#who is practiced in keeping his voice free of emotions) 'I'm busy'

[kyokosayuki]

Seriously!!! No apologising for the tags!!! I see ur tags in my notifs and rub my little hands in glee cause I know they’re gonna be good food!!!!

WAAAAAAA on it boss (salutes) fist fighting my insecurities one unapologetic sincere tag at the time ;;; no but honestly, thank you. It means a lot!!!

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 13)

Cillian lounged in a corner of your room, his sharp gaze following you every move as you added finishing touches to your makeup. The soft hum of your laptop played a forgotten pop song, a stark contrast to the palpable tension that seemed to cling to the air like static. Sifting through the scatter of your belongings with a casual entitlement, his fingers grazed over trinkets and textbooks before settling on a slender hairbrush.

"Y/N," he began, his voice echoing a melody of concern tinged with an undertone of command, "shall I brush your hair for you?"

You glanced at him through the reflection in the mirror. "No, it’s fine. I've got it," you protested with a forced chuckle, hoping to keep the mood light, to keep him at arm's length without inciting that familiar flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Ignoring your protests, Cillian rose fluidly from his seat, the ease of his movements full of grace and surety. He gestured toward the bed with a tilt of his head, saying, "Come sit. Let me take care of you."

With reluctance trailing your steps, you sat on the edge of your bed, feelings his legs caging yours on either side. Before you had a chance to reconsider the position, his fingers entwined with strands of your hair, brushing through them with a deceptive gentleness that belied the steel in his grip.

Your hands lay stiffly in your lap, your skin prickling with the awareness of Cillian’s touch. The sensation was muddled—a blend of the intimate and the intrusive, the nurturing act of hair-brushing tainted by the added sentiment of his affection for you.

"Relax," he murmured. "You're tense. You need to be at ease around me. I'm your boyfriend. We’ll be doing more intimate things soon enough."

"Lee!"

"Only when you want to," he laughed and amended.

The bristles of the brush glided along your strands with methodical strokes, each pass an attempt to smooth out the tangles. He made quick work of swiping through each knot, restoring your hair to its natural, tidy state. Jabbing his fingers through the bristles, he raked your stray strands free and rolled it into a ball. It felt far too casual and oddly intimate.

You were glad when he excused himself to find the trashcan to dispose of the ball. Briefly freed from his presence, you slumped over and pressed your hands to your heated cheeks. Even the smallest acts of affection left your heart in shambles. Cillian truly would be the death of you.

You followed his route to the hall moments after. Stepping into the living room, you snuck up on Cillian, who was busy viewing a photo pinned to the wall. Reaching up to straighten it, he caught sight of your reflection in the glass and turned around.

"This is your brother," he commented.

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about it?"

Perhaps too casually, Cillian said, "I'll pay his school fees this upcoming year."

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Your mouth went dry while your eyes suddenly welled with tears. Words failed to come to mind. You tried to formulate something, but all you heard was the proclammation echoing.

Pay it? Would he really do that? It was too much. You'd barely started dating, and there was no way you'd be able to pay him back.

"You couldn't mean it."

"Why wouldn't I?" he gruffly says. "I keep saying I'll take care of you. What kind of man would I be if I didn't keep my word?"

The front door clicked open before you could've fallen to your knees and wept in grace. You pulled away with a gasp.

Your mother turned around, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of Cillian standing confidently beside you, his presence as undeniable as if he'd staked a flag in the heart of their modest living room.

“Cillian.” Your mother greeted, with a voice that held the practiced neutrality of someone well-versed in hiding their emotions. The lines of fatigue around her eyes betraying the long hours she'd worked. “It’s been a while.”

"Miss L/N," Cillian replied, every inch the handsome suitor with his polished smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

You viewed the exchange, feeling as though you were caught between two chess masters mid-game. You could almost see the silent messages passing between your mother and yourself in quick glances—warnings shrouded in civility, questions folded into the creases of weary brows.

Your mom’s gaze lingered on you, a flicker of concern there and then gone, replaced by the firm set of her jaw—a nonverbal pact made in those shared seconds: ‘We’ll talk about this later.’

“Have a good time,” your mom said, masking her disapproval with a cordial nod, even as her fingers twitched, a subtle tell of unrest.

“Thank you. We will,” Cillian responded, his assurance wrapping around  you like a cloak, heavy and suffocating.

They moved towards the elevator, the scent of Ms. Liang's cooking fading behind them, replaced by the sterile air of the hallway. Cillian's hand found  yours, his grip firm and unyielding as the doors slid shut with a whisper of finality. The confined space seemed to echo with the unsaid, the brushed metal walls reflecting distorted images of entwined fingers.

“Your mother always looks so tired. Is she still spending every other night at her friend’s place near the hospital?”

“Work has been demanding,” you managed, your words measured, careful not to betray the cacophony of your thoughts. Your gaze fell to where Cillian's shadow merged with hers on the elevator floor, a dark, intertwined silhouette.

"How sad. At least I'll always have time for you."

As the elevator dinged its arrival at the ground floor,  your pulse quickened. The doors parted, revealing the lobby bathed in the soft glow of evening lights, but the beauty of the moment was lost to her, overshadowed by the weight of Cillian's hand in hers, the gravity of expectation, and the fear of what lay beyond the safety of your mother's watchful eye.

The chill of the lobby air brushed against your skin, raising tiny bumps along your arms as Cillian’s grip remained unyielding. You glanced at their interlocked hands, a silent plea hidden in the furrow of your brow, the subtle tug you gave meant to loosen his hold.

“Cillian,” you murmured, “my hand—it’s a bit sweaty.”

“I don’t mind,” he said with a half-smile. His fingers relaxed but remained entwined with hers. “I like feeling you against me.”

your heart thrummed a staccato beat against your chest, echoing the click-clack of heels on marble as they passed through the lobby, where the after-work exodus created a river of people. Their reflections danced across the glossy floor, distorted and fleeting, like shadows fleeing from the sun’s chariot.

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” Cillian remarked, gazing at the rosy hue painting the sky through the tall glass panes. He squeezed your hand again.

“Nice enough. Can’t wait for summer. I want to go to the beach.”

“None of the beaches around here are nice,” he complained. "That's why I'll take you somewhere nice this year."

"And Rian?"

His nails raked against your knuckles. "What about him?"

"We're still bringing him, right?"

"Yeah, sure," came his mindless response.

They stepped outside, and the transition from the artificial warmth to the evening's embrace made  you shiver. The parking lot stretched before them, cars gleaming under the orange tint of street lights, their metal bodies waiting like steeds in a stable.

His car—sleek, black, a modern chariot—waited. He opened the passenger door for you with a flourish, the gentleman act flawless in execution. Once inside, Cillian leaned over the center console to whisper into your ear.

“Choose whatever music you’d like for the drive.”

“Don’t care about me messing up your Spotify algorithm?”

“It’s mine, so it’s yours, too,” he cooly said.

Huffing in embarrassment, your fingers hovered over the screen, the car's infotainment system aglow with options. You selected a playlist, something calming, hoping the melodies could soothe the storm brewing within.

“Perfect choice,” he said, as the first notes floated through the space, a harmonious cover for the dissonance in your soul.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, the car's smooth acceleration did little to ease the knot in your stomach.  You stared out the window, watching the world blur by, each passing streetlight like a flickering candle, illuminating the path but casting long shadows behind them.

The restaurant’s glass doors parted.

“Watch your step,” Cillian murmured, guiding you past the threshold where trendy lights cast shadows that danced upon the walls, like echoes of Plato’s cave—distorted truths for those who looked on.

Your gaze flitted through the room, alighting on a table where Connor, Blaise, and Rian awaited.

“Relax, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “They’re just friends. You shouldn’t be nervous to be with your boyfriend around them.”

As they approached, Blaise's eyes found your, an odd glint within them akin to the reflection of moonlight on a serpent's scales. Gaze fluttering away, he sipped his tea.

“Everyone, this is my beautiful girlfriend,” Cillian announced, pride swelling in his chest. His voice reached across the table, an invisible laurel wreath offered to all but meant for one.

Connor was first to break the silence with the roll his eyes. "We know, dude. You haven't stopped talking about her since... ever. It's really getting old."

Rian remained silent, sipping his drink.

“You're his girlfriend now?” Blaise echoed after a pause, his tone flat as the surface of a river, unimpressed. He set his cup down with a clink. His sharp gaze landed on Cillian. “Also, who are you again?”

“Y/N's boyfriend,” he replied, his smile tight as he pulled out a chair for  you. When you sat, he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms snaking across your shoulders to trap your in a hug. “We look good together. Can’t you tell that we’re a couple?”

Furiously blushing, you swatted at his hands.

“Of course,” Blaise said, his smile sharp as a blade. “I work in the mall, and I was unfortunate enough to catch sight of you two out on a date. The ordeal was particularly... inspiring. It was like a drama. A horror one.” He said the last part under his breath.

You settled into your seat, the fabric of your mismatched outfit whispering against the cushion. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, seeking solace in the small gesture, a touchstone amidst the tempest of male egos clashing like titanic forces before her.

“Let’s order,” Rian interjected, attempting to flag down a waiter.

The menu in  your hands became a shield, each dish listed a potential refuge from the volley of subtle jabs exchanged under the guise of pleasantries. Connor glanced between the two men, then at you.

“Everything looks delicious,” he commented, attempting to steer the conversation to safer shores. "What are you thinking of getting,  Y/N?"

“Ah, I—”  you began, but your words were a ship lost at sea, capsizing beneath the weight of Cillian's arm on you.

"I think we should order the same thing," Cillian declared before you could navigate your thoughts, his voice laced with certainty that brooked no dissent. "That way, I won't feel inclined to take anything from your plate."

Before you could've protested, a waiter arrived, pad in hand, poised to take their orders. You hurriedly scanned the menu as the rest shared their orders.

"And for the lady?" he asked, turning expectantly toward you.

“She wants the salmon,” Cillian interjected smoothly, his tone brooking no argument, as if he were Zeus himself decreeing fate from on high.

"Actually, I was thinking of the—"

"Trust me, you'll love the dish here," Cillian cut you off, his hand reaching out to squeeze hers, a gesture that felt less like affection and more like restraint.

“Sounds lovely,”  you agreed, the words automatic.

“Seems like she has something else in mind,” Blaise remarked, his voice cutting through the hum of the restaurant like a sword of Damocles, dangling precariously over the table.

Cillian’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance betraying the sculpted calm of his features. “My Y/N doesn’t need to worry about such trivial things with me.”

“Trivial things like her own preferences?”

“Let’s not—”  Connor tried to interject.

“Oh, shut up, Connor,” Blaise languidly said. "What are you even doing taking his side again?"

“That’s quite enough,” you interjected at last. The room seemed to still around you, the quiet before the storm. You stood up, your chair scraping back with a finality that echoed off the walls. "I'm not even hungry anymore."

"But you already ordered," Connor weakly protested.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have the mental capacity for a petty squable." Reaching into your bag, you retrieved your wallet and pressed a handful of bills onto the table. "Goodnight, everyone. I'll see you when we learn to get along."

"Y/N," Cillian started, sounding regretful, but he was already slipping his coat on and grabbing your purse.

Pouting, your eyes met his in a silent plea. Obeying, Cillian rose, his movements graceful, a prince reluctantly stepping down from his pedestal. He followed her, the pair moving through the restaurant and out into the cool night air, leaving behind the echo of myths unspoken and battles yet to be waged.

The car door shut with a thud, sealing them inside the small world of Cillian's sleek vehicle.  You felt the leather seat beneath you, cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the warmth that had gathered in your cheeks. The silence was heavy, laden with words unspoken and tensions unresolved.

“Y/N,” Cillian began, his voice a low rumble that vibrated the space between them, “I saw the way Blaise was looking at you tonight. It’s obvious he likes you, and I don’t like that. It makes me feel strange.”

Your heart skipped, caught off guard by his blunt accusation. In the dim light of the dashboard, his features were sculpted like those of an ancient statue, noble yet intimidating.

“It’s not like that. He’s just being protective as a friend,” you replied, feeling your phone in your pocket buzz with possible messages from the friends you'd left behind. "Besides, he's knew. He doesn’t know how we are. He just… He doesn’t understand.”

“Friend or not, I know what I saw.” Cillian's gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror, as if seeking answers in its reflective surface. “I’m a man, Y/N. I understand these things, so I need to ask you not to hang out with him anymore.”

A chill ran down your spine. His concern was suffocating. Yet, you found yourself trying to rationalize it, to see it through the lens of a man protecting what was rightfully his.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. For as long as you'd known him, Cillian had always been an innately jealous person, but he was already doing better. Instead of demanding, he was discussing it with her, talking through his problem.

"Fine. I won't hang out with Blaise alone. Friendly gatherings are still fine."

"You promise? Only those?" Cillian turned to her, his expression shifting like shadows cast by flickering candlelight. For a moment, you saw the wounded boy beneath the veneer of control, and your heart ached to soothe him.

"I promise," you affirmed, though for some reason, your stomach knotted with the weight of the concession.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached over, his fingers gently tilting y ourchin up towards him. Guiding you forward, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding.

You finally broke the kiss to steal a quick gulp of air. You nearly pulled away when he leaned in again, only to press another to your forehead. He lingered, blowing a content puff of breath. You closed your eyes, trying to melt into the sensation, to let it consume your doubts.

This is normal, you told yourself. This is how boyfriends act when they care about you. I shouldn't be throwing a fit because I'd feel the same if I thought some girl was flirting with him. But unlike me, he wouldn't even talk to her.

As they pulled away from each other, the car idled quietly, an echo chamber for the myths they had become entangled in. In a world where profiles and pictures dictated worth, Cillian was Narcissus by the pool, unable to see beyond the reflection of his own desires.

“Let’s head back,” Cillian said, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he started the car.

Meanwhile, your thoughts whirred louder than the wheels against the pavement. Your fingers traced the stiches lining the passenger seat, your gaze unfocused on the neon blur of the city. Cillian's hands, steady on the wheel, seemed to you suddenly unfamiliar, as if you were sharing this space with a stranger rather than the boy who'd been your confidant growing up, your boyfriend now.

“Cillian,” you ventured, your voice barely above the hum of the car. “You know I’ve never actually dated before, right?”

He hummed in response. You tried to ignore how merry it sounded.

"Well, is it always like this? Between boyfriends and girlfriends, I mean?"

"Like what, doll?"

"Being so... protective over each other."

"Of course," he replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "It's passion. It means I care. You should feel free to do the same. You should want to. In fact, it'd make me really happy if you did the same."

You nodded, though the nod was more for yourself than for him. Your mind fluttered back to the not-so-long-ago days when Cillian had been just a friend, his presence comforting without the weight of possession. He’d been the same, minus the kisses, minus the hand that now claimed hers with subtle insistence.

The streetlights cast shadows across his face, painting him in contrasts of light and dark.

"But," you tried again, your voice steadier, "I'm worried that we— I'm going about it wrong."

