown with matching makeup, carried a basket brimming with Ferrari cupcakes. Little did most people know that her true passion lay in baking.

With an exuberant grin, she entered the paddock and spotted Lewis and Fernando. Skipping over to them, she called out, “Lew-Lew, Nando. Guess what?” The two men exchanged grins, eagerly asking, “What?” Amira proudly presented her cupcakes: one adorned with a tiny racing helmet for Nando and another shaped like a car for Lewis. Their awe was palpable as they stared at her creations. “Go on, try them,” she urged, nervously playing with her hair.

After the first bite, the two world champions showered her with praise. With kisses on their cheeks, Amira sought out her other friends. Max, Key, and little P were next. P, with her innocent curiosity, asked, “Aunty Ami, what’s in your basket?” Amira replied, maintaining a serious tone, “Well, my lovely gato, this magical basket holds cupcakes for you, your Mama, and your Papa.”

Kelly and Max, overhearing the sweet exchange, approached. Max hugged Amira tightly, while Kelly planted a brief kiss on her forehead. As she distributed the cupcakes, they all savored the magical treats. Max leaned down to Penelope’s height and whispered, “At least one of your Mamas can bake.” making him share a meaningful glance with Kelly.

After a sweet goodbye and a promise for dinner this weekend Amira ran to Kika and Pierre. Before she could run too far, a pair of strong arms picked her up from the ground. She immediately realised who it was. "Pierre, let me down" she laughed. Kika and Pierre were giggling with her, immediately crowding her against the wall. The two of them really had no limit. After sharing two kisses with Kika and Pierre on the lips, because according to them this is how close friends greeted each other in France and Portugal, she told them a bit breathless about her creation. "Oh Babygirl, you are truly an angel" whispered Pierre in her ear while Kika slowly kissed her neck. Pierre took a bit of the cupcake cream, smeared it on Amiras lips and kissed it off of them. "Mmmmhhh, amazing" he whispered. He held the cupcakes up for Kika, who did the exact same thing. While Kika was cleaning Amira from any excess creme (kissing her breathless) Pierre brushed his hands over her body and kissed her temple.

Before the situation could escalate anymore, the little group got interrupted from Pierre team principal. "You know, babgirl. If you come over to us tonight, Pierre and I can show you the real way to use whipped cream in the bed" Kika said to her with a predatory glint in her eyes. "The real way?" asked Amira naively. "Ohh amour, we have a lot of learning to do."

Amira, having settled down from her playful escapade with Pierre and Kika, continued distributing cupcakes. As she encountered George, Alex, Lily, and Carmen, she offered each of them a sweet treat along with a warm hug, saying, “One for you.” Lily couldn’t help but exclaim, “This girl is too good for this world,” a sentiment echoed by the other three.

Amira followed the same approach when giving Oscar and Lando their cupcakes. However, the two papaya drivers weren’t willing to let her go so easily. They convinced her to play a round of Monopoly, which was really just an excuse to keep her company.

As for Carlos and Charles, after the race, they discovered picture-perfect cupcakes waiting in their drivers’ room. Attached were two heartfelt notes. If the two of them shed a few tears after reading Amira’s encouraging messages, well, that was their little secret.

[sunrise-imagines]

I love your finn x reader farm world stories you've been writing. They are so good I can't stop reading them, I don't know how to ask this, And I don't know if you're still taking requests but can you write Farm World finn x reader Where the reader is from Ooo, but she looks exactly like farmworld finn' s wife And how would he react. I'm sorry if that's messed up, I like pain.

Ohhhh boy this one will be heartbreaking. Thanks for requesting! Reader uses she/her pronouns in this one

This is an AU in which Reader’s farmworld self replaces Huntress Wizard, love you HW

TW: Angst, mention of illness, mentions of death, hurt and a little comfort,

Farmworld Finn x Reader who’s his wife’s counterpart

• You had agreed to go with Fionna, Cake and Simon to find another crown and make their world magical again.

• After a close run-in with the scarab, you find yourselves in a post apocalyptic city.

• People all around you were giving you surpised looks, which only made you even more uncomfortable in this already hostile environment.

•When Jay first sees you all in the city, he can’t believe his eyes. He’s had this happen before, sometimes seeing someone with a similar hair color to his mother, only to have to remind himself that she’s gone.

•But when you turn around and he sees your face, there’s no mistaking it. It’s you. He doesn’t know how or why, but you’re here again! Tears flow down his cheeks as he struggles to keep quiet and out of sight.

•Once the Destiny gang are gone, Jay looks at you in awe before hurling himself into your arms and hugging you so hard you almost fall over.

• The three of you have to try and explain to him that, although you look like his mother, you’re not actually her, and slowly his smile starts to fade as the realization sets in.

•He agrees to take you to his dad, but is really worried about he will react.

• The five of you make your way to the small farm, where Finn is busying himself chopping logs. He wipes his brow, turning around to scold Jay for staying in the city so long. But then he sees you.

• No. This isn’t real. This is just another one of his dreams. That’s what this is. It’s just a dream. None of this is real. Any moment now he’s going to wake up, shaking in a cold sweat like he has every night for the last 3 years.

• But then you reach out and touch his arm, and he feels the warmth of your hand on his skin. You’re real. You smile awkwardly, a little unsure of what to say, “It’s Finn, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

• For the first time in years, he sheds a tear, and you instinctively you bring your hand to his cheek and wipe it away with your thumb. He brings his hand up to hold yours, feeling your soft hands against his calloused ones.

• “Who are you?” He asks, his voice shaking as if you might dissapear at any moment.

• “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m from another universe, and my friends and I need your help.”

• You try to explain yourselves to him, the fact that there are multiple universes, that you came to save Fionna and Cake’s, and that there is even an alternate version of himself. You decide to gloss over bringing up your own counterpart, having pieced together from Jay’s sadness that her fate was likely an unpleasant subject.

• He brings you all inside, and instantly the kids are all over you, crying and none of you have the heart to tell them the truth, so you play along. None of them care if it didn’t make sense, they were just happy to have their mom back.

• After a tense dinner and discussion about the crown, all of you are made to sleep in the hayloft. But after Fionna and the others have fallen asleep, you sneak out back to the house.

• You find Finn sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames as Jake lays next to him. You hesitate, debating just leaving and going to sleep, but his voice breaks the silence first.

• “I know you’re there, leave me be.” He mutters, not looking away from the flickering light. But you don’t leave, instead taking a seat next to him. Jake pads up to you and sits in your lap.

• You stay like that for awhile, the tension so thick you could cut through it, but after a little while you steel yourself and in a soft voice finally ask the question that’s been eating at your mind, “What was she like?”

• He sighs, a deep and tired breath that he’s clearly been holding in for far too long.

• Finn tells you everything, how the two of them met not long after the crown was destroyed, how she was the only one who accepting him despite his past as the Snowman. How the two fell in love, her kindness slowly melting the icy walls around his heart. How they built this house together, and not long after moving in their first son was born. How eventually their tiny family kept growing, only getting happier with each new addition. How a couple years after Bonnie was born, she started to developed a cough, and at the time she brushed it off as nothing a little rest couldn’t fix. But she kept getting worse, eventually becoming bedridden and barely able to move. How the doctors pulled him aside and told him that her prognosis wasn’t good, and while he tried to hide it from her, she already knew her time was coming. How the kids would bring her flowers and help feed her, and how she kept smiling and laughing no matter how bad the pain got. Then one day, she took his hand in hers, telling him how much she loved him and their family, and how grateful she was to have been able to be with him, if only for a little while. And then she was gone, and his world changed forever.

