#it’s like this country takes one step forward six steps back and then

[hisonlybegottenbeysuschrist]

it’s generally insane that i have done my job —talked about taxes and processed invoices and filled out forms all day—full of heartbreak and sick to my stomach.

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

hello and welcome to the uk is a fucking hell country, part 284829494

[alt text:]

Anti-monarchists receive ‘intimidatory’ Home Office letter on new protest laws

Home Office claims timing of new powers, taking effect days before king’s coronation, is coincidental

Ben Quinn, Rajeev Syal and Vikram Dodd

Official warning letters have been sent to anti-monarchists planning peaceful protests at King Charles III’s coronation saying that new criminal offences to prevent disruption have been rushed into law.

Using tactics described by lawyers as “intimidatory”, the Home Office’s Police Powers Unit wrote to the campaign group Republic saying new powers had been brought forward to prevent “disruption at major sporting and cultural events”.

The new law, given royal assent by Charles on Tuesday, means that from Wednesday:

Protesters who block roads, airports and railways could face 12 months behind bars.

Anyone locking on to others, objects or buildings could go to prison for six months and face an unlimited fine.

Police will be able to head off disruption by stopping and searching protesters if they suspect they are setting out to cause chaos.

Jun Pang, a policy and campaigns officer at Liberty, said: “Key measures in the bill will come into force just days before the coronation of King Charles – a significant event in our country’s history that is bound to inspire a wider national conversation and public protests. At the same time, the government are using a statutory instrument to bring draconian measures that the House of Lords threw out of the bill back from the dead, once again evading scrutiny and accountability.

“It’s worrying to see the police handed so many new powers to restrict protest, especially before a major national event. When the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act came into force, the police repeatedly misused them – in part because they simply did not understand them. Similarly, when Queen Elizabeth died, we saw police acting in inappropriate and heavy-handed ways towards protesters that violated their rights.”

Shami Chakrabarti, the former shadow attorney general, said: “During the passage of this illiberal and headline-grabbing legislation, ministers admitted that the new offence of ‘locking on’ is so broad as to catch peaceful protesters who link arms in public.

“Suspicionless stop and search is notorious for racial disparity and it is staggering that more of these provisions have brought into force so soon after Louise Casey’s devastating report [on the Met police]. The home secretary can blast ‘ecowarriors’ but this legislation may be used against anti-poverty and Ukraine solidarity protesters too.”

A statement from the home secretary, Suella Braverman, said: “This legislation is the latest step the government has taken against protesters who use highly disruptive tactics to deliberately delay members of the public, often preventing them from getting to work and hospital, as well as missing loved ones’ funerals.

“The range of new offences and penalties match the seriousness of the threat guerrilla tactics pose to our infrastructure, taxpayers’ money and police time.”

full article here

so just to sum this up, peaceful protesting can now land you in prison for a year and you might face an unlimited fine which i believe is up to £5000, and police can now stop and search you if they believe youre "setting out to cause chaos"

its specifically being put in place right before charles' coronation, but these are now considered criminal offenses so theyre not exclusive to it.

you know, a country where you can be put in prison for a year for peaceful protesting really doesnt sound like a fucking democracy to me.

[peachpitfics]

Loml

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: You have been married six months, and it is fresh hell trying to conceive an heir with somebody you are repulsed by. Luckily, your old friend is willing to help you get through it while your husband is out of town.

Length: 2.6k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Infidelity/adultery, themes allude to SA with unwanted husband (not described or mentioned), cunnilingus, face sitting, oral sex (male & female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex for the sake of breeding, breeding kink?, orgasm.

a/n: This is part ii of Wildest Dreams, requested by anon here! This turned out a little more angsty than I had planned!

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Six months ago, your father inflicted the cruelest curse upon you when he married you off to his vilest friend, Lord Howard. Six months of marriage, six months of scheduled contact, attempting to make an heir. Agreeing to once per month, having to allow Lord Howard access to your body in order to do so, six attempts were far too many already.

As soon as Lord Howard informed you of his business travel plans, you began thinking about Benedict Bridgerton. Somebody you thought about relentlessly, however, in this case, you were hoping to hold him to a promise he had made you earlier in the year.

Immediately penning a letter addressed to him at Bridgerton House, with details regarding location, date and time. The staff had been quite loyal to you since moving into the grand house. Most of your time was spent in the country, avoiding your new husband – the service staff there thought you were a gift from heaven, far too good for the old codger, as they called him. They looked after you, and you ensured the same for them. They would keep your secret.

Benedict arrived by carriage a week later, the afternoon after your husband’s departure, having written to accept your invitation, but only to discuss what had been promised in the past. Benedict looked the same, but cleaner, his hair shorter. He looked grown up. He stepped from the carriage, baring in easeful smile, just for you.

“Lady Howard” He bowed properly, it felt like a jive.

You did not speak a word, jumping forward and into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. It was the first time you’d felt safe in months. Benedict’s eyes flicked between the housekeeper, the footman and you, desperately trying to understand if this was okay.

“They are my friends; they would never harm me. I know it is strange, but they really do help me keep my secrets” You tried to reassure Benedict, whispering in his ear.

“It is not strange, it is very country, I suppose,” His arms tightened around your back, lifting you off the ground slightly, “I have missed you. I did write” Benedict squeezed.

“I know,” You let him go, holding out a hand to walk him into the house, “I have your letters hidden in my dressing room. I do apologise for not replying” Ben took your hand and followed you into the house, leaving his luggage on the carriage for the staff to care for.

Benedict was amazed by the house, its long concrete walls and vaulted ceilings. It felt similar to a castle, empty and cold. After your evening meal, you took Benedict for a walk around the gardens. Two swings hung from the branch of a very old tree nearby, one of your favourite places to hide from Lord Howard.

“Where has he gone to?” Benedict asked, lighting a cigarette and passing it to you.

“France… I think. I was not paying very much attention when he was speaking. I was too focused on getting you here. I have been waiting for months, building rapport with the staff, friendships even. I just needed him to leave, so we could do this right” You stuttered, watching your feet dangle as you swung back and forth.

Benedict paused, taking the cigarette back and drawing in, “It has not been going well then?” The question was serious, but even he snorted when he got the words out.

“We have been intimate too many times already. I thought this was supposed to be easy. Women get pregnant all the time” You sighed.

“Yes, when they do not mean to of course. Also, you must account for your husbands age” Benedicts eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Please, do not call him that” You interrupted.

Benedict exhaled heavily, “That is who he is, y/n. He is your husband. If we do this, we commit infidelity. There are consequences for such acts, are you prepared to accept those consequences?” Benedict asked. You had not ever seen him quite this serious. It scared you, seeing what six months will change in a person.

“I am!” You said adamantly, one stiff nod of assurance. There was no way you could take any more of this. One child, that was all you needed, to make it all stop.

You reached over to Benedict’s swing, his sweet face resting on the rope, thumb caressing his cheek, “Will you be able to live with this? Your child, raised as another mans? Never being their father, or having a role in their lives?” You asked, hoping it was not too cold a question. Benedict pulled slightly away from your touch.

“That is what I wanted to speak to you about…” Benedict whispered, “I know that Lord Howard is your husband and that I am too late, y/n. I will give you a child, if I can. I will give you as many as you damn well want. But I must know that after Lord Howard has passed, you will come to me” Benedicts eyes were soft and glassy in the moonlight, the burning ember of the cigarette fading in his laxed hand.

“Benedict�� You shook your head and closed your eyes. How could you make such a promise?

“I do not care if the old bastard lives another 20 years, y/n, I will wait. I will wait in torment for you. Even if I must spend the next decade in hell, learning to bend time, I will. And if we are only allowed a short time together, then so be it because whether it be 5 minutes or 50 years, it will still never be enough time. There is an inexhaustible amount of love for you in my heart. I did not recognize it before, I was selfish and hopeless. The two of you will come home to me, and we will be deliriously happy” Benedict dreamed aloud, starry eyed.

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other with tragic longing deep set in your eyes.

Benedict’s eyes cleared, his smile faded, “I know you love me” He breathed boldly.

You jaw clenched shut, your eyes closed over slowly, a single tear running down the far side of your face so Benedict could not see.

“I love you,” He howled toward the moon, “I loved you the moment I saw you. I have adored your passion and cherished your friendship, while cowering in the frozen solitude of my own mind. I have dreamt of you and our life together every day since your marriage date, stirring in agony, every night. Every time I close my eyes, the profound pit of blackness inside consumes me – until I wake again, then my existence is marred by its lack of yours. Your name haunts my tongue, its ineffable song too wistful a sound on my lips. I am left stumbling through life, scattered across the universe, searching for you” His once invincible foolhardiness nowhere to be seen. The peaceful eloquence of his voice so familiar to you, always a poet.

Standing from your swing, hand outstretched to Benedict, you tried to allow your eyes to do the speaking. His sad, desperate eyes, staring up at you in solemn hope, his hand bound for yours. You escorted him inside in silence, the air surrounding dense with disquiet. Leading Benedict into your bedroom, separate from the Master bedroom, you closed the door behind him.

Locking eyes in malicious yearning, your bodies came together, navels pressed, hands roaming across every inch of your torso. Benedict grasped the back of your neck, enchanted look in his eyes as he littered kisses along your jawline and down your throat. You breathed heavily under his lips, breasts heaving against his chest. Reaching around for the bows on your dress, undoing them as quickly as you could, desperate to shed your clothes for him, Benedict palmed at your breasts through your dress. He halted his movements when he noticed your hurry and began stripping himself down also.

“I have been thinking, of one thing in particular, all these months” Benedict panted, leading you over to your bed. You nodded, waiting for him to elaborate. Benedict laid, his back to the bed, your hands in his, guiding you over top of him. You hovered over his nude hips, he smiled cheekily, waving you up higher. You frowned down at him, completely confused by what he was asking. He tugged you upward, your knees resting either side of his head.

“You will have to trust me” He gave a soft, dreamy smile as you gave him a befuddled one back, bare behind resting on his chest. You pursed your lips, Benedicts hands digging into your hips pulling you down onto his face. His breath hot against your skin, his wet tongue sinking betwixt your folds, starting gently at your clit. You jerked in animated surprise, finding yourself lowering back down instinctively. Benedict’s hands kneaded your behind, rolling your hips down onto his tongue. You had done your darndest to replicate the way Benedict made you feel, to no avail, at a complete loss for how you would miss his devastating body.

Your fingers tangled into his hand, drinking in every tangible flick of his tongue against your clit. His lips pressed, sucked and kissed at you, pulling you further into his indulgent dreamland. Benedict’s big, blue eyes staring up at you, grinding down on his face, his premeditated attack on you began, wrapping his flexed arms around your thighs and holding you firmly in place. Blinding pleasure laved over you, your eyes uncontrollably clamping shut so hard you swore you saw every colour imaginable. Screaming Benedict’s name, his amused tongue swirling you to completion, you panted animalistically, unable to move.

“That was incredible. I do not believe I could have prepared myself for how much better that was going to be outside my dreams” Ben moaned into your pussy, lapping at your juices, drinking you in. You rested a moment, watching Benedicts crowning smile, his asinine eyes filled with everything else he wanted to do with you.

Freeing Benedict from beneath you he shuffled up the bed, resting upright against the grand wooden bedhead, his legs out in front of him.

“Shall we try?” Benedict asked delicately.

“Please” You whimpered, crawling to him, taking his cock in your hand.

You laid between his legs a moment, holding him in your hands, moving gently. Leaning forward to kiss his tip, your tongue flicked over his pink flesh, Benedict could not help but moan. Taking him into your mouth, you sunk down in long hot strides, pressing his cock to the back of your throat. His fingers wrapped into your hair, pulling you onto him further. Benedict relished your working on him, libidinous smile engraved on his face, pure bliss.

“I do not think that is how one makes a baby” Benedict chuffed, pulling you up quickly, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. Face to face, you grinned into his splendidly hot kisses, his hand slipping between the two of you to situate himself. You felt his tip nudging against your entrance, hard and waiting, slipping inside of you. You gasped loudly, burying your face into his neck as a biological urge forced you to bounce.

Benedict growled lowly into your ear as you moved into a groove together, slow and tedious in perpetual delight. Benedict placed his hand in the smallest of gaps between you, his thumb adjacent to your clitoris; every movement, sinking to his hilt, he brushed against you softly. You were not aware that it could happen more than once, your heart quickened aggressively, Benedict tongue descending into your mouth as you whimpered louder and louder. Nails embedded into Ben’s shoulders, blood nearly drawn, your eyes holding his gaze, sheer hunger lived in his eyes. Hunger for you. Your pussy began quivering around him, aching, throbbing, trying desperately to take in more of him. Excruciating pleasure erupted from you, grasping his cock hard from within, your legs shook as your wetness spread between the two of you. Benedict did not stop this time, taking his hands to your hips as you ceased moving, manipulating your movements, grunting into your neck. Every time he led you to release, he seemed to get harder, more attracted to you. You did your best to get deep breaths in, to bring yourself back to reality, his cock still pounding into you steadily made it difficult. His teeth edge to edge in painstaking need, his forceful hands and powerful thrust told you he was close.