"Of course you feel that," he assured, squeezing your hand. "But you don't need to worry about right and wrong when you’re with me. You can be whoever you want when you have this much money. And frankly," he pauses, turning to you so you can see his sincerity, "all I want is to be whoever you need me to be."

The car slowed to a stop at a red light, and you watched as pedestrians crossed in front of them, enacting their small slice of freedom. Your heart longed for such simplicity, away from the labyrinthine complexities of affection and expectation.

"Cillian, can you maybe—" you started, but the words were swallowed by the sudden green of the traffic light and the acceleration of the car.

"What do you need from me?" he prompted, glancing at her.

"Can we just be us?"

Your words are cryptic, but his are even more so.

"If not you, then who do I love?"

As he nears your apartment, you leaned your head against the cool window, letting the night air seep in and wrap around you like a shawl. The evening's dramatic events replayed in your mind. Would you allow them to cleave a rift between you and any of the parties invovled?

No, you couldn't. You would keep your friendships, your autonomy, your dreams of white coats and stethoscopes within reach. You'd simply have to find a way to balance Cillian's orbit and your own.

an: again, idk how i feel about this chapter, especially with how long ago pt 12 was posted :/ next one will definitely be better. i was thinking of writing a smut scene, so tell me how y'all feel about that.

[fluffytriceratops]

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐁𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 - 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔]

Notes: the gif makes me think of the "i got it" moment between Mike and Leo. You'll understand when you read it. My writing is rusty and this is unedited because I'm lazy, so it might be shit. :D Possibly part one? I might write a part two- idk yet. I was in the mood for angst and this has been sitting in my drafts for literally ages so I figured I'd finish it up and post it since it's also been ages since I've posted a TMNT imagine! ALSO- REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN! If you would like to submit a request, please do so via asks, and please read my rules on my blog before hand, thank you! <33

Warnings: mature language, ANGST, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol, mental/emotional abuse, mentions of depression, brief mentions of self harm, etc.

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @digitl-art-monstr @leosgirl82 @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @drowninghell @squirrelfurs @lec743 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @bibiz82 @raphslovemuffin80 @raphielover @tmntspidergirl

(If you would like to be tagged in my future TMNT realted posts (let me know if you want just reader insert stuff or if you want OC related content included) feel free to lemme know and I'll happily add you!)

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day/night! Stay safe and make sure to take care of yourselves! I'm sending all the virtual hugs to you~! <3

***

Her gaze was locked onto the screen of her phone. She had opened her camera app to double check her appearance before going in, but what she saw caught her off guard. The large purple bags under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. All the weight she had lost was visible in her face alone, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it under baggy clothes. She didn't need anyone worrying about her. She could take care of herself... Y/n knew she hadn't been sleeping well. Not at all, actually. The only time she got the chance to get some rest was when she passed out from sheer exhaustion. Was it unhealthy? Oh absolutely. But she couldn't help herself. It didn't help that she worked two jobs. Ever since her father got fired, she was the one who had to keep everyone afloat. It was driving her mad.

Taking in a shaky breath, she shoved her phone back into her sweater's pocket and began to walk the rest of the way to the lair. It wasn't far. It didn't take long at all for her to get there. Once she stepped inside, she was greeted by the smell of pizza. Her stomach turned and she felt nauseous immediately. Y/n hadn't told anyone that she had gone on a diet. Not yet, anyway. Nor did she tell them she had stopped eating much at all. She was fine, they didn't need to know.

Y/n tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, she took in another shaky breath before walking up to where they were. Their voices were loud and expressive. Raphael let out a bark of laughter, slapping Mikey on the shell in amusement. Leo was busy talking with April, and Casey was stuck chatting with Vern. It was Donatello who had noticed her first. "Hey, Y/n! We were starting to think you wouldn't make it!" He greeted with a cheerful smile.

She tried not to flinch under their sudden gazes. Pulling her lip between her teeth anxiously. God, she felt like vomiting. She needed to leave. "Yeah! You're late dude! What took you so long!?" Michelangelo whined, walking over and moving to sling an arm across her shoulders. She ducked under him before he got the chance.

"N-Nothing, really. Just took my time." Y/n shrugged, shuffling over towards the rest of them hurriedly. She had been dodging their embraces recently, and they were starting to notice. Mikey pursed his lips in a pout, missing the skeptic look on his brother's faces. They had all been brushing off her behavior, but this had been going on for what felt like forever. She was starting to look worse each time they saw her. There was one turtle who knew more than the other's. One who had suspected something was off a lot sooner than everyone else. Leonardo watched Y/n closely. Blue eyes practically glued to her.

"What kind of pizza would you like? We got meat lovers, cheese, veggie-" she cut Donnie off. "None, thanks. I'm uh, dieting." She shrugged, rocking on the balls of her feet nervously. Y/n could feel his eyes boring into her. Her heart rate increased rapidly. Pounding against her rib cage in a desperate plea to flea. Don looked at the other's briefly before turning his gaze back to the female. He nodded slowly, "Okay. Um, would you like something else?" Y/n's hands tightened in her pockets, curling into fists. She simply shook her head. "No thanks.. Not hungry.."

The room grew oddly silent for a few beats. Vern coughed obnoxiously into his elbow just to clear the silence. Leo had yet to look away from Y/n. It made her feel more nervous than anything else. Why was he starring at her? Couldn't he look somewhere else? Just when she was about to say or do something she'd definitely regret, Casey had spoken up. "So, uh, Y/n- I saw your dad today." Her head snapped towards him in a matter of seconds. It was a wonder how she didn't get whiplash. "You did? Where?"

She sounded nervous, and the other's picked up on it immediately. Raph and Donnie caught each other's gaze before the red clad turtle looked towards their leader. Leo was silent and observing. He stood still with his arms folded over his chest. Lips pressed into a flat line and brow ridge lightly furrowed. Raphael watched his brother closely, but his attention was moved else where as the conversation continued.

Casey, who was glad to get away from Vern, stepped forwards. Snatching himself up another slice of pizza. "Convenience store, on West Street. I was grabbing the drinks for today and bumped into him. His hand was all bandaged up, apparently he went to the ER today." He said before taking a merry bite out of the delightful pie. Y/n's gaze darkened.

Stop talking. Shut up. Don't say another word. Please. She all but begged, starring at him numbly. She knew this already. She was the one who dropped him off at the hospital. If it were possible, Y/n felt sicker than before. Her hands began to shake, she was just glad they were hidden in the pockets of her hoodie. She bit her tongue to stop from bolting. Everyone else was quiet, listening to Casey's story. Looking between the both of them as he spoke. She wanted to cry. "I know." She said, barley managing to get the words out.

Casey didn't seem to catch on. Or if he did, he continued to speak about it anyway. "So you know he put his hand through a window?" He was looking at her intensely, hell everyone was. Especially Leo. His gaze felt like fire, burning holes into her skull. She wanted to combust into flames. Right then and there.

"Yeah. Anything else." Y/n's tone grew bitter, and she couldn't help but glare at him. Hoping, praying, that he would just drop it and leave her alone. Casey ignored her. "Well, I know it's your mom's birthday. And I know it's been hard for the both of you. So y'know, we just wanted to check in." He gestured towards all of them, and she barley managed to peek towards them. Had they been talking about her?

"Casey-" April warned, shaking her head subtly at him. Either he didn't see it, or he ignored her as well. "And he was very charming. But he seemed kind of sad. I'd hate to see it happen again, so maybe you should keep a better eye on him." Was he serious? He couldn't be fucking serious, right? Y/n felt like she had swallowed cotton balls. Her nails punctured her skin and she igno red the light stinging. She was staring at a random crumb on the table. Gazing at it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Completely and utterly silent.

Leo's arms unfolded and he took a step towards her, but she quickly turned her gaze back to Casey. "Everyday is my mother's birthday.." She started, gaze icy, voice venomous. Leo stopped in his tracks, everyone was looking at her, but she focused on Casey solely. "My mother was born in December. He lied. He's a liar." Tears glazed at the corners of her eyes but she's refused to let them fall. Voice rising in anger.

"And I'm glad- really, I'm glad that you found him charming. I'm sure he was delightful. He's a blast after five drinks. Not so much after nine though, he get's a little weepy and mean." Mikey's eyes widened and he looked towards his older brother's worriedly. She hadn't uttered a word of this before, it was the first time anyone was hearing it. Leo's jaw clenched but she hadn't noticed it. Too busy focusing all her pent up anger on Casey. "He's a drunk. He probably came in and told you how wonderful you are. How he wished he could have a son like you. And how sad he is because he doesn't get to spend more time with me." She hadn't meant to cry, but the tears had started to slip down her pale cheeks. Y/n wiped at them angrily.

Casey stood there in shock, taking in her angry words carefully. He didn't dare say anything, all he did was look at her and take it. "Yesterday he said that I was his favorite daughter. The day before, I was an ungrateful bitch. The week before- he wrote me a check fortwenty thousand dollarsbecause he said I deserved everything life had to offer. Because he was so proud of me. A lifetimes worth of proud..." her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled. Y/n looked down, forcing her hair to partially hide her face. She tried to collect herself as she wiped at her tears with her sleeve. "You can't listen to a word that man says. Everything that comes out of his mouth is about as many bottles as he can stomach before he either vomits it up or passes out."

"But thank you for telling me to keep a better eye on him." Y/n shook her head and turned on her heal. Storming out of the room and out of the lair altogether. She was tired of all this bullshit.

"Y/n! Wait!" Mikey moved to go after her but Leo clamped a hand down onto his shoulder. "I got it..." He muttered, casting an annoyed glance at Casey from over his shoulder before he chased after the h/c female.

"Well that was a train wreck." Vern muttered, wincing at the glare Casey shot in his direction. "How was I supposed to know." He hissed. "It's not like Y/n's a very open person."

"We all knew something was up, I'm sure Casey just wanted to make sure she was okay." April said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Case smiled at her briefly in thanks.

"I wish she would have said something..." Donnie whispered, twiddling his 'thumbs' nervously. "Maybe we could have helped her somehow."

"Y/n's stubborn. She doesn't wanna rely on anyone else. She doesn't wanna be a burden." Raph grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "Still. I wish she would lean on us a little more. I'd like ta give her father a piece of my mind." He huffed.

Michelangelo's lips pulled into a frown. "You.. You don't think he hits her, do you?" The room fell silent, and everyone turned their gazes towards the area she had left.

"Leo'll make sure she's okay." Don spoke quietly, hands clenching each other desperately.

━

She knew he was following her. But he didn't approach. Not in the sewers, and not outside of them, either. He was waiting for the right time. Giving her a chance to cool off. If anything, the fact that Leo had come after her only pissed Y/n off more. She didn't want to get a lecture from him. She didn't want to rant. She wanted to lay in bed and cry. And she wanted to do it alone.

Y/n managed to hold herself together pretty well. She only let a few tears and sniffles slip out on her way back home. She lived in a sketchy part of the city in a small and dinky apartment. It was her, her two sisters Lucy and Amelia, and their father. Her mother had died a few years back. Her father was never the same after that. He ended up losing the job he had since before he met his wife. He couldn't keep a job afterwards, either. And he started drinking. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol. Any little bit of money he made went straight into alcohol. Lucy was the youngest, she had yet to start high school. Amelia was the oldest. She spent most of her time at her home with her fiance and their newborn son. She couldn't stand to even look at their father. She refused to see him. They always fought, too. Amelia wanted to take Y/n and Lucy with her, but Lucy was in custody of their father. And Y/n refused to leave him to rot.

Y/n's keys jingled as she pulled them from her pocket and jammed them into the deadbolt on the door of her apartment. She knew Leo would already be inside when she entered. And if not, then he was waiting on her fire escape.

The door slammed shut behind her, she kicked her shoes off by the door and walked further inside. There was no sight of her father, so he must be out. Most likely at the bar down the street. It was within walking distance and it was the weekend. There was no way he wouldn't be there. Lucy was sleeping over at Amelia's for the weekend, which meant she was home alone.

The thought would have been extremely comforting had Leonardo not been lurking around the corner.

She passed through the kitchen and walked down the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Amelia's old room was first, it was completely empty now. Y/n shared a room with Lucy. She was supposed to move into Amelia's room after Amelia moved out, but Lucy didn't feel safe alone. And it wasn't just her father making her feel that way. Y/n was comforting to her. Knowing she was sleeping in the same room kept her calm. Their father's room was the last one. The door was always closed. No one was ever allowed in. He slept on the couch more than his own bed.

The second Y/n pushed her bedroom door open she saw Leonardo standing at the foot of her bed. Patiently waiting for her.

Y/n's gaze hardened, but she said nothing. She kicked the door shut behind her and walked past him to her desk. She needed to do something. Anything. She just needed to keep busy. So she started to organize her college assingments.

Leo remained quiet, simply watching her. After a few minutes of Y/n shuffling papers and slamming drawers he opened his mouth. "Y/n."

"Don't." She snapped, tensing at the sound of his voice.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say..." He breathed, blue; blue eyes glued to her. Scared that if he looked away she would crack and break into a million pieces.

"I don't want you to say anything." She mumbled, voice strained. Her movements had seized. She simply stood there, back facing him. Honestly she was afraid that if she turned and caught sight of his ocean colored eyes, she'd burst.

The room grew quiet again. Y/n knew he was looking at her. She could feel his intense gaze plastered to her back. Studying every small movement she made. The light tremble of her hands. The slight shaking of her shoulders. The wobbling of her knees. Y/n tried to hold herself together. Keep the tears at bay. It was a fools wish.

She could feel his presence. Feel him walking closer. Till he was just a few meesly inches away from her. Leo was so close she knew if she took the tiniest of steps backward his chest would connect with her back. His hand grazed her arm and she broke the silence with a sharp inhale.

And she crumbled.

Tears blurred her vision as she gasped out a shuddering sob. A sob that shook her entire body. One that stole the breath from her lungs and broke her heart into millions of microscopic pieces. She collapsed against him and he held her tightly against his plastron. Strong arms hooking around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Leonardo said nothing as she cried. It wasn't the first time she cried in his arms. And it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

Nothing was said or done. Neither of them moved. He just held her tight as she let out everything she had been holding in. By the time her cries had quieted, and tears dried on her skin. The sun had started to set. Basking the room in its warm fading glow through the window. Painting the two of them in a lovely array of yellows, oranges, and pinks.

Leo slowly turned Y/n around. Even when she was crying, she was utterly beautiful. Achingly so. He placed his hand under her chin and slowly tilted her red face upwards. Her e/c dewy eyes met his own. There was no longer a wall between them. He had managed to break it down in a matter of seconds. And now, all her pain was visible to him in her eyes.

There was a reason they say eyes are the windows to the soul.

Leo had built his own wall. One he kept up at all times. Around everyone. Everyone except her.

No words needed to be expressed between either of them. They already knew exactly how the other was feeling. With one simple glance. That's all it took. All it ever took.

Leonardo leaned down instinctevly, slowly and cautiously. Waiting and watching to see if she would pull away. Y/n never did. Instead, she slowly and hesitantly moved closer. That's when their lips connected.

