#so it's not like i growl and start imploding

[badcaninecemetery]

i hate the headcanon that overhaul has tattoos, to be honest. (read tags)

Tell me a bnha character headcanon that you LOVE and/or a bnha character headcanon that you HATE.

[mystra-midnight]

4 Minutes

summary: each second felt like a doomsday clock counting down, the ominous tick-tock reverberating in his mind, echoing the moment's urgency. ten seconds to midnight, and then his world would implode.

warnings: 18+ only. dom!logan. stripper!reader. quickie. spanking. name calling: (slut, whore). some dirty talk was thrown in for good measure.

words: 1.9k

notes: i am still not sorry. not one bit. dedicated to the lovely @keigohawks who has been letting me live and scream in their dms the entire time i've been writing this. thank you my love <3

Four minutes.

That was all the time he had. Each second felt like a doomsday clock counting down, the ominous tick-tock reverberating in his mind, echoing the moment's urgency. Ten seconds to midnight, and then his world would implode. Logan wasn't merely waiting for it; he was hurtling toward it with the speed of a freight train. His heart pounded inside his chest with enough force that he swore he heard his ribcage breaking. The burn of adrenaline through his veins was like fire, scorching him from the inside out. 

Just four mother-fucking minutes.

He didn't mind, not really. As much as he grumbled and groaned, if this was how his world was going to end, then it was a pretty good way to go—with your pussy stretched around his aching cock, swallowing every inch of him over and over again, and your slick dripping from his balls.

The room was thick with the scent of sex and cigarettes, a heady, intoxicating mixture that clung to the air and invaded his senses. The dim lighting cast long shadows on the walls, barely illuminating the space. Still, it was enough to capture the intensity etched onto your features. Your teeth were sunk deeply into your plump lower lip, a futile attempt to stifle the pleasure-laced moans that threatened to escape from your chest. Your brows knitted together in a blend of ecstasy, a slow burn igniting in your thighs and spreading like wildfire through your body.

You were starting to get tired; he could tell from the shift in your movements, changing from an energetic bounce on his cock to the slow, deliberate roll of your hips. Your exhaustion was inevitable, for you didn't have his stamina nor the healing factor that kept him at his peak. Yet each languid sway of your hips spoke volumes: you were determined to continue despite the fatigue creeping into your muscles.

Logan grabbed your arse with both hands, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he took two greedy handfuls to steady you. He thrust upward into you, using his impressive strength to guide you up and down his thick cock. Everything about the moment was hasty, from the way he touched you to the way he fucked you—there was no time for finesse. His trousers were shoved down to his knees; your panties pulled to the side so he could sheath himself in your warm, tight pussy; your skimpy top somewhere on the floor, long since abandoned.

"Oh, god," you moaned, voice etched with pleasure when his lips found yours for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. His fingers pressed harder into your skin, the strength of his grip certain to leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew the marks wouldn't be good for business; you couldn't afford to be on stage looking like the victim of a slasher film.

Men didn't like it when their women were bruised.

And yet, caught up in the heat of the moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care—not when his cock was plunging deep inside you, hitting that spot with a mix of sweet agony. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, overriding any concerns about tomorrow's performance.

His canines dug into your lower lip, the sharp sting blending beautifully with the pleasure coursing through you. His palm cracked loudly against your arse, the impact sending a jolt through your blood, making your flesh jiggle and your walls tighten around him.

"Ride, girl," he growled, his voice a low warning that crawled up his throat and onto your tongue. His lip curled into a positively feral expression you couldn't help but admire, even in the throes of passion.

You whined softly, your eyes lifting to meet his as you clung to him as though your life depended on it. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails tearing at the worn leather of his jacket. Your tits were pressed tightly against his chest, hardened nipples brushing against the defined muscles beneath his shirt. Despite the barrier of his clothing, you knew he was well-built; you'd felt the firm contours of his body when you'd pushed your hands beneath his shirt to fumble with his belt.

"Logan," you breathed his name so softly, so breathlessly, and so fucking prettily.

You were a flame, and he was but a moth drawn to you.

The world seemed to dissolve into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a lover's embrace. The soft hum of the music had long since faded into mere background noise, insignificant compared to the intensity between you two. Your breaths mingled in the heated air, your bodies moving together in a desperate, urgent rhythm that spoke of an uncontainable desire. The way Logan consumed your world was almost overwhelming, his presence filling every corner of your mind until nothing else mattered.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as you kissed him, your tongue exploring the depths of his mouth with a hunger that bordered on ravenous. Each delicious sound he made was like ambrosia to your starved soul, quenching a thirst you hadn't realised was so deep. You felt his cock twitch within your slick walls. Logan's hands gripped your arse, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to maintain a gruelling pace, driving you down onto him despite the burn that was building in your thighs.

His strength was intoxicating, arousing in a way that made your pulse race. You loved how his hands felt on your body, how his biceps bulged beneath the leather of his jacket, radiating an unmistakable power. He could break you if he wanted to, could fuck you like a plaything, but instead, he coveted you with a fierce desire.

"You'd better make me cum, bub, or they're going to see us like this."

His pace remained steady and unhurried by the moment's urgency. Yet the way he spoke, how his words were coated in smug male confidence, made your pulse quicken. You responded with a soft mewl, muffled as you kissed his neck, which only seemed to spur him on. Logan chuckled low and deep, the sound vibrating through you.

"Or is that what you want? Such a dirty fucking girl," he said, his voice thick with playful mockery. His hand landed on your arse, opened, palmed, hard enough to leave a perfect print of his palm. Your body jolted in response. It wasn't that you were embarrassed by the idea of being seen. On the contrary, Logan silently marvelled over how you seemed more comfortable in your own skin than he ever was in his.

But the thought of someone—one of the security guards, or worse, Vanessa or Wade—busting through the door at any moment was entirely different. The idea was mortifying yet so arousing that it left your head spinning.

He felt your slick heat drawing him in deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room as fresh moisture pooled between your thighs. His sharp senses picked up every detail, from the quickening of your breath to the pounding of your heart, which sounded like the thundering of horses' hooves, to the way your walls clenched around him with each thrust.

Logan revelled in it, his predatory instincts heightened by the knowledge that, at any moment, the door could swing open. The thought made his cock twitch inside you, driving him to thrust even harder, determined to bring you to that explosive peak before anyone could interrupt.

Your mind was a whirlwind of sensations, every nerve ending on fire as you rode the thin line between fear and ecstasy.  Logan's growl vibrated against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck as he murmured, "You like that, don't you? The thought of them walking in and seeing how perfectly you take my cock. Makes you even wetter, doesn't it?"

You couldn't deny it; the heat between your legs was proof enough–positively spine-tingling. Logan's pace shifted, becoming relentless, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your juices, and his low, primal growls filled the room, creating a symphony of raw desire.

"That's what you want, though, isn't it?" he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "You're a filthy slut who wants to be seen like this—taking every inch of my cock like the needy whore you are. Yeah, that's it. You're squeezing me like a fucking vice just thinking about it."

His words were raw and vulgar, cutting through the haze of pleasure he invoked. He gripped your arse firmly, spreading your cheeks wide as if to put you on full display, daring anyone who might walk through the door to witness the scene. The way he handled you was as possessive as it was degrading, leaving you teetering on the edge of humiliation and ecstasy.

"Please." The word fell from your lips like a desperate prayer, though you couldn't quite grasp what you were pleading for. It felt as if you were suspended on the edge of the world, teetering on the brink of something vast and eternal. Logan was the blade poised to cut the rope, to either set you free or send you spiralling into oblivion. "Logan, please."

You didn't know whether you were begging for mercy or more. Your soul cried out for one while your mind craved the other. It felt as if he had summoned a storm within your veins, a tempest that lashed at your insides, threatening to tear you apart in the most exquisite way. The wave of your impending orgasm loomed so close you could almost taste it, feel it beginning to tingle in your toes, a spark waiting to ignite into a wildfire.

It happened without warning, surging through you with all the force of a tidal wave. Your body trembled in his grasp as the sensation crashed over you. His lips pressed hard against yours, a possessive claim that left no room for escape. His tongue invaded the warm, wet cavern of your mouth with desperate hunger, plundering every inch as though he wanted to consume the very essence of you.

Every sound that escaped your throat was quickly swallowed, muffled and lost in the fierce heat of his kiss. It was as though Logan was determined to keep your cries from reaching the world outside that room, to make sure that only he could hear the sweet music of your pleasure.

The sheer force of your orgasm threatened to tear you from his embrace, but his grip was unyielding. The world outside faded away, becoming distant and insignificant as the storm within you raged. Every nerve in your body was on fire, a conflagration of sensation that left you shaking in his arms. But he held you tight, refusing to let go, his presence an anchor amid the chaos.

“That's it, bub. Cum for me, pretty girl, soak my fucking cock.”

His thrusts grew wilder, each more erratic than the last, as he chased his release with a raw and primal urgency. It was as if something within him snapped. His mind fogged over, his thoughts dissolving into a haze as his body tensed, every nerve igniting. With a final, powerful thrust, he drove deep inside you, filling you completely as he came, thick ropes of ivory cum spilling deep within you, coating your walls in a rush of warmth.

Had it not been for the way he held you so tightly, his lips claiming yours with such dominance, you would have screamed his name. But Logan silenced you with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that stole your breath away. As the final waves of pleasure coursed through your body, you clung to him, unwilling to let go even as a knock echoed through the door.

"Times up."

[god-demons]

Minors dni-

"Don't make a noise," Toji warns, stiff cock pressed against your backside.

"But we're in public-"

His hand clamps you around the mouth, muffling your next words.

"Didn't I just tell you?" He murmurs, giving you one hard thrust that almost sends you off your feet if not for the other arm wrapped around your ribs and keeping you steady.

Any other time he would spank you. Loud and leaving a red mark. The only positive of him fondling you on this train is that he can't sufficiently punish your insolence.

You learn you lesson and keep your mouth shut.

"You dressed like this today on purpose, didn't you?" He growls, pushing two thick fingers into your mouth, pressing them against the inside of your cheek and you try not to moan.

"Suck." He commands, and you do. Sucking noisily, running your tongue eagerly until they're slick with spit.

"You fucking tease." Toji removes his fingers with a pop, lowers them down before slipping them under the hem of your skirt. He pulls aside your panties with his thumb and rub them along your folds.

A small moan emits from his lips. He can feel your arousal already. How he has barely started and your body is already desperate for him.

"You knew I wouldn't be able to resist."

You know he's staring at you half lidded, like you're prey and he wants to devour you whole.

He doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath, your head barely wrapping around your current situation-

He thrusts hard. In one fell swoop he's knuckle deep inside you.

You cunt offers little resistance against his lubricated fingers. Even as he hastily stuffs them inside you, he knows exactly how to make you fall apart at the seams. Curling, crooking them against your g-spot over and over as you try to hold back a whimper.

You mouth stays silent but your body betrays you anyway.

Your pussy gushes at the contact, at the pleasure starting to spread, making you feel light headed and legs unsteady. You know you're wet, juices soaking his hand and beginning to trickle your thigh. Lewd sounds of your walls, swollen and squelching against Toji echoes down the carriage.

"So fucking needy," he laughs, drilling you harder and quicker, his own hips starting to rock in time with his movements. "Tell me you want my cock."

"I-I want your cock." You whimper, "I want you inside me."

"Good girl. Cum for me first." Tone cocky and arrogant because he knows that you will. You always do. You're helpless against him, that brute of a man. So you listen and you obey and desperately chase your orgasm.

Toji picks up the pace, free hand coming to squeeze your breast, roll your nipple between his thumb and finger.

"Cum for me and I promise I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

His fingers thrust relentlessly in and out, your juices splattering onto the floor as you feel your body starting to implode.

Toji curls his fingers one last time and you feel your cunt clamping down around him before finally-

Words spill out in a jumble as you climax. "Fuck, oh fuck! Toji! I'm cumming!"

Your eyes slam close and you're biting down hard enough on your lip to draw blood; pussy pulsating as you ride out the waves of bliss.

"So good," Tojis voice curls around you like sex drunk haze as you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling.

[cod-fishing]

When the 141 finally gets some leave, or even just a few days at one base, Ghost can sometimes go a little…overboard…during sex.

He just so rarely gets the chance to truly be alone with Soap. So often it’s quick kisses exchanged before they drop into a mission, good luck wishes from his lover pressed against the seam of his mask, or spit-lubed jerk off sessions while waiting in a shitty bunker for exfil. It’s not even that Ghost dislikes their messy, incredibly unprofessionally little tristes - quite the opposite. But Soap’s tongue on his balls while he stays in perfect sniper position doesn’t exactly inspire relaxation.

And so when he can relax - truly relax, with miles between him and the enemy, a secure enough lock to take his mask off, and access to real lube - he sometimes looses control.

It always starts with Soap below him.

And isn’t that alone just ecstasy. Johnny MacTavish, all his. Splayed out underneath him, strung out on pleasure and sweat and spit, moaning like he’s being payed for it. Soap’s voice, god, he’s always had a mouth on him, and when they’ve got the luxury of a door he doesn’t hold back. Ghost drinks it up, lapping his gasps and hitched breath out of the air, licking them from between his lips. He keeps his hands busy, running across sensitive ribs and over nipples, or notched up to the joint in Soap’s delicious little hole.

And Ghost has so much patience. So god damn much, he doesn’t even know where it comes from, some endless well in his soul that only Johnny can tap. He keeps him like that for what feels like days, floating in a little pool of pleasure.

Until he just snaps.

Fingers are ripped free of his lover, murmurs of praise traded for wordless growls. Suddenly, Soap is gasping for a new reason as Ghost flips him over, pulling his ass up and planting a crushing hand on his spine to keep him in place. He barely had the forethought to slick his cock before he’s forcing his way into Johnny’s slick, gummy heat. Arms come up around his chest to hold him in place, teeth sink into his vulnerable neck, and he sets about thoroughly ruining Johnny on his cock.

It’s not that he means to be so harsh to his lover. Despite his reputation, he never wants to harm Johnny, could never imagine it. But in these moments…it’s like his patience implodes and he just needs him.

All of him. Needs to be in him, surrounded by him, needs Johnny in every cell. It's an itch under his skin, a thrum of incesant desire, a fucking addiction.

When he feels Johnny clench around his cock, he can't even hear him anymore. All he can do is chase it, mixing their bodies and soul, licking Soap into his mouth, crushing him to his chest. It doesn't take long until finally, finally he releases into his lover, and whatever insanity that takes him is broken.

As he drifts back into the present, Johnny panting against his chest, he's always terrified. Terrified that he has hurt his Johnny, his sunshine. Short of breath himself, he runs his hands over him, grimacing at scratches and softly blooming bruises, but every time, Johnny just catches his hand.

Shut that brain off, Johnny slurs, half-way to sleep already. I loved it, I always do. Now turn the light off.

And Ghost is brought right back out of his over-active thoughts. He has plenty of time to worry about Soap being hurt. He doens't need to do it now, in the little haven of their love.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any fics where Stiles and Lydia are siblings? I've tried finding some but it's only vaguely mentioned and never talked about after that so I was wondering if you had or could find any fics where it focuses on that more

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

back again (for the first time) but hot_damn_louis (6/6 | 73,083 | Teen | Sterek) “There was a—” Stiles shook his head, unable to believe it himself, “— a ghost.”

It had been years since Stiles had seen a ghost with his own two eyes, and not through a fancy camera or on pictures. He saw it, the column of light, at the end of his bed. If he wasn’t frozen, scared to even move, he might have been able to stretch his leg out and kick it. He was that close to it. 

aka Stiles is house sitting with his sister Lydia for the summer on a farm in the middle of a ranch in Texas. And even though he's a retired ghost hunter, the rumors of the Mad Monk ghost on the Hale ranch are too enticing to stay away from.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (1/1 | 42,525 | Explicit | Sterek) “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds (1/1 | 39,618 | Not Rated | Sterek) When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest.

Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives.

Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

Studying the Blade by never_love_a_wild_thing (10/10 | 16,420 | Teen | Sterek) Figure Skater Derek Hale is going to the Olympics for the last time. Age and an old injury are finally starting to get the better of him, but a number of fresh faces on Team USA, or maybe one face in particular are enough to keep him going.

Stiles Stilinski and his sister Lydia are going to the Olympics for the first time. Between nerves and drama, he's worried that they may be in over their heads, but a veteran skater reluctantly takes them under his wing.

In other words: leave it to Sterek to fall in love in the middle of the Olympic Games.

Memories by idratherwrite (1/1 | 15,739 | Teen | Sterek & Lydia/Jackson) AKA, Lifestyles of the Rich and Oblivious

Rich cousins Derek and Jackson are ready to spend a summer sailing across the Mediterranean. Rich step-siblings Stiles and Lydia are planning to have a great summer traveling Europe on their yacht. Nothing goes as planned, but it gives Lydia and Jackson (and Theo, and Meredith) the perfect excuse to play some matchmaking.