“Please,” Your voice rang out, his eyes needy and frenzied, “Please, Benedict, put that baby in me!” You continued to beg, his ragged panting and dreary eye contact wavering as you took control of your body again, bouncing heartily onto his cock. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten at the same time, his hands aggressively pressing you down, as he groaned and grunted fiercely. You squeezed him inside, gently rolling your hips forward, feeling his cock pulsate inside you.

Benedict’s head rested against the bed head, his breath uneven and heart throbbing in his chest. Attempting to get off him, to allow him room to breathe, Benedict stopped you. He blinked himself back to this plane of existence.

“No, it helps if we stay like this” He explained through puffs.

“Really?” You frowned, never having thought about it.

“Yes,” He nodded frantically, “If we stay like this, everything will stay inside” He explained. You hummed in agreement, thinking perhaps that was what you had been doing wrong. Whatever it was that you were doing wrong, you were glad for it. If this made you an adulterer, a traitor, a betrayer, you did not care. Not for this.

Your hands rest on Benedicts chest, fingers splayed in brown chest hair, your eyes lingering over his collar bones and shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He asked, feeling rather observed.

“Taking you in” You purred, taking mental pictures in case you never saw him again. Benedicts hand rose to your face, his thumb rolling over your bottom lip, sliding down your neck to lure you into his most romantic kiss yet. Moments later, Benedict allowed you to slide off him, laying you with your legs up parallel to the headboard. You wondered how many more times you would get to feel like this.

“Shall I leave in the morning?” Benedict asked, a tremble in his voice.

“Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, Benedict lying next to you, a huge grin on his face.

“I joke, my Lady” Benedict laughed as you shoved him gently.

“You will be staying the entire week. I will hold you prisoner if I must” You chortled.

“Excellent, better treatment than home I expect. I will take it” Benedict stretched, every strained muscle flexing in exhilarating sex appeal. “We need every opportunity if we’re to make this baby” He smiled, thrilled at the chance to say such things, hoping one day his babies would come home to him.

“That is not the only reason I want you to stay” You said mellifluously, your soft, thoughtful eyes inspecting his reactions. Benedict frowned placidly, unsuspecting of your joyful surrender.

“You are the love of my life, Benedict Bridgerton,” Tears welled grievously, guileless love calm in your smile, “We will be together. I will be your wife, and I will bring our children home to you”.

Benedict leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, unhurried and glorious. Tears streamed down his face, amazed and implicit, his sureness of his love for you unwavering.

“How ever long it takes, whatever I must do, we will be together” Benedict smile was humble, but fearless.

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

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @dollarstore-lydia-deetz // @newavenger // @lifealot // @rosie-posie08 // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[dearest-tobio]

"so this is it?"

oikawa's eyes glimmer with the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. he surveys your face, a mirror of his own. the logical reply is to affirm that this is, indeed, the last time you will see each other, in the coming-and-goings of a busy airport.

despite the words already on the tip of his tongue, he doesn't bring himself to say it. 

he can't bring himself to say it.

instead he pulls a thin sheet of polaroid film tucked away in the folds of his jacket, fingers shaking as he passes it to you. "remember that road trip with iwa, mattsun and makki?" he laughs, devoid of mirth. "dancing under the stars?" 

you stare at the picture, a bullet shattering the last shield to your defences. "yeah," you whisper, mustering the little energy you had left. "the first time you told me you loved me."

the photograph passes from him to you. the memories flash in your head: raucous sing-alongs to songs on the car radio, dim blaze of the makeshift campfire, gentle feel of oikawa's lips on yours. these trips were the hallmark of your friendship of five, but with everyone moving everywhere, you wonder if you could ever experience another. 

"this isn't goodbye."

"oh, tooru." you giggle, despite it all. "when will you learn that you can't have everything? no matter how hard you try."

"i can," he insists stubbornly, gripping the handle of his suitcase with burning fervor. "argentina's just five years, ten—"

"and who's to say that we won't fall out of love then? i won't fall out of love then?"

the remark is a knife piercing oikawa's already bleeding heart. it hurts you just as much as it has wounded him, but you knew that it needed to be said. he has to learn to let go.

oikawa glances down at the watch on his wrist���a gift from you on your first anniversary. he remembers why you decided to buy it for him. your laugh, ringing through the air as you remarked: "so you can't weasel your way out of being late for our dates anymore."

the hands are damning. two hours before his flight leaves. two hours before he departs for a country miles away from everything he's ever known: his family, his friends, you.

"thanks for taking the time to see me off at the airport," he clips, barreling away from the topic at hand. "do stay in touch."

he turns away from you, struck by how it's too much to bear. his rationale screams at him to hold you close one last time, but his pride insists on moving forward. he makes his way towards the immigration gates, when he realises he has one thing left to say. tilting his head to face you, he smiles the smile you fell in love with as he makes his final plea:

"wait for me to come home."

the same six words come to mind as you hover your mouse over the option of buying tickets to the upcoming netherlands and argentina mens' volleyball match.  foolish, you think. he's moved on. he's forgotten. yet you can't help but click the purchase button, and now you find yourself amidst the throngs of supporters in tokyo national stadium.

after all these years, oikawa tooru is still as radiant as ever.

he is wrapped in swathes of argentinian blue, glowing with confidence in his skills. a shaky pass from his teammate doesn't deter the expertise of his set: he tosses it in a graceful arc towards his team's ace, who then smashes it without remorse to the dutch side of the court.

the match continues with argentina strengthening the lead, enabling them to win three to none. all throughout, oikawa dazzles. you expect no less from the boy you loved. the boy you love.

before heading for the train back home to miyagi, you dare yourself to take a peek at the boisterous celebrations on court. oikawa is hoisted on to a teammate's shoulder as they crack open bottles of champagne, yelling out exclamations of joy in a language foreign to your ears. by chance, oikawa's eyes meet yours, and it is like you're back at the starry night so many years ago, swaying in his arms. 

he climbs down from his raised pedestal, rushing in hasty steps to make his way to you. as he envelops you in a hug, you are unable to discern between the longing and exhilaration rushing in your veins, so you giggle. despite it all.

"i'm home."

masterlist

[paulmias]

paul mescal request 👀

maybe meeting him at an industry party and sharing a cigarette and then it evolves

You Can Be The Boss | Paul Mescal X Fem! Reader

As an actress, and daughter of two of the biggest names in your country of the 90’s, It was inevitable that your name would make it onto the list of Gucci’s Fashion week list.

They had flown you out to Milan, saw that you had a hotel room and clothes for the event, all so you could sit and watch as dozens of models strut about in clothes most people would have to work decades to afford.

When the models would pass you, your gaze kept lingering to him, how could it not? There was a mesmerising sort of charm about him. It consumed you, you had tried to approach him when the event coordinators were ushering hoards of high profile people into limousines to take them to the after party, but you’d had no luck.

You couldn’t find his eyes in the sea of people dancing to whatever the DJ was playing, the music was far too loud, it brought back the migraine you had managed to shift a few days back, after swiping a champagne flute from one of the waiters walking around with them, you snuck out onto the balcony that overlooked Milan.

Having forgotten to bring your own case of cigarettes, you let out an exasperated sigh before downing the champagne. When you lowered the glass from your lips, He was there, cigarette between his lips, almost grinning, his appearence had been so sudden that you’d jumped and dropped the flute over the balcony.

Watching it fall, you felt like an asshole for whoever would have to clean that up later. “Fuck!” The words escaped your lips before you could think properly.

You heard his chuckle and turned to face him. The urge to tell him he was at fault restrained itself. “Do you want a light? I saw you checking that bag of yours for one.” Paul offered. You nod, not exactly desperate for one, but you certainly wouldn’t decline one.

He puts his between his lips and then pulls the case out from his pocket, the only one that remains is squished, not nearly useful enough for you to smoke.

He pulls the one from his lips out, and offers it to you. “You sure?” You question. He nods, and you look so relieved before placing it between your pointer and middle fingers.

After a few exchanges of the cigarette, he speaks as you have it in your lips. “I’ve seen your work, I adore your recent film. Are your team pushing for award nominations?” He asked.

You nodded, your agency was not nearly as cutthroat in that aspect as you would have liked, but you had signed a six year contract with them five years ago, so you would soon be free from them, and hopefully be able to join a more affluent agency. You handed him the cigarette.

“Thank you.” The two of you spoke in unison before chuckling “Yeah, my Uhm, my team are trying but I’m with an agency that are like, more focused on modelling so it’s a bit of a challenge but, I’m still young, I’ve got time to win awards.” You replied.

He takes a drag as he nods. “You looking to change agents?” He questioned, you nodded. “My manager’s looking for new clients, I could pass your name along if you’d like.” He offered.

His manager, you had heard, was a woman very dedicated to her job. “I’d love that, thank you.” You told him. You take a step closer to him, it just feels natural. “You’re gorgeous do you know that?” He asked.

You blushed, which caused him to chuckle, it wasn’t mockingly, rather, one of enjoyment of seeing you so flustered by his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You replied.

He dropped the cigarette onto the floor and leant forward, his face centimetres away from your own, and then he cupped his hands around your face, pulled you in and kissed you.

A/N: This is my first time writing x reader stuff .. hope u enjoyed

[reasonsforhope]

I can't take the state of the world anymore, every day things constantly get worse and there's literally nothing we can do. Every time things get better they're immediately undone by forces more powerful than us. I just want things to go back to the way they were before when it felt like there was hope, now it feels like humanity is doomed and will never, ever get better. I just want to die so I can finally know peace from this evil.

Hey. I'm really, really sorry you're having such a hard time. That sounds like an incredibly painful headspace to be in.

Please find someone you can talk to and who can help you - whether that's a peer counselor or a good friend or a trained mental health professional. Especially a trained mental health professional, if you can. You can find a really thorough list of crisis hotlines listed by country here.

Also, I realllllly recommend getting off any websites or social media that are contributing to you feeling like this, or at least block all the people/tags posting things that are making you feel like this. Negativity bias is real - the news/internet doesn't accurately reflect the world and neither does the way your brain perceives it

In the meantime, a few quick words/facts of comfort. I hope they can give you at least some reassurance or solace.

We literally have more reason to hope we can solve climate change than ever before x

Starting about six months ago, major international energy reports have come out for the first time showing that we have a visible, concrete path to staying under 1.5 degrees celsius x

Twenty, even ten years ago, scientists talked about whether we could possibly manage to limit global warming to 4 or 5 degrees Celsius. Now, those numbers aren't even on the map - we're talking 1.5 or 2 degrees Celsius. We've cut expected warming in half in under a decade x

Renewable energy is growing so exponentially it's now "unstoppable" x

Two hundred years ago, in 1800, there wasn't a single "liberal democracy" - a democracy that gives all citizens the right to vote - on the planet. Just over one hundred years ago, in 1900, there were five of them. Today, roughly half the countries (aka roughly 100) on the planet fall into this category. International politics is so often two steps forward, one step back, but this is actually an astonishing pace of progress in the grand scheme of things x

For all of human history, until just over 200 years ago, roughly half of all children died. Across times, across cultures. Half of all children died by the age of 15. Half of them. Today, globally, that same child mortality rate is only 4%. We did that. We changed what was previously an eternal, inescapable, and horrific condition of human existence, and we are going to keep making that rate go down x

Two steps forward, one step back, is still moving forward. There are so, so, so many reasons that we are not already doomed. There are so many reasons to think the future is going to be bright

To anyone struggling with thoughts like this: please, please give yourself the chance to see it

[mavrintarou]

[3:33 PM] Suna Rintarou [1]

OKAY. I started something. I don't know where it's going but it's going to go somewhere.

Warning: TW - death & kidney failure disease, angst, daddy Rin (literally)

.

Rin sits with his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his trembling knees as he tries to process the news he just received just ten minutes ago. It was the best news he’d heard in what felt like an eternity.

A matching kidney donor has been found for his little girl, Ren.

Eight months ago, his five-year-old daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure and began treatment right away. Rin and his wife did their best to stay strong and hopeful for her, but things only seemed to get worse.

Six months ago, he lost his wife and mother-in-law in a car accident. In such a short time, life had completely turned upside down for both Rin and his daughter. With trembling hands, Rin dialed his mother’s number, and she answered on the first ring.

“Rintarou?”

“Mom,” his voice cracked, and immediately, he was bombarded with questions. “No, no—everything is still the same… but I just got good news from the hospital…” he took a deep breath. They found a donor match for Ren. We’ll be going to the hospital tomorrow to get more information.”

“Oh, that is wonderful news. Thank the Gods,” she cried.

.