• After he’s done, you’re left speechless. There’s nothing you can do or say to take away the pain he’s feeling, and your presence is no doubt exacerbating it. You feel tears well up and you try to think of what you can do.

• In the end, you just put your head on his shoulder, speaking so quietly it’s almost a whisper, “I’m sorry I’m not her.”

[dorotheataylor]

Hugs and kisses

Pairing- Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Summary- Sometimes even the strongest ones need comfort and Peter finds it in your arms.

Warnings- none literally, this is just a soft fic coz peter deserves all the love and hugs in the world, my poor english is a warning tho :’)

Word Count- 687

A/N- I thought of this while listening to ‘Sweet Nothing’ by Taylor Swift and here it is. Also I changed fandoms lol. dw i still write for harry potter but i’ll write for marvel too now. And this can be read for any peter but I imagined tasm peter here :3 Hope y’all like this <3

You were about to get into bed, after having done your nighttime skincare and changing into your pyjamas, when you heard soft knocks on your window.

You went over to open it, knowing it was Peter. Whenever he visited you after his night patrols, it was always near this time. You would go on about your day while he told about his and then went to sleep together while snuggled close to each other.

Today it seemed a little different. Because when you moved the curtains to get a look at him, his expressions were different from what they always were. Like he was upset about something.

You quickly unlatched your window and let him inside. You turned to face him and furrowed your eyebrows when he didn’t meet your eyes.

Something was definitely up.

“Peter, love, is everything okay?” you said softly, not wanting him to break. “You know you can tell me anything,” you start, wanting to break the silence, but he flinches at your voice. you let out a shaky exhale and step forward, reaching a hand up, slowly, like approaching a skittish animal, to press your palm to his cheek. he unconsciously chases the warmth, his hair parting to reveal his eyes, sadder than you’ve ever seen them. your heart lurches for him. “oh, Peter.”

He leaned in your touch and sighed in content. Slowly you lifted your other hand to cup both his cheeks while he looked on the verge of tears.

“I- I just needed to see you. He- he said that,” Peter couldn’t even bring himself to properly say that. After that random bad guy he had just fought told him he had attacked you, he needed to make sure you were okay.

“It’s okay, Peter. I’m here.” You said, voice still soft as you start to caress his cheek with your thumb.

Peter couldn’t keep it in anymore, as he immediately buried his face in your neck and held you tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop your heart from breaking after seeing him in such a state. The way he sounded, the way you could feel his tears on your neck, you couldn’t help but shed some tears as well as you spoke soothing words to him.

Moments like these brought comfort to Peter. Him in your arms, you holding him tightly, speaking softly and trying to comfort him, he sometimes wonders what he has done to deserve this, to deserve you. Your arms were his go to place when things got hard, being spiderman wasn’t easy. And it felt great that you out of all people knew about him and still loved the real him.

Both of you stayed in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity, with none of you wanting to let go of each other. But you didn’t mind it, Peter deserved all your love and affection.

After few moments, you slowly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence you both were in, “lets get you changed so that we can cuddle in bed. Sounds good?”

He seemed hesitant to let you go, but he loosened his grip and pulled away to look you in the eye, arms still loosely wound around your waist. He seemed almost meek like this—to the point it almost felt like you’re not looking at the strongest. Right now, it kinda just feels like you’re looking at a man—a man who has the entire weight of the New York on his shoulders. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said, his voice still wavering. “You- You’re everything. God I love you so much.”

You smiled gently at him as you cupped his cheek again, he kissed your palm, and you said, “I love you too, Peter. More than words can express.”

With that, Peter cupped your face and brought his lips onto yours, pouring all his love, affection, fears and everything he felt for you into it. You kissed him back with same passion, sealing a promise of never leaving him into this kiss.

Because maybe in that moment, this was all you both needed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Seeker of Cradles.

He swore to protect them. His children, his princess, his country.

Lives are precious, and he will not see them snuffed out prematurely.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Lilia acts before he can think.

He pays no mind to the audible gasps of the senators, to Baul’s worried pleading. The only voice he listens to is the one that draws him like a moth to a glowing flame.

It’s a shrill cry, the sound any infant makes. But the sob is filled with an overwhelming sadness, a deep desire that resonates with him. Lonely, longing for love.

It breaks his heart, makes him tear up.

“Wait for me!" he shouts. "I’m coming to you right now...!”

He thunders up the steps of Cradle Tower, bracing himself against the lightning hurtling his way. His hood is thrown off, hair whipping, slapping him in the face and standing on end. Lilia fears no man--but in the presence of such sheer, raw power, he's compelled to cower.

He soldiers through, forcing himself up another step. Right as his foot connects, a wild bolt comes down hard, striking him.

Lilia lets out a guttural cry, his small body keeling over. Every fiber of his being screeches in pain.

"Vanrouge-dono...!!"

He stays stationary for one long, awful moment. Then--a sharp intake of breath--and he miraculously rises on trembling legs.

"H-Hah..." he grits out, clutching onto himself. "Is that... Is that all you've got?! It'll take a lot more than THAT to take me out. Your mother has made me deal with tantrums far worse than this!!"

Lilia resumes the arduous climb. More lightning is lobbed at him. Wincing, he wills his aching muscles to weave as best he can around the incoming attacks.

He's nearing the top of the stairwell now, where the power is most concentrated and the wind howls like a banshee. Lilia raises his voice, calling over the storm.

"Are you upset because no one's paying attention to you? Well, you're wrong!! Everyone... Everyone is terribly worried about you!!

"You're such a spoiled child, rejecting your grandmother's magic. Do you know what will happen to you if you don't take it?! You'll die. You'll DIE, and all the people who sacrificed themselves so you could live was for nothing. You don't have the luxury of choice!! You MUST live!!"

The future depends on you.

He doesn't know if the unborn child can understand him or not. It must, to some extent, because the screaming in his head escalates to a frenzied pitch. A strong gale nearly knocks Lilia off the tower--he grasps onto a column and inches closer to its treasure.

The dark, speckled egg floating inside of a barrier.

"You stubborn thing!! Lilia scolds, pushing against the magical shield. His palms burn, as if coated with acid. "If you still refuse... then take me instead of Maleficia...!! I'll give you everything."

He pushes, the barrier holding firm. Pain climbs up his forearms, eating him alive from the inside out. He feels his energy being leeched, his flesh screaming, on fire, as it is sucked out.

"My love..."

The barrier shudders, shakes.

"My magic..."

His biceps are searing, his blood, molten.

"My life...!!"

A crack.

"Accept it all, Malleus...!!"

It breaks.

Lilia falls through, arms extended toward the egg. He entraps it, hugging it tightly against his chest. It’s warm. Malleus is warm, and Lilia can feel a faint flutter of a heart on his skin. Contentedness floods him, even as he feels the pull of magic as it is drained and hungrily devoured.

The egg gives off a green glow from within. The light grows brighter and brighter, until—

“Kyuuuuuuuuuuu!”

Suddenly, an explosion of blinding white. The shell splinters and sheds.

There is no egg in Lilia’s arms, but a lizard with raven scales and a violet underbelly and spines. It blinks up at the general through round, reptilian eyes, belching a line of emerald fire.

“A-Ah… You are…” Lilia’s knees go weak. He falls to the ground, still cradling the baby to him. “Malleus…! You’re here at long last. I… I-I…”

He doesn’t realize it, but he has started to cry uncontrollably. Fat tears dribble down his cheeks and land on the baby dragon’s hide.

Lilia allows himself to wail. It’s ugly, full of raw emotion. Less human and more like the cry of a hideous beast.

From below, cheers and praise float up to him.

“Our hero!”

“Congratulations, Vanrouge!”