I Need A Hero by sapphireginger (1/1 | 9,501 | Explicit | Steo) Stiles Stilinski and Theo Raeken have been together for almost four years. They're mates but something happens that causes everything to implode. They're no longer together. Why?

Political Animals by FiccinDylan (1/1 | 8,109 | Teen | Sterek) It's the worst day in Stiles' life and the last thing he wants is to deal with Derek Hale's bullshit.

Derek feels pretty much the same.

Red by ZainClaw (1/1 | 4,371 | Mature | Sterek) They’re close now, only a few feet between them, and Stiles can already feel the heat coming off the werewolf’s body. He smells like the forest, a layer of the wilderness forever etched into his skin. Stiles is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, the sound of his pumping heart maddening in his ears as he moves even closer. Desperate to close the final distance between them.

“If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side.

“Likewise.”

Man of Honor by Inell (1/1 | 3,454 | Teen | Stiles/Derek/Kira) When Stiles attends Lydia’s wedding, he doesn’t expect to meet two people who are perfect for him. He definitely doesn’t expect them to suggest an unorthodox solution to the dilemma, either.

the odds are in your favor by elisela (1/1 | 1,739 | Teen | Lydia/Parrish) “He was jogging,” she says morosely a week later, kicking her heels off at the door and sinking into the couch after depositing the bag of takeout on the table. “Shirtless. There was sweat.”

“Shoulda licked it,” Stiles says. There’s a movie on the television, something she doesn’t know or care about, and he shoots her a dirty look when she grabs the remote and changes the channel. “Christ, not this again.”

[ur-mousey]

Benzo-Addict ~

- Yandere!Jeffery x F!Reader -

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Part One, Part Three

summary Drugs have always been your friend. A source of courage and tonight's no different. Now it's time to fuck a nerd. Hope your BF understands. 1k warning mature, non-con, hostage situation, abusive relationship cycle

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Oh... You came back. You aren't just a spinless quitter. Perhaps you’re a fucking psychopath. But fuck on, I guess.

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

Jeffery had a lot of nervous ticks. He was a time bomb of sorts. And he was imploding at the seams right before your eyes. You noticed it as lab partners when research came out dry or when the hypothesis was proven wrong. But, you kept them noted in the recesses of your mind. Never thinking that you would see today as you do.

He rambled to himself, undiscernible to you. Jeffery picked his teeth with the tip of his knife. Like you'd caught him with his cutesy anime pens not too long ago. He would shake all over doing minuscule tasks and you joked about it with him. You'd wondered, cheekily, how could organizing papers cause someone to tremble more than a leaf?

But, in this case, he was gagging your boyfriend. Seem pretty fucking reasonable now. And you couldn't stop it. You watched. Wrist cleaned of bondage while Cody whipped his head around. It being all he could do. "Fuck off me! And my girl!!" His voice was a visceral growl, hoarse from his prior screeching. "You micro dick ince~ Hmhph."

"Stay silent like a good dog for a sec." Jeffery patted Cody's shoulder. He turned to you with a soft desolate smile. He padded over to you in a mere flash. "Hey you~ I'd told you to sleep, didn't I? It'll help. When I get you home, it'll be like this nightmare never happened."

"W-wh... Why?" You stuttered through the fatigue. The drugs were in the deepest reservoir of your stomach, begging to be felt in a dream. Yet you wheezed at the idea of losing this moment. This might be the last thing you ever see. "Don't hurt him."

Jeffery sighed, "Don't be like that, darling." He nodded towards your boyfriend. "He had it coming. Look at him. He's lookin' back at you." Shakily you looked over Jeffery's frame to see Cody more clearly. He was right, his eyes were on you. "Disgusting, ain't he."

Snot and tears choked him further than the soiled sock could. You'd never seen Cody so helpless. And you'd thought yourself capable of fleeing, but he would remain for dead, and your feet stilled at its iron gates. You've wished him gone a handful of times, but never like this.

"I have a few ideas," Jeffery continued, he gripped your hair, tugging you closer to his chest. "He's a shitty jock and a lowlife dragging you down. You've seen Corpse Party? Maybe I'll cut his tongue up like... Woah oh, easy there."

Every curse came to mind, aimed and sharpened at the back of his skill. You would damn him to hell and father down the pipeline if you could. But, You opted to squirm and whine out of Jeffery's grasp.

His slight hand tremors felt jarring against your scalp. You had held them once. The thought petrified you more so than Cody's muffled mulls.

"Calm down, please. You'd promise yourself that today would be the last, right? I'm giving that to you now!" You flinched at Jeffery's tone. Your eyes are wide and watering. "Don't give me that look. I knew you wouldn't see this from my perspective, but I'm doing this for you!"

You stilled, blanched, and mortified, by Jeffery's words. How would he know? You promised yourself throughout yesterday, Wednesday, and the day before that. You wanted out of this life. Cody wasn't the best. He was a sleaze, as Nicole puts it. But he was your definition of normal.

"That means jack shit," You squealed. The past doesn't matter. That promise doesn't, not at this moment.

Mornings started with arguments. You stoic in the face of him calling you the nastiest of names imaginable. Your insecurity set ablaze with accuracy. He never laid a hand on you. You couldn't say the same for the drywall, littered with the impressions of violent spouts. And Cody would be your most vocal supporter when you're high.

He'd call you the prettiest slut around for miles, rubbing his thumb over the flush of your checks from mystery shots. Cody begged for your lips to be on him constantly. And he desired your hips rocking over his shaft, causing you to spasm. He liked you sensitive. Despite your lack of control, he'd ask you to squeeze your drugged-up pussy around his cock, urging you to squirt down his balls.

Then by morning, he'll start tearing you down again, and you'll realize Cody hardly touches you sober.

It was normal. And each day you promised yourself you'd leave, you played further into the game. You'll think to yourself: What a fucking asshole, keeping praises locked behind a firewall of Xannies and Oxy.

But, you'll stay despite each passing day. You had told Jeffery about it, briefly -during a massive hangover no less. That didn't mean you wanted your boyfriend murdered. Without Cody, you'd be abnormal.

"It doesn't matter, he..." Jeffery laughed, his nerves spilling past his braced teeth. He nuzzled his nose along your eyebrow. And you felt on the verge of pissing yourself. "He brainwashed you. It's fine to be confused. Sleep off the drugs. We'll be home when you wake."

"Why?"

"Why what? Becoming sober would do you great."

You winced, "No? Why're you doing this."

Jeffery paused. He scratched at his temple. "Is it not obvious? I want you... badly. Not just your body, even though it's immaculate. You... um, have curves where I like them the most. And it's not every day I meet a pretty girl who loves anime and who's nice to me. Hello, you watched Pretty Cure and Sailor Moon. You were my only true friend. You could keep up with me like my Discord homies. And, um."

He was rambling. Fuck. You didn't know liking childish anime would get you here. Eight-year-old you was a bitch fucking whore~

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** Choice ** Skip past Jeffery's monologue a) end up in fucking the psycho anime freak, or b) end up in a ditch dead #yourimagination * click *

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Thank you for reading! Request rules are here. Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo!

Part One, Part Three

I am not a fan of Jeffery from 09'. That being said, I was shocked by the amount of people who liked part one! I hope this is good for y'all.

@opalineishere here's part twooo~

@sakurashana I tagged your ass because you had something to say the other day 😂

[playedcrowd5610]

Little Hands Make Light Work - Danny Phantom x Transformers Prime

Summary: Starscream goes to the medbay and Danny ends up learning some cybertronian biology.

---

Notes:

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

---

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in cybertronian biology or human biology. So any medical jargon I use is mostly educated guesses and stuff described from content I have read before.

--

Knockout sighed dramatically as he watched Starscream limp into the medbay. “Really, Starscream? I just patched you up from that cave-in a week ago! You can’t seriously need attention again.”

Starscream growled, revealing his fangs. “I’ll have you know this is still part of that incident. You must have messed something up during your expert care, doctor.”

A new, smaller voice chimed in. “He was pacing, and his knee just gave out with a horrible crunching sound.” Knockout’s optics flickered down to the small human clutched in Starscream’s servo.

“Starscream, did you really have to bring your pet here? You’re introducing foreign contaminants into my lab. It was bad enough when you brought that thing with you in your subspace last time.” Knockout crossed his arms over his chassis.

The human glared up at him, mirroring the crossed arms. “Well, I’m the one who made him come, thank you very much, and I’m not leaving until I know he’ll be fine.”

Knockout sneered. “Delightful.” He turned his back to them and pulled out some tools. “Lay on the medical berth while I take a look at it.” 

Starscream took a few pained steps forward and placed the human down on the counter next to the incredibly sharp tools with far too little care. The human stumbled forward but didn’t say anything in retaliation, and only sat down cross-legged to stare at Starscream.

Knockout didn’t waste time focusing on the human and just turned to start looking at Starcream’s knee. His optics narrowed as he examined Starscream’s knee joint. He made an exaggerated tutting noise. “Well, well. What do we have here? It looks like a bolt slipped, not to mention some stress fractures.”

Starscream huffed, his wings twitching in irritation against the medical berth he was laid on. Knockout sighed as he picked up one of his tools from the counter and turned back towards Starscream. “After this, you will need to keep pressure off your leg for two solar cycles.” 

“Good luck getting him to sit still for more than ten minutes,” The human spoke up. “I swear all he does is pace and rant about his plans.” 

Starscream tilted his helm to the side to look at the human. “I don't recall asking your opinion, fleshling.”

The human threw his hands to the side. “Hey, I’m just saying! And if you didn’t strut around like a bird on stilts all the time, maybe your knee wouldn’t have imploded.”  Starscream rolled his optics at the human’s comment.

Knockout scoffed “How do you put up with this thing?” Even though he was secretly smirking at the comment. 

“I have a name you know.” It didn’t occur to Knockout that he never did learn the human’s designation, but he would rather do anything else than ask the human for it. When the human noticed that Knockout wasn’t going to ask he rolled his eyes. “Danny. My name is Danny.” The human -Danny- then gestured towards Starscream. “And don’t worry, he’s been trying to get rid of me for months. I’m like a parasite. Can’t get rid of me if you try.” 

“And believe me, I tried.”  Starscream scoffed.

Knockout transformed his servo into a buzz saw and held it close to the human. “Then allow me to try as well.” Starscream made a strange noise behind him, but the human didn’t so much as flinch at the show of aggression.

Starscream spoke up. “Stop threatening the human and do your job, Knockout.”

Knockout sighed and retracted the buzz saw with a dramatic flourish. “Fine, fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do, and your little... commentary is making this job harder, fleshy.”

Danny rolled his eyes and leaned back as Knockout bent down over Starscream and gripped tight to the joint to bend it to the right angle before pulling out one of his other tools. Out the side of his optic, he saw the human stand and walk closer to the edge of the counter to try and get a better angle of what Knockout was working on. 

“What exactly are you doing to his knee anyway?” He tilted his helm — or, Knockout guessed, the humans called it a head — to the side.

Knockout paused, genuinely surprised at the human’s interest. His optics flickered over to Danny, and he couldn’t resist a small smirk. “Oh? Interested, are we? Well, since you’re clearly dying to know... yes, this bolt connects the joint to the lower strut. Starscream’s stress fractures have weakened the metal around it, which is why his knee gave out.”

The human squinted, trying to follow along. “So, it’s like... when a human sprains their ankle, and the ligaments around it weaken?”

Knockout shrugged, not one hundred percent sure how accurate the human’s analogy was, seeing as Knockout didn’t know scrap about human biology, as he tried to stay away from them as much as possible. “Close enough, I suppose. Except with Cybertronians, we don’t have ligaments. It’s all metal and circuitry. Right now, I’m replacing the damaged components and reinforcing them with new plating.”  He explained idly.

Danny looked intrigued, his gaze fixated on the tech in Knockout’s servo. “And the tool? It just looks like a big soldering iron.”

Knockout raised an optic ridge. “This is a plasma welder. I’m using it to seal these fractures.”

Starscream groaned from the berth, wings flicking again in annoyance. “Do you two mind? I’m the one in need of medical attention here.”

Danny grinned. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. Big, scary mech in pain. Hold your horses.” 

Knockout couldn’t help but chuckle at that before turning down again to continue his work. After working a bit longer and getting the bolt back into place, he picked up a container of sealant and placed it down on the medical berth. 

Knockout huffed, looking at the joint again, annoyed at how small the seeker’s joints were and how hard it was to get his digit under the plating. It would be much easier if Starscream weren’t such a lanky mech. Or… if Knockout’s servos were smaller... He glanced over at the human sitting down again, but this time he had his legs dangling over the edge of the counter, swaying back and forth as he looked on. “Then again human, if you’re so eager to learn, I might as well put you to work.” 

Danny blinked in surprise. “Wait, you want me to help?”

Knockout shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal. “Why not? If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well make yourself useful. Besides, Starscream’s less likely to kick you in the face if you touch the wrong circuit.”

Starscream shot them both a skeptical look before turning to face Knockout directly. “Are you seriously passing your job off to the human?”

Knockout leaned on the berth and closer to Starscream. “I mean, unless you like the feeling of my digits pressing around under your plating, then sure. The human is smaller and it will be less uncomfortable.” That, and there was the added bonus of Knockout not having to get that stuff on his servos again. Starscream simply huffed and crossed his servos over his chest as he tilted his helm to the roof. 

The human jumped off of the counter and landed with a running start on the medical berth, stumbling forward.  He saw Starscream wince slightly at the human’s leap across the gap. Danny waltzed closer to Knockout and toward Starscream’s knee. “Okay, what do I do, Doc?” 

“Take the sealant and put it under the plating over the parts I just welded. It will keep it together and help with the nanobot healing process,” Knockout explained. The human simply nodded and reached up to the container, which was almost as tall as him, and pulled out some of the sealant in a big glob on his hands, turning back to Starscream. Starscream stayed perfectly still during the application, probably trying not to crush the human's fragile fingers in the joint. 

Danny stepped back after applying it and looked up at Knockout, who scoffed and turned his helm away. “Not bad for a fleshling,” He muttered. “Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

Danny smirked. “High praise, coming from you. Does this mean I’m officially going to be the new Decepticon pet lab assistant?” 

Knockout scoffed. “Please, I already have my assistant. You are just lucky he was out on a mission today. I don’t want any more of your carbon-based human filth in my lab...” He paused glancing down at the seeker on the table and back towards the human. “Though I suppose you can work on Starscream whenever he comes in. Maybe then, you can do that scrap on your own and I don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Starscream sat up off the berth. “If I had my way, neither of you would be rooting around my systems. Yet here we are.” Starscream was ignored as the human addressed Knockout.

“If that will be the case, can I have some data pads on cybertronian biology, specifically seekers? I’ll try and read up before our next inevitable Starscream injury.” The human cocked a hip.

Knockout put a digit to his chin. “I’ll see what I can find. Then, maybe one day, you will actually make a useful second assistant.” The human merely chuckled.

Starscream groaned again. “Primus, spare me. If you two are done bonding, I’d like to get out of here before the next solar cycle.”

“Cool your jets, Heels, I’m coming.” The human responded, looking up at the seeker, who simply picked the human up and tried to balance on one leg.

Knockout did one last vital scan over Starscream and waved him off. “Just make sure to stay off of that leg as much as possible for the next two solar cycles.” 

Starscream muttered something in response which didn’t quite meet Knockout’s audials but the human shouted out a response. “I’ll try my best to keep him off it, Knockout. Thanks again!” He then waved over Starscream’s shoulder that he had climbed up onto. 

That really is one strange human.

---

Haunting the Nemesis

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

As Long As You’re Mine - Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 2)

A/N: Surprise! I’ll let you in on a little secret... I already had this written before I posted the first part! I just wanted to see how it would go down first and boy did you guys like it! So I hope this follow up satisfies your need!

Read Part 1 here!

Summary: Following your engagement to Drysdale there’s one last twist in the tale

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mob Elements! Language! Mention of Arranged Marriage! Fluff! 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

It had been a month since you learnt of your engagement to Drysdale. Every night you savoured every moment you had left with Steve. Clinging onto him whenever you could, praying and begging this was all a nightmare that one day you’d wake from.

But right now you were waking up alone. Steve had returned to Brooklyn a week ago, said there was a family emergency he had to deal with. He promised to be back as soon as he could, that every night he’d fall asleep thinking of you.

You were just walking towards the sunroom when Romero stepped into your path “your brother needs to speak to you immediately” he states.

You let out a long sigh “sure whatever” you muttered turning in the opposite direction back towards your brother’s office.

As you walked inside you could see how tense your brother was as he braced himself against the desk. You didn’t say anything, just sat down and waited for whatever he had to say.