A soft and deseperate kiss was shared. He held her face delicately, as if she would crumble into dust in his arms. Y/n clutched at him desperately, afraid he'd see how truly broken and damaged she was and pull away. Leo wasn't going anywhere. Something he told her with his lips as he peppered her skin with kisses. And when he reached her mouth again, he kissed her hard. He poured his soul into her. She drank him up.

As they parted for air. Y/n gasping for a whole other reason. He grabbed her hand and pressed a few more tender kisses to her knuckles. Eyes locked. Chests heaving. Hearts pounding.

Their souls danced the same.

"You don't have to hide around me. There's no need to barricade your feelings anymore." Leo whispered, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. "You can show me the darkest and scariest parts of yourself. I'm not going anywhere."

A few more tears slid down her tender red cheeks. They caught the light of the sun and shone like tiny falling stars. He brushed them away with his lips.

"Even if I'm destined to crumble into nothing?" Y/n breathed, placing her hand on his chest. Fingertips tracing the markings engraved into his plastron from years of battle and training.

"Even if you're destined to crumble into nothing." Leo whispered, pressing a loving kiss to each rosey cheek. "I'll always be here. Right here. In your arms, where I belong."

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hey there! I absolurely love your stuff and I was wondering if you'd be willing to do something with Thorn, maybe with " why is it so damn difficult for you to believe you're worthy of love? "? I just really need the love from my favorite underrated boi 🥺 However if you can't it's totally okay ❤❤

Thornnnn! I think I made myself fall in love with him while writing this ��� lol

Commander Thorn x reader | 1.2k words

Content: Hurt/comfort, reader has some self-image issues, but Thorn is a lovesick puppy and so very comforting

It was no secret how enamored Thorn was with you. He practically sung your praises with wide, adoring eyes every time you were together. You hadn't minded in the early days of your relationship; in fact, you'd eaten it up. You'd been starved of attention for a while until then. You had such few friends and your family was... well, out of the picture. So to have a new boyfriend - dashing and sincere - pay you compliments? It'd been quite the treat.

But his admiration seemed to only increase, in both frequency and complexity. One day you were gorgeous, the next you were a breathtaking wonder. One day you had lips playfully pecking the blush on your cheeks, and the next he was fervently breathing in every inch of you as if you were the all air he needed to exist.

It was too much.

You felt yourself growing apprehensive toward his affections. Finding ways to keep yourself too busy to properly see him. Hanging up the phone before he could squeeze in any parting praises. And when that still didn't seem to do the trick, when he continued to find ways to devote himself to you, you started rehearsing a breakup speech in the shower.

You just couldn't enjoy his attention, not when you so deeply believed you were not worthy of it. Those nice little butterflies you'd felt in the beginning had only represented a moment of eager ignorance. For a brief time, you'd forgotten your flaws, all the reasons why you didn't deserve to be loved. And that was okay, you supposed. It was a needed reprieve. But now you were over-indulging. Now it was selfish and wrong. You were taking too much. It wasn't fair to him, for such a good, passionate person to be misled like this. Maybe one day he'd wake up and recognize the mistake on his own. But you couldn't let any more time pass. You would save him from the pain.

You would set him free.

Thorn's confusion was palpable as you went through your practiced speech. Wide, unblinking eyes. Tense jaw and careful breathing. He clung to every word you said and you could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, working over-time to dissect and analyze and comprehend their meaning. The air in the room felt thicker, dense with shock and woe. You gulped, preparing for your final statement.

"I know you don't understand right now," you said with your eyes trained on his chest, just beneath his stare. "But soon you'll see. You'll be grateful you didn't waste any more time."

"Waste?" Thorn finally found his voice, almost choking out the word. "You think... that's what this has been? A waste of time?"

You were hoping you could slip away while he was still dumbfounded, but alas, you'd have to try going off script. With luck, you could still keep your own emotions together for it.

"You deserve so much more, Thorn. I'm not going to be the one to keep holding you back."

The man seemed to snap out of his tense revere, his head shaking in denial while his fists clenched and unclenched sporadically. "Sweetheart... wha... I don't... what are you even saying? How could you think that?"

"It's the truth. You are so good, and strong, and noble, and just... wonderful. You need to be with someone who can be all of those things for you, too."

"But you are--"

"I'm not, Thorn." You could feel your throat restrict. You needed to get away before you made an even bigger mess.

Thorn must have sensed you about to retreat as he rushed forward and grabbed your shoulders, desperately saying your name to get you to look at him. "I have not been wasting my time with you, sweetheart. I love you. Okay? I love you."

"No." It was too much. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if the act of no longer seeing him would make this all disappear. "You need to love someone else. Someone better."

His hands released your shoulders suddenly. You opened your eyes just in time to see him do a little spin.

"Why is it so damn difficult for you to believe you're worthy of love?"

Thorn never got angry with you. And it wasn't that he was yelling at you now. He was frustrated, exasperated, and the feeling was forcing its way out of him.

Now it was your turn to be stunned and he took in the sight of your frozen form for a moment before he finally sighed and ran a hand across his face. He was trying to get control of himself again, but you could tell his heart was still racing and his eyes were still full of desperation to stop you from leaving.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he finally asked. It wasn't the kind of question you'd expected. You gulped and shook your head.

"You think I'm a liar?"

"No..." you whispered.

"I have poor judgment?"

"Of course not..."

"I'm not trustworthy?"

You paused and finally brought your eyes up to meet his. "I trust you."

He held your gaze for a while, his features growing soft, forgetting the previous outburst of frustration. Finally he took a careful step forward.

"Then... you should believe me," he emphasized every word, "when I say you are worthy of my love. Right?"

You took in a shaky breath, unable to bashfully look away this time.

"Right?" he asked again, bringing up a hand to gently cup your face. "If you trust me, if you think I'm smart enough to figure out good people from bad ones, if you believe all these things about me, then you have to believe I'm not blindly or... or... foolishly mistaking you for someone you're not. I'm making a choice here, sweetheart. I'm choosing to love you."

You weren't sure at what point the tears had started falling down your cheeks. Thorn swept them up as quickly as they came with his thumb, until soon there was too much to stop. His other arm wound around and brought you toward him, toward his calm warmth. You weren't sobbing, but you let the tears run down in quiet streams and you rested your head against his chest.

"I love you," he said softly into your hair. "And I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

You lifted your head to look up at him again, trying to find any sign this was an illusion or a dream. He seemed too good to be real, and yet, here he was, holding you tightly and looking at you with so many steady promises of love and support and kindness in his eyes. 

And sitting within the intimate space between you was a question. A choice that you would now have to make, as he had made his.

"Give me time," you responded to him as you nestled back against his chest. "Some day I will."

If this was a dream, then perhaps all those ugly things you thought about yourself were just a figment of your imagination as well....

~

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[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 26 - Discord

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Harp icon) In which I try not to think about something any harder than I strictly have to.

PERSPECTIVE: Rand hurries back to his rooms upstairs at the Dragonwall inn. Loial and Hurin pop their heads in from the adjoining room and ask what's happened. Rand says Thom is alive, and Loial recognizes the name. Rand invites Loial to go meet him, and Loial declines politely. He doesn't want to meet any other Ogier who might know he ran away from home. Hurin offers to watch the Horn, the common room was full of people just wanting to pump him for information about Rand anyway. Rand finally drags Loial out, winking at Cuale as he leaves.

They find Thom's inn without problem, and the innkeeper says yes, his room is on the upper floor. Dena will likely let you in. They head up, and a feminine voice says to open the door themselves. Inside, a young woman, not much older than Rand, is juggling six balls. She asks who they are and what their business is. Rand says he's come back to return Thom's harp and flute, and to visit. He hasn't seen him in a very long time. She confirms that she's Dena, and they can wait here, but she must practice. She's going to be the first woman gleeman.(1)

Rand is just about to say he should wait downstairs when Thom enters, and greets Dena with a dramatic, and very long, kiss, to the point where Rand starts to wonder if he should leave just before they cut off.(2)

Thom starts complaining about the owner of the performance hall hiring "players", who put a scrap of painted fabric behind them and pretend to be the heroes of the songs. He, Thom Merrilin, makes you see every banner, smell every battle, feel every emotion, makes you believe you ARE the hero! The players are a cheap trick, and they were put on the stage right after him. It's an insult!(3)

Dena finally gestures to Rand and Loial, and Thom gives her some coin and tells her to get out for a while, her knives are done, she should go pick them up. After she leaves, Thom says she'll be a bard one day. But, they have the instruments? Rand hands them over, and the cloak. He explains how he used the flute to earn his rooms and meals. Thom knows, he stopped at some of the same inns and had to make do with juggling and simple spoken stories without his harp.

Rand asks Thom if he still wanted to be part of the Great Hunt, for real, to make new stories about it. Loial makes to ask Rand if he's sure, but Rand shushes him. Thom is skeptical of what Rand is implying. It would depend on what part he'd play, and of course they'd never make it into the stories without having been in Illian for the blessing… Rand tells him straight out that they have the Horn, and Thom laughs in his face, guffaws, even unto aftershocks of laughter. He stops laughing at once when Rand says Moiraine said it was the real Horn. Well, at least they had the sense to keep it secret. Half the world would be on edge waiting to take it from them if they'd said anything at the gate. They have kept it secret, and Rand needs a friend who knows the world, to help him get it back to Fal Dara without losing it again.

Thom thinks about the Last Battle, and what it will mean. The grain barges sustain this city, stop those for just a week and the people will revolt. The nobles will think Tarmon Gai'don is just a ploy in the Game. No, he won't go. Rand asks Loial to leave them alone for a bit, and Loial goes to learn the local dice game he saw downstairs. Rand hesitates, then asks Thom if he has any books with him about the Karaethon Cycle, trying to avoid calling it the Prophecies of the Dragon.

“In the great libraries,” Thom said slowly. “Any number of translations, and even in the Old Tongue, here and there.” Rand started to ask if there was any way for him to find one, but the gleeman went on. “The Old Tongue has music in it, but too many even of the nobles are impatient with listening to it these days. Nobles are all expected to know the Old Tongue, but many only learn enough to impress people who don’t. Translations don’t have the same sound, unless they’re in High Chant, and sometimes that changes meanings even more than most translations. There is one verse in the Cycle—it doesn’t scan well, translated word for word, but there’s no meaning lost—that goes like this. “Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live, and twice to die. Once the heron, to set his path. Twice the heron, to name him true. Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost. Twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay.” He reached out and touched the herons embroidered on Rand’s high collar.

Rand protests that the sword makes five, with the hilt, scabbard, and blade. And he doesn't mention the one burned into his hand from that sword. Thom agrees that they do, then mentions another part of the prophecy.

“Twice dawns the day when his blood is shed. Once for mourning, once for birth. Red on black, the Dragon’s blood stains the rock of Shayol Ghul. In the Pit of Doom shall his blood free men from the Shadow.”(4)

Thom doesn't see how a day could dawn twice, but so much of the prophecies don't make sense. The Stone of Tear can't fall until the Dragon holds Callandor, but the Sword That Cannot Be Touched is in the heart of the Stone, so how can he wield it first? He muses that Aes Sedai would want to fit the prophecies as closely as possible regardless. Dying would be a high price to pay for going along with them.

Rand says no Aes Sedai are using him for anything, and there are none with him now. He won't be used by them, he wants nothing to do with Aes Sedai, false Dragons, the Power, or... Thom catches that and they talk about about his nephew, Owyn. He held off the madness for three years, but in the end, he was starting to go mad.(5) Thom only helped Rand because there was Aes Sedai involvement in his situation before. He's earning more here than he has in any village, Dena seems to really love him and he's surprised enough to love her back. Why would he leave all that to go deal with Darkfriends and Trollocs? The Horn of Valere is tempting, but not that tempting.

Thom picks up the flute case and presents it to Rand, saying he might need to earn his keep again, someday. Rand tries to say what inn he's staying at, but Thom cuts him off. A clean break is best, or he'll never get the Horn out of his head. Rand leaves.

PERSPECTIVE: Thom is accused of playing the Game of Houses again by Zera, the innkeeper. She doesn't believe Thom when he says the boy is a shepherd from the Two Rivers, but she does say the Game has gotten much more dangerous in recent years. There are even murders for it. Thom should stop performing at so many lords' manors, they'll use him as soon as they can figure out how. She suggests he settle down, marry Dena, forget Daes Dae'mar. He thanks Zera for the advice, but knows he could never burden Dena with such an old husband. And she'd never be a bard with his past following her. He asks Zera to leave him to prepare for that night's performance.

She gave him a snort and a shake of her head and banged the door shut behind her. Thom drummed his fingers on the table. Coat or no coat, Rand was still only a shepherd. If he had been more, if he had been what Thom once suspected—a man who could channel—neither Moiraine nor any other Aes Sedai would ever have let him walk away ungentled. Horn or no Horn, the boy was only a shepherd. “He is out of it,” he said aloud, “and so am I.”(6)

=====

(1) And on the first read, you'd think that would be where the "I don't want to think about this too hard" would end. Alas. We have finished the chapter. On the subject of JUST this, surely if this world were as matriarchal as RJ seems to have wanted to imply it is, there'd be no gendering of professions… but we haven't seen a single woman soldiering except for the Aiel, and now we learn barding is also gender locked? Right. (2) If Rand is close to 20, Dena could be anywhere from 20 to 25, and on the one hand that's a perfectly acceptable age to make your own choices about who to spend your time with, even a man who's at least 60. But, this is part of a pattern. Look at Lan, who must be at least 45 or 50, and Nynaeve, at 25. Recall that Thom was having an affair with Morgase around the time Taringail was killed, Taringail who was also much Moiraine's senior, having been married to the previous daughter-heir before her, and that was when Moiraine was perhaps 25. Basel Gill described Thom as "in his prime" which, let's be honest, from an older man, that never means anything under 40. And here, Thom is playing both mentor and lover, not a combination without its pitfalls and power imbalances. Funny how Dena is his main argument for staying but he won't marry her. I'm sure this is totally legit and not at all a setup for something. At any rate, this isn't the first time RJ gave us an age gap with fucky dynamics, and I'm sorry to say it won't be the last. (3) And they didn't even have actors? Nobody staged plays or reenactments of anything, ever? I'm just sayin, we've had plays since ancient Greece at least, plays shouldn't be anything new to this world… but it DOES offer a sort of context, doesn't it? This world is in a period of upheaval, of rapid social change and progress as the apocalypse looms. Keep that in mind, even as awkward as these setups are. (4) A nice bit more of the specific prophecies to do with the Dragon. Rand's already got one heron mark, to make him start acknowledging that he is the Dragon. "Twice the heron, to name him true" so it seems likely the other hand will get a matching burn, probably close to when he declares himself. But what of the Dragons? And, note how Rand is asking some of the same questions Moiraine did, so soon after they were mirrored narratively with saying the same line. (5) Not a very long timeline for Rand to get this whole "battle for the end of the world" over with. (6) And that holds just about as much water as a straw.