“The prince owes his life to you.”

Their words sting his head. The world wavers, wildly distorting--Lilia can't tell if it's his tears blurring his vision or not.

He crumples over with a groan. "M-My head... Agggh!"

"Kyuuuu?" Malleus pads a claw onto his cheek, confused.

The senator's voices are growing louder, angrier.

"VANROUUUUUGE!!"

"What has he done?! This is going to be a scandal--a scandal, do you hear me?!"

"Oh, to think that a disgusting bat has tainted the noble Draconia bloodline...!"

The contradictory shouts mix. It feels like there are fists beating his skull in from both sides. Lilia hangs his head, pulls at his hair, tries to understand the clashing sounds.

That's when he senses the presence of a shadow standing over him.

"I’ve found you at last, Lilia.”

He slowly raises his eyes, careful to keep Malleus guarded with his arms. There is a man in black robes towering over him, his mouth fixed in a frown. A pair of horns protrudes from his head, crowning his ominous yet regal aura.

“What… Who are you?!” Lilia demands of the stranger. “That face, those horns…!”

They're just like Levan and Meleanor's.

The stranger ignores his question. His expression has morphed from displeasure to anger. "Insolent fools!! How dare they speak ill of you. There will be severe consequences for this.”

The air stirs, chilling. Thunder crashes in the distance, seemingly in response to his fury.

He regards Lilia again, his voice dropping to a dangerously dulcet coo. “Ah, but you needn't concern yourself with them."

He takes a stride forward, and Lilia shrinks away. "S-Stay back! I'm warning you...!"

"What sort of a dream would you like to have this time, hmm?" he asks nonchalantly. "A dream in which mother and father are still by your side? A dream where you can live freely with your children? A dream for you to find true love? Just say the word, and it is yours."

With each suggestion, Lilia backs up further and further--until he is nearly at the platform's edge. Wind blows from below, sending hair and fabric flapping.

Here is the devil, come to tempt, and the jaws of death behind him.

The stranger bends down, his smile serpentine and eyes iridescent, twisted with obsession. Charming as a snake. He extends an arm, palm open. "Come, Lilia. Take my hand."

“FATHER!!”

CLANG!

A bolt of silver arrives, expertly blocking Malleus's outstretched hand. He stumbles back, glaring at the two bodies that put themselves between him and Lilia.

“You are…”

“Are you alright?” The quiet question comes from a boy with aurora eyes—clear as a cloudless sky.

Silver.

“Lilia-sama, stand back!!” His partner, Sebek, barks, baton at the ready. “We will protect you!”

“What nuisances,” Malleus snarls. “Still you insist on disrupting these dreams? It is a hopeless endeavor.”

“Maybe it is.” Silver tightens his hold on his own baton. Resolution threads his voice, and he stands his ground against the encroaching monster. “But we will never stop trying until we’ve broken through your blessing.”

“Bless... ing?”

The single word is like magic. One droplet rippling in a pond, setting off a chain reaction.

Memories fire off—the departure, the packing, the party, well wishes, the thorns. Someone screams, jet black tears streaming down their face. The wrath, the hurt.

“I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU!!”

The fog lifts from Lilia’s head, and the world clears. The identity of the horned stranger, the same as the baby dragon he holds.

Malleus… It’s you. It was always you.

Lilia gives a shaky laugh. "This is no blessing, boys. It's a curse."

Malleus glowers. “… You’ve awakened, haven’t you?!”

“That’s right. It seems I was dreaming for quite some time too—but I’m alright now, thanks to Silver and Sebek~”

“Father…”

“Lilia-sama!!”

“You too then… You’ve decided to turn traitor on me.” He hisses it, loathes the taste of treachery.

“No, Malleus.”

“Kyuuuuuu?”

Lilia steps beside his students—a general joining his knights. Ruby meets emerald, glittering with defiance.

“We’re going to save you, simple as that 🎵”

[unluckilyimnot]

Heyy! So I’m struggling with an ed at the moment and I read your headcanons where the tr boys find out reader has an ed but I was wondering if u could do that for the Bonten trio? Tyyy

s/o who has ed

Characters : Ran, Rindou, Sanzu (all Bonten)

Type : ansgt, hurt to comfort

Words count : 0.5

m.list

It’s fine, I can write about it, it’s just the same as an old one I did : I speak as a girl who experienced it in a certain way, so I’ll do my best and I don’t mean any hurt it can cause. If you’re struggling with ed we can talk about it if you feel like it, but at least don’t hesitate to talk about it. Only around people you’re safe please, I don’t want you to go through the same things as I did. You can get through it even if it’s hard (I did but I’m not cured at all)

I love you, take care of yourself and people around you, please

Ran notices how you never touch the left over, even if he put it there for you to eat. He tried multiple times, just to be sure, but every time you already ate, or you're not hungry, or not enough so you’ll just eat some fruit. He knows too well what’s going on, yet he doesn’t know how to handle it. He can’t force you to see someone, but it hurts him acknowledging all your tricks, the way you still smile in front of your food when he hears you throwing up right after.

“Why aren’t you eating ?” It’s past midnight, you’re already reading tug in your shared bed and Ran just sat beside you. You can’t process it at first, it makes you feel sick. “It’s not a crime, I imagine what it is, but I want to understand you. And help if I can. Explain it all to me. Please.”

For a few seconds you tried to doubt that you deserve a man like him, before recalling he can kill for money. He may not be the best man out there, but he is for you. He’s ready to do better and understand you without getting mad. At the thought you shed a tear, and another and before you realize it you can’t articulate a proper sentence beside telling him that you’re sorry. Deeply sorry to be like this.

“It’s not your fault, don’t be sorry. I’m here for you.”

Rindou feels that you’re smaller than you used to be, so much smaller. It’s like he hasn’t held you in a million years when it’s only been two weeks since he left. He grabbed you a little more, here and there, but you can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Let me go to Rindou..”

“You’re so small, why ? Have you eaten enough when I was gone ?” panicked rush through his veins when he sees your eyes meeting the floor, guilt creeping into both of you. He knew it, he always did. He simply thought you were doing better since he was there and after all those years struggling together. It was that simple for you to stop it and start it all again. He’s helpless and, oh so sorry but not in a way when he feels like giving up. In a way that if he had to do it all again, from the beginning for you to get better, he will.

Sanzu doesn’t eat much himself, which is not helping with his addiction but he wants you to be healthy. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting your body more than you already have to do. So when he finally realizes all your tricks to make him believe that you're eating normally despite your showing bones he’s more sad than mad. He knows he’s nobody to talk to, he’s destroying himself little by little too, but thinking he can lose you that way made him cry on your knees. You don’t even know what to do, you’re simply sorry but without being able to promise him you’ll stop.

“Don’t leave me” he cried out, not ready to lose someone else.

“I’ll try,” you replied.

In the silence, between his cries, there’s a secret promise that both of you will try to get each other out of their way, even if they can’t even help themselves.

Fist post in years /lit a bir short excuse me but i have to get used to it again

Hope you like it ♡

[arcane-vagabond]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Ten

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, Language, Talk of mating rituals, Talk of potentially life threatening situations, Smut (oral, f receiving), Dirty talk, Confrontations. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The rain was more of a mist in the following days, setting the mood that had fallen over the rest of the town. Seagulls cried off in the distance and the waves crashed almost dully against the drab beaches of North Island. It was like the life had been sucked out of the little town in a matter of seconds.

Had anyone liked Mandy? Not particularly, but the idea of someone you’ve known your entire life meeting such a violent and unexpected end was sure to make people feel some type of way. Maybe not overwhelming sadness, but perhaps a mixture of shock and fear. That could have been anyone after all.