“The donor match currently lives in the US.”

Rin’s heart collapsed, “so… what does that mean?”

“When we submit test results to find a match, we don’t limit the search to within the country – it’s worldwide. We always consider the possibility that a match could come from anywhere,” Ren’s doctor explained, reminding them when they had agreed to allow any match. He gave a half-chuckle as if the situation amused him. “This is a unique case. The donor, a female adult, just so happens to be a vascular surgeon who specializes in kidney transplant patients. And now, she is getting first-hand experience.”

“Really?” Rin gasped.

The doctor nodded, “yes, I spoke to her directly this morning and she will fly out here with the time comes, so you do not need to worry about taking Ren abroad.”

A shaky breath is expelled from his chest and he looks down at his daughter who seems to be unaware of the conversation, just watching her iPad. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“If…” Ren’s doctor hesitated before continuing, “if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Suna, I cannot reveal certain details I can’t disclose, but when I saw the donor’s match results, I was honestly stunned.”

Rin’s head tilted as he frowned, “why do you say that?”

The doctor frowned slightly and scratched the back of his head. “I recall when we were conducting tests, your family members all agreed to come in and see if they were a match for Ren. Was that… all of the family members?”

All immediate family members were tested as soon as Rin and his wife found out they weren’t a match for their daughter. Rin’s brow furrowed. “Yes, my wife was an only child raised by her mother. Her parents divorced, and she hasn’t seen her father since she was one year old. I only have one sister and my parents. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all, the donor has matched the blood, tissue, and antibody types and is currently undergoing a health test, and as soon as they pass, we can move forward with the next steps.”

.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” Rin murmured as he carried her into their home. With her treatment, she is often tired and vulnerable. She would sleep at odd times throughout the day.

“Am I going to get better?”

“Yes, baby. You are,” he promised, “you’re going to get better very soon.”

.

Three weeks later felt long, but according to the doctor, it was an incredibly fast process.

The donor was on their way and will arrive in a few hours. They will have to conduct one final test before proceeding to the surgery.

Rin has offered to pay for their stay while they’re in the country but they have politely declined.

 He was thankful for this person but understood why they would like to remain anonymous.

“Some donor wants to remain anonymous to protect their confidentiality and protect the recipient.”

For some reason, Rin felt an overwhelming, eager desire to meet this donor. His heart yearned to encounter this person.

.

“Go, go enjoy a night out with the twins.”

Ren hugged her teddy bear tightly, “you’ll be back later to tuck me in?”

Rin nodded, crouching down to her eye level. “Just tonight, grandma will tuck you in, is that okay?”

She nodded, “okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, baby, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be home later but just late after your bedtime.” He kisses her forehead, “I’m just going out with uncle Osamu and Atsumu for their birthday.”

“Okay,” she answered with a  small smile, “tell them I miss them.”

Rin smiles, “I will, good night.”

.

“Thank the Gods my baby girl found a donor!” Atsumu slapped a hand over his heart. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

Osamu raised his glass of beer, “cheers boys, cheers to baby girl matching a donor.”

They all raised their glasses in sync. “Thank you, it’s wonderful news and everything is going well.”

“Are you going to meet the donor?” Atsumu asked.

Rin shook his head, “no, they want to remain anonymous.”

“So, that means you guys will never know this person who is giving their kidney to Ren?”

Rin nodded his head, “correct. It’s unfortunate, I really wish I could meet them to thank them but the best I can do is give them a card, maybe?”

“That’s a bummer,” Osamu muttered, “I understand where they’re coming from but it’s not like… you guys know each other, you know? What’s so bad about meeting each other.”

“I’m not sure either, but I’ll respect their wishes, it’s the least I can do after all they are doing for my baby girl,” Rin says, twisting his wedding band around his finger.

.

After parting ways with the twins, Rin decided to take a walk. He stuffed his hands into his jacket, the nights have become colder and colder. His wife’s favorite scarf hung loosely around his neck. It was one of the few items of hers that still had her scent and on days that he missed her more than usual, he would wear it, feeling a little closer to her.

It has been a while since he has gone out with the boys, let alone have some good beer and relax. It was much needed and he felt the buzz kick in.

It was a weekend and downtown was busy with a live crowd.

Normally he would avoid the crowd but something was pulling him towards that direction.

With a soft sigh, his feet began moving. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was going somewhere.

He needed to sober up before calling for a taxi, not wanting to return home intoxicated.

As he headed towards the busy part of town, it was like he was going through memory lane.

He is suddenly reminded of when he met his late wife Sumi seven years ago. They were set up through Osamu and his wife, Hayumi, and immediately hit it off. They married a year and a half later and welcomed their daughter shortly after.

Everything was going well, they were a happy family.

His heart nearly broke when his daughter was diagnosed with a disease that could take her away from him. His career was put on pause and he put his focus on his daughter alongside his wife.

His whole world completely shattered when he received the news his wife and mother-in-law were involved in a fatal car accident trying to make it to their daughter’s treatment.

He felt like a shell, barely living. The only thing keeping him going every day was his daughter.

A rush of school girls ran towards him, excitedly screaming as they recognized him.

“Oh my gosh! You’re Suna Rintarou!”

“Can I have your autograph!”

“Can we have a picture with you!”

Suddenly sobering up, Rin accepted the marker from one of the girls, signing his name and forcing a smile for the cameras.

“Goodness,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of life knowing he was still admired and recognized in the volleyball world.

“Excuse me, did you drop this?” A hand holding Sumi’s scarf.

“Oh,” Rin said, instinctively reaching for the scarf that was no longer around his neck. As he extended his hand to grasp it, he glanced at the person offering him. “Thank… you.”

At that moment, his world froze. It had been happening a lot lately, but this time, he truly felt everything stop. Time itself seemed to stand still as he stared into the eyes of the person before him.

How?

“Sumi?”

Her brow rose, “excuse me?” She blinked and then looked at the scarf and then up at him confused.

Rin grasped her shoulders, his eyes wide. “Sumi. Sumi?”

His grip around her tightened. His eyes scan her face. The eyes, the nose, the lips… everything looked exactly like his wife.

His breath heaved heavily, cold air burning his lungs.

He searched her eyes, finding anything that would prove it was his wife.

“You…” she breathed, her breath clouded the cold night.

He was unable to read her expression. Her eyes narrowed, in the way Sumi’s would when he and Ren was playing a trick on her.

His heart ache.

His hands drop and he turns away. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubbed his face with his hands.

He was drunk.

He was hallucinating.

He turned around and the person was still standing there, looking at him with concern and hesitation. “Are you… okay?”

She looked so much like Sumi.

Exactly like her.

“You…” he blinked, tears blurring his vision. “You look - look so much like… my late wife.”

“I think you have the wrong person, I’m sorry.” She shoved the scarf into his arm and hurried away.

.

“Is something wrong?” Rin asked his daughter’s doctor who seemed to be distracted, unlike himself.

“No, Mr. Suna.”

Rin wasn’t convinced.

He had been unconvinced by anything since two nights ago when he ran into a woman who looked identical to his late wife.

Nothing made sense.

He swears by his life that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.

She looked exactly like his wife.

“It was strange,” Rin mumbled, his eyes fixed on the chipped wood of the desk. “The other night… I ran into a woman…” he trailed off, unsure of where he was going with this conversation with his daughter’s doctor. “She looked…”

“Just like your late wife.”

Rin’s eyes met the doctor’s eyes. “You’ve met her too?”

His breath caught before he softly replied, “that is your daughter’s donor.” A heavy silence settled between them. “I had a video call with her and couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought maybe… I was – seeing things? That was a similarity but then again, we were on a virtual call.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I met her… in person, this morning… and she shocked the living shit out of me.”

. . .

E/n: to try and combat this writing slump, I'll be posting random writings to get back so bear with me on this bandwagon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[sugojosgf]

THE PROPOSAL 💍🥂!!

When you face deportation, your workplace nemesis agrees to marry you. However, when you visit his family, it changes your perception in many ways.

c.w : swearing, fraud, mentions of deportation, mutually beneficial relationship

w.c : 1.0k ; part 1

@bloompompom (cutest idea for a collab ever!! <3)

To be who you are right now, was not easy. The climb to the top was not just a quick montage of you being successful. You worked day and night, toiled relentlessly under awful bosses, and barely had a love life, just to be at this very moment.

You look incredulously at the board of management when they say those words. A lump forms in your throat and your eyes might tear up if you weren't holding onto a last shred of restraint.

Deportation ?

After all the hard work you've done, you are getting deported from the country, and it's fucking devastating. You hold yourself together, you've done so till now but it's getting very hard to continue.

“Is there any chance I could avoid deportation ?” You laugh, though there's no humor in your voice. The higher ups look at you with thin smiles and eyes devoid of any compassion.

“You are, and always will be our biggest asset but reapplying for your visa will take another year. We have to start looking at other candidates.”

The world around you crashes and you are trying to push down the bile, your day was not going the way you planned it out in your journal.

You should've known today was going to be the worst when you woke up to a dead phone, empty skincare and wrinkled clothes that didn't dry quite right.

“…Is this a bad time ?”

You hear a voice. You hear his voice. The man you've grown to not hate. Nanami Kento.

He held the same position as you and you had the unfortunate experience of working on three major projects with him. He always pissed you off with his condescending speech, how he always pretended to care about your well-being only because he wanted you to let your guard down around him.

“I did not know the meeting room was engaged, my apologies—” He says quickly ready to leave, but the minute those words leave his mouth, A dangerous idea makes itself known in your mind.

“Nanami! Oh, sweetheart!” You cringe internally as you call out to him, though at that moment, it was the only option left.

You giggle and make your way to him, pulling him away from the door. His face twists and a horrified expression makes its way onto his stern features.

“…what’s going on right now ?” He awkwardly chuckles, pulling his arm away from you. You begin to think maybe getting deported is better than being stuck in a position like this, with him.

You laugh nervously, “I know we discussed that we would wait a while longer before we made our relationship public, but life’s crazy and apparently if we don’t tell certain officials about our engagement, I might have to leave the nation.” You grit your teeth and pray to every religion, begging that Nanami would side with you.

“Oh..” He scratches his head, “Our relationship, the secret one that no one else knew about, which seems to be beneficial to your current predicament.”

The management looks at you suspiciously, but that dissipates the minute Nanami steps forward and brings your hand towards his lips, pressing the softest kiss to your fingers.

“I'm glad I get to do this now, it was quite difficult holding myself back for this long.” He sighs softly, and you almost doubt yourself.

Maybe you were secretly dating these past six months. The warmth in his face is bewildering, he looks and breathes like a man in love. A soft blush falls on your cheek and you almost shy away.

The higher ups manage to laugh and seem at ease with the PDA, they turn to you and one of them ask you to head to the immigration office and sort the mess out. It takes a quick discussion and you are suddenly out the meeting room with a fiance in your arms.

You both head to your office, the hushed whispers around you signal that the news is out already. You pull him in to your office, and quickly lock the door.

When you turn around, he's seated on your chair with a lazy smirk plastered on his face.

“I want the Shibuya project, if you get deported it will go to someone who's not me and I'm not sure I like that.” He says with finality.

You gape at him like a fish.

The Shibuya project was one of the hugest deals the company was handling, and if it wasn't for the deportation issue, it could have easily landed you a promotion. There was absolutely no way you could give it up.

“Time is running — you hand over the project, we get married, we pretend for a few months and divorce when you get your citizenship sorted.” He explains, “or i could just back out of this impromptu arrangement, and you get deported while i get to maintain my position.”

You walk over to him, face clearly in displeasure, “Nanami, there’s no way-”

“Oh!” He interrupts, “funny how there is only twenty seconds left for you to make a decision.” He chuckles, looking at his obnoxious watch.

“Fine.” You groan, shaking your head. “But I’ll hand it over only after you’ve signed the necessary documents.” You try to grasp at a semblance of control.

“Whatever sweetheart, I'm putting myself in danger for you.”

Suddenly his phone rings, a picture of a man with a mop of white hair and the cheesiest smile ever appears on the screen.

“Fuck, it’s Gojo.” He mumbles, sighing loudly as he answers.

You can hear the faintest voice from where you stand, the man on the other end speaks too fast and animated for you to understand anything.

“This weekend ?? I guess I forgot.”

You stand there awkwardly, catching a reflection of yourself on your glass table. You look awful, eyes crazed and mascara smudged. You start to fix yourself, focused on getting a stain out, when you hear Nanami clearing his throat.

“So, what do you think about visiting my family with me over the weekend for my birthday ?”