“Drysdale and the rest of the Thombeys are dead, the entire family has collapsed” Bryce finally states his fists clenching in anger.

“What?” You mutter in disbelief.

“They’re gone, completely crumbled over some stupid inheritance” Bryce scoffs “Drysdale got word that he was getting written out, so decided to kill Harlan before the will got changed, it all imploded from there, family turned against each other until they were all dead”

“Whoa” you muttered in disbelief, you always knew Drysdale would cause the Thrombey empire to fall but you didn’t expect this.

“Yep, so looks like you get your wish after all, you don’t have to marry him” Bryce states in frustration.

“My wish was to choose who I got to marry not have it decided for me!” You snap.

“Well, you might not have any choice now! The options are dwindling and you might be stuck with Hansen!” Bryce roars.

“Don’t you even dare” you growl launching from your chair in anger.

“Boss,” Romero says interrupting the two of you.

“What?” Bryce snaps.

“There’s someone here to see you” Romero answers.

“Send them away, I don’t have time to deal with anyone, I’ve got to fix this bullshit” Bryce states gesturing at you.

“She says she’s a representative of the New York syndicate” Romero pushes.

Both you and Bryce freeze, you’d heard a lot about the syndicate from Steve. And by the look on Bryce’s face, you gathered your father told him a lot too.

“Send her in, Y/N go back to your room I’ll deal with you later” Bryce orders.

“She wants to speak with Y/N too” Romero adds.

You and Bryce exchange a glance and before he had a chance to argue you gave your order “send her in”

Bryce glares at you but his attention soon shifts when the redhead walked in. Her hips swayed as she went, exuding confidence that made it feel like she owned the place. You watched as she first surveyed Bryce before looking at you a smirk growing on her face as if she already knew all your dirty little secrets.

“Bryce Langley,” Bryce says holding out his hand.

“Natalie Rushman but just call me Nat” Nat smiles shaking his hand “let's cut straight to the chase, I’m here on behalf of the New York syndicate boss, who has decided to offer you a deal,” Nat says pulling out a file and placing it on the desk.

“Why?” You question as Bryce picks up the file and sits down.

“I’ve learnt its best not to question my Boss’ motives,” Nat says, despite the clear warning her tone was amused.

Concerned that your brother was about to walk into a trap you walked around the desk and started reading the contract of the deal over his shoulder. It was a trade deal, one that would allow your brother access to the New York harbours. There were a lot of restrictions and contingencies that ensure the New York syndicate remained on top but it was still a good deal. One that all the Boston families would kill for.

“This is a very generous offer” Bryce hums.

“What does he want in return” you question, a deal this big would come with a heavy price tag and you needed to know all the details before agreeing.

Nat smirks as she looks over at you “the only thing he wants, is you as his bride” she answers and your blood ran cold.

You had only just been freed of one arranged marriage, and barely half an hour later another was being discussed.

Nat must have read the horror on your face “and let me just warn you when my boss wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to get it. His enemies learnt that the hard way” she warned.

“Bryce please” you begged.

“You’ve got yourself a deal” Bryce agrees completely ignoring you, grabbing a pen and signing your life away before you could stop him.

“What the hell Bryce,” you say your voice cracking.

“This will be good for you Y/N, would you rather marry Hansen?” Bryce points out.

You scoff shaking your head at him as you fought back your tears “when do I have to leave?” You whisper turning to Nat.

You were shocked to see a hint of sympathy in her eyes as if she wasn’t the one who just condemned you “we have a private jet chartered for lunchtime, my boss wants you in New York before the end of the day”

“This is ridiculous” you mutter under your breath.

“Go relax Y/N, I’ll have someone pack your belongings,” Bryce says gently.

“No I’d rather do it, at least the essentials, they can do the rest,” you say shaking your head, only you knew where all the secret sketches you and Steve did were hidden.

“I’ll be back at 12 to take you to the airfield” Nat nods before turning away and walking out of the office.

Once she was gone you turned to face Bryce “you’re a monster” you whispered “you can lie to yourself about it but you’re exactly like him” you saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes as you turned and walked out of that office for the last time.

As the town car drove through the city you wished you could enjoy the view but you couldn’t. It has been a dream of yours to live in New York, you should be happy right now. But the reason you were here was the worst possible reason.

You were about to marry a complete stranger, you knew nothing about him, and he could be a monster worse than your father. What hurt the most was that your time with Steve had come to an abrupt end. He’d return to find you long gone and there was no chance your new husband would let you hire him.

You were surprised when the car drove out of the city and upstate. You were even more surprised when the car pulled outside a large house. You’d expected him to live in one of those large penthouses in the city. Not a house in the suburbs.

“Let's go,” Nat says climbing out of the car, and waiting for you to follow suit.

You followed after her as she led you into the house, you looked around in amazement at how understated it all was. It didn’t look like a mob leader's house at all.

“This will be your room for the time being,” Nat says opening a door for you.

Stepping inside you were surprised at how much you liked the decor. You were expecting to hate every single thing about this place, but you were struggling. The house had the views like your old home had but was close enough to the city that you could still enjoy the life of it all. You thought everything would be garish and horrid but it was understated and cosy.

“Dinner is at 7, enough time to freshen up and relax,” Nat says before walking out and leaving you all alone.

You took a deep breath as you looked around the room. Taking everything in, you tried to find something you hated but you couldn’t. There was even a folded-up easel in the corner. Running your hand down your face, taking another deep breath before deciding to have a shower to freshen up.

At 7 pm you made your way downstairs and towards the dining room. Once again you were expecting something grand where your soon-to-be husband would be miles away but it was once again understated. It was A table that would seat 8 people maybe 10 at a push, and the places set weren’t at opposite ends, one was at the head of the table the other sat right next to it.

You turned when you heard the door open behind and you saw your soon-to-be husband for the first time. He was tall and muscular, clean-shaven and had short blonde hair. Your breath caught when you saw his eyes, his piercing blue eyes that somehow held warmth in them. You realised with a start that you recognised him, but it couldn’t be him.

“Hello, sweetheart” he smiles walking over to you.

“Ste-Steve?” You mutter in disbelief.

Steve smiles warmly down at you as he comes to a stop right in front of you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek “I’ve missed you so much sweetheart” he whispers softly.

“I-I’m so confused” you mutter shaking your head.

Steve gives you a warm lopsided smile “I know I’m sorry for all the cloak and daggers, but I promised I’d set you free”

“You’re the boss of the New York syndicate” you state in disbelief, Steve hums in confirmation “but what were you doing being my bodyguard”

Steve lets out a long sigh his hand slipping into yours “I’ll be completely honest, because I don’t want there to be anything between us, not anymore” Steve says shaking his head “I was there because I was trying to find weak points, your father had been poking around too much and I needed to take your brother out before any secrets got out” Steve explains your jaw dropping in shock “but I never expected to fall in love with you, so when I discovered your brother knew nothing I switched targets”

“You took out Drysdale and his entire family…. Why?” You question.

“For you, to free you from that marriage” Steve answered squeezing your hand gently.

“But the contract” you mutter shaking your head.

“Was only to get you here and away from your brother, you aren’t trapped here, you don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to, you could leave and do whatever you want to do”  Steve explains.

You were speechless, you couldn’t believe what Steve had done for you. What he’d save you from. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until Steve cupped your cheeks and began to wipe away your tears “please don’t cry, I’m sorry I wanted to tell you everything but I couldn’t risk it”  he pleaded.

“Thank you” you cried launching yourself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

You felt Steve breathe out a long sigh of relief, hugging you back with equal vigour and kissing the top of your head.

“I still can’t believe you’re the head of the New York syndicate,” you say still in shock “who else knows?”

“Only a select few, Nat who you’ve already met, my best friend Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers” Steve answered brushing some hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You snort with laughter “the Avengers?”

“Tony, another member of the inner circle coined it,” Steve said with a bashful smile.

You couldn’t help but chuckle “it's a good name,” you say reaching up to finally kiss him “I do have to admit this all wasn’t what I was expecting”

“I know, having no one knows who I truly am means I get to live an ordinary life outside of work” Steve explains “it means so do you, you can do what you want when you want”

“This is amazing Steve, all of this” you confess shaking your head in disbelief.

“It's all yours sweetheart, if you want it it’s yours” Steve promises.

“I want it, I want it all, I want you, I want everything” you smile up at him.

Steve beams down at you “I love you so so much”

“I love you too Steve” you grin your hands running up into his hair as he kissed you deeply “but do you mind growing the beard back?”

Steve barks out a loud laugh “anything for you sweetheart, anything for you”

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Saturdays (Jim Hopper x female reader ~ 18+)

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Jim "Chief" Hopper x female reader

Words: 1.1k

Summary: date night with Hopper turns hot fast

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f & m both receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: this was my first ever Hopper smut, not sure why I never posted it here

Saturday nights are your favorite time of the week. Saturdays are always date night with your one and only, Jim Hopper. No matter how crazy and chaotic the week has been, it gives you something to look forward to, just knowing you will be together. It usually just involves take-out and a movie at one of your houses, but as long as you’re with him it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. As you hurry to get ready, straightening the hem on your skirt and running your fingers through your hair, the doorbell rings. You take one last look in the mirror and open the door.

Your heart skips a beat just seeing the man on the other side. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt and couldn’t possibly look any sexier. He pulls you in for a hug and you inhale the scent of him. It’s something you just can’t explain, it’s just so uniquely Hopper, manly and intoxicating. “Hey darlin',” he says as he leans in to kiss you. “Mmmmmmm,” you reply, equally in response to his kiss and to the smell of the pizza wafting out of the box he’s holding. You make your way to the kitchen, grabbing plates and drinks. After finishing your food, you both move to the living room. “Horror movie tonight?” you ask. Any reason to snuggle into him was good enough for you. You start the movie and you both settle on the couch, his arm draped around you and your head on his chest.

About halfway through the movie you look up at him and immediately recognize the look in his eyes. You have seen it many times before from him and it never failed to turn your insides to liquid. Lust and desire clouded him, and you feel your body instinctively react, heat radiating through all your nerve endings. He leans down and kisses you, gently at first. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. He responds eagerly and pushes you back against the couch. He pulls back and groans just looking at you. “Damn, how did I get so lucky?” he asks, making you blush. You don’t have particularly great self-esteem, but this man makes you feel like the only woman in the world.

He reaches out and starts unbuttoning your shirt. It slides off your shoulders, and he leans in and begins kissing a trail down your neck, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the feeling of his mustache tickling your body. He quickly and expertly removes your bra, tossing it on the floor. You lay against the couch as his mouth finds your breasts, alternating between licking and biting your nipples, walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. You moan loudly, feeling the wetness between your legs already. He moves his large hand up your leg, his fingertips blazing a trail of heat up your body, pushing your knees apart and groaning with surprise when he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. “Hmmm, just for me baby?” he asks as he spreads you apart and he feels how slick with need you are. He pushes first one finger, then another inside you, knowing exactly how to move them against your walls to make you see stars.

There really was nothing else like being with this man. You can feel the pressure building inside you as his fingers continue their relentless stroking. You want to prolong the feeling as long as possible because you’re already on the edge. You think you might just implode when he abruptly removes his fingers and pushes you completely back on the couch and removes your skirt. He trails his tongue up the inside of your legs until his mouth reaches your aching center. He parts you and begins licking and sucking at your clit. You yell your appreciation, which elicits a growl from him in return. He keeps up his relentless pace and you can already feel the wave of pleasure building, about to crash. You don’t hold back as your orgasm overtakes you, leaving you shuddering and gasping. He looks up at you, face covered in your juices. You grab him and kiss him deeply, hungrily.

You want to return the favor, so you push him back against the couch and remove his jeans and shirt. You could see the bulge in his boxers already. You slowly pull them down, revealing his rock-hard dick. You lean down and lick the precum off his tip, then run your tongue down the length of him. He leans his head back as you take him completely in your mouth. You move up and down expertly, enjoying knowing you were the one making him feel so good. Before long he puts his hand on your shoulder and says, “if we don’t stop, I’m a goner,” so you back off, wiping the spit from the corner of your mouth.

You both stand up to make your way to the bedroom when he impulsively grabs you and spins you around, bending you over the back of the couch. You gasp in surprise but then he spreads your legs, and all coherent thoughts leave your mind. He enters you slowly, trying to ease into you. The familiar pressure of him inside you makes you dizzy with desire. He’s gentle at first, not wanting to hurt you with his size. Once he’s fully inside you say, “fuck me Jim, please,” and that’s all it takes. He pumps into you, hard and fast, reaching his hands up to grasp your breasts while he thrusts. You feel like every part of you is filled up by him, and it’s a delicious feeling you never want to lose. He is grunting and groaning from behind you, and you buck against his body, sweat dripping down his broad chest and onto your back. One hand moves from your breast down to circle your clit, and you feel a second wave coming over you already. He always knows just what to do to make your body scream in ecstasy. “Please don’t stop,” you cry, and your climax hits seconds before he reaches his own, spilling into you. “Damn,” is all he can manage as he collapses on top of you, the weight of him on you making you smile. Once you have both recovered, he stands up and you do also, slowly, making sure your legs still work. You make your way to the bathroom. Reaching the door, you turn to him and ask, “care to join me in the shower, sheriff?”. He smiles slyly, a gleam in his eyes. “Anytime, darlin.”

[shadowqueenjude]

broooo azzie is so bbg like I can’t I js love him smmmmm ahhhhh 😭😭

also elain sucks like get a backbone ugh

Hello darling. I would love to hear your reasoning for liking Azriel. Did you get a hit off of Azriel nearly strangling a crucial ally to death during an even more crucial political meeting? Was it him masturbating to Tylenol that got you? His jealousy of Lucien? His torturing people on Rhysand's command? Him treating Elain like his property?

“There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

Also would love to hear about Azriel's backbone, considering he's Rhysand's obedient little torture lackey. I don't remember him being remotely bothered by the possiblity of Cassian shoving Nesta down the stairs.

Azriel’s silence was pointed before he asked, “Did someone … push you?” “Asshole,” Cassian growled. Nesta lifted her eyes from her plate enough to note the amusement in Azriel’s gaze. He didn't defend his pursuit of Elain either. He couldn't even tell Rhysand he was over Mor.

A real backbone there.

As for Elain...she does have a backbone, sweetheart.

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to … reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” “Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.” “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”

Elain’s eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta’s chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” Ughhhhh Azriel is so babygirl for trusting that Elain can handle herself and she's not an object that he can claim! Oh wait... Beautiful anon, move on. You can do better than Azriel. Not Lucien though. He's mine. And Elain's.

[kayleezra]

Thoroughfare// Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Word Count: 7891

Warnings: Spoilers for the beginning of the game/ episode 1 of the series (character death), swearing and lots of it

Summary: Fic based on the song Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain (please listen to it). First-person POV. Reader and Joel have known each other since childhood but are separate post-outbreak. What happens when they’re reunited and old feelings resurface with the prospect of exploring the West. 

A/N: so I edited this like once but in the spirit of the new episode dropping early today I wanted to post this! Let me know of any errors and/or tags/warnings please and thank you!!!! 

Being alone after the fall of civilization wasn’t the plan, but given the selfishness and brutality of the new world, it was necessary. It was a dog-eat-dog world, even a human-eat-human world. Most survivors I encountered wanted to take everything I had, even if all I had was the skin on my back. Even long-standing groups imploded on themselves at one point or another. It was lonely but safer, no one to turn on you, trade you, or use you. I hadn’t started alone, on the day of the outbreak I was at Joel’s, it was his birthday and even though he worked I ensured there was a hot meal and cake for him no matter how late he got home. Everything went wrong so fast, we lost Sarah and everyone was fending for themselves, not that I blame them. For a while, it was just Joel, Tommy and me, until things got messy. We were ambushed by a group and separated, I haven’t seen either of them since, survival got in the way of finding them. 

I hate not knowing how they’re doing, I grew up with the brothers, I’ve known them for as long as I can remember. Joel and Tommy were hard workers, they were always trying to support themselves and each other. When Joel told me he was going to be a dad I was shocked, he and Amelia had been dating for a couple of years but we were in high school, and I knew it was going to be hard on the both of them. But I was also excited, I’ve always wanted to be an aunt! So I put together a baby shower for Amelia, collected clothing for their soon-to-be daughter and even managed to get them a crib. I was happy for Joel, he always talked about having a family, and wanting that mushy romantic domestic life. I did always harbour a crush on him and wish I could fulfill that for him but was happy nonetheless, he deserved it. They got married after high school at 22, but it was first and young love, it was never meant to last. By 28 he and Amelia had divorced, it was as amicable as possible. They harboured no hard feelings, they both grew and matured and understood it was for the best. 