You watched waves crash into the shore from your perch on some of the rocks outside the Floyd home. They had departed earlier that morning, dressed in all black and looking worn.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Susan asked you, her eyes rimmed red from the tears she had been shedding nonstop over the past couple of days. You had given her a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m sure, Susan,” you murmured, nodding slightly. “It wouldn’t make sense for me to go, anyway.”

There was no love lost between you and Mandy. In truth, she despised you, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t feel something similar towards her.

Still, the thought of her lifeless body laying there on the beach had tears springing to your eyes.

You had sobbed into Bob’s chest, shoulders shaking and fingers becoming stiff from clutching him so hard. It wasn’t until a pair of gentle hands rested on your arms that you opened your eyes, revealing concerned, familiar green staring back at you. You flung yourself into Jake’s arms, your tears and sobs starting anew as he held you tightly, stroking a hand over your hair as he murmured assurances into your ear.

You felt ridiculous for it, really. You hadn’t even known Mandy all that well, and there you had been, in hysterics as if you had while everyone else stayed strong for you. So, no. It didn’t feel right to attend her funeral, so you stayed behind, allowing those who knew her the chance to mourn her properly.

The mist clung to you, seeping down into your bones until a chill settled over you and you could no longer keep the shaking at bay. You trudged up the wooden stairs to the back of the house, the grey light casting a gloomy glow throughout the different rooms as you made your way up the stairs to change.

You had promised Nat that you would swing by Mrs. Cambroni’s shop to pick up the masks for the Moonlight Masquerade that weekend.

“I would go,” she had murmured, her face drawn and a distant look in her eyes as she spoke, “but I have to be there.”

“I understand, Nat,” you had assured her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.”

So now you found yourself walking down the nearly empty streets toward the boardwalk. Most people were tucked away in their houses or in the various businesses that didn’t require one to be outside in the rain, and in some ways, you envied them.

You had expected this summer to be uneventful at best, spending time with Bob and his childhood friends while swimming and winning prizes on the boardwalk. It was supposed to be a fun, but overall underwhelming time spent with new and old friends before you went on to continue your studies with Bob.

Instead, you found yourself in the middle of a nightmarish fairytale filled with mermaids and murder. It chilled you to think of how many times you had been dragged beneath the waves and the one time you had. But, you wondered if all would be well now, as horrible as it seemed. After all, it was Mandy that had tried to kill you that morning by luring you into the water. Would it really be that big of a stretch to assume that she was behind the other murders as well? You supposed not, considering that seemed to be the line of thinking everyone had adopted. They tried to steer clear of that conversation for the most part, but you had overheard Nat and Bradley talking in hushed tones the day before about delayed claiming. They had stopped when you walked into the room, and before you could question them further, they had directed you out the door with the promise of ice cream.

They should have known by now that you wouldn’t drop it.

The bell above the door chimed to signal your entrance, and you shuddered as a wave of air-conditioned air washed over your still damp form. Why you thought changing would help, you weren’t sure, but it never failed to hope. The static laced pop song from the radio that sat on the counter filtered throughout the shop, feeling almost suffocatingly normal to you now.

You immediately headed for the display table near the front. An array of masks sparkled in the fluorescent lighting of the shop, and one in particular stood out to you. It was an off-white fabric that was embroidered with baby blue and pink flowers, different colored pearls embellishing the fabric. It amazed you how perfectly it matched the dress Nat had picked out for you, as if someone had known you’d need it.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by.”

You whirled around to meet the green eyes of Cole. He smiled as you placed a hand over your heart, willing the muscle to calm down.

“You startled me,” you groused half-heartedly, offering him a smile. He peered around, frowning when he saw you were all alone.

“You by yourself today?” He asked, brows pinching in concern. You shrugged, turning back to the mask and picking it up from the table.

“Everyone else is at the funeral.”

“Right,” he murmured, walking over to stand by you. “My aunt went to pay her respects.”

“You didn’t want to?” You questioned, earning a sigh from the older man.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” he hesitated, “but it wasn’t like Mandy was well liked, was she? I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” you replied, voice almost a whisper as the gruesome scene that plagued your thoughts once again flashed in your mind’s eye.

“The dead aren’t here to listen,” he snorted, shoving his hands in his pocket. Your eyes flickered over to him before turning your attention back to the mask in your hand. The two of you stood in silence for a brief moment as you ran your fingers over the mask.

“Has anyone told you yet why we throw on the Moonlight Masquerade every year?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Isn’t it just another excuse for everyone to get dressed up and wasted?” You countered with a snort. Cole grinned, plucking the mask from your hands.

“We celebrate it,” he began, hovering the mask over his face, “to remind us that the sea people walk amongst us undetected. That they could be anyone, and we would never know unless they revealed themselves to us.”

“I suppose it’s great for the local businesses to make some money too,” you chuckled. Cole smirked, handing the mask back to you before turning and heading towards an accessory display a few shelves over.

“You know,” he drawled, casually running his fingers over the different necklaces before grabbing one off the line, “it would be a shame if your look was marred by that mark on your neck. Why don’t you wear this too?”

“The mark?” You balked, your hand flying up to reflexively touch the mark in question. It tingled underneath your fingers, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran up your spine.

“Yeah,” he smirked, walking back towards you. “It actually reminds me of the claiming marks in the legends.”

“Does it?” You hummed. “You know, I’ve been hearing a lot about it, but no one has told me anything about it.”

The two of you stood in silence once again as Cole studied you, his face neutral and not giving anything away.

“What is it you want to know?”

“How does it work?” You asked, feeling excitement coil in your belly at the prospect of finally having your questions answered.

“Well,” Cole drawled, “let me see. You’ve heard the stories about the intention bites?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he continued with a nod, “well, the claiming bite is the next stage, the permanent stage. The sea people don’t give it without being completely sure about who they’re giving it to. People don’t accept it without being completely sure it’s what they want.”

“And why is that?” You breathed, leaning in closer, practically vibrating with anticipation. Cole smirked at you.

“Because it could kill you.”

You jerked back, eyes wide. “What?”

“The process can kill you,” Cole said as if he were talking about the weather.

“How?” You frowned, clutching the mask in your hand a little tighter.

“Well, it’s the whole process of it all, really,” he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. “In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death. Then, they breathe life back into them, bringing their partner to the surface where the bond is sealed with a physical act followed by the claiming bite.”

You stood in shocked silence, processing what he was telling you. How had the others not told you any of this? Were they just going to let you walk into this blind?

“Are you okay, Skipper?” Cole asked, concern laced in his features as he watched you. You took a shaky breath before offering him a small smile.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, Cole. Thank you. I should get going though. I promised Nat that I’d meet her later.”

“Don’t forget your masks,” he smiled, gesturing towards the table. You let out a laugh that was much too high pitched, wincing internally at how freaked out you sounded.

“Right,” you sighed, picking out a mask that you thought would match Nat’s dress, quickly scurrying after Cole towards the counter.

“I’ll see you around then, Skipper,” he smirked, handing you the paper bag once you had finished paying. You gave him a small wave before turning and all but fleeing the store, the bell chiming ominously after you.

Cole’s words lingered in your mind as you walked along the boardwalk with Jake a few days later, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you tucked yourself into his side. The sun hovered below the horizon, casting the last little bit of light onto the beach before the darkness of night took hold.

“Are you cold?” Jake asked, leaning down so that his breath brushed against the shell of your ear. A small shiver ran up your spine at the sensation, and you pressed yourself a little closer to him with a shake of your head.

“No,” you hummed, a content smile on your face as the two of you continued to walk. “‘m perfect, actually.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, green eyes sparkling as the two of you neared his home. “You are.”