──────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

OKAIYYYY so a few things; first of all, i was so so excited to write this because i loved the proposal as a nine year old and wanted an excuse to rewatch it,,,,

second of all, this is not really set in any country i genuinely don't know how deportation laws work so excuse me for any ignorance (the shibuya project is just for shits and giggles pls let me reference a major plot point from the source material)

third of all, i'll definitely make this a mini series because no way i'm going to be able to write an entire movie based fic as a one shot but also i didn't want to lose the motivation i had by making this like a 20k oneshot

finally, this is like my first time writing something with proper grammar and capitalisation, like i did not just put my thoughts into a post here. that's it, mwah mwah show some love byeee <333

[bullet-prooflove]

The Cowboy At Your Door: Dwight Manfredi x Reader (feat:  Bill Bevilaqua)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Poker Face - Dwight's night takes a turn when he meets you for the first time at a poker game.

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Hell of A Message - You send a message to your ex Bill.

There’s a cowboy at your door. One with a black hat, heated eyes and a smile that’s made for sin.

“I got your message.” Bill Bevilaqua says as he stands on your porch, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his Wranglers.

You tuck your hair back behind your ear so he can see the bruising blossoming across your features.

“I got yours too.”

His gaze darkens, his jaw tightening as he surveys the butterfly stitches, the busted lip. He reaches out, his fingertips tracing over the place where Joey’s ring split your skin.

“I’d kill him myself if you hadn’t done it already.” He tells you and you can see the sincerity of it in his eyes before you open your door and invite him into the house.

“We should talk.” You say and he doesn’t respond as he steps into your living room, drinking in the essence of you.

It’s the first time he’s been to your home. It’s light, airy and somehow cosy at the same time. Soft greys give way to berry and blush undertones creating a warmth that was never present in the house that you lived in together. His personality and heritage had dominated the ranch that you’d shared. It was always harsh, always masculine, the same way that everything was in his family.

“This is what our home should have been like.” He says as he turns to face you, his thumbs looped through the rungs of his jeans.

“There was never any room for me underneath all that toxic masculinity.” You remind him as you settle down into the stone grey love seat.

No there hadn’t been, not in the world you were both born into. You were the only child of Vinnie Cincinetti, head of one of the most powerful crime families in Oklahoma. You would have been a force to be reckoned with if you’d taken up the mantle, instead you’d been married off to the Bevilaqua syndicate because you weren’t the right gender to lead.

It may have been an arranged marriage but Bill had fallen in love with you almost immediately. Instead of being the pretty, little wife that sat at home and spent his money, you earned your own by running poker games and pulling in whales that thought nothing about throwing down six figures at one of the most exclusive card tables in the country.

It isn’t until he catches a snide remark from his cousin Frank that he realises that your success is making him look weak, like he can’t control his wife, that he’s not providing for her. The thing is, he’s never seen you as exhilarated as when you’re running those games. You’ve never been so happy, so engaged and he knows in that moment he has to let you go because you were destined to be much more than just a gangster’s wife.

So he divorces you, sets you free and he hopes that maybe one day, when you’ll return to him. It’s been five years since you left Kansas and you’ve still not come home. He’s starting to doubt you ever will despite the nights you’ve shared since.

He takes a seat on the sofa close to you, taking off his hat and setting it upon the dark wood coffee table.

“You need to meet with Manfredi.” You tell him, running a hand through your hair and shaking it out so it falls across your features. “Sort out this territory dispute before it turns into something.”

He sinks into the plush comfort of your couch, his gaze drinking you in. It’s only now as he looks at you that he realises you’re wearing a man’s dress shirt and it riles something inside of him.

“Darlin.” He drawls. “It’s already something. I can’t have New York coming here and stepping on my shit….”

“It isn’t really your shit though is it?” You respond, leaning forward and his gaze strays to the dip in the shirt you’re wearing. Your bra is visible, he can see the contrasting black lace against your skin. “You gave Tulsa to me.”

“You’re still an extension of the Bevilaqua Family even if we aren’t married anymore.” He reminds you, shrugging his shoulders.

“Tulsa is my playground.” You say fiercely before giving him a knowing look. “The real problem is you don’t like the fact there’s another kid playing in it.”

“No.” He says pointedly. “I don’t.”

You sigh as you recross your legs and he catches a flash of that tattoo on your inner thigh, the one that covers his mark. His family, they brand their property. Horses, drugs, their wives too. You hadn’t screamed when they’d forced it on you, you’d bitten down on his belt instead, stifling your agony. He still wears the damn thing around his waist, your teeth indentations still etched into the leather.

“I heard you got it covered.” He says gesturing to the space between your legs. “I want to see it.”

You sigh as you part your thighs, the dress shirt creeping up so that your black panties are on display. His gaze comes to rest on the greyscale dahlias inked onto your skin, they cover the entirety of the brand, obscuring it from view. He sinks to his knees in front of you, his calloused palm coming to rest on your thigh as his thumb traces over scarring underneath, the ‘B’ etched into your skin for eternity.

“I’ll always be a part of you.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over the edge of your tattoo. “And you’ll always have a part of me.”

Your hand rakes through his dark hair, grip tightening on the roots, making him moan against your skin. He’s been hard since he laid eyes on you, it’s the way he’s always been with you. He gets off on the coolness, the indifference, it only makes him try harder to earn your attention. You tug his head back to meet your eyes and his whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“So…” You say, your voice dropping an octave. “Do I get my meeting or not?”

He’d give you anything you in this moment because all he wants is to spend the night between your legs, his tongue thrust in your pussy until you see God. He wants to feel you coming on his cock as you use him like a fucktoy, like he’s nothing but a vessel for your pleasure.

“Bill.” You say, your voice like silk caressing his skin. “Do I get my meeting?”

“Yes.” He bites out.

“Good boy.” You murmur, your palm lightly slapping his cheek and his dick fucking leaks, smearing the inside of his underwear. “You can go now.”

“Dahlia…” He implores but he knows he’s lost because you’re wearing sitting here in another man’s shirt, your gaze already flickering to the clock on the mantlepiece.

“No Bill.” You say, indicating to the bruising on your face. “You don’t deserve my pussy tonight.”

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[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Seven

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

PJO show is living rent free in my head everyone. I love that funky little fantasy show

Anyway, welcome to part 7, where we learn more about some of the kids' powers, get a peek into Steve's growing troubles with his powers, and Steddie get a fun little development too

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

Oh! And a meme, another meme for you at the end lol

---------

While the kids have no problem adjusting to Camp Half-Blood and making friends (several of the other campers have asked El to freeze them if only because they think it's funny), Steve runs into a few bumps. He's not used to relaxing. He's not used to letting his guard down and having the children out of sight for so long. And he's definitely not used to his powers feeling beyond his control whenever Eddie is around, which is...well, always.

Don't get Steve wrong. He likes being around Eddie. In fact, he looks forward to it. Steve hasn't smiled or laughed this much or been around someone his own age in a while. It's new and kind of weird and just a little scary.

But it doesn't at all help with his growing nervous energy. He keeps waiting for a shoe to drop, quickly followed by another. It never does, and Steve fully realizes what a problem this is when Eddie is in his room one day and casually says, "Your clouds are different."

Steve blinks, looking over at Eddie in one of the chairs. He has a guitar in his lap, idly strumming as Steve's phone plays music for them. Steve had just been nodding off, feeling relaxed and sleepy when Eddie spoke. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"They changed again." Eddie says, frowning slightly as he points at the clouds drifting along the ceiling. They're a slate color now, not exactly brewing up a storm but looking ready to start pouring down on them. They aren't gloomy, though. It's more like...like the tension you feel when a natural disaster is about to strike and the clouds are the only warning you'll get of its arrival. "They were starting to turn white, but they're grey again."

"Oh," Steve says, flopping back on the bed with a sigh. "They're supposed to reflect my mood."

He hears the chair shift and steps coming closer to the bed before Eddie sprawls across the mattress next to him. "What's got you so grey, sweetheart?" he asks. Their hands aren't touching, but Steve can feel that now-familiar buzz at his fingertips, the little arches of lightning begging to reach out if he'd only let them.

Steve curls his fingers into a fist, refusing to succumb to the urge. He considers lying, just brushing off the question, but then he makes the mistake of looking at Eddie. He looks right into Eddie's brown eyes, and his resolve crumbles. His fist uncurls, their fingertips brush, and he allows a harmless spark to pass between them. "I'm just on edge," he says, looking back at the ceiling and watching the clouds. "Restless, I guess."

"You're used to fighting monsters and moving across the country, Stevie," Eddie says, sliding his hand closer to Steve's so their fingers are tangled together and a current begins to pass between them. "Being all...still is getting to you."

"Yeah, no shit," Steve says with a quiet snort. "Can't do anything about it."

"Well...there is Capture the Flag next week," Eddie points out, shifting closer, like their hands aren't enough. Now their arms and shoulders are pressed together, and Steve inexplicably feels some of that nervous energy disappear, like Eddie is taking it from him. "It can be an all-out bloodbath, you know."

Steve huffs softly, getting a wry smile. "I'm not sure anyone's gonna want to be on my team," he says. The other campers avoid him. Despite his best efforts, his attack on the patrol campers spread fast and mean, and everyone is a little wary. "So, unless I can be on a team by myself, it probably isn't gonna happen."

A few beats of silence pass, and Steve is about to assume he's somehow fucked up the conversation when Eddie says, "You wouldn't be alone. There's me. And the kids. And I could get the Hermes Cabin to partner with you. Plus, you know, you're a Zeus kid, Stevie. You ask to be in charge and nobody's gonna argue."

He...hadn't thought of that. Steve frowns slightly, letting the idea turn in his mind. It would be a challenge, of course, especially if all the other cabins decide to team up. But...a challenge means pushing himself, reaching limits he's never come close to, letting go completely and losing himself in the battle, whether he wins or not.

The clouds above them start to roll, broiling with the energy of a storm that's all thunder and lightning, and excitement surges through Steve. He doesn't even realize he's letting it get the better of him until Eddie yelps and jerks his hand away.

Steve blinks, jerking up and reaching out to Eddie but stopping halfway. "I'm sorry," he says, frowning slightly as he watches Eddie look at his hand. "I'm really sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No, no, it was more...," Eddie trails off, and then he gets an obnoxious grin and looks up at Steve. "It was more the shock of it."

A beat passes before Steve groans, grabs his pillow, and whacks Eddie in the face with it. Eddie dramatically falls back on the bed, lamenting Steve's cruelty and superior fighting skills as Steve laughs. When Eddie finally stops hamming it up, he pushes the pillow away and says, "So, I'd guess you're excited?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his cheeks hurting from smiling. "I...have an idea already, yeah," he says, looking at Eddie and leaning closer. "Wanna hear it?"

"Hell yeah," Eddie says, his eyes lighting up as Steve lays it all out.

And so begins a week of planning.

It's a week (most of which was spent convincing the Hermes Cabin to join his team and agree to just sit back and guard the flag) that leaves Steve buzzing with energy on the day of Capture the Flag. Eagerness makes his limbs tingle and his body beg to pace as he looks over the demigods in front of him. It's just the Hermes Cabin, Eddie, and the kids, meaning they're facing off against the rest of the camp.

He can't blame the Hermes kids for looking like they've already been defeated. The only reason they're still hanging around, Steve is sure, is because he and the kids promised to do all of their chores for two months if they lose.

Steve takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and consciously lets go of the Mist around him. He's used to holding it close, using it to cover himself and make him look, well, weaker, that he has to purposefully send it off. He knows the moment it's completely abandoned him; the demigods all stand straighter, only the kids and Eddie dare to meet his eyes, and the snakes poking through the hole in El's beanie start tasting the air with interest.

"You've put your faith in me," Steve says, his volume normal but his voice still booming in the otherwise silent clearing. "You probably think we're fucked, but you'd be wrong. So, listen up. I will be offense. Eddie, Will, and El will be extraction. And you, with the strength of numbers, will be defense. Guard this flag with your life, and we will win. If any of the enemy manages to slip past me, hold steady. You are the final line of defense. Your job is the most important, and I expect you to give it your all."

The hesitant expressions have become impassioned, if not a bit confused by the fact. Steve grins at them, feeling the air crackle between his teeth as his excitement grows. He exhales sparks, his fingers buzzing and his skin close to bursting.

Steve doesn't often pray to Zeus. He's never felt a need to, and several goddesses have made themselves better known to him. But now, as excited for the fight as he is, Steve thinks to Zeus, If you've never watched me before, then watch me now.

He puts on his Blue-Team helmet, the distant horn ringing in his ears as the lightning floods through him, and heads into battle.

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

Eddie's role is simple: keep El and Will from getting hurt. He'd be offended at the simplicity if he weren't already plenty aware of his inability to fight well. He's built for defense and retreat, which is why he's got his shield at the ready and is preparing himself to jerk the kids back at the slightest hint of danger.

They're crouching behind some dense bushes, Will and El peeking through the gaps at some Red-Team campers, the first line of defense for the red flag. "So, what's the plan?" Eddie whispers, shifting slightly as he looks between the two kids. Thunder rumbles, and it takes every shred of Eddie's self-control to not look at the gathering storm clouds above them.