Now, I’m somewhere out east alone. I find some rocks and trees that can provide my resting body coverage and make myself comfortable for the night. I’m calm, or as calm as I can be. Still on edge and alert for any unwelcome surprises but there's only so long I can go without sleep. I never really set up camp, unless necessary, I never wanted to notify others of my whereabouts, I learnt that the hard way. A lonely traveller is an easy prey for any group of 2 or more.

Exhaustion is what lulls me to sleep, the moment I lay down I’m aware of how tired and sore my body is but I don’t have time to care as I’m pulled into a state of half-consciousness

A low groan, almost a growl, rings through my ears, immediately putting me on high alert. My heart is racing at the sudden prospect of danger, it’s unlikely that one lonely infected has travelled near me. Pulling my pistol from my pocket, I prepare to take out a few infected and escape as soon as possible. My ears strain with the effort of trying to hear anything but it’s pretty quiet. I don’t let my guard down, just because I can’t hear them doesn’t mean they’ve left. Then heavy repetitive footsteps, getting closer. I switch the safety off, I’m about to reveal myself when my brain stops me. These footsteps are too consistent, there’s no fumbling around or fast changes in direction. I strain my ears again, there’s no wheezing or the sound of wet breath that accompanies the spores in the infected’s lungs. They’re human, seemingly alone, which makes people very desperate. I’m conflicted if I take them by surprise or wait them out, taking a human life who hasn’t yet wronged you isn’t easy. But do I want to wait for them to potentially wrong me? The decision is made for me when they painfully fall to the ground next to me. They are a man, with eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted. I run my eyes along him quickly, he’s well equipped but his hands are busy clutching his blood-soaked side. His eyes shoot open, and like I’ve been wounded by his gaze I, “Joel!?!”

His movements stop and his eyes shoot to mine, shocked silence engulfs the two of us. Then I remember he’s injured. 

“Let me help you,” I say giving him a hand and bringing him into the nook that was my resting place mere moments ago. 

He sits propped up, “you wanna tell me what happened and what I’m dealing with?”

“Bullet wound. Ran into a couple of hunters.”

“How far from here?” I ask while digging for medical supplies in my backpack, worried the hunters may still be looking for him.

“You don’t have to worry about them no more. They were scouting the highway.”

“Got it. What kind of medical supplies do you got?”

“Nothin’”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Christ, alright. Okay, I’m gonna lift your shirt and have a look.”

Lifting his tattered green plaid shirt reveals a bloody mess. 

“I’m going to clean the area a bit to see what the damage is, this will probably hurt.”

He nods. Wiping the excess blood and grime gives me good news.

“You sir, are a very lucky man. It’s only a graze. It’s a pretty clean wound which ensured minimal bleeding, the edges are clean. As far as bullet wounds go, this one is a beaut. I’ll clean and bandage it, and then… we’ve got some catching up to do.”

I clean his wound in silence and as the adrenaline leaves his body he becomes lethargic.

“Gotta be honest, I thought you were dead,” Joel mumbles lowly.

“Well, I probably should be. But I thought the same of you. Tommy?”

“Alive as well as I know, he’s got a camp out in Wyoming.”

“West from here,” I add. I don’t know what happened that caused the two to split and I don’t push it. 

“Stay here, I’m going to see what I can raid off those bodies you left on the highway.”

I attempted to get up but am stopped by Joel's hand on my arm.

“You ain’t leaving me are ya?” “I’d never leave you, Joel,” I say a bit more sincerely than I intended but in his exhausted state, he’s likely to forget about it. 

I’m careful on the dark highway, Joel says I didn’t have to worry about the group of hunters but you can never be too sure. Turns out, the hunters were desperate because they had nearly nothing of use on them, even their weapons were looking worse for wear, and they likely wouldn’t have made it another winter as they were. However, one had something that was of more value to you than anything else they could’ve harboured together, a transfer pump. On a highway filled with abandoned cars, we’re guaranteed to get something working and a full tank of gas. 

I make my way back to Joel, he’s barely alert but has enough in him to point his gun at me upon arrival. Raising my hands in defence I reassure him that it’s just me. 

“Rest up, I’ll keep watch. You get busy healing.”

Joel lets out an entertained scoff before allowing exhaustion to take over. 

As the sun begins to rise, its rays wake Joel. He seems slightly confused at first but relaxes when he sees me and remembers last night's events.

“How’re you feeling?” “Pretty good, all things considered,” he says while lifting his shirt and looking at his bandaged wound. The bandage is still clean of any blood or any other excrements which is a good sign. 

“Good because we’ve got a mission.”

“Oh yeah, what's that?” His rough voice asks.

“Getting one of them cars out there to work.”

“Then we better get going.”

We pick a truck that seems to be in order besides a few parts and the fact that it’s blocked in by other cars. 

“You ever fix up a car before? Because you were never a car person before.” Joel asks.

“Nope, and I’m still not but I spent time with a group that did and I learnt enough to escape them so I’m more qualified now. You?”

Joel shakes his head, seemingly thinking of something rather than answering my question. 

God isn’t real, that much is clear given the current state of the world but I might have a guardian angel because, after a few hours, Joel and I are able to get a truck running. We then spend some time pushing other cars out of the way before we’re able to drive. I’m tired, I haven’t slept in days, I was supposed to take a night's rest when Joel stumbled upon me but he needed it more than me and now that things are going to plan my body begins giving out. I look at Joel in the driver's seat, “where are we going?”

“How about West? We go further East and the coast will make some unforgiving winters. Plus, Tommy’s out West.”

“West it is.”

Once he gets us off the crowded highway, he speaks up.

“Get some rest, you need it.”

I smile, “Yeah… I missed you too,” then prop myself against the window and close my eyes. 

I’m softly awoken by Joel's sturdy hand on my thigh and his deep hushed voice, “C’mon baby, let's get some rest.”

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my neck and shoulders sore from the odd position they found themselves in. Joel makes his way to and opens my door, wraps his arm around my waist and leads me out of the truck and towards a long, 2-story building. 

“Where are we?” I ask gruffly.

“An abandoned motel. I’ve already scouted it out, it’s safe.”

I’d normally yell at him for doing something as stupid as clearing a building alone when he has help but I’m too tired. So I lean into Joel and allow him to lead me to a room. Inside is a dingy mattress with some threadbare pillows and blankets, our bags are already stashed under the beaten-up desk, Joel prepped the room before bringing me in, that caring bastard. Joel sits me down on the bed, I fight slumber while watching Joel push random furniture in front of the door and draw the musty curtains over the boarded-up window. Someone was clearly here before us and made it their safe space, I try not to think about what happened to them. 

Joel makes his way to me, I can see a small smile on his face, trying to hide the amusement he’s getting from me fighting to stay awake.

“Lay down, baby. We’re safe.”

I do as he says and Joel sits at the foot of the bed, taking my feet into his lap. He begins to carefully remove my shoes. Suddenly I can keep my eyes open with some ease and I watch him, his steady hands and caring face. My chest fills with a warm radiating love, I haven't seen a man with such soft emotions in his eyes in years. Joel hasn’t been consumed by anger, he’s still human, still a good man. It was touching to see given that most of us were left in a world where there was no one else to leave and no one else to love. Looking at Joel I felt some peace, I didn’t care where we were or where we were going, as long as I was with him. 

Finally, Joel gets up and joins me in bed, he keeps a respectable distance but in my sleepy state, I have the confidence to inch my way against him, spooning him while resting my forehead in between his shoulder blades. I fall asleep with my arms and thoughts filled with my southern sunshine. 

We spend a few days resting before continuing our travels West to Tommy, which sounds like paradise from Joel’s description. 

“How much longer of travelling d we have ahead of us?” “Probably no more than 3 days, we’re close.” “Why’d we stop if were so close?” “Needed the rest, plus there are so cars here that we’ll take the gas from.”

I nod, half believing him. 3 days is nothing it seems odd that he stopped for multiple days for 3 days of travel. Unless the next 3 days are hell…

“Do you know something I don’t?” I ask.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Resting multiple days for 3 days of travel? What’s up ahead that I don’t know about?”

“I hope nothin’”

“But there was something?”

“No, look I just- I thought we could use the rest, you’re complicatin’ it”

I’m still skeptical but I let it go. Joel’s being weird, sure we were tired, we always were but you had to trudge on to survive. 

“Let’s go,” he says while getting up and grabbing his things to leave. 

Joel hands me my backpack, I let out a quiet ‘thanks’ shy under his direct gaze. 

“We’ve got some gas to steal,” I say while we leave, distracting myself. I hear Joel let out a scoff to cover his laugh. A smile takes over my face in pride knowing I can still make the man laugh, a laugh I’d kill to hear more often. When we step out of the motel, the morning sun is warm and welcoming. I feel… new. I’m not one for ‘signs from the universe’ but the sunrise and its accompanying warmth gave me this sense that this was a new beginning and that things are going to be okay. I stop to bask in it, letting the sun warm my face and seep into my bones. Joel stops beside me and when I look to him he’s also taken by the sunrise. He looks almost at peace, like in this brief moment the war in his head, heartbreak from his past, and the worry of tomorrow, have all quieted down, allowing him a moment of enjoyment. He looks so pretty. The moment ends and Joel looks at me, catching me staring. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, I just- You look-.” I take a breath, trying to collect myself while my mind swarms with thousands of things I want to say to him. “I’m just… really happy to have found you again.”

I’m too scared to allow him to respond or even react because I’m already walking away, “c’mon we’re getting gas, remember?”

Joel spends 20 hours driving, he's tired and fighting sleep. 

“Joel let me drive, I promise not to crash and I’ll wake you if we die.”

He smiles, glancing at me, “you know where we’re going?”

Shit. “No…”

Joel laughs at my realization.

“We’ll show me on a map! Then I’ll follow that.” I explain excitedly.

“Aren’t you ‘map blind’ as you always put it?”

Just then, Joel and I are years younger, pre-outbreak young. We’re each other's rocks, constantly teasing one another while never letting the other fall.

“You remember that?”

“Course I do, you couldn’t read that damn map even if there was a ‘you’re here’ sticker on it. You gawked at that thing like I handed you an old scripture in hieroglyphics.”

Joel looks young, the recounting of that story releasing the constant stress in his face and body. 

“You had it upside down.”

I can’t help but laugh, I did have it upside down. And even in an apocalypse, I am still map blind. However, Joel remembering such a trivial moment in our time together in our past life has me astounded. In a world where life, as you know it is flipped upside down and your daughter is taken from you while still in your arms… it’s hard to imagine those moments still taking up space in his memory. 

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” “I don't know because there's so much happening all the time and there's other things that are more worthy of being remembered.”

Joel's face falls, his eyes follow suit, looking at the ground. My name falls from his mouth like a whispered prayer, scared that if it can be heard by the human ear it’ll be tainted. “I held onto every memory of you because sometimes… sometimes it’s one of the few things that keeps me going. I treasured our time together then but now? Now, I hold onto those memories because they remind me of who I was, they ground me, and remind me of how there was so much good in the world.”

He stops but there are still words that are stuck on his tongue, “I thought I lost you for good. Tommy and I- we looked for you but you know how it goes. I accepted that you- that you were no longer a part of this cold and selfish world and yet… here you are. And you still have that warm smile, you’ve kept the damned sense of humour and you’re just as snarky, if not more so, than before.”

My eyes are hot with tears, not the usual tears of loss or frustration or hopelessness but tears of love. I love this man. I loved him then and I love him now and I don’t know if anything could ever change that. I quickly wipe a defiant tear as if he wouldn’t see it. My overwhelming emotions leave me unable to speak, so I don’t, instead, I take his hand in mine. I hold him like a loving partner holding their sick lover's hand to provide comfort, I hold him like my life depended on it, I hold him like he’s my everything because he is. 

“You’re one sappy son of a bitch, Joel Miler,” I say quietly.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and his warm thumb smooths over my hand. I relish in the moment of intimacy. Loving intimacy is harder to come by than kindness in this world even in something as small as hand-holding. I think it is more likely that I read a map correctly than I come in contact with regular loving intimacy. Everyone is touch starved and yet no one is willing to be vulnerable enough to provide that touch because people are too selfish for it to be a safe and wholesome act, because one that is often abused and adulterated.

“Only for you, darlin’”

“Well then let’s pull over so you can get some sleep,” I then bring his hand to my lips and give him a small kiss. 

Joel hides us in some foliage, trying to ensure we don’t stick out like easy prey out in the open. We fold the back seats and do our best to make the musty upholstery comfortable, not that it’s the worst place either of us has slept. The sun will rise in a couple hours and in dead spaces like this? That signals a sort of quiet. Most hunters move at night in these areas, trying to catch innocents off guard while they’re trying to rest. Travellers move as fast as they can in the night thinking danger will be asleep. The world is a free-for-all but when the sun sets? It becomes a war against you and every other thing, living or not. 

“I’ll keep watch, you rest,” I tell Joel.

“Ain’t you tired?”

“I got some sleep in the car, plus if I really need it, I can sleep when we’re on the road again.”

I sit myself up against the back of the driver's seat, placing different clothing items in my lap, “come on, I promise not to fall asleep,” I tell Joel, gesturing to the makeshift pillow I’ve made with my lap and clothing. 

Wordlessly Joel situates himself, laying on his back with his head in my lap, groaning when his body relaxes and he becomes aware of the tired and sore muscles within his body. Something is missing… 

“Oh,” I begin ruffling through my bag, “here,” I pull a blanket from my bag and place it over Joel’s body. The blanket is worn out but it’s more for the comfort of having than it is for warmth. A soft, barely audible ‘thank you’ escapes Joel.

With the man's eyes closed I selfishly stare, taking in his face. Theres more lines than there were before which I expect after 20 years but they’re not where I want them to be. Instead of crow's feet from a smile reaching his eyes he has wrinkles between his brows from having them furrowed too often.  In place of smile lines, he has frown lines, lines that tell a story of a resilient man living a hard life. Even with his eyes closed he still holds the face of a hardened man. His hair and facial hair are peppered with grey and even in a world s dirty as this I can’t help but run my hands through it. At first, Joel tenses, a reflex nearly everyone has developed to stay alive. But when his mind reminds him it is the hand of the person whose lap he rests his head in, he relaxes. Joel not only relaxes to post-outbreak Joel but, after a few moments, to pre-outbreak Joel. All the lines and wrinkles in his face soften, he doesn’t look young like you often hear, but he looks calmer. In my lap is a man whose gone through hell and back and is finally letting a couple walls down after decades of hardship, he almost looks relieved.  His hair tells me the same thing as his face, caked with dirt and oil and tangled from years of neglect and unrelenting weather, he’s a man who’s been stretched far too thin. I continue running my fingers through his hair during the hours that he sleeps no matter how ‘gross’ it is because the truth is, my fingers are just as covered with the survival of this world. In this musty truck with our unwashed bodies and difficult pasts, things almost feel normal, the birds sing and rise with the sun and I can almost imagine we’re on Joel’s old tattered couch, having stayed up late to watch a movie only to have one of us pass out before the climax. 

Unfortunately, the man only sleeps a handful of hours, it’s not even mid-day when he wakes. Although it’s probably the longest he’s slept in a while and the first time he’s woken up peacefully, not in a panic or with an impending task looming over his head. Joel is pulled from his slumber not because he’s well rested but because our minds are never completely at rest, we don’t have time to be so vulnerable for so long. His eyes, still filled with sleep, look for mine immediately, like he knows rationally I’m still here because his head is still in a warm lap but he’s scared that it’s an illusion and he’ll break that illusion when he opens his eyes and doesn’t find mine. When the illusion doesn’t disappear, I speak up, “Morning, southern sunshine.”

“Southern sunshine?”

“Yeah, 'cause you’re from Texas and… you always brighten my day,” I shrug. An amused scoff escapes him while he sits up, blocking me from seeing his face.

“You, my dear, are too sweet for me.”

“Why? Can’t handle it?” I tease.

“Don’t deserve it,” his voice is a little lower with those words, they’re filled with doubt.

“Well, that’s ain’t true. You deserved it then and you deserve it now more than ever. I might not know the horrors that haunt your past in between then and now, but… I know Joel Miller and he’s more deserving of someone's unyielding love and affection more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, face heavy with a mix of disbelief and self-hatred: a look he shouldn’t hold. My brows crease with worry and sadness, I slowly place my hand on his cheek like he’s a scared animal that might run if I move too fast. Instead, he leans into it for a moment before taking my wrist in his hand and pulling my palm to his lips where he kisses me. Still holding my hand between the two of us he gives me a small smile. Not a happy or grateful smile but a doleful one, one that says ‘this can’t continue, we have to keep going, there’s no time for us’. So, silently that's what we do, we get back on the road and continue West.