You let out a rather unladylike snort as you trotted up the stairs and onto his porch. Jake grinned at you, trapping you between himself and the porch railing as he leaned in, arching an eyebrow at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you giggled. “You’re just really fucking corny, sometimes.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open in fake outrage, sending you into a round of giggles as he pressed into you further, his knee slotting in between your thighs as he did so. Your giggles cut off into a small gasp, eyes growing wide as he leaned in close enough that his nose brushed yours.

“You think I’m corny?” He challenged, a devilish smirk finding its way onto his lips. You let out a shaky breath, unable to tear your eyes away from his as you nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied, cursing yourself for losing composure so quickly. You shifted, unwittingly brushing your clothed core against his thigh and letting out a moan at the pressure against your clit.

The change in Jake was instantaneous. His green eyes began to glow as he let out a low growl, hands gripping your hips slightly harder as he deliberately rolled them back down onto him. You cried out, hands flying to find purchase in his shirt.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, the smirk once again finding a home on his face. “You like when I rub you right there?”

“Jake,” you whispered, eyes hooded with lust as you attempted to move against him. He tsked at you, holding you firmly in place as he gave you an admonishing look.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, leaning in to hover his lips above yours, his breath washing over you in hot waves as you let out a needy whine. “Good girls don’t take without asking.”

His lips pressed against yours then, slightly chapped but firm against your own. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, and you immediately granted him entrance, groaning as his tongue licked into you, stroking against your own. After a moment, Jake pulled back, nipping at your bottom lip before looking at you expectantly. It took you a moment before you realized what it was that he wanted.

You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours for a moment before leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from his lips, down to his jaw, and down the length of his neck.

“Please, Jake,” you whimpered. “Please make me feel good.”

“I don’t know,” he hummed, teasingly. “It doesn’t sound like you really want it.”

You let out a frustrated grunt as you once again attempted to roll your hips down against him, only to have him stop you. You nipped at the base of his neck, soothing over the bite with your tongue. Jake stiffened against you, and before you could ask what was wrong, his hands slid to grasp the underside of your thighs, hauling you up and through the screen door, lips moving eagerly against yours as he did so.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you let out a gasp as you felt his length press against your thigh. Jake made a beeline for the stairs, and looking back later, you were impressed with how easily he managed to get the two of you up the stairs without incident. Jake maneuvered the two of you into the room you had slept in just two weeks before, and you realized in that moment that it was his room.

Jake sat you on the bed, pulling away with short pants of breath as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I promised I’d take it slow,” he murmured, gaze searching yours, letting you make the next move. You reached for him, pulling him towards you by his shirt.

“I don’t care,” you said firmly, shaking your head as you pulled back to look at him once more. “I don’t care. Need you.”

Jake’s lips connected with yours once more as he laid you down on the sheets, running a hand up your side and underneath your shirt to lay just below your breast. His lips left yours, mimicking your actions from earlier and trailing his lips down from your jaw to your neck where his mark lay. He ran his tongue gently over the mark, earning a keening cry from you as you arched into him.

Jake quickly pulled your shirt up above your head and making quick work of your braw before latching on to your right nipple. His other hand came up to tweak the other, sending rivers of pleasure straight to your core as you writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Jake!” You cried out as he scraped his teeth over the pebbled nub before switching his attention to the other. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers curling in the soft, blond strands as his hand moved down to unbutton your shorts, helping you slide them down your legs and onto the floor.

He peeled himself away from your breasts, trailing his tongue down the expanse of your stomach as he settled in between your thighs, eyes trained on your clothed core where you could feel the wet spot on your panties. Feeling heat pool in your cheeks at his hungry gaze, you attempted to close your legs, but Jake caught each knee in one hand, prying them back apart and leveling you with a glare.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled, leaning forward to run his nose along your covered slit, inhaling deeply. He let out a strangled groan as you let out another gasp at the action, chest heaving with anticipation. His nose pressed into you, nudging your clit and sending you arching into his touch. You were sure it hurt with how tightly your fingers held onto his hair, but Jake was too lost in the bliss of you, mouthing at your center and reaching a hand down to push your panties to the side.

“This all for me?” He asked huskily, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. You swallowed thickly, only able to manage a nod. You let out a yelp as Jake frowned, turning towards your right thigh and biting down just hard enough to leave an imprint.

“I asked you a question, sweet girl,” he warned, soothing over the bite with his tongue as he gave you another glare from the corner of his eye.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, it’s all for you.”

“I made you this wet, huh? Did I make my pretty girl feel good?” He prompted, peeling your panties down your legs.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, arching into him, desperate for some type of relief, but Jake was firm, holding you down as he toyed with you.

He hummed, darting his tongue out to give an experimental lick at your dripping slit. You let out a strangled cry, pressing your face into the sheets as he repeated the action.

Jake let out a low growl as he dove in, tongue fucking you as his nose repeatedly bumped against your clit, his strong hands keeping you open and on display for him. Your breaths came out in pinched cries as he drove you closer to your high, the coil inside your belly pulling tight. You nearly sobbed as he added a finger, plunging it into your depths, seeking out that spot inside of you.

“So tight,” he whispered, almost reverently as he focused his attention on your clit, adding a second finger and hooking them until you let out a wail. You felt him smirk against you, and if he wasn’t making you see stars, you’d have smacked.

“Did I find that sweet spot, pretty girl?” He chuckled, honing in on that spongy spot deep inside of you. Your release was quickly approaching, and your hips rocked up to meet his thrusts your hands moving to find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

Jake let out a low groan as your walls fluttered around his fingers, the sting of your fingernails driving him mad as he chased your release almost more eagerly than you did.

“Need you to come for me, angel,” he murmured, sucking your clit back between his lips and adding a third finger. The stretch of his fingers had you keening, and he sped his thrusts up. “Look so pretty like this, all strung out for me. Can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock, this pretty little pussy milking me dry. I’m never going to get enough of you, I swear it. I’m gonna keep you nice and full, and you’ll feel me for days. Now come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my fingers.”

And with a brush of his teeth against your clit, you were sent careening over the edge with a high-pitched cry, your eyes scrunching closed as the coil in your belly finally snapped. Jake lapped up your release eagerly, tongue licking up everything you had to offer. You trembled in his grip, thighs shaking from excursion and aftershocks as the blond licked you clean. You let out a shaking breath as he pulled his fingers from you, licking your juices off with a hum.

“So sweet,” he murmured, eyeing you up and down with a small smirk. You fought to catch your breath, reaching out clumsily for him. He leaned into your touch, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, lust-filled kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning at the flavor and reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grip his length. Jake let out a moan before pulling back abruptly, pupils blown as he looked at you.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and you frowned up at him.

“What?”

“No, I-” he paused. “I don’t want our first time to be like this. I want to do it right.”

You watched him for a moment, your mind still reeling from the orgasm he had just pulled from you. Slowly, you nodded, pulling him down into another kiss, your fingers lacing through his hair to massage his scalp.

“Okay,” you nodded against his lips.

Jake smiled down at you, repositioning the two of you so that your heads were up by the headboard, facing each other as he traced his fingers absentmindedly over your skin. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other's presence. You allowed your mind to wander, and it inevitably drifted to what Cole had told you the other day.

“It could kill you.”

“Jake?” You whispered, peering up at him from where you were nuzzled into his neck. He hummed, one eye slinking open to look at you.

“Is it true that the mating bite could kill me?” You asked, and Jake’s eyes shot open. He sat straight up, leaving you scrambling to follow.