"Will makes them daydream," El whispers back, her beanie squirming as though the snakes can feel their imminent freedom. "If that does not work, I will turn them to stone."

Eddie slowly nods, glancing at Will as he cups his hands to his mouth and whispers unintelligible words into them. "And, uh, how is making them daydream supposed to help with distractions?" he asks.

"They are very strong daydreams," El replies.

Will finishes whispering, and a purple dust-like swirling mist is nestled in his palms. He nods to El, waiting for her to carefully make a larger opening in the leaves before gently blowing the mist from his hands. Eddie watches as it twists and curls around the Red-Team campers, slipping under their sleeves and floating to their ears and eyes. The mist settles there, a thin and nearly imperceptible film that Eddie wouldn't know to see if he hadn't watched Will make it.

A few seconds pass as the campers slowly relax, their grips on their weapons loosening until a few swords fall to the ground. El waits a few more seconds before picking up a sizeable pebble and throwing it at a tree across from them. Despite making a loud thud when it hits and falls to the ground, none of the campers blink or move an inch. The only movement Eddie can see is a slight sway and the occasional twitch of fingers, like their body is trying to follow through on movements they make in their daydreams.

"Metal," Eddie whispers, keeping pace with El and Will as they move out from behind the bush. If everything is this easy, they'll get back in time to see Steve fighting. Eddie would love if he could see Steve fighting again. "How did you do that?"

Will flushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a lot, really," he says, his voice quiet and a little embarrassed. "I mean, I just use dream-speak to give the daydreams specific emotions and then send it over."

"Dream-speak?"

"You know how you can't read in dreams? And if you try to remember exact conversations, you can only get snippets or a word or two? That's dream-speak," Will explains. He thinks for a few seconds before adding, "It's, um, supposed to feel intangible."

"How long does it last?"

"Usually," El says, her voice soft as she pauses and gestures for Eddie and Will to follow, "around twenty minutes. But it depends on the person." She leads them to large boulder, all of them ducking behind it in time for some Red-Team campers to walk by.

"Holy shit," one of them says, looking in the distance at the gathering storm clouds as she slows down. "Man, I am fucking glad we're not fighting that Zeus kid."

"No kidding," the other mumbles. "He's a monster."

Eddie has heard plenty of people call Steve a monster in the past week. Most of them say it with awe in their voices, unable to find any other word to describe the sheer power they saw from Steve. But others, like the one here, say it like Steve is a monster for them to defeat for the glory of it.

He clenches his jaw, grip on his shield straps tightening some. Before he can do anything, El reaches up to her beanie, and Will slaps a hand over Eddie's eyes. He hears the hiss of a writhing mass of snakes, aborted shouts, and then nothing. When Will takes his hand away, the two campers are statues, shock and terror contorting their expressions. El, with her beanie back in place, considers them for a moment before turning. "We should keep moving."

Eddie doesn't argue, but he does hold up a fist to El, grinning when she slowly bumps it with her own. She then turns to Will, her expression expectant, and she flashes her own tiny smile that matches Will's when their fists gently bump together.

Of every game Eddie has participated in, this game of Capture the Flag is by far his most relaxed. Will and El seem to have plenty of experience sneaking around and launching sneak-attacks. The closest Eddie gets to seeing any kind of action is when a Red-Team camper happens to stumble across them on their way back from the bathroom. Even then, before Eddie can raise his shield to block their sword, El slides in front of him and rips off her beanie.

"Thanks," he says, keeping his gaze away until the beanie is back on.

"You are welcome," El replies, staying quiet for a few seconds before adding, "Steve would be sad if you got hurt."

With that statement dropped on him, she continues leading the way to the Red-Team base. By the time they reach it, several Red-Team campers have been deployed to support the other campers fighting Steve. Between those, the ones stationed on the other side of the forest, and the campers they've disposed of, only twenty remain to guard the flag.

"I'm surprised the Athena kids aren't more prepared for you," Eddie whispers, glancing at El. She's the kind of secret weapon everyone knows about and prepares for, but he hasn't seen any of that so far.

El glances at Eddie, considering her response for a few moments before looking at Will. When he nods, she says, "I have not told Steve, but the Head Camper for Athena approached me two days ago. She offered me a personally-designed weapon if I did not use my powers during the game."

"El agreed," Will says, picking up the explanation with ease, "and promised not to use her powers to steal the flag."

"I am not stealing the flag," El finishes, a proud smile tugging at her lips, "I am capturing it."

"You're a little devil, you know that?" Eddie asks, grinning brightly.

"No. I am a little gorgon."

-----

They leave a garden of statues in their wake, and El takes a few moments to sigh and say it's not as good as her mother's before they leave with the Red-Team flag carefully hidden under Will's shirt. As they approach the border between the team territories, the sounds of battle grow. Swords clash, fighters shout, and lightning cracks between them all.

"We can take the long way," Eddie offers, his tone reluctant as he glances in the direction of the fight. They're close enough that a few trees are singed on the edges from lightning strikes, and Eddie holds his shield tighter. Letting the kids get anywhere near that fight isn't protecting them, and he should direct them in a wide circle around it.

But something is calling him, urging him closer to the fight in a way he's never felt before. He's not an Ares kid---Eddie has no desire to enter a blood bath---but he gets the feeling that Steve is going to need him soon.

"El and I can make it by ourselves," Will offers. "It's only a few feet away, and the game ends once we cross, right?"

Eddie nods, frowning before taking a deep breath. "No, it's okay," he says, waving for the kids to keep moving. "We'll try to head straight through and end the game sooner."

It's a choice he was expecting to regret, but doesn't get the chance. Nobody notices them, even when they get close enough to see a swarm of Red-Team campers surrounding Steve. None of them glance in their direction, too distracted by the fight to spare any attention to three insignificant campers sneaking by. Thunder rumbles endlessly above them, a deafening soundtrack that's only broken by cracks of lightning striking the ground and knocking campers back a few feet.

"Steve is having fun," El observes, sounding happy for him as they approach the Blue-Team border.

"He's never really let go, huh?" Eddie asks, getting a quick peek at Steve through the swarm. He lost his helmet at some point, leaving his feral expression and static-raised hair in full view, and arches of lightning jump across his body, occasionally reaching out to strike any Red-Team campers that get too close.

"No," Will says, his voice soft as they approach the border. The moment Will steps over, the horn sounds in the distance, and Eddie waits for the fighting to stop.

But it doesn't. Nobody in the swarm seems to realize the game is over. They continue to attack Steve, and Steve continues to fight against them, the air churning and sparking and ready to burst. A few seconds pass before Eddie realizes they won't stop until only one side is left standing. He gets it. Kind of. Steve carries the air of royalty; a challenge. If you can beat the son of Zeus, a literal Prince of Olympus, the glory of that achievement is untold. And it seems his fellow campers have fallen prey to that glory, utterly lost to it

Eddie feels that urge to join Steve surge through him again. He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, searching for any other peek at Steve he can get as he says, "You guys go ahead. I'll help Steve. We'll catch up."

He doesn't bother waiting for El or Will to answer. He just rushes into the battle, something he never expected himself to do. Somehow, he doesn't meet any resistance. Lightning strikes the ground around him, pushing Red-Team campers back and urging him on, and Eddie wonders if Steve knows he's coming.

When he finally reaches the center of the battle, he sees Steve swing his bat against someone's side, the nails dragging painfully before he kicks the person back. Steve has lost his chest plate as well, and the only armor he has left are the wrist guards. There are slashes in his clothes and the edges are burnt. Eddie is almost distracted by the sight until he sees a daughter of Ares rush Steve from behind, her sword raised to bring down on his back.

In a move of unprecedented grace (seriously, Eddie will look back on that moment and never understand how he managed to not trip over himself), Eddie springs into the battle. He rushes at Steve, sliding behind him, twisting, and raising his shield in one smooth movement. The sword comes down on his shield, sending vibrations down his arm but otherwise causing no harm to him or Steve. Eddie pushes back as hard as he can, sending the daughter of Ares sprawling before pressing his back to Steve's.

"Thanks," Steve says, his words crackling and sparking against Eddie's ear. He thinks it's just a phantom sensation at first, but Eddie soon realizes lightning is literally arching between them, jumping across their shoulders and through their hair and buzzing down Eddie's chest.

He licks his lips, electric ozone lingering on his tongue, and Eddie is fascinated by the taste. "No problem," he says, his body following Steve without thinking. It's easy when he can feel the bolts of lightning between them start to shift, telling him which way Steve is going so he can keep up. "You know the game is over, right?"

"This is the most fun I've had in years," Steve replies, his tone implying that should explain everything.

And, yeah, it kind of does. He sounds genuinely happy and thrilled, his voice teeming with eagerness that's punctuated by the sound of his bat hitting a Red-Team camper in the head hard enough to make their helmet ring.

Eddie knows Steve would stop if he asked. Eddie knows he could talk Steve down from this lightning-fueled battle high. Eddie decides that wouldn't be nearly as fun.

"Okay," he says, pressing closer to Steve's back and blocking an arrow headed straight for Steve's shoulder. "Have fun, sweetheart."

Eddie didn't know it was possible, but Steve's power surges again, like it was just simmering under his skin, waiting for permission. And Eddie gave it. Bolts strike from the clouds above while arches jump across Steve and Eddie, running down their arms and leaping at Red-Team campers who get too close. They don't stop; the lightning continues to jump from camper to camper, electrocuting whoever it touches, and Eddie realizes he should have been electrocuted, too.

He blocks another sword, lightning crackling along the edges of his shield and shooting off sparks when its hit, and looks at the white-blue arches running along his arm. Without thinking, Eddie touches one, a gentle buzzing spreading through his hand as the arch transfers and jumps around his palm. It tickles more than anything else, and Eddie would think it's harmless if a Red-Team spear didn't get close enough for the lightning to jump and shock the camper unconscious.

It's not that the lightning jumping between him and Steve is harmless, Eddie realizes, it's just that it won't hurt him. He feels like some of the lightning has settled in his chest, crackling and warm and soothing. Eddie glances over his shoulder, taking in Steve's breathless smile and the way light splashes across his face with each bolt that hits the ground and the sparks that jump from his bat.

That feeling he got when he first saw Steve, the breathlessness and awestruck realization that the whole prophecy was just him, hits Eddie all over again. He lingers in it for a few seconds, letting it wash over him and settle in his limbs, before getting yanked out by a particularly close lightning bolt that makes his ears ring.

Right. A fight. That he's part of.

Eddie forces himself to focus on defending Steve's back. He blocks arrows and swords and shields and, once, a battle axe that makes his shield groan. That one pisses him off some. This shield was a gift from Hermes, a gift that showed surprising knowledge of Eddie's interests, and he'll be damned if it breaks. As though fueled by his anger, the lightning on his shield crackles and shoots down the battle axe, converging on the camper until she drops the axe with a yelp.

He doesn't get to linger on that too long; another arrow comes straight at Steve again, and Eddie is far more occupied by blocking it. And so it continues. Steve fights, lightning strikes, and Eddie defends him the entire time, giving Steve the space and security to just let go and release all the energy that had been building since he arrived at camp.

It's over sooner than he expects. One moment, Eddie's arm is buzzing from a particularly strong hit to his shield, and the next, the field is silent. Thunder still rumbles above them, lightning still crackles around them, and Eddie's heartbeat is pounding in his ears. Campers are scattered around them, all breathing but most knocked out for a while. Eddie takes a deep breath, feeling the air spark harmlessly in his lungs, and slowly lets it out.

He rolls his shoulder and retracts his shield, placing it around his neck again before turning around. "You good?" he asks, looking Steve over for any obvious injuries. His clothes are even more singed, the hem of his shirt blackened, and his hair is sticking up wildly but still somehow perfect. Steve's tense, his muscles strained as he pants, looking around them before his gaze finally lands on Eddie. He's still gripping his bat tightly, his knuckles white, and Eddie is about to gently pull it away when Steve just drops it.

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly as he starts to ask Steve if he's okay. And then he can't speak at all, because Steve's hands are cupping his cheeks and Steve's chest is pressed against his own, and Steve's lips are thoroughly occupying his. Lightning shoots through Eddie, jumping down his throat as Steve's tongue licks past his lips.

It doesn't hurt, though. Nothing from Steve could actually hurt him; instead, it makes his fingers tingle and his lips buzz and his heart jackrabbit against his ribs. Eddie is filled with an inescapable energy, and there's only one way to expel it.

So, he kisses Steve back. Eddie wraps an arm around Steve's waist to tug him closer and pushes a hand into Steve's hair, finally feeling the soft strands tangling between his fingers. He tilts his head and lets Steve have the quiet groan that slips from him when tiny bolts jump from Steve's molars to Eddie's tongue.