[fluxofthemouth]

Someone else in Piter's shoes might have invested in a kind of poker face, to keep Morgaiyn on edge, never knowing when, or what, he's won. Piter is a deeply emotional creature, inherently. He can pull off stoicism, but there's always a lot to hide, and today he just isn't feeling that kind of effort. He perks up quite visibly at the promise of information. Yes! An informant. That would be a perfect use for a gutter prince like this fellow. Piter has a lot of respect for the type of informant that can woo a target into offering up information. It remains to be seen if Morgaiyn has the skill for it, but he definitely has the looks.

Satisfied, Piter puts away the knives. Now, he actually does reach out to offer the elf a hand up.

"Information!" he says pleasantly. "You'll accept an informant's role as a job, generally, I hope...?"

Before Morgaiyn has the chance to say anything, the guards who have been chasing him finally catch up. They look unhappily surprised to see Piter, but they still have a job to do.

"Mr. de Vries," their leader nods, uncertainly. "That man broke into the treasury."

Piter's unnatural blue eyes light up with mischief, like he's just heard an amazing tidbit of gossip. He looks from Morgaiyn to the guards. "Did he now!"

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence, during which Piter noticeably fails to hand Morgaiyn over to the guards.

"I'm sorry, was that illegal or something?" Piter asks, with bored and badly-feigned innocence. "They took my brain out and put it in backwards when I was trained as a Mentat, and I'm afraid up is down for me now, morally; I really couldn't give a damn."

More silence. Likely, scared as they are of Piter, the guards anticipate consequences if they don't follow through with their pursuit of the thief.

"Is it also illegal to bite someone's throat until they die?" Piter asks. There's warning in his voice and in his eyes, and so much else. He's serving them crazy like a carousel spinning free of its central pole at an odd angle, all of the horses swapped for saddled snakes.

That seems to convince them that Piter has this under control. He's an important man, after all. God help Morgaiyn, but it's time for these guards to go.

Once they're out of sight, Piter's energy changes again, and he's merely tired and almost 40. "I fucking hate it here," he deadpans, to no one in particular.

Turning to Morgaiyn and brightening, "You said you clean up nicely, eh? Let's get you a hotel room and a bath... and a new wardrobe, and - dear me, you're slightly skeletal; some hot food, to be sure! We'll start you off on some practice scenarios, and if you can pass those I know of a job you'd be perfect for, which is wonderful because I've been waiting for the right opportunity to crack this one open for a long time."

He does need to breathe, and he does come up for air. When he continues talking (pleasantly): "Just leave whatever you stole, if you stole something, on the desk in your hotel room. I'll pay you to spy, so you won't need it. Leave it to me to sort out all that nasty business those guards were blustering about. However, I do ask you to please keep in mind that if even the tiniest ruby remains unaccounted for, pray we never find it among your things because I'll fucking feed it to you."

Just for a moment, that unsettling untethered-carousel-of-snakes energy is rolling through him, like a passing tumbleweed that's also full of knives. Then it's gone.

"So... food, clothes, bed and shower... where to first?"

Continued from here://

Run. That was the only thought going through Morgaiyn’s mind as he moved swiftly through the streets, fleet footed as he could be. The guards were far behind now, caught up in a crowd. He had made a huge mistake, he realized, trying to break into one of the Baron’s coffers. There were so many rumors about of the man’s extensive wealth, that is was stupid not to try to get some for himself. After all, the Baron could no doubt spare a few coins here and there, or a discarded piece of jewelry that was never worn. It wouldn’t be missed.

However, Morgaiyn hadn’t taken into the account, the amount of security that the Baron employed to keep his wealth safe and accounted for. No, he really hadn’t. Perhaps he had initially believed that he could seduce his way to power and money, and of course more access to spice, but he had been stupid to not plan more. Damn, the spice had really addled his brain.

And now, as the blond hastily moved, constantly looking over his shoulder as he went, he stumbled through an open door without thinking, falling to his knees. Moving to get back to his feet, he realized then that he wasn’t alone. Backing against a wall, Morgaiyn locked eyes with one he had heard about only by the terror of his name. There was not a person who worked in shady dealings that did not know of this one. Spice blue eyes widening, the blond swallowed back his fear at the sight of the knives.

Piter de Vries. The formidable Mentat of the Baron Harkonnen.

“I-I’m-.” Morgaiyn stuttered nervously, instinctively flicking his long locks, hoping at the back of his mind that it might save him somehow. “I am Morgaiyn. Please, don’t hurt me. Just tell me what I can do, and I will do it. Just don’t cut me. I can give you information…”

Silently, Morgaiyn prayed to any god that might hear the desperation of a thief, a streetwalker, a lowlife addicted to spice.

@fluxofthemouth

[sister-lucifer]

Question. Would you do a version of that 'Can I ride you till I feel better' fic but with bottom/sub Obey Me boys? Because that's some tasty writing but I'm not big on me or my MC being on the receiving end.

“Can I ride you until I feel better?” (Part 2)

Read part 1 here

Demon brothers x Reader (Separately)

This time, it’s the brothers’ turn to have a bad day, and they can think of one thing that will make them feel better.

Reader is male

Content/Warnings: Riding, pre established relationships, implied dom/top reader 

like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and it really helps me out 

*Asmodeus is AFAB and uses he/she pronouns 

Notes: Dear god nonny i am so glad you suggested this. muah i love your brain 

Lucifer 

He was used to being swamped with paperwork, but this past week had been even worse than usual 

Today in particular had brought him to his limit 

He stomped into your shared bedroom, letting the door slam behind him before sitting on the bed next to you and cradling his head in his hands 

“Lucifer, love? What’s wrong, honey?” You asked softly, reaching out to rub his shoulder 

“Busy day…Busier than usual, I mean,” Is all the explanation he offers, but his voice carries more than enough of his exasperation for you to see how tired he is

You sighed and opened your arms to him, and he gladly accepted your offer for a hug. He pushed you down onto your back, and you expected him to lay next to you, but instead he hovered over you

“…Luci?”

Suddenly his hands were on you, tugging at your clothes and pulling off anything he could 

“I need to ride you until I feel better.” 

The request was unusual, but how could you say no when he was so eager? 

Besides, he deserved it for working so hard 

Be aware though, he’s not going to “feel better” until veeeeery late into the night (maybe even early morning)

Mammon 

You could hear Mammon whining your name all the way down the hallway before he reached your room 

He threw the door open and groaned loudly, drawing it out until he flopped face first onto the bed

“Mammon?” You called, but got no response 

At least not until he sat up, groaning even louder and practically tackling you into the bed. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at how dramatic he was. 

“Oh Mams, what’s wrong, huh?” 

“Everything! Everything about today sucks. And I didn’t even get to see you all day…”

He snuggled into you with a childish whine as you pat his head, whispering apologies and soft assurances. Apparently this wasn’t enough, though. 

“I’ve missed you so bad…” He muttered into your neck, “…Can I ride you until I feel better?” 

Of course you agreed, who would say no to the Great Mammon?!

Especially when he was offering to do all the work, which rarely happened 

Be prepared for him to rant to you after (and maybe even during), though 

On the bright side, the anger will make him go faster 

Leviathan 

He was so quiet, you didn’t even notice him until you heard the click of your door and looked up to see a teary Leviathan 

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” You cooed, keeping your voice soft and gentle. Levi often had trouble regulating his emotions, but luckily you knew just how to help him 

He sniffled as he crawled into bed, settling between your legs as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his cheek to your chest 

“B…Bad day, i-is all…” He stuttered, “I-It’s really not even that big of a deal, I just…it was too much…” 

You stroked his hair gently, assuring him that it was okay to be upset at the little things sometimes

You stayed this way for a long while, until Leviathan gazed up at you with an odd look; the look he gives you when he wants something but doesn’t want to ask 

“Levi? Do you need something?” 

“I…I know what’ll make me feel better…”

“Oh?”

You could see how flushed he was, how his face contorted in embarrassment as the next words left his mouth 

“Would…would you let me ride you ‘til I feel better? P-Please?” 

He deserves it, so of course you do! Besides, you wouldn’t even consider denying him when he’s asking so politely

Make sure you praise him a lot, though, and tell him how good he looks with those pretty tears streaming down his face

That’ll really make him feel better 

Satan 

You could tell Satan was pissy the second he walked in from the way he huffed and puffed all the way over to you 

He sat down with his chin in his hand, looking awfully annoyed 

“Ugh, today could not have ended soon enough.”

“That bad, huh?” You asked as you wrapped him in a hug from behind. 

“Even worse. God, I hate all those idiots…”

“Well being a mean Mr. Grumpy Pants about it isn’t gonna help.” 

Satan sighed, turning to you to return the hug. 

“I know, I know, sorry…but I know what can.” 

“Hm?”

When you looked up he was smirking down at you, and the next thing you knew he had planted himself firmly on your lap

“How about I ride you until I feel better? We can call it…stress relief.” 

Well that was more than enough persuasion for you 

Satan isn’t very fast or rough, but god is he thorough 

You’ll both forget all your worries 

Asmodeus 

Ever the drama queen, Asmo practically fainted onto your bed 

Even if his dramatics were charming, you couldn’t help but scoff a bit under your breath 

“Asmo…? Is something wrong?” 

“Oh, my love!” She drawled, “You’ve no idea! Today was absolutely abysmal, abysmal I tell you! I could just cry…Or, I could if my makeup wasn’t so perfect.” 

Priorities. 

Being as affectionate as she is, it was no surprise when she pulled you down into the bed and into a hug 

He gave you a brief outline of the days terrible events, though with plenty of sidetracks about how unfair the world is to him and how fragile he is 

When she was finally done, she sighed loudly and cupped your face in her hand 

“I could really use a pick-me-up…” He began, a sensual undertone clear in his voice 

You already knew what he was going to ask; there was always one thing that made Asmo cheer up:

“Yes, Asmo, you can ride me until you feel better.” 

He squealed with excitement, mood already improving and he tugged off your pants and threw them to the floor 

“Oh thank you, thank you my sweet baby! Oh, I’ll make sure you feel as good as I do, don’t worry…ah, I’ve got butterflies already! Hurry, hurry!”

Beelzebub

Beel creaked open your door, calling your name quietly to see if you were in there 

He was never ever sad when he had food in his hand, so the fact that he looked so down while stuffing his face with a burger was worrying 

“Why the long face, Beel? Did something happen?” 

“Just a crummy day…y’know, they happen sometimes…” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Beel. Wanna come sit down and talk to me?” 

He’s quick to oblige, shoving the rest of the burger into his mouth and wiping his hands before sitting with you on the bed 

You peck his cheek with a loving smile that he gladly returns 

You cant help but notice the way he pauses and looks you up and down, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head 

“Beel? Do you need something?”

“Well, uh…I know this is a weird request, but…Aw, forget it—“

“No, no,” You reply, taking his hand in yours. “Whatever you need, Beel.” 

You could see the faint blush on his cheeks now 

“Okay, well…I-I was gonna ask if maybe I could, um…ride you? Until I feel better?” 

He was expecting to be shot down, but he lit up when you agreed 

He didn’t stop kissing you for a long while; on your lips, face, neck, but he couldn’t help it! You’re the tastiest treat of all 

Belphegor 

In an odd role reversal, you were the one asleep when Belphie came into your room 

You were roused from your slumber when he called your name, yawning and stretching as you greeted him 

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, gaze casted towards the floor 

“I know this is gonna sound kinda dumb, but…I had a bad day, could I maybe hang with you for bit?”

You smile and move the blankets, gesturing for him to come lay down 

He happily snuggles up against you, basking in the lovely warmth you bring 

He seems a bit restless though, which is especially odd for Belphie 

“Whats wrong, Belphie? Can’t get comfy?”

“Well, no…I-I want something…” 

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, waiting for him to continue 

“I kinda wanna ride you…maybe it’ll make me feel better?” 

Belphie never wanted to be the one doing the work, of course you said yes! 

You had to make the most of this ultra rare opportunity 

Although, his favorite part is getting to cuddle after 

[heliads]

hii! i love your writing so much, and i have a request, if you’ll take it? it could be that wyatt (lykensen) and reader are like cuddling or hanging out, (they could already be a couple?) and reader needs to tell him something. they say i love you, and wyatt is shocked but reader thinks he’s disgusted, and runs away? and then wyatt finds them and it’s hurt/comfort? sorry if i bothered you, but have a wonderful day!

i love it when people can't handle their emotions, let's go! also tbh this might be some of my best prose, i'm proud of this

masterlist

You’re going to have to tell him sooner or later, you know.

You’ve been hovering around this sad truth for a while, that it will, at one point, have to be spoken aloud. You can practically sense an invisible hourglass counting down the days until you’re able to contain yourself no longer, until an innocent conversation ends with the worst revelation you’ve ever had spilled out before an unwilling audience.

It’s not like he’s going to like it, either. This is your best friend, after all, someone you’ve known for a very long time and someone you don’t particularly want to lose. He’s most likely aware that you’re keeping something from him, he has never been able to do anything but read you like a book, and that means you can only put this off for a quickly shrinking window of time.

That’s what it means to fall in love with Wyatt Lykensen, after all. At some point, he’s going to find out, and then it will all be over.

It’s not just your friendship that you have to lose. Over the past few months, you swear that your interactions with Wyatt veered into uncertain territory, slipping in between shades of platonic conversations and not quite confessions. You couldn’t put a name to it if you tried, no matter how hard you tried. No matter how much you wish Wyatt would try even half as hard as you are.

The worst part is that you don’t think Wyatt cares about you nearly as much as you care about him. That’s why you’ve ended up kissing him after late nights when neither of you are fully aware of what you’re doing, how both you and Wyatt are able to chalk it up to casual mistakes, nothing worth noticing for real.

He uses excuses like a shield, deflecting anything either of you could ever feel for each other under the guise of not wanting a label. If both of you have long since stopped crushing on anyone else, that’s nothing worth bringing up. If you swear that the highlight of your day is kissing the one boy that you can’t have, you know you could never dare to voice it aloud.

Some part of you wants to voice it, though, and that’s why you’re having this problem. You have never kept secrets from Wyatt, not for long. He’s always been able to figure you out within the span of a few seconds. That’s the way it has always been. You don’t know how long you have until Wyatt figures out what you refuse to say to him, but surely that day of revelation is coming soon.

You try to hide your feelings as best you can, to delay that day for as long as possible. You go to school and talk to your friends, busy yourself with schoolwork and clubs and any other activity. If you keep your hands free of idleness and your body free of boys who are no good for you, you don’t have to think about the fact that you love Wyatt more than anything, more than you thought you ever could love before.

These limitations only do so much, though. Both you and Wyatt are werewolves, part of the same pack, closer to each other in ways no one else could understand. At the end of the day, you’ll head home from school to find him waiting for you, and then all of your efforts are for naught once more.

No matter how many times you swear to yourself that you’re over this, you’re done with crushing on Wyatt for good, even your strongest of safeguards crumble in the face of his smile. There’s nothing you can do about it, you can admit that freely.