The remaining drive is relatively quiet, a mix of comfortable and awkward silence, like sometimes we don’t what to do with ourselves regarding the idea or possibility of us. Then it dawns on me, after years of not knowing I’ll (hopefully) get to see Tommy. I’m not sure if I sigh or mumble or if there’s just a shift in the air but Joel turns to me, then back at the road and back at me pensively. 

“What’s wrong?”

I take s deep breath, “I’ll get to see Tommy,” my voice is soft like if I say it too decisively I’d jinx it. Joel hums in response.

Holy fucking shit. The outbreak took nearly everything from everyone, but two of my loved ones were still alive and I’m about to be reunited with both of them. People I love unconditionally, that I spent days with together, people I lost for years and grieved, are alive and returning to my life. I’m overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, I’m ecstatic to see them again, I’ve been given a second life with them, and I love them and want them back in my life. My heart is filled with happiness and loves but my chest is heavy with fear. I’m scared, scared of how our relationship has changed, scared of how different the past has changed us, scared to lose them again. My body is hot like it’s overworked with the flood of emotions, and they’re just boiling to the surface. Slow tears reluctantly sting my face.

“Hey hey hey hey hey, what’s going on?” Joel asks confused.

I snap my head towards him with fearful eyes, like a deer looking at the driver that’s about to hit them, “I’m not ready!”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not ready’?”

That question opens the floodgate to the storm that is in my mind.

“I’ve been alone for years. Years! I’m completely independent, I don’t need anyone and I tricked myself into believing that I don’t want anyone.  And-and-and we’ve all changed, we’ve all done things we thought impossible for us before, and we’ve all done things that haunt us. What if- what if that’s changed us so much that the person I know from before is dead and someone new is occupying the body I’m familiar with? I want things to be how they were but they’re not going to be and I don’t know what that means. And we’ve lived different lives now that-…”

“Do you hate me?”

Joel interrupts and shocks me, “wha- no, why on earth would you think that?!”

“Well, you seem so worried that things will be so different we won’t be able to be a family like we once were. Yet, here are the two of us…” 

Closer than ever.

He doesn’t finish the sentence like he’s unsure of the right words to use. Neither of us explicitly acknowledging what’s between us.

“Things are different. They have to be. We’ve all lost so much, including pieces of our old selves, but, I know that I still love you… and Tommy… but don’t tell him I told you that.”

I laugh at Joel’s brotherly love but my mind raves with how he stopped with me, like adding Tommy was an afterthought.

I didn't realize Joel rested his warm hand on my thigh until he gives it a squeeze, I don’t know how long it’s been there but I welcome the comfort as it calms the sea within me.

“Right…” I take hold of his hand kissing it as I did before and keeping it in my grasp. There are a few moments of silence as Joel allows me to calm down.

“Tommy’s gonna lose his damn mind when he sees you.”

The two of us can’t help but laugh not so much at Joel's comment but at the rarity of it all, what are the odds we would find each other again.

We drive over a small hill, revealing a fenced civilization in the lowland.

“Hooollly shit…” I breathe, “it’s a whole city…”

“Sure is. Guess he didn’t do too bad.”

I let out an incredulous laugh, “they have electricity?”

“Yup.”

“Hot water?” “Mhmm.”

I fall silent in disbelief and overwhelming joy, “I haven’t had a proper shower in… years.” “I can tell,” Joel jokes.

I shove his arm, “watch it southern sunshine, you’re pretty ripe too.”

Joel chuckles. 

At the gates we’re asked who we are, Joel explains but they’re still skeptical. 

“Just get Tommy,” Joel says.

“Tommy’s busy.”

Joel scoffs, and mumbles a ‘busy my ass’ to himself. 

“Alright then get Maria, she’ll have questions anyway.”

“I don-”

“Boy, do you want me to have to explain to her how you refused to get her and made a big fuss outta something that should’ve been finished already?” The man behind the gate disappears, likely to get this Maria.

“Who’s Mari-”

I’m cut off by a woman shouting in a calm yet authoritative voice, “LET HIM IN!” 

When my eyes land on the woman I see she's waving us in motioning for the others to open the gates. As we wait for the gate to open, I nod towards the woman, “Maria?”

“Yup.”

“I like her.”

Again Joel chuckles, “You ain’t even met her yet.” “True but I like her, I can feel it.”

“Well, you ain’t wrong. You’ll definitely get on with her,” I smile at Joel’s words while he pauses, “which is what I’m worried about,” he finishes. 

Maria gives us a quick motion telling Joel where to park, when the truck's engine stops filling my ears I realize how nervous I am again. Joel grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze, “C’mon don’t you want that shower? You certainly need it.”

He hopes out of the truck before I can berate him. I make my way around the vehicle next to Joel.

“Been a while,” Maria opens. 

“Yeah, I know. Trying to stay alive seems to take up most of my time,” he shrugs. 

“And you?” she asks me. 

“Oh-”

“This-,” Joel attempts to answer but Maria stops him, “I didn’t ask you.”

Joel stops and almost visibly cowers, his head downcast like a kid in trouble. 

When my name leaves my lips a look of shock passes over Maria’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, Tommy might just shit himself.” Joel and I chuckle but mine’s more in confusion. “Y-you know of me?” “Pfft, course I do. You kept these two idiots alive before shit hit the fan.”

At that, I let out a genuine chuckle. 

“Tommy’s on patrol so let me get yall settled til then.” She begins walking and we follow.

We were welcomed so fast it goes against everything I’ve come to learn in the last few years. I lean towards Joel whispering, “are they not going to check if we’re infected?” “Generally? Yes, they would. But given that it's me and you? They trust us. Plus last I checked we haven’t been bitten, so what’re you worryin’ for?”

At that, I shrug, it's just instinct to be weary of everyone all the time. 

Maria brings us to a house, not a completely run-down house, not a building that will suffice as a shelter for a short period, but an uninhabited home.  

“Get cleaned up and by then Tommy should be back. Meet at ours for 3?” Maria asks, although I get the sense she’s not really asking. 

Joel nods. 

“There are some clothes in the hallway closet, have at em’ wouldn’t make sense for yall to shower and get back into dirty clothes. “

“Thank you, Maria,” I cut in. 

“Of course. Can’t wait to see Tommy’s face,” and with that, she turns off the porch and leaves us. 

Joel closes the door and begins dropping his things, “go on and shower, just don’t use all the hot water, yeah?”

‘First of all, if I’m getting into a running shower with hot water… not only am I using it all but I might just cause a drought. Second, why don’t you join me?” All confidence I had prior to making the offer is gone and I’m left wondering why the hell I opened my big mouth like that. Joel clears his throat, “I- uh-”

“I didn’t mean- just like- the water is warm and then no one has to fight and water conservation and all that and I-”

I’m too busy babbling to realize that Joel is watching me with an amused smirk before letting out a chuckle that brings me back to earth. 

“I know what you meant darlin’, I was gonna say I’d like that.”

“Oh…”

“C’mon we’ve got some warm water and real soap calling our names,” he says while leading the way.

I’m surprised he said yes. I mean throughout our journey here we’ve shared some affectionate moments, even before the outbreak we did. But the Joel I knew then was pretty closed off and pales in comparison to the Joel I met a few months ago. We beat around the bush, never explicitly mentioning what we’re doing or what we may be. I know with his divorce, the loss of Sarah and just who Joel is that he doesn’t come by commitment and intimacy easily. The outbreak has changed us all and for Joel that meant protecting his heart a little more than before in fear of how the world may strip him of what he loves again. So… I don’t push him, I love him however he’ll let me and accept whatever he’s willing to give me because I know the Joel inside his rugged exterior and he’s worth waiting for. I let him lead us upstairs to the bathroom, the calmness and security of the house brings back a domestic Joel that I’ve missed. Joel starts the shower before leaning over me, “Why don’t you get a head start and I’ll go get us some clothes,” then he leans in and kisses my cheek and all I can do is nod in adoration. 

While Joel leaves to get us the clothes, I strip off my grimy ones and get into the stream of hot water. I groan escapes my lips as the hot water cascades down my body, already cleaning better than the attempts I’ve made over the years. My muscles yearn for the relaxation and healing that comes with its warmth. The cleanliness of the water makes me aware of how dirty I am and feel. I reach for the bar of soap, lifting it to my nose and smelling the notes of lemon and mint, someone here has worked hard to make these bars. I begin to lather my body in the velvety luxury, the steam of the shower accentuating the soap's scent. I’m so caught up in myself I don’t realize Joel’s returned until he’s joining me in the shower. He presses himself against my back and wraps his arms around my waist. We close our eyes savouring the moment that almost replicates something that could have been before the outbreak. I turn us around so Joel can be in the stream of water. While facing me with his hands on my waist, I take some shampoo in my hands and begin emulsifying it in his hair. I massage his scalp for a while, lifting the stubborn dirt while relaxing him, using my nails I give him some light scratches, refreshing the follicles and gifting the nerves a tingling sensation. A few groans escape him when I reach particular points but this moment is nothing but pure. I drop my hands from his head, keeping them on his shoulders. When Joel tilts his head back into the stream of water I return my hands to the base of his scalp slowly massaging the soapy water from it. Throughout this, his eyes remain closed in blissful indulgence. 

When his hair is clean, he turns us around and washes my hair. My arms remain wrapped around his shoulders while his hands make careful movements, his face softens and his eyes remain lovingly trained on my hair. He spends some extra time lathering, just playing with my soaped-up hair. When I tilt my head into the stream of water he kisses my forehead, I open my eyes to find his looking into mine tenderly. We freeze for a moment, both scared to make the next move. 

“Tell me I can kiss you,” I whisper.

A corner of his lips quirk upwards, “Anytime darlin’,” he says while leaning in and joining our lips together. The kiss isn’t lewd or filled with sexual tension but filled with fearful love. Love that can appear so quiet but wreaks havoc inside the individual, a cyclone of fear that your love may leave, move on or end up entangled in a worse fate. Love that hurts the beholder with its overwhelming size, that one may bust at the seams at any moment because their body just can’t contain it. We spend time so wrapped up in each other, so much said without a word being spoken, that the water begins to lose its warmth. 

“Go get dressed, I’ll finish up and join you,” Joel utters in a hushed tone. 

I nod and peck his lips once more before reluctantly leaving him. 

In the bedroom, I find warm clothes: sweatpants that aren’t tattered, they still have the soft fluffy cotton on the inside; a large t-shirt that doesn’t have more than the necessary 4 holes; and a woolly cardigan that isn’t holding so much moisture that it’s its own breeding ground for mould and bacteria. 

When Joel comes out and dresses, it’s time for us to make our way to Maria and Tommy’s. I’m still nervous, my stomach is twisted in excitement and anxiety. When we arrive on the porch I suddenly feel uplifted. “Wait! You open the door and I’ll stay hidden before revealing myself, don’t tell him anything!”

Joel chuckles, “you really do wanna give the man a heart attack.”

I press myself against the house behind the screen door, Joel knocks and inside we hear his muddled voice, “Who the hell is that?”

Maria doesn’t say anything or if she does we don’t hear it. Then the door opens and a heavy silence drops before Tommy speaks, “Son of a bitch, who let this old fuck in!”

The brothers embrace one another and then I make my way around the door, “If you’re that shocked to see him wait till you realize that I’m here too.”

Tommy's eyes widen, for a split second I think they’ll pop. He, in brotherly fashion, quickly removes himself from Joel and pushes him aside. 

“This ain’t real,” he says while standing in front of me.

“I can hit you if you’d like, if not to convince you then for old time's sake?”

“Oh my god,” Tommy says while laughing in disbelief. He tightly wraps his arms around me, when he lets go his hands remain gripping my shoulders looking at me like he had to double-check if things were true. 

“Holy shit…”

I laugh and see Maria leaning in the doorway with a smile on her lips, I return the gesture. 

“Well… aren’t you going to let us in or keep us out here on the porch like some stays?” I tease. 

The evening passes fast, turns out we had a lot of catching up to fit in in the few hours that was dinner. Everyone has a smile on their face and exited disbelief in their eyes. When dinner is finished I get up to help Maria, which she attempts to decline. “Maria, c’mon? You welcomed us, gave me some of the best clothes I’ve worn in years along with a hot shower and filled our stomachs with delicious food. I wasn’t asking.”

My authoritativeness seems to impress and please her as she just gives me a smile and walks into the kitchen. 

“We’ll let the boys catch up on whatever it is those two get up to,” Maria yells from the kitchen.

I laugh and join her, “You heard the woman, go on, get!”

The Miller brothers leave to sit outside on the porch while Maria and I fall into easy conversation about ourselves and how we found ourselves in the Miller's lives. 

“So how long have you and Joel been together?” “Oh- it’s not- we’re not-”

Maria laughs as I stumble to find the right words, “Okay so Mr. Scared of commitment hasn’t officially labelled it. But, you’re together. So, how long?”

“Oh…uh… I don’t know, we were reunited a few months ago but-”

Maria chuckles, “Oh my dear, you really are blind aren’t you?” “What?”

“I don’t mean when you reunited or when did you guys start being more affectionate or anything like that. I mean, how long have the two of you been in love?” I’m dumbfounded, what does she know that I don’t?

“That man has been in love with you forever. Now I’m not basing this off the fact that he looks at you like he’s afraid to let you go even for a second or the fact that his entire demeanour lightens when he looks at you. Even Tommy knows, he watched you two lovebirds beat around the bush for years I think you referred to you two as ‘a couple of love-sick puppies’. You’ve been in love before the outbreak, yes?” “Yes,” I shyly admit. 

“And Joel has loved you for just as long if not longer. You may not see it but it’s true and in this world, we don’t have time to deny ourselves of any love we may have a chance at. Don’t let him believe he can go about this world as a lone wolf forever.”

~~~ JOEL’S POV ~~~ 

The sun is setting, taking its warmth with it. Tommy and I sit in silence, not because there’s nothing to say but because we’ve got so much to say and don’t know where to start. Both of us sipping our respective drinks. “Can’t believe they’re alive… or that we’ve all been reunited,” Tommy says.

“You and me both.”

“You better not blow this again,” Tommy said while taking a sip from his glass.

“What d’ya mean?”

Tommy scoffs, “You might be my older brother but you really are an idiot. Don’t let them get away again, we don’t normally get second chances in this life. You’ve been handed a second chance on a fucking silver platter. I love you but if you fuck this up?” Tommy finishes with a scoff. 

There’s a heavy silence for a few moments before Tommy presses on.

“You love them.”

“Is that supposed to be a question?” “No, you do love them. I ain’t asking. I want you to accept it and, for the love of god, admit it.”

“ I don’t kn-” “Oh cut the shit, Joel. You’ve been in love for years, before this damn virus. I watched the two of you act like a damn couple but then have these moments of… weird, awkwardness as if you’ve just realized what you’ve done and are like ‘oh yeah we’re not actually together better backtrack a bit’. I mean for fucks sake just admit it, tell them, be together.”

I sigh. I know I love them and that I’m in love with them, but admitting it opens me to the possibility of losing them and I’ve lost too many to want to open myself to that hurt again. But he’s right, I’ve been given another chance. The apocalypse separated us and has nearly liked us dozens of times but then we were accidentally reunited. I’ve spent months with them, sharing close proximity and moments of loving affection. How can I be so stupid, in closing myself off I nearly lost them while trying to avoid just that. 

“Fuck…” I murmur.

“Go on, go get them.”

I quickly get up, entering the house with urgency. 

~~~ YOUR POV ~~~    

The front door opens with a sense of urgency. Maria and I turn towards the sound and heavy boots bring Joel in. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Can I uh, steal them?” Joel asks Maria.

She smiles and pops a hip out, leaning against the counter, “it’s about time,” Maria nods me towards him.

I join him and while we’re leaving out the front door Tommy enters the house, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder. Joel has a nervous air around him and he grabs my arm and urgently takes me onto the porch. When the door closes I speak out.

“Joel what the hell are you-”

I stopped when Joel grabs my face in his hands and kisses me. This kiss is urgent, filled with a passion of gratitude and unease. When we release Joel doesn’t pull away far.

“Joel what-”

“I need you to know something,” he interrupts quickly, he takes a breath and continues in a slower calmer manner, “I’ve spent so much time with you, shared so many memories with you, and you might not be my love but honestly? I doubt it. I love you. I’ve always loved you, you’re my family and I’m no longer going to push you away in fear of losing you because I’ll lose you by doing that. I’d rather fear losing you, having loved you rather than losing you anyways and wondering what could have been.”

“Oh Joel,” I say with a soft sigh, “You think I would have agreed to get in the damn pick-up with you with nothing but what was on us and some dumb luck if I didn’t love you?”

Joel smiles, “Hey, do you want to explore the west with me?” he ends by motioning between us and with a teasing tone.

“I’ve spent a lot of time without love and a lot of time with you, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to explore the two together.”

We share a small kiss, “it only took an apocalypse for us to get together,” I laugh.