Eddie is breathless and floating and completely under Steve's spell and...and...and he's confused. Because Steve yanks himself away, a panicked noise in the back of his throat as he takes a step back. His chest is still heaving, but Eddie knows it's for a different reason now. Steve starts to say something, his lips swollen and red and begging Eddie to kiss him again, but no words come out.

And then he does something Eddie never expected Steve to do. He runs. He panics so badly that he runs back toward the Blue-Team base, leaving Eddie in the middle of the Red-Team carnage with a floaty brain and a stupid smile.

Maybe, if it had been anyone else, Eddie would be panicking, too. He'd be worried about the person actually liking him, worried about what the kiss meant, worried about any number of things, really. But it's Steve. Eddie knows Steve. He knows Steve's laugh and his walk and his lightning and now his kiss.

There are only two possible reasons for Steve running away: either he panicked because the kiss was too sudden, too heat-of-the-moment, or he panicked because of the literal lightning he sent through Eddie. Both are easily addressed, easy to soothe Steve down from freaking out about so they can get to kissing again.

Eddie's smile widens some, and he takes one last look at the campers around him before carefully making his way past them, figuring he should tell Chiron they'll be needing ambrosia and nectar.

-------

Tag List

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For those who made it this far, a meme:

[mirisss]

Haunting Shadows prequel

Vampire! Mafia! Ateez OT8 x afab! reader

Wordcount ≈ 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of weapons, blood, violence, mentions of someone being unalived, being chased, involuntarily put to sleep, I think that’s it, 

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! I wrote it at 4 am when I couldn’t sleep so the ending isn’t the best. 

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

In a deep dark alley, somewhere downtown. A group of six men gathered around a seventh man lying on the ground. The man on the ground tried to shield himself from the haunting red glowing eyes staring down at him. The blood-red eyes paired with the guns pointed in his direction, made him realize that he was not getting out of this alley alive. One of the six men took a step forward as two others seemed to appear out of nowhere, or rather, they seemed to be appearing from the shadows. The man who had stepped forward had red hair that almost seemed to glow but right in front of the scared man, the hair morphed from red to black and the facial features of the previous red-haired man changed too. He went from someone the scared man had never seen to someone he recognized quite well. 

“Hello, Lee Jaejoong,” Jaejoong tried to move backward but his back met with a wall stopping his tried escape. “Who are you?” The eight men around him all smirked, revealing sharp fangs, causing him to hold his breath. “My name is Wooyoung, and these are my blood brothers, you may know us as Ateez,” Jaejoong’s heart sank as he recognized the name, Ateez, the largest mafia in the country. Ateez, a mafia group known to not leave anyone who has wronged them alive. “Please, please, I’ll do anything, just please, don’t kill me,” A shorter man stepped forward, giving a silent cue to Wooyoung who immediately stepped back again. “Yeosang, are you sure he is the one?” “Yes, captain, his scent is a complete match to the blood we found,” “Jaejoong, Jaejoong, Jaejoong… mm… and here I thought our partnership was going so well but you just had to mess it up, what a shame” The one called captain, moved around a little while sending a terrifying glare to the man on the ground. “Yunho, Mingi, take care of him. Jongho, keep guard. Seonghwa, San. Go fetch the car, no need to waste any more time on this one,” “Hongjoong, captain, someone’s getting close,” 

It was around 10 pm when (Y/n) decided to leave the university library to head home. Her back hurt from crouching for a few hours, trying to study as much as she could for an upcoming exam. Only a few students were still around, most of them studying with a few just hanging out with their friends. (Y/n) walked along her usual path, soon approaching the part she hated walking by. It was a dark alley downtown. While she had never seen or heard anyone there, she always felt uneasy walking past it but there were no other paths she could walk to get home from uni so she couldn’t avoid it. She took up her phone, prepared to call for help should anything happen. 

For the first time, as (Y/n) came close to the alley she found a light coming from deep within the alley. Her unease increased, that could only mean that someone was down there, she thought. Just as (Y/n) came to the opening of the alley, she saw two dark figures walking in her direction as she heard a loud noise. It sounded frighteningly familiar to a gun being fired, followed by a scream. Or rather two screams. One from whoever was shot and one from (Y/n). 

(Y/n) ran as fast as she could away from the alley, continuing her way home. Hoping that whoever had been walking toward her from the alley wouldn’t follow her, but if they were following she hoped they wouldn’t be able to catch up with her. 

“Hongjoong, captain, someone’s getting close,” Hongjoong turned to Yeosang who looked worried after picking up an unfamiliar scent coming closer to them. “Hwa, San, check it out on your way,” “Yes, sir,” As they began walking away, they could make out the shape of a girl or woman in the distance. Just as they were within eyesight of the human, a gunshot rang through the alley followed by a scream that bounced off the walls out toward the road. Within a second, another scream resonated through the eight vampire’s ears. Seonghwa and San saw the human look at them and then run for their life away from them. “Catch her,” Seonghwa muttered to which San ran full speed after the human. 

(Y/n) was terrified as she heard loud footsteps in pursuit of her. Please, I don’t want to die, not like this. She was getting tired after running for a few minutes, not even the adrenaline pumping through could keep her going for much longer. (Y/n) turned her head to try and see just how close the person behind her was only to find no one, feeling hopeful she turned her head back thinking she was safe, only to see a man standing a few meters in front of her. He seemed completely unfazed while (Y/n) was panting loudly, coming to a complete stop only three steps away from the man. What the hell? How did he get in front of me? (Y/n)’s eyes shot open as wide as they could when she looked into the, very attractive, man’s eyes only to find them shifting from a deep brown to a glowing purple. 

San was surprised by the overwhelming warmth that emerged throughout his entire body when he met the human’s eyes. His sight disappeared for a second only to come back a bit hazy, a purple tint now colored the world. A tint he had experienced before when he first met the other seven vampires in his group. This human, was their final soulmate. The missing piece of their connection. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” (Y/n) didn’t know what to do, her legs felt weak from the running and suddenly her heart was beating fast not only from fear and the running, but from the way this man was looking at her. While his gaze was threatening, it didn’t seem malicious, no it seemed more like longing. Another pair of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind (Y/n), but she didn’t dare look away from the man in front of her. “San, what’s going on?” “Hwa-hyung, it’s her,” “I may be older than you but I am not dumb, obviously this is the one who overheard our business,” “No, hyung, I mean she’s the final one,” Seonghwa stared at San a bit confused, it wasn’t until Seonghwa looked at his younger soulmate’s eyes that he realized what he meant. “Our soulmate?” San couldn’t do more than give a slight nod in answer, to captivated by the woman in front of him. 

Seonghwa carefully approached the human and put his hand on her shoulder, applying a bit of pressure to turn her toward him. (Y/n) was surprised both by the action but also by the handsome face she was now only mere centimeters from. The deep brown eyes of this man also shifted into a purple color, making the human gasp. Seonghwa shivered from the feeling of experiencing the first look at his final soulmate. The vampire quickly gathered himself though, shaking away the lovesick feeling that had made San freeze. The purple color in his eyes slowly faded back to brown only to shift into a glowing red. Seonghwa looked deep into (Y/n)’s eyes before he whispered: Sleep. (Y/n) immediately felt drowsy as her legs grew even weaker and her eyelids grew heavy, before she knew it she faded into unconsciousness. Seonghwa captured her body as she fell asleep. “Let’s go to the others,” San had finally managed to shake away the shock and could finally move and think freely again. 

The two vampires didn’t make it far before their six other soulmates approached them with questioning looks as they noticed the unconscious woman in Seonghwa’s arms. “Boys, let me introduce you to our soulmate,” Mingi gasped loudly while Wooyoung shouted out of joy. Yunho and Jongho looked at each other with happy smiles as Hongjoong and Yeosang both only looked down at the woman. No one said anything more as they simply walked to their van, bringing the human with them to their home. 

When (Y/n) woke up she could barely recall anything from the night before. Her memory felt foggy, she remembered walking home from uni but somewhere in the middle of the walk, everything turned black. The bed she was sleeping on was unfamiliarly soft and big. (Y/n) sat up and tried to shake off the sleepiness to focus on her surroundings. She quickly realized that this was not her bedroom nor any room in her apartment nor was it any of her friend’s homes. Hell, this room was pretty much as big as her entire apartment. (Y/n) looked around for her phone as quietly as she could but to no avail, she couldn’t find it anywhere. 

“She’s awake,” Yeosang said as he walked into the kitchen where the other seven vampires were gathered. “Earlier than usual,” Yunho pointed out. “It might not have been as effective because of the mating bond,” Seonghwa responded, usually when he used his gift of absolute command the effect wouldn’t subside for at least 12 hours, especially not the sleep command. Yet this time, it had only worked for about 8 hours. “That’s most likely it, the mating bond is known to mess with the effectiveness of gifts,” Hongjoong said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Should we go meet her?” Mingi asked, quite excited to finally meet the missing piece of their bond. “Yeah, let’s go,” Jongho said excitedly. “Come on, I really want to see her,” Wooyoung whined, he was ready to break down the door just to see her. “Let’s do it,” Hongjong said, as the leader he was the one to have the final say on most decisions they made, though sometimes Seonghwa as the oldest would be the one in charge, it depended on the situation. 

The eight vampires walked toward the room in which (Y/n) was still trying to find her phone. She didn’t stop searching until she heard the door creaking as it opened. (Y/n) turned toward the door coming to face eight unfamiliar men, six out of these men caught her attention one by one as their eyes slowly blossomed from brown to purple. This awakened a memory from the prior night, brown eyes turning purple, she also faintly remembered something red too. It took her a few moments until everything came back to her. Walking home, seeing the alley being lit up, hearing a gunshot, screams, running, facing two of these eight men before becoming unconscious and waking up in the unfamiliar room. 

Hongjoong, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho were all overcome with the euphoric feeling of meeting their soulmate. Seonghwa was the first to step into the room, a kind smile grazed his lips as he tried to make the human feel less scared. “I apologize about all of this, what happened yesterday and us barging in like this. All of it will make sense in a few moments if we may explain it to you,” He stopped speaking for a second, clearly indicating that he expected an answer from (Y/n) to his half-question-half-statement. (Y/n) didn’t dare deny it so she simply nodded her head. “Good, my name is Seonghwa, and you remember San from last night, the red-haired one is Wooyoung, the tall blonde one is Mingi, the other tall one is Yunho, the buff one is Jongho, this is Hongjoong our leader, and finally we have our handsome Yeosang. What is your name?” 

“I’m (Y/n),” (Y/n) couldn’t help but notice the fangs that protruded from Seonghwa’s mouth as he smiled and spoke. Eyes that turn purple and red, super speed or something like it, making me fall asleep just like that, fangs, soulmate… What kind of freaky fantasy book have I fallen into? Are they vampires? No way, right? “(Y/n), what a beautiful name,” Yunho said as he smiled brightly, showing his fangs which only confirmed (Y/n)’s delusional thought. “Are you vampires or am I going crazy?” They all chuckled at (Y/n)’s question, a little surprised that she had put it together so quickly. 

“You are correct, we are, indeed, vampires. And you dear (Y/n), are our soulmate,” Wooyoung said as he sent a wink her way as well as a beautiful smile, a smile that revealed yet another set of fangs to the human. (Y/n) just nodded before she turned her back to the men, counting her fingers to try and see if she was dreaming but she found 10 fingers confirming she was awake. She turned back to the alleged vampires. “Please explain all of this in detail because I still think I am asleep,” After a lengthy explanation and discussion on how they were vampires and what a soulmate meant with more. The nine soulmates began their relationship that would continue for eternity as (Y/n), even though she is human, was gifted immortality to be able to accompany her soulmates forever. 

[cheeseplants]

Fic: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far Chap 2 & 3

I posted Chap 2 on Wed, but in case you missed it - here is 2 & 3.

Crowley is off to make some trouble in tge village of Whickber, and Aziraphale does not know what to do when a tall dark attractive man marches into his bookshop. Not that he is looking at him like that.

Read Chap 2

Read Chap 3

Start here

Excerpt from Chap 3

He couldn’t help his eyes flicking from one piece to the next, wondering what kind of person collects all this until his eyes landed on a blonde man hidden behind an ancient Globe that probably still showed several countries that no longer existed.

The man was reading, and didn’t even flinch when Crowley walked towards the counter at the front of the shop. He was wearing a faded cardigan, a tartan bowtie, and his hair was a shock of white blonde that beamed brightly against the dark mahogany of the bookshelves. He seemed utterly still, with a pair of hornrimmed glasses on his head, absorbed thoroughly in a book, with a pile of others next to him. 

Aziraphale’s aesthetic appeared to have not changed in the last 200 years, despite the fact he was clearly around the same age as Crowley. One of those eccentric types who pretends they are from another age. He walked up to the till, and jammed his finger on a bell on the counter.

Aziraphale didn’t budge, barely looking up from his book. Crowley jammed it harder, and peered around the corner to see if there was any movement, still nothing.

Finally, he slammed his hand down with a piercing ring and yelled “Oi, you.” 