That doesn’t stop you from wanting to say something about it. You’ve been struggling with your unspoken secret for so long. It weighs you down, slowing your steps, sinking you deeper and deeper into the ground until you’re practically choking on the dust. If you don’t tell Wyatt how you feel, you’ll face a death of a thousand cuts as you try and fail to pretend that it doesn’t affect you. If you do tell him, you’ll have a far faster massacre when he stops speaking to you for good.

Needless to say, it’s not the best situation for anyone, least of all you. Still, you’ve never been able to quit Wyatt, and that means tonight finds you with him again, thinking about all these things, wondering if you will ever stumble upon a way of solving things.

It’s late at night, and the two of you have snuck away from the rest of the pack to talk under the weight of the full moon. You’re on the roof of your house, lying side by side on the crooked roofing tiles as you stare up at the night sky. Most of the other neighbors have retreated inside by now, and even the last of their lights are nothing in comparison to the constellations winking back at you from above.

It’s a cold night, and over the course of the last half hour you and Wyatt have drifted steadily closer to each other. Your head rests on his shoulder now, one of your hands interlocked with his free one. You don’t know that you’ve ever felt more content, which is probably a sign that you’re about to ruin things.

For now, however, you are content to stare up at the sky, to let the pearlescent light of the stars billow down over you in one great celestial wave. When the two of you first crawled up here, you and Wyatt were full of comments about your favorite constellations, how far away the buildings seemed, a thousand thoughts that simply had to be shared.

The last of your conversation has been bled dry by now, and both of you lie still in a companionable silence. You can hear Wyatt’s heartbeat echoing around you, sounding off a quiet drumbeat to underscore the no doubt speedier rhythm of your own.

Eventually, Wyatt breaks the silence, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

You feel yourself panic, but do your best to quell the frenzy before he notices anything more to be wrong. “What do you mean?”

Wyatt shrugs; it moves your head along with him. “You’re thinking about something, I can tell. You can’t hide anything from me, you know that.”

You laugh bitterly. “You would be surprised.”

Even without looking at him, you can tell that Wyatt is starting to frown. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head. “Forget it.”

You know that Wyatt certainly won’t drop the subject now, even before he starts to protest. You’ve never been able to keep anything from him, and Wyatt knows it. The only exception is, of course, the very truth that you’ve been struggling against for so long.

“You have to tell me,” he says, “we’re best friends, aren’t we? You know I tell you everything.”

You stay silent for a couple of minutes, although you can practically feel Wyatt’s curiosity burning like a brand beside you. He’s not the only one torn by anticipation, you feel as if the weight of it might drag you under.

At last, the words are able to hide themselves no longer, and burst forth from your throat before you can stop yourself. “I love you. That’s what I’ve been hiding. I was scared to tell you, but–”

Wyatt cuts you off before you can get much further. “You what? You love me?”

You nod slowly. Wyatt sits up, and you have to do the same lest you fall back to the roof without the protective weight of him beneath you. You’re finally able to look him in the eyes, and you realize that Wyatt looks totally overwhelmed by what you’ve told him. His entire face is wracked with shock, eyes wide and mouth dropping open.

Before either of you can say anything else, he’s standing up hurriedly and pulling himself back inside the house through the nearby window. You can hear the sound of his footsteps echoing down the stairs inside, and a few moments later, Wyatt reappears on the ground, walking hurriedly away in the direction of his own house.

You pull your knees up to your chest, waiting for something, anything else to happen. This can’t be how this ends. But Wyatt doesn’t even spare you a glance over his shoulder as he goes, and within the span of a few moments, he’s vanished from your light of sight. The darkness has swallowed him whole, and only then do you let your grief settle over you.

You had wondered if Wyatt would take the news of your feelings poorly, but you didn’t expect it to go this badly. You can still see the look on his face whenever you close your eyes, how stunned he had been, almost horrified. You’re too afraid to call it disgust, but perhaps in a few days, when all of this has worn off a little, you’ll be able to admit that to yourself.

You sink your head into your hands. Well, you’ve really ruined it now. You wouldn’t be surprised if Wyatt avoids you for the rest of his time in the city. After that, who knows? You weren’t ready for what a lifetime without your best friend would feel like, but you’re getting the terrible feeling that you’ll have to prepare yourself for it now.

As it turns out, your worst fears may be right. Wyatt doesn’t approach you during the entirety of the next few days, not even looking at you even when you walk right by him in the hallways at school. For all intents and purposes, it’s as if you’ve simply ceased to exist to him.

You’ve just started to accept Wyatt’s absence for good when he shows up at your house exactly one week after the incident. You don’t know who seems more surprised to find him knocking on your door, you or Wyatt. To his credit, he doesn’t try to run away this time, even if he looks like he’s seriously entertaining the idea.

You nod at him. “What are you doing here?”

Wyatt tries for a feeble smile. “What, I can’t visit my own best friend?”

“You haven’t been treating me like your best friend recently,” you comment, “What, have you changed your mind again?”

Wyatt winces. “Look, I know I reacted badly, but–”

Your voice is sharp, slicing off even Wyatt’s most tentative syllables. “Reacted badly? Wyatt, you left me on that roof. Wouldn’t even say a word about it, and then you ignored me for a week. I don’t know that you could have had a worse reaction unless you physically pushed me off of the roof yourself.”

Wyatt sighs. “I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me for it, I certainly hate myself for it enough for the both of us. If there was a chance that you might feel otherwise, though, I wanted to come see for myself.”

You consider him, unwilling to commit to a single fragment of hope. “How else would I feel?”

“Like you did before,” Wyatt whispers, “like you might love me. That’s what I was hoping to hear. I love you, Y/N. I don’t think I knew that until you told me how you felt, but I know it now. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I avoided you, but I was wrong for that. I know what I want now, Y/N, and that’s you. Is it possible that you might want me, too?”

You stare at him for a heartbeat, maybe longer. Wyatt’s words are echoing through your head, and with the greatest of efforts, you’re able to nod. “I still love you, Wyatt. I don’t know that I could stop loving you even if I tried.”

Wyatt’s face splits with the most dazzling smile that you’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm.

He laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard something I liked so much.”

As it turns out, neither have you. You have your boy, you have your most desperate hope confirmed in a moment. You don’t think you have ever needed anything else.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

[hanzajesthanza]

appreciation for sapkowski's geralt

i wrote a long post for r/wiedzmin sooo i'm also going to post it here (feel free to comment on both platforms if you use reddit):

in the midst of everything that's going on with h*nry c*vill and li*m h*msworth, i want to foster some love for the original geralt of rivia, who first emerged in publication in december 1986, way before any netflix show used the name or any actor called himself “geralt.”

because to me, there's only one original, real geralt, and that is the geralt of the books. no one is geralt, except geralt himself.

so, reblog and comment (or leave in the tags) any favorite scenes, moments, qualities, or character development from geralt, or about his relations with other characters in the series, that you appreciate from the book series. and please keep it sapkowski's canon-only, if you can (the books, the short stories, even the non-canon something ends, something begins).

i’ll start:

what i love about geralt is that he holds complexity as an inversion of the trope of the hero. he feels very real to me — he just wants to be left alone, to do his job, but he also gets lonely and he’s overall a sensitive and emotional character underneath the black leather and silver-studded surface. while he’s practical-minded (like in bounds of reason and a shard of ice being annoyed that eyck takes money for hunting monsters because it hurts his business, or demanding that he gets the right amount of agreed-upon pay for the zeugl contract), he also is compelled to do what is “right” (like in the lesser evil, the last wish, or something more intervening with renfri in the marketplace, saving yennefer from the djinn, deciding to go back to cintra to get ciri after all)

i love how he’s always so conflicted, hesitant, and troubled. he often overthinks things, and makes decisions that often don’t benefit him personally, but are either selfless or good-natured. i don’t think he’s a grouch or unfriendly — i think he responds quite reasonably to the world and situations around him (like in baptism of fire, he’s pretty whiney and upset for the majority of the book, but his daughter is literally missing and his broken arm and leg are barely healed, of course he’s distraught.)

he’s complex and yet he’s also simple, as dandelion writes, “straightforward as a halberd shaft.” he doesn’t scheme or plan, which is refreshing in a world of shady sorcerers and spies. he’s straightforward with his feelings and intentions. he loves his family and friends, and that's his real motivation throughout the series.

my favorite scenes for and with him are probably (in chronological order):

the voice of reason iv, where he speaks with iola about his past, his origins at kaer morhen, and his life as a witcher, how he was initially filled with certainty that the world needed him.

the voice of reason v, where he speaks with dandelion about his troubles as a witcher and finding work.

the last wish, when he falls in love with yennefer at the end and thinks about how beautiful she is, how he knew she would become everything. how he regrets scrutinizing her and hurting her with his eyes, vowing to never think like that about her again. how he saves her life with no ulterior motive — the fact that yennefer hears the wish and says that he’s condemned himself to her… they both have such low self-esteem, they’re both traumatized and troubled in their own ways, from their own trainings, but he, as one vulnerable person, reached out to another, equally vulnerable person, implying ‘let’s not tear each other down, let’s try to heal together.’

eternal flame, when he tears his brand new, twenty-two crown jacket, trying to mend it in vain by the fountain. and when he can’t kill dudu, and when he softly laughs at the end, agreeing to go with dandelion & dudu, dainty, and “chapelle” to the passiflora.

sword of destiny. i love how selfless he becomes once ciri enters the picture, and he didn’t even initially know who she was. he doesn’t bemoan his fate as a witcher, burdening a child with his troubles. he acts so kindly and appropriately towards her, entertaining her, protecting her…

something more. all of something more, but especially when he finds ciri, dropping to his knees and holding her so tightly 🥺 promising they’ll be together forever.

blood of elves ch. 1, when he wakes ciri from her nightmare and covers her with the sheepskin, reassuring her.

blood of elves ch. 3, when he instructs ciri to give up her sword, they fight a disagreement, and he makes an impossible leap to catch her.

blood of elves ch. 5, when he swears to philippa that if any harm comes to ciri, he’ll… and then immediately passes out from loss of blood.

time of contempt ch 3, when yennefer wouldn’t let him wear his “pretentious” headband, and he’s messing with his hair and whining about it.

time of contempt ch. 5, when his voice breaks telling dandelion that ciri needs him, that she cannot be left alone.

baptism of fire ch. 1 and 4 & tower of the swallow ch. 3 and 5, every time his knee badly pains him.

baptism of fire ch. 5, when he has fish soup with his newly formed company and grumbles about how they're "a team of heroes, a fellowship of idiots, united by a common goal which none of them understand."

baptism of fire ch. 7, when he speaks with milva, and then speaks with regis, refusing to go through ysgith upon learning that milva is pregnant and after talking to her she decided to keep the pregnancy. he says that he thought he was ready to go to ciri at any cost, but this is too high a cost. he’s not willing to risk milva and put her in danger for himself, her child for his child. like, his company became another family to him, forged in the fire of war.

baptism of fire ch. 7, when he and cahir hold the jaruga bridge together!

tower of the swallow ch. 5, when he mistakes angoulême for ciri, goes hot and cold at the same time, tries to calm himself with axii, and it doesn’t work! and then cooperates, “only for her sake.” because even if she’s not ciri, he recognizes she’s a young girl who needs to be rescued and brought into a family, very much like ciri.

tower of the swallow ch. 5, when he speaks with fulko artevelde and cleverly denounces and dissects authoritarianism as a governmental philosophy. it’s such a good dialogue!

tower of the swallow ch. 6, when he apologizes to cahir for losing his temper and his mind in the mine, and also for accusing him of being a traitor.

tower of the swallow ch. 7, when he finds out that his company is in danger and immediately demands to leave and ride to them.

lady of the lake ch. 2, when he calls regis his friend in the caves underneath mount gorgon.

lady of the lake ch. 3, when he and dandelion part ways and he “gasps audibly” upon hearing dandelion wants to stay in beauclair.

lady of the lake ch. 9… when he and yennefer finally find ciri again, and he greets her “ciri,” he answered, with a lump in his throat, “i’m glad to see you again.” him not feeling anger, grief, or hatred… just fatigue and with a great need to be done with it all. when he looks towards the corridor that ciri came out of, “as if expecting someone else to come from there. ciri shook her head. he understood,” like, he didn’t forget about his hanza, he didn’t forget about cahir and angoulême, even though he probably already sensed they had died… he still was hoping that they would survive. him not interrupting yennefer and ciri’s hug until a long time had passed, recognizing and respecting their mother-daughter bond, not being jealous of yennefer but encouraging their love. and as they descend down the marble staircase, he instructs ciri, still a father to her after all this time and after all these trials, with yennefer behind them, him telling her that everything is just a symbol, and commenting on her swordplay, saying “calmly,” “stick close to me,” and that if ciri ever tries to deflect a crossbow bolt with her sword like that again, she’ll get a spanking 😭

lady of the lake ch. 12… you know why. ψ but to be more specific:"very well," said the witcher, walking towards the exit. "but this is the last time! dammit, it really is the last time!" and "stop," he wanted to cry," where are you going? it’s enough that i always piss into the wind."

season of storms epilogue, when “he” speaks with nimue on her way to aretuza. he says that even more than a hundred years after his death, that geralt of rivia would be happy, if people remembered him, if they remembered the name of his horse. yes, he would be happy… if only he could know it. then they discuss how witchers will always be needed, for evil always will lurk in the darkness. and he reassures her to follow her destiny, which she does, and because of this, ciri follows her destiny at stygga castle!

his very specific aesthetics: his white hair, his weird eyes or as angoulême rhymes, "oczy dziwoczy!", his "hideous smile" and "hideous squint," his angular features, large nose, his (tower of the swallow ch. 7) torn ear and lost medallion, his sword over his right shoulder (and silver sword kept on roach), his black leather gloves and jacket "bristling with silver spikes," and his silly leather headband!

a complex character, a tragic hero, and really, just a normal man trying to survive, do the right thing, and protect his loved ones in a world of war and contempt.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

I came back for you

Word count: 2123

Genre: Angst but happy end

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Abusive prison/government (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: Hey, so this is kind of a weird request, but could you do a Nattie x Powered! Reader during Civil War, where Nat, of course, is on Tony's team, and the Reader is trying to keep the peace between the two teams. Maybe the government takes (Y/n) and puts her in a shock collar like Wanda's because they think she was on Steve's team? Sorry this is so weird . . .

Summary: You are neutral in the fight, or so you think before you are told you can't be and are taken away with the rest of Cap's team.

A/n: Thanks @thewidowsghost for requesting this! Honestly I didn't plan on writing anything or posting anything today but I saw that I had a little bit of this done and to be honest my day has sucked so I needed a distraction and this worked perfectly. Also I could someone tell me how the formatting looks? I'm trying the new beta editor and I think I'm doing things right but idk. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

As you take in the scene that surrounds you you can’t believe that you once considered everybody to be a big weird family. Certainly none of them are acting like it now. It breaks your heart to see them on opposite sides, throwing themselves at each other because apparently their personal beliefs are more important than their friends.