“Where did you hear that?” He demanded, brow furrowed as he watched you wearily. You frowned up at him, your own brow pinching together as you regarded him.

“So, it’s true,” you muttered. Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s true that the mating bite comes with its risks,” he conceded, chewing on his bottom lip. You waited patiently for him to continue, curling your knees up to your chest as you watched him. “It’s rare for it to kill someone though.”

“But it does happen?” You prodded, lips pursed. Jake glanced at you before looking down at his lap.

“Very, very rarely,” he admitted. “The process becomes more dangerous the longer someone goes without taking a mate.”

“Like you?”

Jake looked at you fully, a look of hurt mixed with desperation painted on his pretty features. He reached for you, and you allowed him to cup your face in his hands, his thumb running gently over the apple of your cheek.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” he murmured, eyes pleading as they darted over your face. “Don’t for a second believe that I wouldn’t kill for you, Skipper. You are everything to me.”

You studied him silently, eyes tracing over the hard lines of him. Jake had never given you a reason to not trust him. Quite the opposite, in fact. The desperation in his voice had a part of you regretting even bringing up the topic in the first place. You smiled up at him softly, running your fingers over his jawline, his day old stubble rubbing against the pads. You leaned up to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughing lightly as he tried to chase your lips with his.

“I trust you,” you whispered.

A/N: Friendly reminder that I am in the process of redoing my tag lists. If you have not signed up for the new one, please do so by clicking the link at the top of the post! Please be sure to have your age/age range and blog filled out or I will not tag you and more than likely block you. As always, please comment and reblog to show your support! Updates are also posted on my AO3 account under arcane_vagabond. If you enjoy my work, consider leaving me a tip!

[some-little-infamy]

You Are the Difference

(Read on AO3) (Written for @911actions, prompted by @daughterofscotland : What if Buck is Tommy's first serious boyfriend?)

Buck isn’t ashamed of being bisexual. He’s not. But not being ashamed and being 100% comfortable in public are two entirely different things. He’s seen the way people look at them when he’s out with Tommy. It isn’t everyone, it isn’t even every time they go out, but it does happen. It happens enough that Buck finds himself glancing around when he’s on a date with Tommy, clocking every person around them who shows any signs of being a potential problem.

Buck’s explained that he isn’t embarrassed, that he just feels better being aware, and Tommy’s accepted that much. It doesn’t stop Buck from holding his hand while they walk down the street, or giving him a quick kiss before they leave the restaurant, or leaning into the arm Tommy has wrapped around his waist while they wait in line for popcorn at the movies.

Tommy watches him do it, but he’s stopped commenting on it the way he used to. Instead of trying to reassure Buck he simply allows Buck to go through the motions that make him feel a little more comfortable. Tommy doesn’t seem to mind… but it’s something Buck overthinks every time he does it, especially after watching the way Tommy doesn’t seem to notice or react to any of it. Tommy only seems to notice Buck noticing.

“Does it get easier?” Buck asks one day, after clocking a serious side-eye from a woman in line behind them at the coffee shop. There’s so much happening around them, music being piped in through speakers, orders being called, the hiss of the espresso machine’s steamer, the chatter of other customers… but Buck can’t help but focus on the one thing he wishes he wouldn’t.

“Does what get easier?” Tommy asks, taking a sip of his latte. They’re sitting down at a table in the corner, and Buck glances past Tommy to the bustling cafe behind him. He debates not bringing it up at all, changing the subject to something else before he’s stuck admitting to more things that are probably just piling up until Tommy decides he’s had enough of Buck.

Still, Buck’s tried to be nothing but honest in this relationship, and it’s working out so far. Why stop now?

“Putting up with people being awful just because you exist,” Buck clarifies. “I mean, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have. How long did it take you to get used to it?”

Tommy considers the question for longer than Buck anticipates, to the point that Buck almost does change the subject.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says finally.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Buck asks, brows furrowed.

“I mean,” Tommy starts, hesitating before pushing forward. “I don’t know. I haven’t really dated before. Not seriously, at least.” The admission comes slowly, like Tommy’s debating taking the words back even as he says them. He doesn’t, though, and in the face of Buck’s surprised silence Tommy continues. “I usually just go out to bars before a hookup. Maybe a coffee date or two. But I haven’t been with anyone I liked enough to see more than a few times.” Tommy flushes slightly, looking back up into Buck’s eyes when he adds, “Before you, obviously.”

The silence that falls between them has a weight to it now. This shared first is so big that Buck’s afraid he might actually shed a tear over the wave of feelings he experiences at the realization, blindsided by a truth he never would’ve guessed on his own.

Buck doesn’t know what to say. He’s stunned, unable to fully process everything that Tommy just told him. All this time, Buck’s assumed that Tommy was so much more experienced at all of this… this dating other guys stuff. Of course Tommy would have years to practice being cool and collected in the public eye, because why wouldn’t he? Tommy is… well, amazing. He’s hot, and kind, and funny, and the idea that he’s been single for the entirety of the time he’s been out just feels… wrong.

“I’m your first boyfriend?” Buck asks incredulously. His eyes are wide, unable to hide a single ounce of his surprise.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirms. “Is that a problem?”

Tommy’s tone isn’t accusing or even challenging… there’s a vulnerability there, and just the slightest hint of worry. Buck could laugh - if it didn’t feel so wildly appropriate for the moment they’re having - over the idea that Tommy thinks there’s a universe in which Buck would be scared off by something like that.

“No, no, uh, of course not,” Buck reassures him. “It’s just… I mean, you’re so many firsts for me, and I just figured…” Buck trails off with a soft, fond smile crossing his features. “I never thought I’d get to be a first for you, too.” Buck shifts in his seat, his coffee forgotten in front of him. “How has this never come up before now?” It’s been weeks now. Months. Months of Buck thinking that this is just the life Tommy’s used to living, and that he’s the only one feeling out of his element here.

“You never asked,” Tommy says simply.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly keen to go into all of, uh, this comparing myself to your exes,” Buck admits. “It felt safer not to ask.”

“Evan,” Tommy says, his tone so caring, so soft, that Buck nearly melts back into his seat from where he’d been growing more tense and alert with every word, quick to try and hop on the defensive.

“Sorry,” Buck’s quick to apologize.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tommy says. “But you should know that I’m not comparing you to anyone. Who you are, what we have? It’s… special. It’s different from anything I’ve had before.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Buck agrees, smiling easier now. “I guess I just assumed I was just another boyfriend for you.”

“You’re not ‘just another’ anything, Evan. You’re important to me. Our relationship is important to me. I hope you know that.”

Lately Buck’s been worried whether he’s moving too fast or too slow, if he’s doing this dating thing all wrong in regards to Tommy. It turns out there is no ‘right’ way. There’s nothing Tommy’s used to that Buck might be messing up or not doing, nothing Tommy’s expecting.

Tommy chose Buck because, well, because he’s Buck, and that’s all he needs to be.

“So, you think I’m special?” Buck asks, a smirk slowly pulling up the corners of his lips.

“Oh my god,” Tommy says, a fond exasperation filling his tone. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” “I hope not,” Buck says.

He hopes that there’s nothing but time for the two of them. Closing his eyes Buck imagines a future of other firsts - going on vacations together, moving in together, proposals and marriage and maybe even a kid or two. He imagines years, decades, a lifetime, with Tommy, and it feels good. It feels right.

“I plan to bring this up forever.”