Aziraphale startled, peering up to meet Crowley’s gaze, he sighed, taking his time to put in a bookmark and placing the book he was reading carefully on a side table next to him. He stood up, and patted the tops of his cream-coloured slacks, before walking towards the counter. 

Crowley saw him properly now, and had to admit, there was something rather charming about him. The way his light blonde curls flickered under the warm lights of the bookshop, his back romrod straight and his hands clapsed in front of his soft stomach. Aziraphale was a long way from the type of people Crowley hung around with in London, and an even longer way from his family that were scattered around these parts. 

It was as if he had fallen directly out of a Charles Dickens novel, and looking around Crowley thought that he couldn’t imagine him looking any different in this setting. In fact, Crowley started to wonder how out of place he looked here in his sleek black jeans and spiked red hair. His mind went back to his cousin Beez, who he could never imagine stepping foot into a place like this.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel this bookshop gave off a similar sense of those teenage memories he had of the cottage. Rustic, old, comforting, like being wrapped in a large blanket and being handed a cup of cocoa. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale stood in front of him, his shoulders stiff. 

“If it isn't Aziraphale,” Crowley said, ignoring the rumble that staring directly into Aziraphale’s sharp blue or was it green eyes seem to cause, probably those six shots of expresso.

“And you are?” Aziraphale’s eyes darted towards the door.

“Crowley, ‘member? I phoned you about the cottage.”

“Oh, Mr. Crowley, yes,” Aziraphale said slowly, shifting his feet slightly, as if he was desperate to bolt at any moment.

“Just Crowley.” He leaned forward on the counter and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Look. I guess you know why I’m here.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “I am afraid I have absolutely no idea.”

“I was thinking that you might know something about these plans to knock down my aunt’s… my cottage.” 

“What makes you think that?” Aziraphale’s body tensed, and his knuckles whitened, dents forming in the curve of where he fingers dug into the skin of his hands. 

“You’re on the Council, aren’t you? Surely it is part of your civic duty to share what you know with interested residents?”

“Resident? You moved here?”

“Well, it was your idea.” Crowley smirked. 

“It was nothing of the sort,” Aziraphale’s voice raised, and then he lowered it again. “I do hope you are not going to involve me in any of your ideas, whatever they are.”

“Ideas? Who said anything about ideas? I am merely a resident enjoying living in a run-down cottage, which so happens to be in the way of some awful office complex that personally I don’t think you are a fan of.”

The silence between them was deafening.

“I…” Aziraphale shifted again, “What makes you say that?”

“Call it a hunch,” Crowley said. He was beginning to enjoy watching this man squirm on his feet, it was frankly adorable. He blinked and watched Aziraphale’s bright blue-green eyes looking up at him. “Ngk. Erm. So come on? What the Hell is going on?”

“It’s an office building project. We’re encouraging new businesses to the area.”  Aziraphale’s voice was flat.

“You sound so thrilled.”

“I told you, I don’t have to agree with the plans to go forward with them.”

“I see.”

“I am not helping you.”

“Fine, I’ll find another way.”

“Fine.” 

“Nice bookshop by the way.”

“Oh… thank you.”

Thanks as always to @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon & @happynachohologram for the beta!

@goodomensafterdark

[bettsfic]

Hi!

I was wondering how do you elevate or better flesh out a very vague premise (e.g. A man falls in love with his boss). But there are many ways to take vague ideas like this and it’s hard to make it more.

there are really only two paths: the easy, long road; and the hard, fast road. on extremely rare occasion you may hit the jackpot and find an easy, fast road, but in my experience that is like winning the lottery.

the easy, long road:

you write the idea down somewhere. you let it incubate for a really long time. you have faith in the universe that all the pieces will begin to click into place until you go, "i've got it," and start writing.

i call that moment "ignition." when your vague "what am i even trying to write" idea clicks into "wait wait wait, i'm onto something here" and your brain starts churning out ideas for scenes and plot points.

there can be a lot of false starts, where you try to shoehorn your vague idea into another vague idea and see if they make a less vague idea, but sometimes that doesn't work. you may also start working on something else and realize you're unconsciously writing that vague idea you had 3 years ago. but overall it's a passive process. you have to wait for specificity to find you.

the hard, short road:

you write the idea down somewhere. you stare at it until you get a headache, and then you take some ibuprofen and stare at it some more. using the "ignition" metaphor, this is like your car not starting so you just keep turning the engine until it either starts or you flood it.

if you brute force your vague idea, you can potentially ruin it for yourself, but if you're motivated to take this path, i think your first step is to get out a notebook and start brainstorming. if the premise is "a man falls in love with his boss," write a list of industries where they might work. then circle a few of them and start researching those industries to see if you can find a nugget of information that clicks with your idea until you get some kind of conflict churning.

if you can't find anything, you make more lists. list out potential endings, plot points, inciting incidences. character traits and arcs. countries, cities. for every item of every list, make a list of possibilities. if this, then this and this. if that, then that and that. and you go on and on and on until you maybe have enough to get some words down.

an example:

my sister, a copywriter, started doing social media for a welding school. she told me she was learning a lot about welding and that i should write a story about a welding teacher. this school specifically is one of the best in the country, and my sister said something to the effect of, "people come from all over the country to live in this shithole town for six months. that seems like an interesting story."

in my A4 rhodia, on december 19, 2023, i wrote,

story of welding teacher at best welding school in the country

lonely ISTP casey affleck kinda guy (that was my sister's idea; she meant it in a derogatory way)

being taken care of by his grandmother?

all i had was "welder" kind of in the back of my head. fast forward to earlier this month, watching season 3 of the Bad Batch and having a lot of feelings about Crosshair's shakey hands (i've also developed a tremor in my hands).

and then i thought, a welder whose hands begin shaking. that's a conflict, that's an inciting incident. his whole career might be in jeopardy.

i wrote this paragraph:

He'd never admitted to his wife that he wanted kids. They didn’t have any, though, for the same reason he never became a farmer—he didn’t want to raise something just to see it slaughtered. Who knew what kind of war the country would cook up in eighteen years? Turn of the century, sending kids out to god knows where, just the right number of years from Vietnam that everyone would’ve forgotten it, the way that by Vietnam they’d forgotten Korea.

i managed to weave this general idea into the bigger plot of a novel i started a long time ago, and it reignited my interest in that project, and now i'm feeling really good that this 200k monstrosity i thought i would just throw away now might have some potential, more importantly some focus, all because of a vague idea i wrote down months ago.

[sugolara]

Hushed secrets

ft. K.B x S.T x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

previous || series m.list || next

A week ago

The gates with overgrown vines wrapped around nourishing with life, squeaked open. The older brother held it open for his little brother to enter before closing it behind him. Through the cracks of the vines, he looked down the road, making sure he hadn’t been followed by Tomura or his men. The last thing he wanted was for Tomura to discover the small apartment building he kept hidden. It was his personal space where he tried to relax and where he hid items that would ensure his departure. It’s also where he hid what Tomura desperately wanted.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a small apartment before.” Shoto said, eyeing the six homes as he stood in the narrow hallway where a stair was built, “It could easily be made into one big home.”

“They all have one bedroom.” Dabi marched forward to the staircase, “In case you haven’t noticed, only poor people used to live in this area. Unlike us, they had to suffer the weight of hunger and poverty. Thanks alot, Enji.”

Ignoring his last comment, Shoto could definitely see that the area wasn’t for luxurious people. Most of the buildings around them didn’t look as nice as the ones that surrounded his home. Even if it weren’t for the wilderness taking over, the homes would have been long destroyed back in the past. Dismissing what his father most likely created, Shoto followed after Dabi, “It’s kind of cramped…What’s even here?”

Entering the second floor, Dabi headed for a home placed in the back. The busted door let out a soft squeak as he opened it, “Everything that you need is here…Watch your step, there’s rats in here.”

A quiet gasp left Shoto’s lips as he looked below where a rather big rat scurried by. Lips twisting in disgust and skin crawling he quickly proceeded forward. Despite the building looking in terrible condition, the inside was rather nice. He wasn’t sure if it was Dabi who redecorated the place as the curtains and furniture looked to be completely clean. Along with those were potted plants, frames of random people, computers, and candles around the room. Even a bowl of fake fruit was placed on the kitchen table, but what caught his different colored eyes was a fake Gentiana Scabra placed by the window in a vase that was too big for it.

The flower was always their mother’s favorite.

Blinking, Dabi dropped his rifle on the table, the loud noise catching Shoto’s attention. He then walked to the desk where a computer that no longer worked resided. Underneath the desk he removed a cloth that rested above a box of documents. Pulling out, he grabbed the box before heading back to the couch where he sat and shortly after Shoto did too.

Picking a file from the box, Shoto skimmed through the papers with words in a small format and countless big paragraphs of information, “This was all in father’s office?”

Dabi shook his head, grabbing a file for himself, “Some of them belonged to him, but others were from that community we were first held in. I think some of them belong to his co-workers. I don’t really know, I just grabbed what I could.”

The papers were beginning to wear down as it wasn’t as white as it was supposed to. Instead, the pages were of shades of yellow and beige, “How did you manage to get your hands on these? Wouldn’t Tomura have stripped you of your belongings? That’s what he did to me.”

“I went back.” He responded, ignoring his brother snapping his head at him with eyes as wide as an owl, “The second I got his trust, which wasn’t long, I went back to see if anything was there.”

“But,” Shoto looked back down, wondering if he had to see Enji, Rei, Natsuo and Fuyumi’s corpses. He shook the thought, “It’s a long way from here. Wouldn’t Tomura have wondered where you went?”

Dabi shrugged as he sorted the papers, “He had someone go with me. I told him some bullshit story and he believed it. Didn’t find much but these and a few rations, a couple of guns too. The place was a shit storm, especially with the dead crawling everywhere.”

He spared him from saying he did actually see their family's corpses. Withering away with grass and flowers growing on them. If Tomura’s men weren't there, he would have prepared a burial though just for his mother, his brother and sister. Enji was nowhere seen in sight, only his shirt he last wore was there but it was lying next to a rotter with its stomach bulging.

When he didn’t see Shoto it gave Dabi hope that he had managed to escape and was still alive. Month after month did Shoto cross his mind despite their strained relationship. The pure shock and heavy heart he felt when he saw his little brother standing with his friends was real. It was there even when he took care of Shoto in the small cold room.

“Do you know what this means though?” Shoto asked, setting one paper down and grabbing another, “All I keep seeing is Patient Z, virus, cannibalism, and Keigo Takami. Nothing about other sanctuaries.”

“I never said that I knew anything about other places.” He rolled his eyes, yanking the paper Shoto held before replacing a map in his hand, “Why do you think I told you to go back to Musutafu? If someone hasn’t already invaded our home, which I doubt, then all of Enji’s information would be there.”

“Okay, but what makes you so sure that he left all of his stuff home? What if what we were holding right now is everything father has?” Shoto looked at him, “What then?”

Dabi glared at him, “Look at the damn map.”

Shoto silently huffed, looking down at it even though he didn’t quite understand it, “Fine.”

“Even if what we're looking at is all Enji has, there are other homes you need to go to.” Dabi sat back reading a document, “The map has circled towns you need to be. It's where Enji’s co-workers live. There's a Musutafu map on the table so you know which streets to take.”

His eyes wandered all over the map. Then he remembered something, “Do you think I can tell this to someone?”

“No.” Dabi quickly responded, crossing his arms and getting into a comfortable position, steadily closing his eyes.

“Why?” Shoto glanced at him, “If someone else were to know then things would go smoothly. From what you’re saying, there's somewhere else that holds humans in a safe environment without being afraid of dying. Do you realize how important this is? How many people won’t have to go to die? The human population wouldn't go extinct.”

“And who is it you possibly want to tell?” Dabi flicked an eye open to glare at him, “Your teachers? Your friends? Or that girl you’re always thinking about?”

“What difference does it make?” Shoto glared at him, “I know my friends and I trust the-”

“You clearly forgot about how things work now.” He continued to glare at him, “The only reason I’m telling you isn’t because I trust you. As much as of an air or thick headed you are you have no reason to go about being enemies with me. You don’t have a mindset like I or people like Tomura do. You can’t trust even if you think you do.”

He closed his, “Now read the damn documents and wake me up once you’re done.”

Shoto rolled his eyes as he glanced back down, placing the map away and grabbing a different document. It’s true that Shoto doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Dabi doesn’t trust him? Now that's something Shoto thinks is a big fat lie. Anything that comes out of Dabi’s mouth, regarding Shoto will always be a lie. It's clear Dabi doesn’t know him like before, because once he gets back to Sorston, with or without his brother, the first person he’d say anything to is the one in charge of the community; Nezu. The small yet sharp male knew things and would always be one step ahead. He’d be the best one to speak this to.