Neither of them are right or wrong in your opinion. There’s too many factors and both options suck, it’s the government’s fault for placing the team in this situation. However you are not happy with the way anyone is handling it, especially Steve, Tony and Natasha. Both Tony and Steve are acting based on what they think is right without considering the other sides to the story, although you can’t say that’s surprising coming from them. You do know that they genuinely do care for others but they can be very hard headed and neither of them like to be wrong.

It’s Natasha who you’re most disappointed in though, you thought that she would be a better negotiation, helping ease the tension but she’s out there fighting like the rest of the idiots. You thought that she would agree with you and try to bring together the two sides.

You narrow your eyes and zoom in your vision to the far side of the airport where you see Spiderman. You have no idea who he is but you can tell just by looking at him that he’s only a kid and it was irresponsible of everyone to let him be here and to fight him. You use your superspeed to get to him quickly and take him out of the way of flying cars and leave him by the side where it should be relatively safe.

“Stay here.” you tell him.

“But-”

You glare. “Stay here.”

You rush off before you can make sure he listens because you can hear a grunt of pain from Rhodney. He’s lying on the ground with Tony standing over him and Sam a few meters back. The fight seems to be ending now, you see the plane leaving and the rest of the avengers start to gather but it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. You don’t know exactly what happened but it looks like a freak accident, somehow nobody’s fault and yet everybody’s fault for getting into this situation in the first place.

The mood is weird, as if everybody is holding their breath and taking in what they’ve done. In the background you can hear trucks pulling up and footsteps follow soon after. The first man grabs Wanda and she blasts him back lightly so he falls down. Immediately a circle forms around her, everyone pointing their guns. Clint takes a step in, raising his arms and trying to calm the situation down but the guns shift to him and one agent steps forward and roughly grabs him, forcing his wrists into cuffs.

They go for Sam next and he looks pissed but lets them cuff him without comment. Scott looks completely confused and out of his depth. You don’t know him but it’s obvious that he is not trained for these types of situations and is in over his head.

It’s Wanda that makes your heart break the most though. She’s like a little sister to you so seeing the tears in her eyes and the terror on her face as the agents move in to cuff her makes you want to wrap your arms around her and promise it will all be okay. But you can’t, that would be a lie because everything is not okay and trying to hug her would only make things worse.

The agents start to move away, leading Cap's team to their trucks to be taken away. One of them turns back and notices you, murmuring something to the agents beside them. Before you can even understand what is happening they are right back and grabbing at your arms roughly. Naturally you try to pull away but they are strong and once you realize what is happening you stop struggling.

“I didn’t pick a side,” you try to explain, “I was just trying to make sure everyone was okay.”

“You didn’t sign the accords and therefore have no right to be here.” one of the men tells you. You look towards Tony’s team for help but they all seem to be busy. Tony and Vision are trying to make sure Rhodney is okay and the kid is luckily back where you left him. T’challa is shaking hands with one of the agents and although it makes you sick because of the way they are treating some of the others you understand, he does have a country to run and his people must come first after all.

Natasha is the only one not doing anything and she meets your eyes. You silently beg her to do something, anything against what is happening. She stares you straight in the eye and shakes her head. You actually shiver at how cold her look is because you never thought that would be directed at you, you thought that the two of you were close.

“I’m not going to help you Y/n, you made your own choice and I made mine.” Is all she says before turning away. You watch her back as long as you can as you are led into the trucks, wondering how everything went wrong so quickly.

---

Nobody talks. You aren’t even sure if you’re allowed to. There is no way what they are doing is legal but who is going to argue with the government. A secret prison built just for enhanced individuals and imprisoning people without trial isn’t right. You were neutral before but the more you see of how the government operates the more you start to lean towards supporting Steve and the rest of his “team”.

You shift slightly because the shock collar is getting even more uncomfortable. Wanda is wearing one too, probably since the two of you are the only ones that have powers unrelated to technology and suits. She looks smaller than ever in her cell and you close your eyes because if you continue to look at her you know you’ll end up crying.

Nothing changes throughout the day until you hear the door creak open. Everyone glares when they see it’s Tony and he and Clint share a few words before Tony practically begs Sam for information. Sam’s reluctant but gives in, seeing that Tony is sincere and knowing that although he disagrees with Tony it’s not really his fault that you’re all here, it’s the government’s.

When Tony leaves things go silent again for a few hours. You haven’t been fed since you’ve gotten here, you realize, but you aren’t hungry anyways, your mind can’t stop picturing the fight, being arrested and most of all Natasha’s attitude towards you. It hurts even more than you would like to admit. You considered her your best friend but you also had feelings for her and you were dumb enough to think that just maybe she felt the same things about you. Obviously that is completely untrue and you wonder if even your friendship was a lie.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for?” Wanda asks finally and although her voice is quiet you wince at how it breaks the silence.

“I don’t know kid.” Clint responds. “Too long. My wife is going to kill me and my kids-”

He stops himself, getting a little choked up which surprises you. You’ve never seen him this emotional before.

“I already miss my daughter.” Scott adds on and there is a moment of understanding that passes between the two of them.

“I don’t have my own family but I’m going to miss my sister.” Sam says. “She probably won’t even find out what’s happening until it’s on the news, if the news even covers it.”

“I miss the team.” you add. “Before this fight, we weren’t perfect but I considered everyone family.”

“So did I.” Wanda says and you all take a moment to miss what used to be.

“I miss pizza.” Sam jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It works and soon everyone is adding on ridiculous things they miss and things they want to do when you get out (you can’t even think about the fact that the “when” might actually be “if”).

Your eyes snap to the door when it opens and everyone shuts up immediately. You look warily at Natasha, unsure of why she’s here. Maybe the government sent her in to interrogate, god knows she is amazing at that and you honestly wouldn’t be able to not talk to her, as much as you’re mad at her right now.

She doesn’t speak, going straight towards Sam’s door and kneeling down, fiddling with the lock. After a few seconds it clicks and the door swings open.

“When did you switch sides?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, impressed.

“I don’t pick sides, I do what makes the most sense and right now breaking you out is the right thing to do. Besides I’m wanted now too, apparently the government doesn’t like it when you aid fugitives in escaping.” she responds smoothly, moving onto Wanda’s cell and repeating her actions until it opens.

“Do you know how to take the collar off?” she asks and Sam nods. He gets to work while Natasha moves on. Both Clint and Scott pass at her offer of freeing them. They both look like they’re itching to escape but you respect that they’re putting their families first.

You’re surprised by how emotional you get when she unlocks your cell. You thought she didn’t care about you so to have her here now is amazing and makes you feel bad you ever doubted that she would do the right thing.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” she tells you as she undoes your shock collar carefully, doing her best to not hurt you.

“I-I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” you admit, a single tear dripping down your face.

She wipes it away with her thumb. “Oh sweetheart I care about you so much, more than you could ever know and I want you to always remember that, promise me.”

You nod, sniffing. “I promise Tasha.”

“Good because I came back for you and I will always come back for you.” she says, leaning in closer. You look down at her lips as she continues to lean in because she is so close and it seems like she’s going to kiss you.

“Glad to know Y/n was the only reason you came back.” Sam says, smirking. You love him but you also want to strangle him right now, that bastard could totally see what was happening and ruined the moment on purpose.

Natasha flips him the finger but otherwise ignores him. “Steve and Bucky are waiting in the jet outside, I was able to dismantle alarms and cameras but we only have a few minutes left so follow me and be quiet.”

She grabs your hand as she moves out of your cell and you walk with her, the others trailing behind slightly. The halls are clear and it’s only a few turns before she ushers everyone into a vent. It’s a tight squeeze but you make it through and you pop out to find sturdy wires attached to the side of the raft coming from a nearby jet. Wanda and Sam each take one and their wires retract, pulling them into the jet. You gulp nervously, heights are definitely not one of your favourite things.

“We have to go Y/n.” Natasha whispers just as alarms start to sound, the noises loud with flashing lights.

You take a deep breath and grab the remaining wire and once you’re secure Natasha grabs it too. Closing your eyes tightly so you don’t look down you feel a strange whooshing sensation before it disappears and your feet touch down on the jet floor.

“So what next?” Sam asks once you’ve all collected yourselves, directing his question at Steve.

“We lie low and try to help as best we can.” he responds, sighing heavily. “We’ll figure out the details as we go, what matters is that everybody is safe.”

Natasha holds your hand again and squeezes it tightly. “And that we are together.” she whispers into your ear so only you hear.

You squeeze her hand tightly back. Your relationship with her has gone through a rollercoaster of a day and is mostly undefined but she’s right, all that matters is that you’re together now and you wouldn’t rather be with anyone else.

---

Taglist: @fayhar @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @aaron-despair @chickenhavewisdom @emril-osvigne @nyankitty987 @agathaharkness-simp @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @satxnsupreme @likefirenrain @wlwlovesreading @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @redswing @mochamoff @king-star @blackbat2020

[carsdreamtoo]

Admitting - Cal x f!Reader

You and Cal have been getting to know each other a little better across the race season, will this be the day that Cal finally admits those hidden feelings?

First xReader submission, I'm hoping to make more of these <3 However this is just some fluff to get started and stretch those writing muscles!

Tags/Genre: Fluff/Feelings / Soft

Pairing: Cal Weathers x f!Reader (female)

Words: 2,671

The air vibrated with the snarling and revving of engines, cars gunning their torque to the very max, moving and sliding around one another and their tires nothing but a blur as they sailed across the searing hot tarmac. The chorus and cheer of the crowd was loud and almost deafening, echoing across the stadium as the sun set, the orange hue settling upon the stadium like a warm blanket. The outside world didn't matter, it was almost as though all the elements had aligned only for this moment here, two cars struggling for leadership in the feat of speed and skill, a light blue faded stock car, and the blazing red of his opponent. It was the only things that the cameras trained on, the audience collectively seeming to hold it's breath as the cars moved at breakneck speed. The white flag flew, and the cheers and cries only became louder, the excitement raging through each and every car that was intended heavily for two contenders. The cars behind the leaders seemed to fall further and further behind, leaving to two racers in a world of their own, their concentrated frowns focusing on eating up the track in front of them.  Crew chief's were yelling to their racers through the mics, trying to put in one last effort to spur their charges on, desperate to at least get a few more points in the leadership, and set them up for the next set of races. Though it was mostly in vain, there were no real changes in position, and the racers all looked tired and mostly done. One such pit stop however wasn't exerting such effort to keep their racer going, the legendary Strip Weathers watching his nephew with pride as he slowly inched out in front of the famous Lightning McQueen, seeing the thrill on the young Dinoco sponsee's face, remembering when he too felt that rush. Beside him was a long time friend and inspiration, Doc Hudson, to watch and support Cal in his mid race season. On the other side of the 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet', was where you stood, a young avid car that could be arguably Cal's 'biggest fan'. You whistled and shouted along with the crowd as Cal soared closer and closer to the finishing line, leaping on the spot in triumph as the blue male practically ate the ground up, diving across the finishing line in a blaze of roars from the audience. You felt yourself leap up ecstatically, cheering out in victory and support, flashes of color and cheer echoing through the stadium with a deafening buzz. He instantly plunged himself into doing donuts upon the track, his tires squealing and engine revving, the friction causing white smoke to plume from the tarmac, his laughter being heard as he peeled away, taking a winning lap round the track at the cheer of his fans.  The feeling was indescribable, and he felt his mood soar higher than the stadium itself, the smile fixed permanently onto his face. Though despite this, he was all the more eager to get back to the pits... knowing full well who was there. He sped along to his stop, skidding to a halt as he glanced up to his uncle, who smiled down proudly to him.  "Real proud of ya' Cal" Strip beamed to his nephew, to which Cal only smiled wider.  "Thanks Uncle..." He started, hearing the congratulations come at him from all sides from his crew, Doc giving a small nod of congratulations, though ready to rib his own young racer for his loss. Cal graciously accepted the praise, though his eyes continued to search, one face on his mind, before he finally caught a glimpse of you, his mind instantly distracted. You moved under the barrier and approached him excitedly, your lights practically flickering in excitement as they did when you dealt with strong emotions.  "Cal! That was amazing! Congratulations!" You beamed, practically hopping on the spot. Despite his calm and friendly nature, you still felt the bubble of nervous emotion every time you uttered a word to the cerulean racer... there was something about him that made you feel lighter than air, and to say you were addicted to the feeling was an understatement. "Thank you... You know I really couldn't have-" He started, when

he saw the media spilling onto pit row, to which he shot you an apologetic smile. Although he wasn't sure what could truly come of it, he didn't want you in the media... he didn't know how that could effect you, and didn't want to put you in that position. You weren't a racer, and he was aware of that. "I'm sorry Miss (y/n)... I won't be long" He promised you, his voice gentle as you also spotted the cameras on their way, your face falling for just a millisecond, knowing he would be torn away yet again. "Oh! No, no take your time, you deserve it!" You said now, covering the slight disappointment you held, and getting hurriedly out the way, just in time for the cameras to focus on him, the interviewer Shannon Spokes beginning to congratulate him herself. It was always this way between you two... just snippets of time together, before his busy life would separate you again. You were pleased for him.. of course you were. And proud! But these small interactions didn't sate the longing that was in your heart.. You of course were too embarrassed to admit the crush you held for the racer, and getting to know him over the race season was always the highlight of your week. You had both hit it off almost immediately at a pre-warming party held by the Piston Cup organizers in order to let the racers mingle, and to bring everyone together before the big season. You had merely gone purely on a whim with a friend that knew one of the racers rather well, and you were now glad that you did. Very glad. The desire to have more than just tiny moments that you could lock in your memories was always there, and in the mean time, all you could do was just hope and wish. You moved over to where the pit box stood, carefully watching Cal with a gentle smile, your heart racing just a little. You couldn't quite hear what was being said, though you blinked as you saw his tires suddenly balloon, Guido racing out from behind the Dinoco racer, and his calls after the cackling racers. You giggled at the sight, feeling just a little sorry for him, before you heard another voice pry you from your thoughts.  "We'll meet him up by the victory podiums. You can tear your eyes away from the love of your life in order to do that, can't you?" Your friend parked at your side, and you raised a brow, scoffing. "Pff, you wish, you'd just looooove to be the matchmaker right now wouldn't you" you mused, before feeling a tire kick your side in play. "I'm better at it than you!" She teased, causing you to turn slightly. "Yeah?" You rebutted, playfully tackling your friend as you had when you were kids, leaping off and trying to evade the revenge attack that would no doubt come your way, move giggles erupting from the pair of you. Little to either of your knowledge, Cal watched with a soft smile on his face, his gaze following you as you left.  -- The confetti reigned free as it exploded high above the podiums, twirling down and settling upon the ground, flashes everywhere as photos were being taken, and more chants and cries could be heard as fans were desperate for their favorite racer to notice them. The audience seemed to settle as a microphone was hitched near Cal, and he began to give his winning speech to them all, smiling gently as his gaze moved through the crowd. "Thank you all! It's such an honor to race, as it always is, and I couldn't do it without the love and support of all you guys out there!" He started, hearing the cheers rising.  "I hope to only bring more wins to the season, and bag another one for Team Dinoco!" He added, waving his tire out to the fans, before his eyes rested upon a certain car in particular, and a tender smile came to his face.  "But lastly... I wanna dedicate this win to Miss (y/n)... she's been a real inspiration to me lately... I owe her" He said now, continuing to watch you as he spied the blush creep across your hood, you gaze falling as the embarrassed smile appeared. He.. he said that? He really said your name on stage.. in front of everyone! He laughed gently, not paying attention to the next speech from