“That might be true but I’m happy we got here.”

“Me too… We don’t actually have to go West, right? Like that was a metaphor,”

Joel laughs at me, “Yeah baby, I mean I’m happy as long as we’re together but if you don’t want to stay-”

“No, no. I want to stay. We’re staying.” “Good.”

We watch the last bit of the sunset in each other's arms. We don’t know what tomorrow holds but we’ll figure that out and we’ll do it together. 

Taglist: ​​@spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @writer-darling @avengetheunnatural @louderfortheback @Currentobsessionrabbithole

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[goodgirlofglory]

Silver fox and the Captain - Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - /Masterpost/

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, SMUT, oral and vaginal sex, a little bit of angst, some fluff

Summary: Your new life at the compound seems like a dream, except that the unpredictability of your future at the hands of SHIELD has you on edge, along with a deepening sense of need for Steve Rogers

Note: Woop woop another chapter of this cute little series. I really like it, and kinda enjoyed how this little chapter turned out. lmk what you think if you feel like it, sweeties<333

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the content of the warnings upset you.

Reblogs, likes, replies and messages are amazing<333

You tapped your foot restlessly, staring at the door as if you could summon him. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. At least! You’d seen the jet land from your window, and had basically not taken a full breath since. Your skin sizzled, nerve endings straining this way and that, wanting to feel someone else’s skin. A particular someone else…

Another restless, tortured minute, and then you heard him bound down the hall, and his pace told you he was just as impatient to get to you as you were to receive him. Feigned nonchalance thrown out the window, you wrenched yourself out of your door to crash into him. You’d learned pretty early on that Rogers caught whatever you threw at him, including yourself. 

He caught you about the waist and spinned as he tucked you into his embrace, lips molding to yours immediately. Sparks of relief and pleasure imploded inside you at the touch of your lips to his. 

He wasted no time, striding in wide steps to carry you back inside your room and straight to the nearest surface he could lay you out on, which happened to be the coffee table in front of the sofa. Putting you on your back on the wooden surface, he got on his knees between your eagerly splayed thighs and hunched over you to start mouthing at your neck, an honest-to-god growling noise leaving him as he coated the skin in his saliva and bit down to suck a mark into the spot beneath your ear. 

You gasped and arched against him, hands fumbling blindly to undo his plaid shirt. Glorious, smooth and warm skin met your palms and you couldn’t consume his torso with your hands fast enough. The muscles in his abdomen shifted under your touch, and Rogers thrust against you lightly as his lips moved to suck another mark just below the one he’d just made. 

Impatient, you were so fucking impatient for him. 

His already straining bulge pushed up against your leggings clad pussy, and your moan was loud in the open room. You were already wet, had been for too fucking long, ever since you heard the jet approaching the compound to be honest. 

“You took so fucking long,” you practically whined as he rolled his hips again, and past-you would never have believed the needy tone to come from your lips. But alas, Steve took all your neediness and craved more. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said against your skin, littering your neck with kisses, moving his hands to remove your leggings and underwear in one swift motion. “I’m here now, baby, I got you,” he whispered in your ear as you both fumbled to unclasp his belt and undo his fly. 

Your hands went into his hair, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught of emotion at having him back. Four days on a mission was becoming way too long, and you almost felt like crying at finally being back in his arms, to be enveloped by his scent and his warmth, to hear his hot breath puff in the air around you and look into his piercing, blue eyes, see the rim of his irises shrink away, yielding to the expanding pupil that was taking in as much of you as it could - with almost equal frenzy to yours.

Intoxicating. 

You got his pants down below his ass, and truly, none of you had patience for any more sort of foreplay or preparation. You wanted to suck him off, feel the engorged head of his cock twitch on your tongue and taste the salty leakage. You also wanted his tongue on your clit, doing that teasing flicking thing that made your limbs shiver. But all that would have to wait. Right now it was all you could do not to whimper until he got his dick inside you, your hole clenching around nothing. Oh, who were you kidding, you were whimpering like a wounded puppy until Steve pressed his tip to your hole and thrust in with one, hard, perfect, obliterating glide. 

Incidentally, whimpering and whining only seemed to rile Steve up, making him fuck you that much harder, his grip tight enough to leave bruises and his breath hot in your ear as he murmured filthy ensurances. 

“There you go, little fox, so perfect and wet and tight for me. Feel better now? Feel good?” he practically groaned in your ear as his hips started moving, his cock on a devastating glide inside you, his arms around the back of your neck and under your waist to pull you down, meeting his thrusts. The ache of your empty loins gave way to the tight pressure of his cock between your hips, and you whined again with carnal relief. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back, letting your mind slip into that white hot haze of pleasure only Steve could give you. And boy did he. 

After, you lay spent and sated, perfectly content on the table while Steve, ever reinvigorated by his love-making, kissed down your body to fill up on marks. He liked to mark you, you found, with hands, teeth, tongue and come. It gave him some innate, primal satisfaction in seeing the purple and blue and red splotches littering your neck, breasts and inner thighs. He practically simmered with wicked glee every time at seeing his own spend leak from your puffy, swollen pussy. Quite perfectly, you’d come to love being marked by him in return, basking in the dull ache of his teeth worrying the spots before his saliva cooled to soothe the skin.

After he’d spent what he determined a sufficient amount of time marking you, his tongue found your clit, dragging you out of your dazed reverie, and it wasn’t long until you were going again, this time riding his cock on the floor of the living room, knees scraping deliciously against the carpet. 

This had been your pattern for the last month. Apart from a handful of interrogations where you had no choice but to give context for your existence and the way you’d meddled with S.H.I.E.L.Ds business the last year - you spent your days in endless relaxation. With your own rooms in the compound, wanting not for food, warmth or reading material and relatively free to roam (though all the interesting doors were always locked). In addition, Steve would spend what time he could with you, usually horizontally… 

The only problem was, the endless relaxation was beginning to become…well…not relaxing. You were crawling up the walls, to be perfectly honest. One thing was the fact that you missed sprinting over rooftops and moving through the world unseen and free. Another was the fact that you still had heard nothing of what exactly S.H.I.E.L.D intended to do with you now that they had you in their custody. Were you counting down the days til your execution? Would they burst in any day and haul you off to jail, never to see the sun nor Steve again? Would they lock you up in some lab and experiment on you? Had they forgotten you? You knew it was too much to hope they’d just unlock the door and set you free one day, but it felt like you were floating in a limbo - an endless repetition of the same, mundane, uneventful days that simultaneously were so unpredictable it made your bones itch. 

The only time your mind wasn’t churning away wondering when and how this all would proceed, was when you were with Steve. And while being his bedmate forever sounded rather nice at times, he wasn’t always there to share said bed. And when he went away on missions and whatnot, the black abyss of tomorrow's unknown entails would creep up your neck and settle like a brace around the back of your skull. 

But all this time alone had also given you apt opportunities to plan an escape - just in case. It was probably a coping mechanism, something to take the edge of the helplessness of not knowing the fate your captors/hosts planned for you. You’d successfully copied a blue print of the compound off some unsuspecting intern in the maintenance department while on a tour with Steve, and the route had been planned. With nicked supplies from here and there, ropes, hooks, small packages of food and drink, a swiss army knife and some wads of cotton and tissue, you figured you could wing it once you were outside the compound’s gates. All you needed was the perfect time. It needed to be when Steve was at the compound, for everyone’s shoulders lowered around you, knowing he was there. 

Yeah, keeping your…relationship secret had been completely impossible from the get go. One aspect was the amount of noise you’d made those first times in bed, which Steve’s team mates had given him a lot of heat for. You’d never seen him so red and flustered as when Black Widow - Natasha Romanoff you’d learned her name was - had interrupted one of your more aggressive trysts during that first week of non-stop fucking. It was meant as a room tour of Steve’s apartment in the compound, but had quickly turned into a rough pounding against the wall of his bedroom, your legs around his waist as he drove his cock into you, gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. Spluttering, red in the face and rubbing his neck, he’d apologized profusely for her barging in without knocking. You’d never thought him more adorable, and had fisted your hands in his shirt and dragged him back to the wall immediately. Word traveled fast, and soon the whole compound knew, just like that. The other thing was that Steve spent every second he could with you, which in of itself was a dead giveaway. The plentiful of hickeys he gave you - along with the ones you retaliated with - perfectly cemented any suspicion. 

No one had said anything or tried to stop you or separate you. You supposed they let Steve handle his own business - who in this whole, wide organization could you trust to know what he was doing if not Captain America, right? 

Well, you were starting to wonder what the hell you were doing. You should be bailing while you still had this level of freedom. Should have been long gone by this point if you were smart, and thought logically, and rationally and…and you weren’t. Hadn’t been smart or rational or thinking straight at all since that first day at the compound. Since that first kiss with Steve outside your door….hell, since your first kiss with Steve period. 

And just when that well known surge of adrenaline you used to get before bolting a situation welled up, and you could feel in your bones that you would make a move to leave as soon as darkness sank, you were called into a meeting. A meeting with Steve, or rather, Captain America. Captain America, most of the Avengers, a couple dozen secretaries, officials, officers and assistants and the grand director himself, Nick Fury. 

You swallowed painfully when Steve told you, eyes widening to the point of pain. He gripped your biceps to steady you before your flight reflex could take over, and looked down at you with a mix of worry and excitement. 

“Woah, woah, don’t panic. It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he said, smiling like everything was indeed dandy, all while your head was aching with the onslaught of images - images of your imminent death or imprisonment or even some form og medieval torture punishment. 

Steve personally led you to the meeting. He was clad in one of his Captain’s uniforms, which had acid rising in your throat. The meeting was  in one of the grander conference rooms across the compound. Your heart was pounding as you took your seat across a comically long table, others milling in from different doors and chatting idly. Black Widow, The Winter Soldier and The Falcon all entered together, clad in their uniforms. Black Widow and The Falcon laughed heartily, smiles wild with relaxed glee, and The Winter Soldier cracked a smirk behind them, muttering something that had them laughing again. They didn’t exactly seem ready to dish out any disembowelment, but it didn’t stop the incessant thudding of your heart in your chest. 

More people filed in, the room filling up to an uncomfortable degree. Steve took a seat next to you, subtly squeezing your knee under the table as he flashed you a small, reassuring smile. You tried to reciprocate, and was a bit embarrassed by how much the small gesture actually settled you. 

Then the big man himself, Nick Fury, entered, the last one in, sitting in the one, empty chair left, across the long table from you. One assessing eye burned across the table as it landed square on you. You had the impulse to duck under the table and disappear through a hole in the floor, but you stood your ground. You’d handled your fair share of intimidating men in your life, and would not bend so easily. 

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N,” Fury started, voice booming clear across the room. You managed not to flinch at having your full, real name declared like this in front of a room full of people, and simply waited for him to continue. A smirk curled on the director’s face. “Silver fox,” he said, amused, and you flushed at the nickname you’d given yourself all those months ago. It sounded so fucking stupid coming from his lips like that, and you almost slapped a hand to your forehead. Your eyes flitted to Black Widow instead, who was already looking at you, regarding you with a smirk of her own, though her’s was decidedly more friendly. You held her gaze for a moment before looking back to Fury. 

“You’ve been quite the illusive figure for a year now,” Fury continued. “You should have seen the confusion around here when the retrieval of stolen tech started to come back with bits missing. Open boxes, missing parts, curious accounts of things disappearing right under my people’s noses. And my people, for the life of me, couldn’t seem to understand what was going on,” Fury said, and it absurdly felt like he was scolding his children. Incidentally, the gathered members of the Avengers were looking part sheepish and part embarrassed. Scolded children indeed. 

Then it hit you that the reason they looked like that, the reason Fury was here speaking, the reason all these people were gathered in this room now - was you. Because no matter how stealthy you’d been and how many times you’d gotten away with the stolen tech unnoticed, your presence had been noted. And through the trickle of the whole S.H.I.E.L.D organization, everyone had been affected by your actions - and not in a good way. It dawned on you how probably everyone in this room had personal reasons to be cross with you. A cold sensation went down your spine as you wondered if everyone in this room also felt the need for personal retribution…like Caius had…

Fury brought you out of your thoughts as he kept talking. 

“There was a time I was sure there was a whole network infiltrating our busts and stealing our stuff. Turns out it was just one girl this whole time,” Fury said, and now there was some sort of amusement in his voice, almost like he was impressed.  If he was going to dish out some punishment after this, it felt a whole lot like he was toying with you. “Stealing stuff and stealing hearts,” Fury added after a moment, and his one eye slid to Steve, who sat as still and sure as stone at your side. 

Your own eyes sliced to Steve, no doubt revealing your surprise. You could feel your face flush at having your…fling so openly referenced. It was no secret, for sure, but this felt way to exposing in contrast. Also, what exactly your thing was, was a mystery to you. You and Steve hadn’t talked about defining anything, hadn’t confessed any feelings or made any promises. You could feel yourself losing the battle of your own heart to him, and that frightened you. Made some reflex in you kick in and panic. Losing any sort of emotional control to someone else was a dangerous thing, made you vulnerable, weak and exploitable - no matter that it was possibly the noblest man in the world who was pulling your heartstrings. But what Fury said…could it be possible that Steve felt something more for you? Why else would Fury be talking about his heart, and not, like, his cock or something…

Steve held Fury’s stare, unmoving, and you felt his hand brush your knee under the table, a hidden gesture of assurance. Then, as if he had a sudden change of heart, Steve lifted his hand onto the table and grasped yours in it, locking it in a steel grip as he kept Fury’s stare for another beat. 

Your mind short-circuited. Steve held your hand, out in the open, for everyone in the room to see. You felt dizzy. The sheer novelty of someone so openly claiming you, supporting you, protecting you…it had your stomach doing a flip that wasn’t entirely pleasant. Steve’s hand was warm around your own as Fury brought your attention back to him. 

“And now, because of Mr. Rogers here, I now find myself with an ample opportunity I think would benefit us all,” Fury said, and your mind flared with panic. Here it comes, the sentence. You found yourself opening your mouth and speaking before you knew what you were going to say. 

“Director Fury, please, I don’t know how long you’re gonna drag this out, but if I could just come with one wish, it would be, well, make it anything other than drowning. Anything else. I had a friend once, or not a friend, per se, but an ally - who got into some real trouble and they found his body on the bottom of a septic tank, and -” you could hear yourself rambling, but the words wouldn’t stop. Steve squeezed your hand, but you barely felt it. “- maybe an injection? The chair doesn’t sound that bad -”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Fury tried to interrupt, but you needed to get the words out, to at least try and make this end as merciful as possible. These were good guys, right? They wouldn’t unnecessarily torture you? Right?

“And also, if you could not send me to prison in Cambodia, that’s all I ask. There is someone waiting for me there who I would rather never meet again ever and - “

“Fox,” Steve said gently, and you stopped, slamming your mouth shut, tears in your eyes, staring down into the table. Would you get one, last night with Steve? A chance to feel his warm skin on yours again?

“Miss Y/L/N, you’re not here today to get a death sentence. We’re here to discuss your employment,” Fury stated from across the table.

“What?” you blurted after a moment of shocked silence, the gears in your brains grinding to a halt. 

Fury smirked. 

“I’m offering you a job.”

[riversimmone]

How to Catch an Uchiha

How to Catch an Uchiha

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

Sasuke wasn't a voyeur. Really, he wasn't... But caught in the middle of a lover's tiff between Itachi and Sakura and unable to do anything to stop it, all he could do was watch. Non-mass ItaSaku.

Notes:

Cross-posted from fanfiction.net . The reason this is mostly from Sasuke's POV is because I wanted a perspective outside of the ItaSaku elements, and going back and forth between Itachi, Sakura, and whoever I chose as the third wheel (eventually deciding on Sasuke) just sounded unnecessarily confusing. And of course, it was a lot of fun writing it this way. n_n Rated T. Hope you enjoy. :)

Rule number five on how to catch an Uchiha: subtlety.

There were moments that defined us. Moments that came as quickly as they vanished. An Uchiha was not meant to merely endure the storms these moments brought, but to take advantage of them as well. A well-aimed lightning bolt could turn the tide of battle, after all.

That was what his father had told him anyway.

Sasuke Uchiha sneered at the offending mocking of his dignity. The door swung outward. Doors weren't supposed to do that. He preferred shoji doors for that exact reason. They slid open without hitting anyone in the face–without hitting him in the face.

"Sakura," he growled. His team mate had just smacked him in the face when he knocked on her apartment door. Apparently, he wasn't fooling her–she knew exactly why he was here.

"Go fuck yourself, Uchiha!"

He grunted, holding a hand to his reddened face. "That's physically redundant."

"Sasuke!" Sakura screamed at him, and he ducked another wooden object–this one being a small budda statue.

"That's considered bad luck," he reminded her, and then winced at his own stupidity. He really needed to curb his sarcasm around her. This was yet another reason they hadn't lasted long as a couple.