[an-angel2u]

hiii i literally love how our taste is the same lmaoooo !!

could i get reader comforting a whiny sub!jesse pinkman after he gets into another fight with walter in the lab and needs to be told how much he's worth to us <333

thank you!! 🫶🫶

beneath the weight

all jesse wanted to do was support you. the both of you. if that meant that he had to make blue meth in a laboratory with his former chemistry teacher who was dying of cancer… then that’s what he was going to do.

the job was tough, not only illegal and tedious, but he had to deal with said former chemistry teacher. he nitpicked everything that jesse did.

when he came home in the wee hours of the night, not only would he be tired, he’d feel like he was unimportant and a burden to everyone in the world.

tonight was different, it was worse than before. you couldn’t even imagine what walter could’ve said to jesse to make him this upset.

he slammed the front door, and you heard him kicking off his shoes and throwing the keys in the bowl.

you had prepared for him to come in like this, today was already an off day for him. the night wasn’t going to be any different.

you sat up in bed, waiting for jesse to come into your shared bedroom. his eyes were red and so was his nose. he had been crying.

“jesse…” you got up out of the bed and walked over to him, lifting his head up by his chin. his body immediately tensed as you touched him. your eyes took in his entire expression. “what happened, baby… talk to me.”

“i don’t know why i keep letting that fucker get to me. every damn time!” jesse raised his voice, he raised his hands, intertwining his fingers and placing them on the back of his ear.

you let him calm down for a second before you pulled at his wrists allowing you more access to wrap your arms around his neck.

“listen to me,” you spoke into his neck. “white doesn’t know shit, okay? he doesn’t see you, the way i do.”

“fuck, you don’t get it.” he pulled away from you, and you noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. “he says shit like ‘i don’t need you’ or ‘you’d be nothing without me.’ he calls me pathetic every god damn day.”

that made you feel a way, walter white of all people, giving jesse shit. “that old fuck doesn’t know anything. you are not pathetic. not to me, not to anyone who truly knows you.”

he wiped his eyes, trying to rid himself of the tears he shed. “come here.” you tilted your head over to the bed before laying down and resting your head on the headboard.

“come on…” you spoke again, this time with a softer tone. he huffed out a sigh before walking to your side of the bed, laying on your chest with his legs between yours.

“you know everybody makes mistakes, even white. you know what i love about you…?”

“what?” his doe eyes looked up, inspecting every bit of you.

“that you never let that shit get in your way. you still get up every morning and go to the lab. do i like the line of work you’ve decided to go for… not necessarily. nonetheless, you take care of both of us. i’m so thankful to have you in my life. regardless of what walter has to say to you.”

you brought your hand up to his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. his eyes softly closed immediately after you did that.

“i’m not gonna go anywhere. you know that you’ll always have me. it doesn’t matter what that… thing says… okay?” jesse scoffed at hearing your name for walter.

“okay…”

“now let me get some of that stress away, alright?”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

LEGACY ~ 5

LEGACY MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 2,700ish

Summary: Something begins happening with your memories. The Team searches for Ultron.

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy! Any comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcome and encouraged!

As you laid in bed, mind-racing, you had to keep stopping yourself from asking JARVIS to try and pull up your files. The main thing that stopped you was the fact that JARVIS was gone. You shed a few tears for the AI who had become more of a friend than a computer system probably should have been. Eventually, your eyes closed and you fell asleep. It wasn’t peaceful by any means though. 

You were in a HYDRA facility, chained to a table in a lab. People were surrounding you, but you couldn’t make out their faces or what they were saying. You cried out as the people began cutting you open, poking you with large needles, and torturing you in other ways. 

You suddenly woke up when you heard a blast. You sat up, breathing heavily, and drenched in sweat. Tony, who had used a gauntlet to blast through your bedroom door, ran over to you.

“Are you okay?” His worry was evident by the tone of his voice. “We could hear you screaming from the lab.”

“I–I–” you stuttered. You were shaking so much that it was hard to focus on words and your throat felt raw. You looked up at Tony and noticed Steve, Nat, and Bruce standing at the entrance to your room.

“Y/N,” Tony moved closer and grabbed both of your hands. “I need you to breathe.” His hands began to rub your arms. “Breathe. Focus on what’s real. Focus on me, my voice. It was just a dream.”

You shook your head. “I–I don’t think it was… I think it could have been real…” You looked up at those by the door again, not wanting an audience.

Tony turned to them. “You guys can go. Thanks for the back-up.”

Nat and Bruce nodded, taking their leave quickly. But Steve lingered. It was clear that he wanted to make sure that you were okay. After a moment, he slowly walked away.

“Tell me about it,” Tony requested.

“I was back at a HYDRA facility… They were running tests on me… cutting me open… an–and poking me with large needles… I was screaming… It hurt… there’s a lingering pain still…”

Tony brought you into his hold. “I’m so sorry, kid… I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like this before.”

“It’s because this isn’t a nightmare…” you were becoming more sure, “it’s a memory coming back… my head is pounding…”

“Has anything happened like this before?”

“No… not like this… my actual nightmares have faded… I haven’t had any in a while…” you let out a light laugh at a nicer memory that was coming forth. “Remember when you used to find me on the floor at the end of your bed like a dog?”

Tony chuckled. “I remember tripping over you the first few times. Eventually, Pepper and I would periodically check and put you on the bed if we found you.”

“The beds were too comfy at first… metal and concrete were what I was used to sleeping on.”

Tony hated any mention of your past that you actually remembered. He felt guilty for not finding you sooner. He knew that none of it was actually his fault, but he felt the guilt all the same. “Come back to the lab with me. I know you’re not going to get any more sleep tonight and I would like your help.”

You nodded. “Okay.” Neither of you moved immediately. “Can we stay here a little bit longer?”