Lightning, only persisting in gazing to you in the crowd. To him... there was no one else in the area, and he could only see you. Suddenly he didn't want to be on the podium, finally twisting his gaze away from you to look to the track, the last of the sunlight glinting against the tarmac, to which he smiled, an idea forming.  By the time the speeches and congratulations were done, the stadium was clearing out, and Cal made his way through the crowd to watch you make your way back to the pits, presumably to help clear up as you always did. You didn't like being swallowed by the crowd and being caught in the rush... besides, any extra time you got to maybe watch Cal wind down on the track or just have any moment with him, was worth the late nights. He revved his engine a little louder as he approached, in order to let you know he was there, seeing your brake lights shine and your gaze rest on your mirror. The blush was back instantly, but you tried to push it down and resume some soft of confidence... even if it left the moment he appeared, as always. "Well hello stranger..." You half teased, before you chuckled. "I see... now that you've grown bored of the screaming and adoring fans, all chanting and desperate for your attention, you've come to me" You mused, giving him a smirk.  "Well... only so much I can take being yelled at, ya'know?" He smiled in return, before he looked to the track again. You had paused, though had started to turn away, and he reached out with a tire to stop you, causing you to pause.  "You ok?" You asked in concern, and a smile flashed out on his face.  "Couldn't be better... but I want you to come with me" He said now, nodding toward the track. You glanced over, unsure, seeing the vast tarmac stretch before you two, your heart thumping a little harder. "You want me to...?" You started, waving your tire to get him to carry on the sentence.  "Just come with me" He smiled, leading the way toward the gate that led to the track. He weaved through, and finally his tires gradually touched the track, his gaze following the loop round, glancing back to see you hesitating.  "It's ok" He assured the you, holding out a tire for you. You gently moved out onto the track, your tires meeting with the smooth surface, keeping yourself low upon the ground. You could feel the heat radiating off it, and you fancied you could almost hear the many years of racing engines and cheering crowds, their chanting and excitement being sucked into the very foundations. You watched as the track shone in the sun, following the smooth lines as it slipped to the side.  "It's... bigger than I thought" You said quietly, moving up to him.  "They don't quite capture the size on tv, do they?" He asked with a smile, to which you shook your hood. He watched you for a moment, keeping you pinned to the spot with his eyes, before he smiled again. "You wanna go for a lap?" "Really?" You asked, your tone questioning, but your eyes danced with the excitement that he loved. With little warning, his engine growled, wheels spinning, before he shot off like an arrow, sailing once more around the track. A deeper blush seemed to fix itself permanently to your hood, his engine sounded tantalizing after all, but you couldn't help but let that smile slip over your features. "Oho, no you don't" You smirked, your own engine thrown into gear as you gunned it, dashing off after the racer. You felt the ground only pass by faster and faster as you started to push yourself onward, settling into a rhythm, despite how scary the track was up close, closing in on the blue car. He moved up a little, laughing out loud as you pulled up beside him, seeing the joy on your face as you raced on, raising your brow a couple times at him, your engine snarling as you pushed ahead, taking the lead. He laughed again, and began to pursue you, spurring the you on, though not overtaking you. Instead he watched you with a gentle gaze, seeing you thoroughly enjoying your experience was giving him a rather nice flutter to his heart.  You sailed across the finish

line, before you half spun, facing him as he crossed it too.  "Congratulations, now you've won too!" He said, before he chuckled lightly.  "Hm, maybe I should be the one to race for Dinoco" You teased, before you saw Cal's expression turn serious.  "I mean... I could go talk to Tex..." He started, before you laughed.  "No! No, no I don't... No!" You said between laughter, which was only echoing his own.  "Well... you're pretty fast... perhaps you would do better than me" He said now, snickering lightly, the sparkle in his eyes brighter than ever as he got to hear your laughter over and over. "Does someone want to retire early? That's the sense I'm getting right now" You giggled, to which he raised a brow.  "Honestly, if it meant I got to spend more time with you, I'd do it" He said without thinking, causing you both to look to each other in surprise. You felt your hood warm again, lowering your gaze as Cal seemed to grimace, before deciding that he was already down the rabbit hole, he may as well finish.  "Miss (y/n)..." He started, to which you gazed up softly.  "I've told you... I'm not Miss (y/n), just call me (y/n)" You breathed, to which he chuckled lightly.  "You know I need my manners" He responded, before you smiled gently to him. "Anyway... I... I wanted to ask something" He said now, looking to the track, his tire twisting in what appeared like nerves.  "I was hoping that you'd... maybe like to consider.... the thing is we've gotten to know each other and... I really... I wanted to..." He started, before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Dammit" He could only mutter, before he glanced up, seeing you having tilted your hood, but you felt like you knew what he was going to say. "Cal... it's ok...." You started, before he breathed in.  "Miss (y/n), I'd be honored if you... would consider perhaps allowing me to... Miss (y/n), do you wanna... go out to dinner... or something at some point...?" He seemed to deflate just a little, though your kind expression never left his.  "I'd love nothing more" You said tenderly, to which you saw the joy dance in his eyes. He gave you a grateful smile, gently moving forward to nuzzle your fender, though ready to leap back if you became alarmed. Though, as he half suspected, you embraced it, nuzzling him in return as he stay close, the contact feeling almost like electricity. Cal breathed out slowly as he nosed his hood to yours, only focusing on the feeling it gave you both, paying no heed to what happened around you. The affection was slow and deliberate, easing into it, before Cal bit his lip a little, pulling back, and kissing your cheek gently.  "We should head back" He said now, before you gazed over to where the trailers were.  "Ah yes... your adoring public awaits" You whispered quietly, before he nudged you. You chuckled weakly, and you began to slowly move across the track again, slowly getting closer to each other, before your sides rubbed, and your gazes flicked away from one another, with embarrassed smiles.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hi!!! I'm not a fan of x readers that are romantic, but could you maybe do headcanons for Hanako, Kou, and Mitsuba with a close friend who has mental illness that gives them emotional control issues and is often alienated and treated like an insane freak by their classmates because of having outbursts/meltdowns/screaming fits/panic attacks in class and is currently crying on the ground clawing at their face and calling themself a monster after a particularly bad one of these incidents?? If that sounds concerning specific, erm..... I'm fine, don't worry.

(platonic) hanako and gn!reader, kou minamoto and gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke and gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I know you said not to worry, but I do hope you’re doing alright <3!!! Thank you so much for requesting!! (i also feel the need to say, this is my first mitsuba request,,, i love him so much, so i'm not complaining- i just realized it and was like "huh. wonder why i haven't gotten one before")

warnings: self harm, panic attacks, self hatred (is that what I’d put it as,,? I’m not sure-)

word count: collectively, 1,355

Hanako ☆

Hanako considered himself lucky that he was sitting alongside your class that day. He probably sat behind you, not even paying attention to the lesson- just enjoying trying to replicate the feeling of being alive. Should you start to panic a bit, he’ll pick up on it, sitting up and giving you a concerned glance.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

You gave him some sort of response, earning glances from your classmates that definitely didn’t help the situation. No matter how harshly Hanako glared at their stares, the others couldn’t see him silently telling them to mind their business. 

“(Y/N)-”

“I’M FINE-”

Hanako felt bad for pestering, watching the reactions from your classmates grow even more negatively. Several murmurs, as your teacher asked if you needed to excuse yourself. Once you got up, Hanako followed you into the hallway, watching as you slumped to the ground and began to cry. 

Hanako was already in “protect my friend at all costs” mode, but seeing you like that only made his worry heighten, as he sat in front of you. He’d make sure that you knew he was in front of you by gently saying your name, or even just greeting you. He didn’t want to send you any further into panic with loud noises, so he was really trying to be as caring as he could.

He noticed you bringing your hands to your face as you began to speak, and felt himself freeze up a bit. After a moment of processing your actions, he grabbed your hands, holding them carefully as you called yourself a monster. He knew personally what it was like to hate yourself, hate your actions like that- the moment those words left your mouth, his heart felt like it was stabbed.

“You’re not a monster, (Y/N).” Hanako told you. Despite telling you it firmly, the care and concern was laced in his voice. Even if you continued to call yourself a monster, trying to free your hands from his grip, he wouldn’t give in. Deep down he was aware that restraining you like that probably wasn’t the best option, but all he knew was that he didn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Hanako would sit there with you as long as you needed. Any time a negative word left your mouth, he’d correct you- even when you began to calm down, he’d continue telling you that you weren’t a monster. You couldn’t help the hand you’d been dealt in life. You weren’t the one at fault. He cares for you deeply. You’re an amazing friend. Even as a ghost, just having you around made his lifeless heart feel warm.

Kou Minamoto ☆

I feel like Kou is very perceptive of others, all while being the least judgmental person you may have met in your life. Once he noticed you growing anxious, he felt himself growing anxious- he’d glance at you, trying to get your attention so that he could ask if you were alright. It probably didn’t work, and things soon escalated.

In a matter of minutes, you were rushing outside the class, leaving the rest of your classmates muttering and giving each other glances. Kou felt himself growing annoyed at the comments, and he quickly stood up, excusing himself to the teacher before shouting at his classmates to leave you alone. He then would also walk into the hall, and nervously rush to find you. 

Once he spotted you on the ground, he’d feel a bit relieved that he didn’t have to search too hard. However, once he noticed your hands clawing at your face, as you called yourself a monster, his heart rate went up once again. Kou would quickly go over to you, sitting in front of you and pulling your hands from your face.

In times like these, you can’t convince me that Kou doesn’t try and copy what Teru would do- he looks up to his brother so much, and assumes that whatever Teru would do must be the right thing. That being said, he’ll gently hold your hands, his face as gentle as ever, but still serious. He’s instantly ready to listen to whatever you have to say and to encourage his friend.

Once you muttered the word monster again, Kou would interrupt you, saying that you weren’t a monster. “You’re an amazing friend, and person, (Y/N). You aren’t a monster.”

Even if you tried to explain to him why you were a monster, giving excuses in between shaky breaths and tears, he wouldn’t give in. “No matter what. You aren’t a monster. You’re an amazing human being. You can’t help your actions. It’s no excuse for others to see you any less- anyone who does isn’t worth your emotions. You’re perfect, (Y/N). You’re just as you’re supposed to be.”

Kou will still listen if you decide to vent. He’ll let you pour your heart out to him if you want, all while still giving you the best encouragement he can. If you don’t want to vent, that’s fine too. Kou is still there, telling you how amazing you are. Kou sits there with you until you’ve completely calmed down- and, even then, he keeps a careful eye on you for the rest of the day (if you even decide to stay at school. Kou will definitely encourage you to go home, as he knows how tiring crying is. He doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself, but the decision is still yours.)

Mitsuba Sousuke ☆

I feel like Mitsuba is… very poor at encouraging others. His specialty is insults- pointing out people’s flaws. However, all that time spent pointing out the flaws of others, he’s been able to pick up on a few good things about people. Heck, that's probably how the two of you became friends- noticing good things about you, and a mix of interest in your personality. 

Mitsuba isn’t one for sitting in on classes, especially after losing his memories and practically becoming a different person. With a lack of sense of self, he’s not going to bother with a sense of being alive for a while. In fact, it probably makes him uncomfortable-

Almost as uncomfortable as the feeling he gets when he sees you on the floor in hysterics. Mitsuba isn’t the expert when it comes to emotions but, nonetheless, at seeing a friend cry he barely has to think before rushing over to you. 

He was about to ask whether or not you were alright, before noticing as you clawed your face. “(Y/N)?” He questioned, quickly squatting to your level. He grabbed your hands, yanking them somewhat harshly away from your face as he heard you begin to call yourself a monster.

Mitsuba is honestly about ready to go off, but he stops himself at realizing that- hey. Maybe yelling at someone who’s in the middle of what is apparently a pretty rough panic attack is not a good idea? Yeah. Good choice, Mitsuba- nice thinking.

“You’re not a monster, (Y/N). Even if you were, there are plenty of monsters around. Sitting right in front of you is a monster, so don’t insult us.”

If you tried to explain what happened, or why you call yourself a monster, Mitsuba will listen and give his two cents. To him, things like that are purely, innately, unfortunately part of existing. “Some people handle things differently than others. It makes you no more a monster than it does anyone else. I’m sure you’re scared, I’m sure you don’t mean to lash out, but it’s not like it’s your choice.”

He’ll sit there as long as you cry, probably gently hushing you- not in a mean or degrading way, but like you’d do a child that’s crying. Once you calmed down, he’d stand up, telling you that you’d better not go anywhere. “I’m going out of my way to get something for you, so don’t do anything.” After being gone for a minute or so, he’d return with tissues and would hand them to you casually. He really wants to seem like he doesn’t care, but you should know that he genuinely does.

[fanmoose12]

Levi ignored the formal greetings and salutes of the soldiers he passed as he made his way through the barracks. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to the infirmary.

Apparently, Hange had decided to start her experiments bright and early that day. So early that the sun had barely begun to rise. Not long after, a titan's arm broke free from its restraints and swung at Hange while her back was facing away. With no time to react, the full force of the attack had her instantly flying through the air and only stopping when her body met a wall. Levi didn't comprehend much of the details after that. He simply threw on his uniform as is, not bothering a second glance in the mirror.

He bit back a chill as he entered the courtyard, not knowing whether it was from the sudden cold winter air or from his own nerves. It was only then that he realized he had left without throwing on a coat.

When he entered the infirmary, he immediately noticed a small group of people huddled together. Hange's squad, Mike, Nanaba, and Erwin along with a nurse Levi didn't recognize. They all spoke in hushed whispers and, as if on cue, all turned to look at him. His pace suddenly slowed, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at their ominous gazes. He hesitated to approach.

After a moment, Erwin resumed speaking to the nurse and exchanged a few more words before she finally walked away. Erwin then dismissed the rest of the group as they shuffled away, avoiding eye contact as they passed Levi.

Levi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and approached Erwin. "How's Hange?" He asked, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

"Levi," Erwin began, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

"Just this morning." He answered.

Erwin's brow furrowed and Levi could see the wrinkles in his face. "I will ask again. How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

The question was puzzling. What kind of answer was Erwin looking for? Levi felt like a child being chastised. He was coming in blind to this whole situation, only knowing the information that Moblit had told him earlier.

"Moblit came by my room about twenty minutes ago and told me about the accident. I came as fast as I could."

Erwin's eyes stared intently at Levi, as if he was trying to look through him instead of at him. It was then that Levi noticed the small beads of sweat lining his forehead.