Being that Sasuke was actually the faster ninja, and not a dobe who doubled as a masochist, he easily avoided those chakra laced punches of hers. Why anyone would stand still to get hit by them, he never understood.

"Get out!" She yelled, and he quickly backpedalled. "And tell your sanctimonious brother to stick his precious clan pride up his royal backside!"

The door slammed in his face... figuratively. Hadn't it swung the other way? Everything about Sakura confused him.

A gentle chuckle caught his attention, and frowning, Sasuke glared at the shadowy figure.

Itachi had been standing at the base of the stairs the entire time. He quirked an eyebrow at his otouto and Sasuke pulled a face at him. So subtlety was not his forte–at least, not on purpose–what did it matter? Sasuke knew what Sakura was like, and he'd wanted to be a friend. Was that so surprising?

"You were never going to get her to calm down," Itachi informed him.

"Then go in there and sort her out yourself," Sasuke said grumpily, walking down toward him.

Itachi stared at him for a moment, his curiosity piqued, but instead of walking up the stairs and knocking on Sakura's door, he turned and headed toward the exit, intent on leaving the apartment block. He hadn't been here for her, it seemed. Sasuke was the only other person who knew just how upset Sakura was... Itachi had followed him to watch him get hit in the face.

Bastard.

"I wouldn't leave her to stew in her anger for long; she'll implode," Sasuke said to his aniki's retreating back. When Itachi stopped and looked back at him affably, Sasuke mentally berated himself for getting involved.

Now he'd done it.

–XXX–

Rule number four on how to catch an Uchiha: perseverance.

Fucking hell... he knew he shouldn't have opened his mouth this morning.

Normally, Sasuke kept out of other people's problems, as he didn't care about anything other than his own concerns. His day normally went something like this: he started training shortly after sunrise, ate breakfast once his mother had wrangled his father out of bed (disgusting, life scarring mental images), and then either left to go find Naruto or headed off to a mission, if there was one. And normally, he'd have welcomed the fact that Itachi chose to spar with him this morning, and counted his lucky stars the Uchiha heir graced him with his presence.

But, this morning was different.

He'd gone to see Sakura first.

And Itachi had caught him.

He was just being a good friend; after last night's debacle at the Uchiha main house, he was worried about her. How was he to know she'd finally snapped and gone insane? Dealing with outsiders did that to an Uchiha. Dealing with Uchiha did that to outsiders. It was the natural order.

That was what his father had told him anyway.

And he opened his stupid mouth again, inwardly excited as he was, that Itachi had gone all out on his taijutsu and given Sasuke the best sparring session he'd had for weeks (Naruto didn't count, as the dobe had unnatural stamina on top of the Kyuubi's healing power). He wasn't thinking; that was it, the gods had stolen his brain.

And what was the problem? His aniki had recently come out, so to speak–he was officially dating Sakura Haruno. In any other clan, it might not have caused quite the stir as it had when Fugaku found out and Sasuke had eagerly kept out of it, not wanting to draw their father's wrath. But Itachi came to him, ready to blow off some steam and, so it seemed, to ask for some advice. Not that he came out and said it so obviously. It was in the subtleties in that man's demeanour; the raising of his eyebrows, the shift in his stance, and the fact that he talked about Sasuke's team without actually speaking Sakura's name.

And Sasuke read all the signs right… or wrong, depending on how a person looked at it. Clearly, Itachi wanted to know about how Sakura had been since the fiasco of their coming out, the night before, from Sasuke's point of view. Especially since she hadn't taken well to being told how the intended fiancee of the clan heir was supposed to act, according to the Uchiha matriarch, as well as the fact that she was expected to marry Itachi because their clan said so, according to the Uchiha patriarch. After that disastrous dinner, in which Sakura had politely informed both of her boyfriend's parents that she was only dating her eldest son, and they weren't getting engaged unless they decided it as a couple, not as a golden couple, the pinkette had been on the warpath.

Sasuke had no idea why she was so angry with Itachi though, but his aniki had been avoiding her–his idea of giving her time and space to cool down. Still, no matter what was really going on between those two, Sasuke had known her longer, had dated her first (albeit for about five days before their one and only date had come to a violent end–she'd labelled him "pervert" from that moment on), and got to see her more often because of all the above.

Before responding to his brother's unspoken question, Sasuke thought about that. Self-preservation dictated he feign ignorance, but pretending to not understand the inquiry, when his brother knew very well he could however, was a delicate matter, and caught off guard by Itachi's forwardness (for him, it was), Sasuke wasn't prepared enough to avoid the long, string of evasive probing in his imminent future.

That and Itachi could outrun him any day, so attempting to flee was out of the question.

He shifted his stance, moving immediately to avoid a blow when Itachi's fingers twitched; a sign of fire, heat and promised pain, for his slow response to the question.

"Be direct and honest," he said finally. "And above all else, don't give up."

–XXX–

Rule number one on how to catch an Uchiha: power.

From the clan heir to the lowliest crofter, power spoke volumes and attracted Uchiha like honey to a bear. She had power, and despite her earlier attempts when she was young, Sakura Haruno had earned the right amount of allure to become a household name in the Uchiha clan, not to mention every other clan in Konoha. Sasuke had even considered courting her properly, considering his mother's fascination with the girl (and despite their abysmal first date). This fell flat quickly however, and in of all places, the hot springs.

No, he wasn't there to peek… well, not officially. He'd followed the dobe in there to make sure he didn't do anything that would incur Sakura's wrath and put him out of commission. He told himself it was for the good of their teamwork, and not that he was still sore over his short lived "relationship" with the feisty pinkette.

And hey, if he got a good look, he wouldn't be complaining.

And really, it wasn't like he had anything better to do, not since Itachi started taking over the clan. No, that wasn't right either–Itachi wasn't clan leader yet, but his training was just about over and he was almost there. And his brother would not approve of Sasuke's extracurricular activities–Kakashi was rubbing off on both of him and Naruto. The Konoha bathhouses were no longer safe.

Anyway, where was he? Oh yes: the consequences of spying on Sakura, Hinata, Ino and Tenten in the hot springs (there were a few other girls there with them he didn't recognise but really, who cared who they were?).

Supple breasts, creamy legs, nicely shaped thighs… it was the last thing he saw before Sakura hit Naruto with that chakra infused punch of hers and the dobe slammed into him, knocking them both unconscious. Never again would he go peeking with Naruto tagging along–the knucklehead sucked at being stealthy.

"Never assume she won't chakra punch you when you piss her off," Sasuke added, avoiding a sidekick from his aniki as Itachi noticed his mind drifting. His brother was looking at him oddly, but seemed to think better about questioning him on it. But those all seeing eyes were narrowed suspiciously, and this distracted Sasuke easily; a roundhouse kick sent him through a recently repaired wall... that was going to hurt in the morning.

–XXX–

Rule number three on how to catch an Uchiha: intelligence.

There was no denying Sakura was smart. She'd graduated with high honours–though admittedly it was all theory–and continued to be the most analytical member of Team Seven. Sasuke considered himself intelligent, but she outstripped him, even on the battlefield–though he'd never admit it out loud. He supposed she was more than a match for Itachi in that respect.

Shōgi was the perfect example.

Still aching from that kick his brother had given him, Sasuke had absentmindedly agreed to a game of shōgi with said heir–it was a kind of peace offering, so it would be improper to turn him down, supposedly.

He moved the knight, not looking up in time to see his brother's smirk as Itachi watched his every move.

"That's only going to hurt you later, otouto," Itachi said smoothly, and the younger Uchiha poked out his tongue at him. "Don't let Okā-san catch you doing that, or she'll seal your mouth shut."

"And if you tell her, I'll tell Sakura you were treated for chlamydia."

It was a bold faced lie, but whatever. Itachi frowned at him, not finding the humour in it. "And how will she react to the news that you'd been stalking us for weeks before our relationship became public?"

Sasuke turned beet red–if he'd been eating or drinking anything, he'd have made a mess of the shōgi board. He stammered for a moment before raising his hands in placating manner–there went his dignity. "Just a joke, Nī-san, I swear."

"Hn."

Just thinking about what Itachi was referring to made him cringe.

The first day Sasuke had seen them in a relaxed atmosphere had been after he'd come home after a mission with his team and Itachi had been home, the pinkette would tag along and challenge the Uchiha heir to a game of shōgi.

Their parents couldn't beat Itachi. Sasuke couldn't beat Itachi. Shisui couldn't beat Itachi. But Sakura had slaughtered him. Sasuke remembered her laughing at his brother's expense, but in a strangely non-combative way. It sounded almost… teasing. Not child-like, not rhetorical, but definitely not the way two mere acquaintances should be conversing with each other. And she had never looked at her team mates that way before. He had been pretty sure they didn't know he was spying on them via the shoji door that separated the adjoining hallway between his own bedroom and Itachi's... well, sort of sure.

"That's what you get for underestimating me Itachi-kun," Sakura's sing-song voice took him aback.

Kun?

When did Sakura start adding the kun suffix to Itachi's name?

But his aniki didn't react to her slip of the tongue, merely sighing and refraining from rolling his eyes. He'd gone easy on her–that explained things.

Remembering that day now, Sasuke decided it was high time he found another shōgi partner for himself, and one that had no hope of beating him... perhaps Naruto, or Kiba. It was a running joke/gambling pool that surrounded those two–who had less restraint, who had less brain cells, who had less chance of courting a girl before they lost whatever sperm they had left.

Jokes were not meant for amateurs.

Sasuke sighed as Itachi took his king, and rolled his eyes at the older Uchiha's smirk: which brought Sasuke to his next piece of advice. "Don't underestimate her," he said. "Ever."

–XXX–

Rule number six on how to catch an Uchiha: propriety.

It was expected. It was just expected...

Damn it! Why did the woman have to be so difficult?

Sasuke tried to disappear into the background as his father half-yelled at Itachi for not pulling Sakura into line (in the most dignified way possible). The man didn't understand why the girl was being so resistant. He didn't understand that the pinkette was not a soft spoken lady who merely did as she was told. His heir had chosen a wild woman. But, Itachi argued civilly, wasn't that just a matter of preference?

And so the argument continued.

Fugaku did not understand his eldest son at all. "She's uncouth, even when using the appropriate honorifics. She's violent in all manner of things–beyond what is necessary for a Kunoichi, even at her level. She's also ignorant of our ways, and refuses to listen to common sense!"

"Why don't I teach her?" Mikoto asked placidly, playing the peace maker. "She wasn't raised in a clan, honey."

Sasuke baulked at the endearment, and had to force himself not to choke on his dinner. Sakura wasn't going to respond well to that. Itachi glanced at his otouto, gauging his response before making his own riposte to his mother.

"I will speak to her on it," he promised, and that was that. Fugaku grudgingly let the topic go for now, and Mikoto looked extraordinarily pleased with herself.

Sasuke gave his aniki a funny look, and excused himself from the dinner table a few minutes later. He should've expected that Itachi would follow him.

"You have something to say about all this," Itachi said matter-of-factly.

Sasuke was way past minding his own business now. "Yes, I do; you're an asshole."

Itachi just stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"All this fuss is being made over how Sakura needs to change," his irate otouto snapped. "What are you compromising on?"

"That's surprisingly wise and considerate of you, otouto."

"Pfft." Sasuke waved away the underhanded compliment. "I'm just saying don't expect more from her than you're willing to give of yourself."

Itachi chuckled. "I will endeavour to heed your advice, oh wise one."

–XXX–

Rule number two on how to catch an Uchiha: b eauty.

Okay, so Sakura was attractive. He knew it, he could see it, and hell the whole damn world could see it. But Sasuke wasn't interested in her like that… anymore. Itachi could have her. He sighed, fingering the curtain now obscuring his aniki and team mate from view. He knew his brother would realise he was there if he came any closer, so he settled for trying to listen in on their conversation instead.

Weeks of stalking had gone out the window, been humiliated in front of the whole of Konoha and been buried for good measure... what were the chances Itachi wouldn't make him pay for that, once things had calmed down with Sakura?

They were currently arguing, their voices raised, which was why Sasuke didn't have to strain to hear them. He wondered if it had anything to do with the "propriety training" his mother so condescendingly suggested. To be fair, the Uchiha matriarch probably thought she was helping, but...

"Fine!" Sakura's loud retort cut off his thoughts. "I give up! Create a clone and marry yourself, you pompous jerk!"

Itachi's response was too soft for Sasuke to hear; a loud crash followed the mumbled sounds and Sasuke risked a look, just in time to see a priceless antique smash against the wall behind Itachi. He grabbed her wrists after that, and Sasuke watched, suddenly wide eyed, as his aniki pulled his team mate close... and nuzzled her hair. Sakura immediately blushed, the faint pink that tinted her cheeks slowly darkening. He was whispering something in her ear, and it was definitely lascivious, because the next thing Sasuke knew, he was struggling not to gag... they were making out.

"Sasuke..."

Sasuke snapped out of his reverie as he realised Sakura had mumbled his name. What the hell?

"We know you're there," Itachi warned him.

Sakura stalked toward Sasuke's hiding place, and yanked the shoji door aside, almost ripping it off of its hinges. She was glaring at him. "Get out of here, Sasuke!"

Itachi chuckled. "Any advice now, Sasuke?"

Sasuke grunted. "Don't assume she's just in it for the sex, whatever you do–you'll regret it... painfully."

Sakura was in a state of shock as the younger Uchiha left, seemingly unruffled by being caught red handed.

"He's so wise," Itachi joked, pulling a chagrin Sakura toward himself.

Outside, Sasuke groaned to himself. A flushed, beautiful Sakura was not helping his faux indifference. He really needed to get out of here and get laid.

–XXX–

Rule number eight on how to catch an Uchiha: acceptance.

A few days later, they were arguing again, but from what Sasuke could hear, it wasn't so much about the idea of them getting married this time, but the planning–from who to tell to who to invite. Nothing was official yet, so they were keeping their decision close to the vest.

Sasuke left the feuding couple behind, to go find Naruto; the dobe was always at Ichiraku's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when they didn't have a mission, or if Sasuke hadn't invited his team to his place per his mother's "suggestion". He slipped into Ichiraku a few minutes later, having wandered there more on autopilot than anything else.

"Hey teme!" Naruto greeted him enthusiastically. "You just escape?"

Naruto was, unfortunately, Sasuke's confidante. The blonde knew about his problems with their team mate's love life, as well as his own abysmal one. Sasuke would've talked to Kakashi about this, but the man was a thirty-plus year old with no intention of settling down, so what did he know?

Sasuke grunted an answer and settled next to his best friend, ordering a bowl of pork ramen.

Naruto chuckled. "You're in so much shit."

"No shit."

The blonde almost fell off his seat laughing. Reflexively, Sasuke reached out and thumped his back as he started choking.

"Th-thanks," Naruto stuttered out.

And as he found his voice again, he started prattling on about his new training regime, pervy sage's strict diet which he was NOT adhering to, come rain, hail, or the next Shinobi War, and a new jutsu he wanted to try out in the hot springs later that Jiraiya taught him.

"You go invisible!" Naruto whispered hoarsely, as though there were spies everywhere. "No getting caught this time!"

"Thanks Naruto, I'll tell all the other girls that."

Naruto froze in his seat, but Sasuke glowered at Sakura's interruption. That had sounded like a worthy jutsu.

She glared at Naruto for a moment, and then decided to let it go–the next time she went to the hot springs, she'd just put up a few seals to render his new jutsu inert. She was here for Sasuke.

"I was looking for you actually, Sasuke. I want you to stop stalking Itachi and me."

Sasuke frowned at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not an idiot, Sasuke," she said, growling.

"I know that."

"And I don't care if you approve of me and Itachi," she added. Still, it mattered to Itachi, and she didn't really want to alienate Sasuke, but if he didn't stop looking at her like she was an idiot, he was going to the hospital. "Stop gawking at me."

Sasuke wasn't sure what to say. A number of things came to mind, but none of them sounded like things that wouldn't put her in a homicidal mood. If he told her he'd known about them for weeks, he'd be in even deeper shit. His stalking tendencies had started as a way to cure boredom, and to avoid Naruto when the dobe was looking to find a pranking or peeking partner. Now, they were out of control–not that he would admit it–and she was cottoning on. He wondered how long it took Itachi to realise, and why he hadn't said anything earlier.

"Sakura-chan?" Naruto interrupted, drawing her fire. "Sasuke-teme promises to support you and keep his perving eyes off of you, now that you're having regular sex with his brother, 'k?"

She blinked heavily, and Sasuke's eyes widened.

"It's not proper to talk about sex in public, dobe." Sasuke warned him.

That was what his father had told him anyway.

Naruto gave them both a huge grin, ignoring his best friend's obvious irritation. "After all, it was his idea that his teme brother stop putting so much pressure on you to marry, right?"