“As long as you want, sweetheart.” Tony kissed your head. “As long as you want.”

~~~

When you and Tony finally found your way back to the lab, you worked on tracking Ultron. It was easier than you thought due to figuring out that he was everywhere. But he would disappear before you could do anything about it.

Morning had come and you, Tony, and Bruce were still in the lab. Bruce was rewatching the recording of last night's events for what seemed to be the hundredth time while Tony was fixing up everyone’s tech so that Ultron wouldn’t be able to hack into any of it again. You had been helping him, but were now struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“It can read vocal stress patterns, adrenaline spikes—”

“None of that was in the schematic we launched,” Tony cut off Bruce, tossing his tablet on the table.

“He had a self-constructed learning spiral.”

“In his language database. He was supposed to learn slang, not go insane.”

You let out a light laugh. The two men looked at you, unimpressed. “I’m sorry,” you said. “But you two tried to create an artificial intelligence to protect the world. The whole thing was insane to begin with.”

“Look, we know the guy has anger issues. Which, not to point a finger…” Tony pointed a finger at Bruce anyway.

“We told him to save the world,” Bruce said.

“And look where that got us,” you replied, standing from your stool. “Apparently saving the world means killing us off.”

Tony sighed, making his way to you. “You look tired,” he told you.

“Wow,” you rolled your eyes, “you’re so kind, Dad. I was just about to leave to get coffee anyway. Anyone want anything?”

“Nope.” / “I’m good.”

“Okay then, I’ll be right back.”

You left the lab and headed down the stairs. As you headed down, Steve and Maria were heading up, talking.

“Fatalities?” Steve asked.

“Only when engaged,” Maria answered. “Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, and something too fast to see.”

“Maximoff’s. Well, that makes sense he’d go to them, they have someone in common.”

As you stepped onto the middle landing step, your bare feet stepped on some broken glass that hadn’t been swept up yet. You winced as a sudden memory played in your head.

You were in a cold, cement room. Standing on the opposite side of the door, you noticed that sharp, rusted nails and broken glass were between you and the door. A man was standing on the other side. His face was blurry and his voice was fuzzy.

“Walk,” he commanded.

You stayed in place.

“Walk or you will face the chair.”

Without wasting another second, you began walking across the dangerous floor. With each nail and glass piece that pierced your foot, you made sure not to show any emotion. You knew that if you did, you would be punished.

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice drew you from the forgotten memory. “Y/N, are you alright?”

You hadn’t realized that you had moved into a ball on the stairs and that your head was pounding like it had hours before. You looked up to see Steve’s concerned gaze. “Yeah…” you swallowed. “I’m fine.”

Steve gave you an unbelieving look but knew not to press you for information right now. “Here,” he held out his hands.

Your hands were trembling, which didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, as you placed them in his hands. He carefully pulled you up. You winced when you got onto your feet. Knowing that you had glass stuck in your feet, Steve wasted no time in picking you up.

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “I’m fine.”

“You need the glass removed,” he said. “Maria, keep updating me as we walk.”

“Look at this,” Maria said, holding up a tablet for Steve and you to see as he carried you up the stairs. 

On the tablet, there was a picture of Strucker, dead. The word ‘peace’ was written in blood on the wall behind him. You knew that that man had something to do with your past, and you had been silently hoping that you would get the chance to end him.

“That’s kind of a mixed message,” Steve commented.

“Is it?” questioned Maria. “If it was my mission, world peace, I’d probably take out Strucker, too. Ultron could be in any system. He could be pulling planes down from the sky. Why if he’s just doing what he’s supposed to?”

“If I thought Ultron was bringing peace, I’d hang up my shield.”

“What?” you quietly gasped. Steve Rogers not being Captain America anymore? That seemed impossible to you.

“Would you?” Maria challenged Steve.

“Let me know if he leaves any more messages,” Steve ignored the challenge as he walked away from Maria.

“Did you mean it?” You asked quietly, nervous about his answer.

“Mean what?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“What would you do? If you weren’t Captain America, what would Steve Rogers do?”

He sighed. “Probably find a place in Brooklyn. Might find a girl and settle down.”

“But what about us?” His eyes quickly met your eyes. “I–I mean… What about your home here, your friends?”

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

Steve took you into the lab, which was now empty. You were relieved because you knew you couldn’t handle Tony worrying over you, even if you all knew that you would heal as soon as the glass was out. He sat you on top of a desk and then went to pull the medkit off the wall.

“You really don’t need to do this, Steve,” you said as he opened the med kit next to you and grabbed the tweezers. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t mind.” 

Steve carefully took one of your feet in his left hand as he used the tweezers in the left. You kept watch on Steve’s face as he worked to pull the glass from your feet. His concentration was great, making sure that nothing could distract him from the current mission he was on. You bit your bottom lip as you got the sudden urge to kiss him.

“There,” he put your other foot down, “all done.” He reached into the med kit and pulled out gauze and wrap. 

“I won’t need that. Just grab a damp rag from the kitchenette and clean off the blood. My feet will heal.”

Steve nodded, quickly doing exactly what you had suggested. He checked the bottom of your feet once they were cleaned to make sure that your body was doing its part in healing. Before you could slip down from the table, Steve placed his hands on either side of you, trapping you. This position did not help with your urge to kiss him.

“What happened on the stairs?” He asked. The look in his eyes was serious. He wasn’t going to let you go without a serious answer.

You sighed, your head still pounding slightly. “It was a memory… same as last night… the last twelve hours seems to have triggered something in my brain and now I have memories resurfacing.”

“So it wasn’t a nightmare last night?” You shook your head. “And on the stairs?”

“I felt the glass beneath my feet and suddenly I was somewhere else.”

Steve couldn’t imagine what type of memory could be brought up by feeling glass pierce your feet. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N–”

“Seriously, I’m okay. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Still unbelieving, Steve leaned back and allowed you to slip onto the ground. Steve watched carefully for any sign that your feet weren’t okay to be walked on yet. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always. I was on my way to see how the search was going in the other room. Want to come?”

“Of course.”

The two of you headed out of the lab, Steve still side-eyeing you to make sure you weren’t faking it. As you turned to head to where the others were, you two could hear Clint.

“Don’t worry about the wolf,” Clint’s voice said from around the corner. “Leave the nightlight off… That’s a negative. I answer to you.” You and Steve stopped once Clint was in sight. He was on the phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Barton,” Steve called. “We might have something.”

 “I gotta go.” Clint quickly hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Girlfriend.”

You tried not to make a face at his answer. You had never heard him talk about a girlfriend before. Something inside of you was telling you that he was keeping a major secret from all of you. You couldn’t dwell on it though as the three of you headed into the other room. Nat, Bruce, and Tony were in there, ending a video call with Rhodey. Thor was entering the room too, using the back staircase. You walked over to stand by Tony as Steve went up to Thor.

“Any help from on high?” Steve asked Thor.

“Heimdall’s either away from his post or he’s been ordered not to answer,” Thor responded. “But Ultron can’t hide forever, we’ll find him.”

“Well, he’s not exactly hiding. Y/N?”

“Got it!” You quickly pulled up the picture that Maria had shown of Strucker on a tablet and handed it to Thor.

��What’s this?” Tony asked, coming up to the men.

“A message,” Steve answered.

“Ultron killed Strucker,” you told the group as Thor smacked the tablet into Tony’s chest. Tony took the tablet and looked at the picture before looking at you. You quickly looked away.

“And he did a Banksy at the crime scene,” Tony added, focusing back on the picture. “Just for us.”

“This is good,” Nat stated as she looked at the picture with Tony set the tablet down.

“No, that’s not good,” Bruce shook his head.

“He’s showing us his hand. This isn’t his pattern.”

“It’s a smoke screen,” you said. “Why send a message when you’ve just given a speech?”

“Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss,” Steve realized. You quickly sat down at a computer and looked up Strucker.

“Everything we had on Strucker has been erased.”

“Not everything,” Tony said.

We followed Tony down to another room. He proceeded to pull out boxes of physical copies of files. They were a mix of HYDRA, SHIELD, and SSR files. We all took a few boxes, brought them back to where we were all before, and spread out across the room to look for any information we deemed useful. As you did your part in the search, you began to wonder if there was something about you in one of these boxes. Your search was slower than the rest, wanting to see if there was any detail about you in any of the files. The only thing you found was a headache.

“Known associates,” Steve spoke up, placing the file on the main table. Everyone but you joined him. “Baron Strucker had a lot of friends.”

Bruce scanned one of the pages of the file. “Well, these people are all horrible.”

“Wait,” Tony pointed at something on the page Bruce was holding. “I know that guy. From back in the day. He operates off the African coast, black market arms.” Steve gave an accusing look to Tony. “There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn’t sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game changer, it was all very ‘Ahad’.”

“This?” Thor asked, pointing to a scar on the back of the guy’s neck.

“Uh, it’s a tattoo. I didn’t think he had it–”

“No, those are tattoos. This is a brand.”

Bruce quickly went over to a computer and searched the picture. “Oh, yeah. “It’s a word in an African dialect meaning thief, in a much less friendly way.”

“What dialect?” Steve asked. You finally pushed yourself off of the ground and came over to everyone.

“Wakanada… Wa… Wa… Wakanda.”

Tony and Steve looked at each other. “If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…” Tony said.

“I thought your father said he got the last of it?” Steve asked.

“I don’t follow,” Bruce said, coming back to the group. “What comes out of Wakanda?”

You walked over and picked up Steve’s shield from where he leaned up against some lower cabinets. “The strongest metal on Earth,” you replied, setting the shield down on the table.

“Where is this guy now?” Steve wondered.

“His usual salvage yard on the African Coast, I suppose,” answered Tony.

“Well, Team, suit up. Let’s go get the guy.”

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