Then, he’d go to F/n. Not just because of the feelings he had for her, but because she mentioned something about ships. Something he dismissed and thought of as silly. Either way, if it meant that humanity could be restored then he wasn’t going to keep quiet. It may seem like Dabi’s only speaking of this to anger Tomura, but deep down in his dark plague heart, he only wanted his little brother safe.

“...Also…” Shoto moved his eyes towards Dabi, who kept his eyes closed. “I’ll be leaving in a bit.”

“Where?” Shoto asked, looking back to the papers in his hands. He didn’t realize Dabi had opened his eyes and his hands were clenched in a tight fist. Heartbeat spiking, the older male stared at the ceiling before moving towards the window where he could see the flower. He knows that once he steps out those doors there is no going back. Whatever happened next is only for him to blame.

He didn’t care if Shoto would hate him in the near future after his disappearance or death. Shoto was old enough to take care of himself and he didn’t need anyone. Shoto didn’t need Dabi to continue in this world. Shoto needed to realize that whatever happened next, he would be on his own, just like he was taught to do so. He knows he’ll end up dying, but as long as Shoto has what he needs to get out of Japan, Dabi couldn’t care because he already lived his nightmare, torture life.

It was ashamed to go out this way, but like everyone else, he was done. Dabi was exhausted, “On a run.”

“Can I go?” Shoto asked, flipping through the next page as Dabi spoke. “No. You finish that and sleep before we head out to Musutafu.”

To know Dabi was leaving with him felt reassuring and it did cause a small smile to reach Shoto’s lips, “Okay.”

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirteen

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

genre: angst/neutral

el's thoughts: this... is the "official" final part of the series! thank you so so much for all the love and support y'all have given me! i left the ending in a place where i can always come back and pick it up if i wanted to. so with that being said, please enjoy this part! i hope you like it as much as i loved writing it! please remember to reblog and comment :)

masterlist

Nikolai leaned heavily on Toyla while Tamar walked on his other side, both siblings leading him to a place to sit. The crows followed silently behind the group of three, watching the other soldiers carry their dead.

“Long may the night carry our souls until the dawn renews us.” Toyla said as he helped the young king sit on a wooden crate. 

“Rabinov. Canto Seventeen.” Kaz spoke, leaning forward on his cane. 

Toyla smiled, “Seems we both share an appreciation for life’s beauty.”

Nikolai let out a soft groan when he put some of his weight on his wounded shoulder. Tamar placed her hand on his back, “Are you okay?”

“A moment of sun before we deal with our losses.”  The blonde stared blankly in front of him. “Dominik…��� He cut himself off as he felt emotions rising in his throat at the thought of the loss of his best friend. 

“He did exactly what any of us would have done for each other. For you.” Tamar’s voice held nothing but conviction as she spoke. 

The group's attention was taken away from each other when they noticed five people walking into their camp. Alina lead the group while Mal followed behind everyone. Nina stopped at the line of dead soldiers and stood in her place with a distant look in her eyes. Y/N froze in her steps a few paces before the heartrender, lost in her own mind as she observed the people around her. Kaz stared at her with a flash of concern in his piercing eyes. Nikolai watched the small, nearly unnoticeable interaction with slight interest before he saw Inej hand the blade to Alina. 

Alina ran off to find Mal and before Inej walked over to the other crows she turned to Y/N. She held her hand out to call her over causing the inferni to smile softly to herself. She followed the suli girl a few paces behind her finally looking over the rest of their crew. Kaz watched her intently, waiting for her to make eye contact finally and when she did neither was brave enough to break it. A strong sense of longing filled Y/N’s chest but she held her ground, only nodding at the man before going over to Nikolai and the twins. 

“And Kirigan?” Nikolai asked. 

“Dead.” Y/N’s voice was cold and emotionless as she avoided looking into their eyes. “Zoya is protecting the body. Alina wants it burned.”

A wave of unspoken relief washed over the trio seated before her.

The young king rose to his feet and faced the crows. “Thank you. My country might have been sunk if you hadn’t arrived.” His lips formed a faint smirk, “Again.” 

“We’ll settle those thanks in gold.” 

Y/N’s eyes only lifted from the ground in front of her at the sound of Kaz’s gravelly voice.

Tamar and Toyla helped Nikolai limp away with Nadia and her brother following the trio. 

“He’s right, you know. We do have our adventures. We should hire a writer to jot down our story.” As Jesper spoke, Wylan moved to stand next to Kaz while Y/N stayed seated on the wooden crates.

“What will we call it?” The zemini continued. “The four charming rouges of Ketterdam. Yes.” He smiled to himself with pride. 

“There’s six of us.” Kaz said quietly as he glanced between Nina and Y/N.”

Jesper snapped his fingers, “Right. Six of cro-”

~

Y/N stood with Nina and the horse’s stroking their manes while leaning her head against one of their necks. She heard the muffled sound of Kaz’s cane coming towards them and she swiftly moved behind the horses so she wouldn’t have to see him directly.

“You might be a Saint now.” Kaz said to Nina. “Bringing someone back from the dead.”

“I wish I could take credit. Wasn’t me. She’s the real Saint.” They both turned to look at Alina talking with Nikolai.

“Once the world stops looking at her with gratitude, they’ll start to wonder if she's outstayed her welcome. That’ll be dangerous.” Kaz’s words caused Y/N's mind to run wild with uncontrollable thoughts. How were the people to react once they saw her for what she truly was? Where was she supposed to stay if she had to ture home? Her whole existence’s purpose was to protect grisha, at least that’s what Kirigan told her. She was to be a shield for those too weak to make their own. She was trained to willingly sacrifice herself over and over again. She didn’t know a life without that mentality.

“She may be the first person I’ve met who is both of the two most dangerous types in this world.” Nina’s voice shook her from her thoughts. 

“And which two are those?” Kaz asked. 

“Those defending their happily ever after. And those who don’t know how to find their way to one.” The heartrender spoke while watching him expectantly.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” He diverted. 

“I can't make peace with this place. I’m not giving up on my happily ever after.” Nina shook her head, “I’ll claw my way to one. If he’ll let me.”

Kaz’s eyes moved past Nina to the pair of boots standing behind one of the horses before looking back at the girl in front of him. “Let me help you.”

Y/N smiled softly to herself at the sound of determination in his voice. Proud of the small bit of care for his friends breaking through his walls. 

~

The heat was scorching as they all stood around Kirigan’s body that laid on a bed of firewood. Y/N extended her hand from where she stood and lit the two torches where they laid in their basket. She stood next to Zoya with Genya and Alina next to them. The crows stood behind the girls while Nikolai and his soldiers stood on the stone steps in front of everyone. 

Kaz stood directly behind the inferni, everything in his being screamed to place a hand of comfort on her shoulder but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he was left to watch in affliction as her shoulders visibly tensed beneath her uniform, her hands clenched and unclenched at the sight of the Darkling’s body before her. The man who caused her mental and emotional pain for years before she was able to escape. Before Kaz was able to do everything in his power to keep her safe and out of harm's way the best he could. 

“You go.” Alina spoke to Zoya and Genya. “You both have every right.”

Zoya lit the bed of firewood first, her eyes never leaving the Darkling’s pale face as she tossed the torch next to his feet. Genya then walked forward and lit the wood next to his head, making sure the fire caught before turning and handing the torch to Alina. 

“No grave. Nothing left.” Alina spoke as she stood before the body. “Goodbye, Aleksander.” She threw the torch onto him and walked back to stand beside Genya. 

Y/N moved her hands subtly twirled her fingers to spread the fire over the bed of wood while Nikolai walked down the steps.

“Today is a new beginning.” The young king started his speech. “For all of Ravka. Hell, for our whole world. It’s a bit daunting, isn't it? Knowing where to go from here.” He looked at the four girls at the front of the group, Alina and Genya holding hands while Y/N and Zoya stood beside each other like soldiers. “We’ve had a singular focus for so long. So much blood has been shed. After hundreds of years separated by the Fold, we can celebrate a unified Ravka. Our neighbors to the North will see us united and will aim to strike. But often it’s not the battle that takes the most from us. It’s the aftermath. The chance to put the pieces of our lives back together.” He focused his attention on Y/N, the girl holding eye contact with him. “When a Phoenix rises for the ashes, it is not the same. But in that rebirth, is potential. Potential for a new purpose.” 

Y/N turned her head down to stare at her sandy boots. Hyperawear of Kaz’s lingering eyes on the back of her head.

“Thanks for what Alina has done for us,” Nikolai continued. “We all have a chance to better the world now that the Fold is gone. Above all, you must trust. Trust in each other. In yourselves. Trust in the fact that this is the start of better days to come. And it won’t be easy, of course. Nothing is.” He looked around the group of soldiers and thieves. “I had hoped to end that on a more uplifting note, but here we are.”

The crows all walked away, glancing back at Y/N every-so-often as she stood with her eyes glazed over while she stared at the charred body of General Kirigan.

Alina wrapped her arm around Genya and looked to the other two girls silently asking them to come closer. Zoya stepped first and reached her hand out to Y/N, drawing her into her side. Nikolai watched the four girls with an ache in his chest but a slight smile on his lips before he too followed the rest of the group. Leaving them there to have their final moments alone. 

~

Y/N sat with her hand’s clasped in front of her on her knees. Her eyes were closed as her lips moved in a silent prayer. She prayed for her country and the road ahead of them they’d have to pave. She prayed for her old friends and new found friends. For them to find peace and happiness in every step forward from now on. 

The last of her prayers fell from her lips when she heard soft footsteps down the hall followed by the unmistakeable clicking of her favorite cane. She closed her eyes and bit back her smile when she felt him walk into the small chapel room.

“Lantsov paid up.” Kaz said. “Everyone will get their cut.”

“I didn’t do this for the money, Brekker.” Y/N replied, her eyes still focused on the stained glass portrait of Alina. She sighed when he didn’t say anything. “And Nina?”

“She’ll receive a pardon for deserting and another for her Fjerdan.” The inferni looked back at him, his eyes not meeting her as he updated her. “As long as he stays out of trouble, the charges will be dropped.”

She nodded and faced forward once again, opening her mouth to say something then quickly decided against it and bit her tongue.

“I also…” Kaz cleared his throat. “Wanted to say goodbye.”

Y/N felt her eyes glaze over as she turned to look at him, “I didn’t think you were the sentimental type.” Her smile faded when he didn’t say anything, his eyes avoiding her at all costs. “Who said I wasn’t going back to Ketterdam? I have to say… That city has grown on me.”

“Ravka is your home. You and I both know that you need to stay. Your country still needs you, Y/L/N. They’ll need someone to help lead, not a king, not a sun Saint. They’ll need a strong soldier.”

Y/N turned away from him quickly, blinking back her tears. That was the last thing she hoped to hear. How she still had to keep fighting for her country, for the people who hadn't done much for her in return. She couldn’t go back with the people who had shown her true kindness. Not yet anyway.

She swallowed hard before speaking, “I know this won’t mean much to you… but I pray for him. For the person who you once were. And you.”

“I don’t want your prayers.”

“What do you want then?” 

Kaz stared at her as she looked down at her hand and twisted her fingers together. And all at once, that familiar sense of longing settled in his stomach. What did he want? For her to let go of her morals and values just to come back to Ketterdam with him? For her to be one of his crows or something more? To be able to see her everyday in the normalcy of the Barrel. To have everyday conversations with her. To get to know her better than anyone has ever tried. For her to trust him just as he felt he could trust her. What did he want? Her.

“To die, buried under the weight of my own gold.” His mind screamed at him for lying. For lying to her of all people.

Y/N chuckled humorlessly, “More money. More scores to settle.” With a deep breath she rose to her feet and walked closer to him. Her actions startled him for a split second. “Was there never another dream?” His lack of response caused her to nod and start walking past him. 

The sudden urge to reach out for her washed over Kaz so strongly he finally gave in. His gloved hand clasped around her wrist. “Stay.”

She froze at the feeling of the leather on her skin, the air leaving her lungs in a gasp. 

“Stay in Ketterdam.” He choked out the words. “Stay with…” He couldn’t finish  his thought as she turned around to face him. 

She smiled softly as she looked at their hands “What would be the point?” She moved her hands to hold his one in both of hers. “We both don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into yet, and that’s okay. You’re not ready and… I might not be either.” She let out a sigh. “You have a kingdom of your own back in Ketterdam to run and I have a country to help run. We… We have jobs to do, you said so yourself. But-” She finally brought her eyes up to his and licked her lips in thought as her mind ran over her next words. “But if you’re also willing and the Saints above see it fit… I’ll wait. For you. I’ll be here waiting for you whenever you’re ready. I will have you, Kaz Brekker, when you’re ready. That’s my promise to you.” She smiled one last time up at him before letting go of his hand and walking out of the chapel room.

Kaz continued to stare where she once stood and gave in to the slight quirk of his lips. When he’s ready. That was something he could live with.

~*~*~

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