Sakura frowned at Sasuke, like she was trying to figure him out.

Sasuke tensed, waiting for the inevitable (attempted) pounding. Instead, Sakura threw her arms around him, half squeezing the life out of him. "Thank-you," she whispered. Feeling mischievous however, Sakura threw him a teasing grin when she pulled away. "The make-up sex was awesome!"

Sasuke's body went rigid... they were already having sex? He shuddered. Of course they were.

"You don't need my acceptance," he told her. "Just spare me the details and it's all good."

Well, partially. He didn't mind the mental images of Sakura that her words induced... but the ones that had her with his brother...

Disgusting.

–XXX–

Rule number nine on how to catch an Uchiha: respect.

Sunlight streamed through, between the bamboo lattice that made up the screen for the front wraparound patio of the Uchiha main house. If there were birds nearby, he was sure they were tweeting and chirping, or whatever birds did when they were happy, just as he felt like doing. It was a good day.

Sasuke sighed deeply. The whole fucking shite with Itachi and Sakura was finally over; they were now officially engaged. His father was finally getting and respecting that the pinkette wasn't some docile lamb. His mother was looking for her future daughter in law's input in the wedding plans. Sakura's own parents were over the moon. The Uchiha clan elders had approved the match-up. Itachi looked more content than Sasuke had ever seen him.

And most importantly, Sasuke could finally breathe easy. They had involved him long enough.

Entering the house in the middle of their post-negotiations hadn't been a good idea however; as soon as she spotted him, Mikoto glanced at her younger son, and Sasuke knew that look–now that Itachi was sorted out, he could expected to be nagged now, to find a nice girl to settle down with. He swallowed heavily, terrified beyond measure.

The matriarch removed her stare and responded to his father as the man demanded her attention.

Itachi spared his otouto a glance, noting that he wanted to run far away, as soon as possible. But he had another surprise for Sasuke, and running away was not an option. He indicated to him silently, not to go anywhere, and Sasuke threw him a glare before acquiescing.

He took the chair furthest from the family scene–Sakura's parents were being hard asses about the impeding wedding bill, but it was looking good.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, when Shisui sidled up next to him.

His cousin shrugged. "Thought it would be entertaining to see the family go crazy over party decorations. What do you think about all this?"

Sasuke's eye twitched in irritation as he watched the way his father was ordering his mother about, grateful that Itachi would never get away with trying that shit with Sakura. "Respect is a waste of time if it isn't mutual."

–XXX–

Rule number seven on how to catch an Uchiha: loyalty.

The months had gone by quickly, and the well-publicised wedding of the year was about to begin.

It hadn't been easy, getting here, and even the best man had felt every bump in that rollercoaster. Sasuke had suffered, bled, sweated and cried... figuratively speaking, so his brother chose him over Shisui to be best man; like he was supposed to feel privileged. It wasn't like he would be returning the favour.

If he chose anyone other than Naruto for best man at his own wedding, the blonde would never forgive him.

Shifting slightly next to Itachi, Sasuke checked his watch, groaning at the time.

"Calm down."

"Yeah Sasuke," Naruto cooed, bouncy lightly on his other side. "It's Sakura-chan and Itachi's wedding, not yours."

"Shut up, dobe."

Why oh, why, did Itachi invite the blonde idiot to this?

Naruto just laughed, and slapped him on the back. "See you in there."

Not being a part of the ceremony, the lucky bastard was allowed to go in right away and find a seat–he'd probably be looking for Hinata, wanting to sit next to her, but conveniently "forgetting" that she was here with her family, and Hiashi terrified him.

"I understand now," Sasuke said, once the dobe was gone, glancing at his aniki. "Why you chose Sakura as your wife."

Itachi stared at him incredulously, his placid façade cracking slightly–he hid his nervousness well, given the givens. "Sasuke... what are you talking about?"

"It was touch and go there, with her temper, and she's still rough around the edges, but Sakura has all the makings of a fine matriarch."

Itachi couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sasuke was advocating their father's teachings? "Nothing father has taught us about finding an appropriate wife matters, Sasuke. Don't forget that."

Sasuke frowned. "So, you weren't looking for any of those things?"

Itachi shook his head. "No otouto, I wasn't."

"But father said‒"

"The rules are a guideline, Sasuke. When you fall in love, all those petty rules go out the window and nothing else matters."

Sasuke coughed, starting choking and gasped as Itachi slapped him on the back helpfully. "You love Sakura?"

"Yes otouto, as hard as it is for you to believe, I love Sakura-chan."

"Chan?"

Itachi smirked. "I see; I would hope you understood that marrying for love, though rare in our clan, is still a perfectly reasonable choice."

Sasuke nodded, his mind whirring. How could he not have even considered they were in love? It was so obvious, now that he did think about it.

"Come now, it's starting."

Sasuke looked around, wincing as he remembered his part in this bloody thing. The reminder was wearing her maid of honour dress and gazing at him like he was a piece of meat as she approached him expectantly.

He reluctantly took Ino Yamanaka's arm, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with her as they walked up the aisle–as best man and maid of honour, respectively The woman was nothing if not persistent. He was to be officially engaged to a tenth cousin or something or other, unless he found someone as worthy as Sakura, like Itachi did (and Ino Yamanaka, the heiress to her own clan, was not in that calibre), but he wasn't taking it seriously. He had time. Hell, Itachi had recently turned twenty-five; Sasuke's future was not so closely monitored (his mother didn't count as a platoon of overbearing Elders), so he had time to decide on his own.

And he would not be marrying a whinny, blonde idiot–or any idiot, for that matter. Fangirls were off the list, as were members of clans outside his own–the latter involving politics he'd rather avoid like the plague. He kind of liked the idea of a civilian.

Sasuke refrained from outwardly wincing as Ino's hold on his arm became painful. He quickly distracted himself from the nuisance as they finished their walk... and removed himself from her just as quickly, hurrying a little faster than necessary to his brother's side.

Itachi gave him a knowing, annoying smirk. The dress rehearsals had been a nightmare, but at least now, it was done with. Sasuke planned to sneak out the back after the toasts at the reception, and go get drunk with some of the guys; he'd so far roped Shikamaru, Kiba, and Neji into agreeing to it–Naruto had invited himself.

Ino made a gushing sound and reluctantly, Sasuke followed her line of sight.

Sakura looked beautiful... radiant and princess-like worked too. He couldn't believe the image of poise and beauty walking down the aisle on her father's arm was the same little girl who'd followed him around when they were young. She was now the woman marrying Itachi. She was now the imminent Uchiha matriarch-to-be. She was... having regular sex with his aniki, he reminded himself, and pushed down his suddenly lascivious thoughts.

And with that thought, Sasuke felt all the anxiety leave his body, not sure why he was so nervous to begin with–Itachi was the one that was going to be stuck with Sakura for the rest of his life, after all.

The Shinto priest got straight to the point–another Uchiha trait–and the gushing crowd grew quiet and respectful.

Itachi recited his vows first, his thoughts never far from the woman staring up at him. He'd memorised the words, and they fell from his lips easily. There was nothing left to do but show Sakura, and everyone present, how much he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her. Such a tender, volatile and persistent woman she'd become–she was going to make his life interesting. Not to mention the fact that she was currently six weeks pregnant–a fact they'd decided to keep to themselves until the hype from their wedding was over. That was another thing he was looking forward to seeing: her swollen with his child.

Sakura's rehearsed words came next. She'd rewritten it so many times that she still felt slightly nervous about them. But looking up into those dark, all-seeing eyes, she couldn't help but smile, the tension leaving her body at his loving gaze. The future she was envisioning involved a lot more of what they'd done so far. Itachi was such a warm, loving person, when he wanted to be. Even his façade of detachment was never meant to insult anyone. He was so strange, and so very different to everyone else, how could she possibly not become enamoured? He was her future, as much as the child growing inside of her was. She couldn't wait.

And the kiss was a reminder to them both that this was only the beginning–a bit sensual, light tongue, and mildly ferocious, it got a few cat-calls from their less restrained guests.

Sasuke smiled slightly, watching his aniki and new sister-in-law as he followed at a respectful distance behind them, walking back down the aisle as newlyweds, and whispered, "Don't break her heart."

–XXX–

[valvesandthings]

May I request something with TFA ProwlOP? Maybe with a dominating Prowl?

When Prowl suggested a break from the city, a bone-tired Optimus was quick to agree. If he had to sit through one more traffic stop he might just implode. And his poor audials were starting to ring from the constant construction (which he felt mildly guilty for necessitating). The pair drove for nearly an hour before Prowl stopped in a secluded —possibly abandoned— campground, hidden deep within the woods. Optimus transformed and stretched as Prowl watched him with an impassive expression. The quiet was so welcome though that Optimus hardly noticed the question in Prowl’s gaze.

“Ah,” Optimus sighed, “I wish we lived out here.”

“As do I,” Prowl said. He was suddenly standing right in front of Optimus.

Optimus took a startled step back. “Personal space, Prowl,” he said, “we talked about this.”

Prowl waved a dismissive servo. “Since we can’t live out here, why don’t we make the most of the time we have?”

“I am not meditating.”

He reached out and snagged Optimus by the collar and yanked him down to his level. “I was suggesting a different exercise,” Prowl rumbled.

Realization hit Optimus like a brick wall. He swallowed hard. If Prowl was saying what he thought he was saying, Optimus was not prepared.

“What’s the matter?” Prowl whispered, leaning so close his nose brushed Optimus’.

Optimus was ready, mouth opening, optics closing, but then Prowl pulled away. Optimus —as embarrassed as he was— had to fight not to whine. Couldn’t he get just a little bit of stress relief?

“Tell me what you want, Optimus,” Prowl said, cocky.

The young Prime bit his lip and decided to make the boldest move possible: He looked Prowl dead in the eye and demanded, “Kiss me.” Okay, so maybe not the boldest thing he could have done, but pretty astounding if you think about it.

Prowl folded his arms over his chassis. “Is that all you want?”

~

Optimus’ mouth hung open as he panted, drooling into the ground as Prowl pounded into him from behind. Damn that mech. Optimus arched his back and Prowl hit a new set of nodes. He cried out, spitting static as Prowl somehow thrust harder, filling him so damn well.

Prowl leaned over and growled in Optimus’ audial, “Frag, you’re so tight.”

“It’s —ah— been a while,” Optimus admitted. Since his academy days, to be more precise.

Prowl pushed down on the back of Optimus’ helm, keeping him down as his thrusts began to stagger. Optimus screamed out his overload when he felt the first jet of hot transfluid coat his valve, and he melted into a limp heap as Prowl thrust his way through his own overload.

[apocryphal-archetypes]

thinking about heathers (1989). honestly gobsmacked and flabbergasted that it even exists.

-it's a movie about high school that is rated R, so the majority of high school-aged people aren't supposed to watch it without a parent.

-none of the actors are actual teenagers and you can REALLY tell because apparently the popular girls at this high school decided they needed to look like the top accountants at goldman sachs.

-also, they play croquet.

-a disaffected young white man plots an act of terror against a high school and this isn't even the main bad thing that happens because the movie came out ten years before that started to become a regular occurrence in american schools.

-it's a movie about gen x written by someone slightly too old to be gen x, so they're caricatured as these morally bankrupt gothic misanthropes. yes xoomers did eat it up.

-betty finn is the hottest nerd you've ever seen and she's preppy but the heathers still decided that veronica, who probably used to growl at people freshman year, should be the one to join their clique.

-this movie is the only time any person, real or fictional, has ever expressed a desire for corn nuts.

-or validated the existence of corn nuts.

-jd knows that his dad exploded his mom and just. lives with him. as if their family was the normal amount of fucked up? he tells veronica abt his mother's death like it's nothing. she decides that what he needs is some spaghetti.

-heather chandler (the most important heather) is dead for the majority of the movie. her ghost appears wearing an outfit she did not die in, never wore, and in fact, wouldn't have been caught dead wearing in life.

-jd's grandpa was a nazi and the canon reason he brings this up is to make veronica less afraid of the fact that he has a gun.

-the surreal elements don't even read as taking place only in veronica's imagination because the entire everything is so buck wild.

-the cheerleader outfits for westerburg high are black with red accents like they're extras in a my chemical romance music video or something.

-heather duke is an ornery repressed lesbian who binges rotisserie chicken in the locker room because if she looked at a woman's body in anything less than a power suit she would implode.

-the whole thing takes place in ohio?

however the most unrealistic part of all of this is that veronica successfully fakes her suicide to her boyfriend whose main characteristic is being obsessed with death and destruction.

and then they made it into a musical on the west end where kurt kelly's dad sings a song about how he loves his dead gay son and the vietnam war is played for a flippant analogy.

because of the language, alcohol use, sex, and triggering content there is a high school edit of the musical. you may have logically assumed that this high school edition is considered appropriate for high schoolers. however i have seen at least one production of heathers the musical high school edition marked as "for mature audiences only".

there is no way this movie exists in the real world. it feels like a fucking straw man. what the fuck. what the fuck. it can't possibly be normal to like this movie.

[anulithots]

"You get in the way."

(Philo isn't in this one that much but I don't have anymore sketches of faer right now :)

The tumblr houseplant series: Philodendron. Episode three.

The tumblr houseplant series: Growing a garden of houseplants based off this weird thing called existence, "planted" by others from tumblr.

The Philodendron from @rainisawriter

"I think one of the biggest things I struggle to overcome is taking things to heart. I'm quite sensitive, see, and I tend to take things personally even when it isn't personal at all."

Episode one - Weather you like it or not

Episode two - What a debut

Note - this is still a first draft, any feedback is much appreciated <3

TRIGGER WARNING - slight self-deprecation.

------

Philo strolled around the garden's walls, making sure to keep to the shadows and the foliage. Fae tucked faer leaves close enough to faer sides to hurt.

During the last festival, Rose didn't want Philo to take part with faer group. Fae said Philo's leaves would get in the way, that faer leaves lacked the dexterity needed to win the festival games....

Philo shook faer head, swallowing faer acid bile. No, no. That whole 'woe is me' session already lasted a week, with faer avoiding faer plant and any reflective surface. It shouldn't affect faer anymore. It shouldn't matter.

Philo unfurled faer leaves. It would be fine...

They would tell fear that faer leaves took up too much space...

Philo squeaked and gibbered the embarrassment that singed faer wingtips away. Wobblily rocks filled faer throat.

Philo pressed faer paws foreward. Ignore, ignore... Why was this so hard to ignore?

Fae spent the last THREE DAYS unmoving from faer dusty corner. Three entire days where it could've rained or the clouds could've formed pictures or the wind could've had interesting patterns.. and it was all wasted on fretting over a simple question. How long before Philo's entire life consisted of nothing but recovering from passing comments?

Philo scowled. This was why fae needed to keep faer guard up constantly, especially when was excited. It always happened when fae was excite-

"Hello again!"

Philo stumbled over faer paws and fell into a heap, dust puffing into a cloud. Fae coughed.

Dottie.

Not Dottie.

Fae was nice and all but..

'How would that work?'

Philo squeezed faer eyes shut, for a moment, two. Perhaps fae could pretend Dottie didn't exist and fae would be gone when Philo opened faer eyes.

Dottie held out faer paw. "I couldn't find you for AGES and I thought I scared you away and my entire dust cleaning idea would fail before it started and - oh no, I'm oversharing... Whoops."

Philo propped faerself up and tried cough up the rest of the dust.

Dottie tilted faer head. "Ohhh... that's- that's a lot of - you know."

Philo's insides lit aflame. "Yes. Astute observations... goodbye."

Philo tried to rush away before fae melted into a green puddle, but Dottie stumbled in front of faer and - why did fae have to be so persistent? Philo found it much easier to avoid all faer previous friends....

...that was pathetic.

Dottie grinned a half-smile. "Well you miigght need a dust cleaning. If you want to, obviously, not forcing you... hopefully. I'm not forcing you, right?"

Philo would spontaneously combust if fae did not leave. right. now.

Fae growled. "Yes you are forcing and annoying and do not ask me about any 'cleanings' because I. do. not. want. on-"

Philo coughed on another cloud of dust and proceeded to implode.

Perhaps the group would swallow faer up and fae would be free from this mess.

Dottie padded closer. "Are you alright? Dust is really painful if you let it get bad but I'm sure I can hel-"

Philo snapped.

"No you cannot come closer because if you do you will judge but in such a nice way that I can't say anything in return and I CANNOT deal with that right now or ever so can you please mind your own plant for once and stay over there thank you very much."

Dottie blinked, eyes watering.

Philo recoiled.

By the stars... why did fae say that? Fae made it so, so much worse.

Well, there goes one more ruined friendship, add it to the list.

.... This would repeat in faer head for days.

[next episode - You're being unreasonable]