Levi's heart rate quickened. Something wasn't right. "Erwin, what the hell is going on?"

What was Erwin trying to get out of him? What did he know that Levi didn't? Was Hange sick? Surely he would've noticed, right? Then again, they hadn't seen much of each other recently. Hange had been busy testing a new theory involving the evaporation of titan blood and Levi had been assigned to oversee the development of the new training grounds.

She and Levi had grown close. Immensely close. Too close for Levi's comfort sometimes. They had become a bonded pair in all forms; emotionally, physically, and mentally. They knew each other's strengths and short-comings, their pet peeves and bad habits, their fears and hopes, the way each other tasted and smelled, how their bodies felt intertwined, the rhythm of each other's heartbeats. Hange had become the one thing Levi never wanted; someone to lose.

As if Erwin could sense his inner turmoil, his shoulders dropped and his eyes relaxed. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Nobody's told me a damn thing."

Erwin released a tired sigh. "Hange is alive but she suffered a concussion. The nurse wants to keep her here for a few days to monitor her once she wakes up."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure but this could have been much worse. In more ways than you realize."

Levi could feel his frustration reaching its peak. "Why not just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you're hiding?"

Erwin just shook his head. "It's not for me to tell. We'll continue this at a later time. You may see her if you'd like."

Levi decided not to further the discussion and made his way towards the room. Once his hand had reached the doorknob, he heard Erwin's voice behind him. "Levi, once you're finished, meet me in my office. We have much to discuss."

Levi's hand tightened around the doorknob. He didn't like being left in the dark but he was humanity's strongest, surely he could handle whatever news Erwin was refusing to disclose.

He shook the thought from his mind, wanting to be solely focused on Hange. He readied himself for the sight and pushed open the door.

Hange appeared natural as she slept in the hospital bed before him. Her expression was peaceful with the usual stress lines in her face relaxed. Her glasses rested on a table next to the bed with her uniform and winter coat thrown over a wooden chair. She had been changed into a hospital gown with a white bandage wrapped around her head.

"That was an extreme stunt to pull just to get some sleep don't you think, four eyes?" Levi mused.

He examined the bandage and noticed a minimal amount of blood from a scrape on the side of her head. He wasn't sure what the worry was about. Concussions were a normal injury for most soldiers, especially new recruits who were practicing with their ODM gear.

Still, Erwin had mentioned her "condition" which meant there was something Levi was missing, something he wasn't seeing.

"Sorry about this, Hange." He said as he grabbed the blanket on top of her and tossed it to the side.

Before the blanket had even touched the ground, Levi had stumbled away from Hange's bedside until his back was forced against the wall. His heart beat hard against his chest, he struggled to catch his breath and felt as if he was suffocating, his knees trembled beneath him, and his mind could not comprehend the sight before him.

Levi looked around the room as if an explanation would appear before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her again. He was almost thankful that she was asleep.

The sight of her winter coat suddenly drew his attention. Like most things, Hange was too engrossed in her research and often careless when it came to her own health. Levi would often find her outside in the snow, watching over her precious titans, wearing nothing more than her usual brown jacket. She never bundled herself properly and always claimed she felt fine despite the obvious signs of her red nose, chapped lips, chattering teeth, and shivering body. And as expected, Levi would be the one to have to care for her when she fell ill.

Although, come to think of it, this was the first year that Hange had actually been adamant about wearing her coat. Each time Levi saw her, she had it buttoned around her, refusing to take it off even when indoors. And if he thought about it further, he realized that it always looked a size too big for her.

The realization suddenly came crashing on him as all the pieces fell into place. The air felt as if it had been knocked out of him and his head was spinning. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, he's sure he would have collapsed.

It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

It was stupid, he knew, the evidence was right in front of him but he just had to confirm it for himself. He looked towards her still sleeping face and then very slowly trailed his eyes down her body until he was staring at a small bump on her torso.

He steadied his knees and pushed himself away from the wall. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to move his legs and reach her bed side. With a shaky hand and a deep ragged breath, he outstretched his arm until it rested gently on her swollen abdomen. He ignored the water stinging the corner of his eyes and forcefully blinked the sensation away.

It was as if his mind was not his own as he began to slowly stroke small circles on top of her belly. As he was getting used to the feeling, he felt a sudden pressure hit against his head. He immediately froze his movements and waited. A few seconds passed and there it was again, a small push to his hand.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and could feel his lips curve into a smile. He was feeling a kick. The being inside of Hange was making it self known to him.

He became overwhelmed with an abundance of conflicting emotions bombarding him all at once. He had so many thoughts, questions, ideas, fears. At that moment all he could do was reach for her hand and relish in the comfort of her warmth beneath his palm. He needed her here with him.

And then a new realization chilled him to his core.

She would eventually awaken...wouldn't she?

"Hange." He whispered desperately. "Please, wake up."

omg, you got me so worried!! i thought hange lost the baby, but whew! i'm so glad the baby is alright! and your writing is top notch! if you ever think of posting it and maybe adding a second part...... hmu?

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply,  brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

[bright-molina]

Emergency Contact

synopsis: Sometimes it takes an accident and the revelation that Buck is Luke's emergency contact to really bring the Buckley-Mercer (et al) Family to the same page.

fandoms: Julie and the Phantoms x 911

relationships/characters: Buckley!reader (gender neutral), Alex Mercer, Evan Buckley, Luke Patterson, Athena Grant, Maddie Buckley (all relationships are familial/platonic)

word count: 2503

warnings: mentions of minor injuries (and I mean minor, sprained ankle, minor concussion is all)

a/n: @biqherosix surprise! Catch me pushing the Buckley-Mercer family agenda cause I can. For anyone wondering, we're running with the idea that they're cousins. I honestly have no idea where this came from, I wrote it at like midnight yesterday. And it only figures that the first thing I post in forever is a crossover that is mostly self-indulgent but I promise I'm trying to get the hang of things again.

For those of y'all that haven't seen 911 but still wanna read: one, I appreciate you so much oh my gosh, two, I highly recommend it and three, all you really need to know for this one is that Buck is a firefighter with the 118, Athena Grant is a police officer, and Maddie is Buck's older sister and a 911 dispatcher. If I missed anything and you wanna know feel more than free to ask!

The absolute last thing you expected was your phone ringing well past midnight.

“Don’t answer it.”

Alex’s voice sounded from beside you, muffled by the pile of blankets he was buried under. You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone only to have him snatch it out of your grip and stuff it under the blankets alongside him.

“Give it back!”

“No,” Alex crossed his arms tighter, ignoring the second ring completely. “It’s probably Buck checking to see if we’ve gone to sleep yet, if you answer he’ll know we’re still up.”

“Like Buck would voluntarily be up right now. He’s fifteen hours into a twenty four hour shift,” You leaned back against the couch, knowing there was no tearing the phone away from Alex. “Will you at least check who it is to make sure it’s not Maddie?”

Alex groaned, loud and exaggerated, before sticking his head underneath his blankets to check your phone. You were just barely able to hear his panicked ‘uh oh’ before he put on his best fake tired voice and answered, “Hello?”

“Alexander Mercer, what are you doing awake at this hour?”

“I wasn’t awake.”

“Sure you weren’t. Give the phone to y/n.”

He was handing you the phone in a flash and you could see his wide eyes in the dim blue light coming from the living room tv. “It’s Athena.”

“Thanks, I heard. And I told you so,” You smacked him with your pillow when he stuck his tongue out and he quickly ducked back under the blankets. Whether he was hiding from you or Athena was up for debate. “Hi Athena.”

“Y/N,” Uh oh was right. You recognized the tone in her voice immediately. Exasperated and tired with a little bit of worry laced through. “You wouldn’t be able to get ahold of Buck would you?”

“I could,” You sat up straighter and Alex peeked out from under the blankets again, craning his neck to listen in on the conversation. “Is something wrong? Can’t you call Captain Nash?”

“I could,” Athena echoed your words back to you and you heard muffled shouting in the back. “But Captain Nash isn’t Luke’s emergency contact.”

“His what!”

“It’s not a big deal!” Luke’s voice. It was him who had been shouting. “I’m fine!”

“The cast you’re wearing says different,” There was a click on the other end of the line and Alex tripped over the discarded blankets and pillows as he rushed to look for the car keys. “We couldn’t reach him and Maddie was his second emergency contact but May said she went home early today.”

“Yeah, uh, she -” You put on your shoes as fast as possible and reached for the nearest sweater, one you were sure wasn’t yours. “Jee’s teething so she - she’s probably busy with her. What happened? Luke -”

“Is fine. You just focus on getting to the station and bringing Buck to Med cause he’s gotta fill out some papers. I’ll stay here with him until you do.”

“Okay. Okay we’ll be there soon.”

“Y/N put me on speaker,” Athena must’ve been able to hear the panic in your voice. She knew both you and Alex well enough to know every emotion that was running through you both at that moment. “I want both of you to listen to me. Luke is okay. A little scratched up. Maybe a bruised ego. But he’s just fine, I promise you.”

If there was anybody you trusted it was Athena Grant. So you and Alex shared a look, thanked her, and sprinted out of the apartment wondering what on earth Luke had gotten himself into.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“Athena didn’t tell us anything!” You shouted right back at Buck despite knowing it probably wasn’t the best idea given the time or the circumstances. Alex was a few feet away, talking quietly to Chimney to have him relay a message to Maddie. She’d be less angry if the news came from him.

“I thought he went back home,” Buck shook his head before jogging down the stairs and you followed him. He all but charged to the locker room and started shoving all his things in the duffel he always carted with him from the apartment to the station and back. “I thought he was okay.”

It wasn’t until then, until you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the little mirror in his locker surrounded by pictures, that you realized something. Evan Buckley, the firefighter, your brother who always seemed so fearless, was scared.

Buck’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. He kept going through every piece of information he could from the last two days. Luke had promised him. Sworn he was going back home to his parents. He should’ve known better. They were too much alike and he should’ve known better.

He supposed the worrying came with the territory. The anxiety and panic and not knowing were all things he didn’t like but things he would bear if it meant making sure one of his own was okay.

He had always been protective. You were the youngest Buckley and he took it upon himself to make sure you had a better life than him and Maddie had had. Alex was family and he didn’t hesitate to give him a home when he needed one, metaphorically and literally.

And somewhere along the way the Buckley-Mercer family had grown without him realizing it. Alex had brought his band, his friends, over for dinner once and from that moment on they became a fixture in his life.

Bobby, who was surprised the first time Maddie grinned and hugged him, telling him how proud she was of him. Reggie, who was the first to accept a place in their makeshift home, needing the support and love they offered more than anything. And Luke, who was stubborn and wore his heart on his sleeve and fit right in with them.

And Buck couldn’t believe he had let them down. He couldn’t believe that he tried so hard to let Luke know he was there for him and he had failed. If he had just paid a little more attention then -

“I know what you’re thinking,” Your voice cut off his thoughts and he paused for a moment before continuing.

“No you don’t.”

“You’re blaming yourself. It’s what you always do,” You watched as he pocketed his phone and zipped up the bag. “It’s what you did when I thought I could jump off the swing and ended up with a broken arm even though you couldn’t have stopped me. It’s what you did when Alex had that really bad allergic reaction even though none of us knew he was allergic in the place. It’s what you’re doing now.”

Buck slammed the locker shut without meaning to and silently wondered how you seemed to know everything about him when he seemed to know nothing about any of you, not really. He wasn’t like you or Maddie or Alex and that had never been more clear.

“I’m not blaming myself. I just -” He sighed and walked out of the locker room, past you and Alex, and around to the drivers side of the car. He didn’t get in yet. Instead he glanced between the two of you. “I’m not Maddie. I don’t know how to tell what you guys are thinking. I don’t know how to do the things she does. I can’t help how she does. But - but maybe if I could then -”

“You’re right,” You cut him off, already knowing where he was going. “You’re not Maddie. But we don’t need another Maddie, we need Buck.”

“Y/N’s right,” Alex leaned against the top of the car and gave an easy shrug. “Maddie does family dinners every week and helps us with homework and keeps superhero bandaids around for when Reg and Bobby come back from the skate park with scrapes all over them. But you host game nights and come to every one of our practices when you’re not here and tell really bad jokes when you know we need to hear them.”

“They aren’t bad -”

“Yeah they are,” Both you and Alex answered in sync, successfully pulling the faintest laugh from Buck.

“You’re Buck,” You repeated and finally opened the door of the car. “And when Luke left home he came to you. Athena said you’re his emergency contact because he trusts you more than anyone else. We all do.”

It took less than a couple seconds for Buck to nod and get in the car, the two of you following his lead. Moments later he was speeding away from the 118 and in the direction of the hospital, determined to be where he was needed.

“You’re an idiot, Luke Patterson.”

“Wow thanks,” Luke rolled his eyes from where he sat on the couch, an action that earned him a scolding from you, and kept picking at the fabric of the pillow he was holding to him.

It was nearing mid morning and you had all gotten back to Buck’s apartment only a short while ago. The combined insistence and intimidation coming from both Buck and Athena meant the doctors had no choice but to run as many tests as necessary until they were positive Luke was fine.

Your eyes scanned his face again, a habit you’d picked up from Maddie, in an attempt to assess the damage once more to be sure nothing had gone wrong in the last ten minutes.

A butterfly bandage on his forehead above his left eye. Some scrapes on his arms from the fall. The brace around his right ankle propped up on the coffee table and some pillows. A tear in his favorite flannel that you were already patching up.

“What were you thinking?” You sighed and dropped your hands, turning in your spot beside him to look at him and read all the expressions flashing across his face. “You got hit by a car, Luke.”

“I did not!” He flinched when Alex, fast asleep across the other couch, shifted a little at the noise. Buck did the same thing upstairs in the loft, though he recognized the sound of talking and opted to listen in. “I swerved out of the way. The bike lost control and I hit the pavement but I’m fine.”

“The mild concussion and sprained ankle beg to differ,” You stared again. Luke refused to meet your eyes, refused to look anywhere around the apartment that wasn’t the pillow on his lap. He’d been doing the same thing since Buck had nearly busted down the door of the room he’d been sitting in at the hospital. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Luke finally sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let it go any time soon. “I just - I did go home. At first. And i-it was okay until my mom started doing that -that thing she does. The voice, talking down, asking when I was gonna start getting serious, telling me I should do better. I tried but she wouldn’t stop saying all of it so I -” His shoulders sank and his head hung low and you moved closer. “I left.”

“So why didn’t you come back here?” You reached out, hand on his arm in an attempt to get him to hear you. To listen to you. To talk to you. “What made you think you couldn’t?”

It took a few moments but when Luke finally looked up his eyes were watering and he looked unsure. He looked scared and he was never scared. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone else.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” You gave a sigh and leaned against the back of the couch on one arm. “But we are, historically, a pretty messed up family.”

You successfully pulled a laugh from Luke and a muffled ‘shut up’ from Alex only made the two of you laugh more. But when the laughter faded away you were left with the ghost of those doubts. Present and needing closure. To be acknowledged and reassured.

“There is nothing you could do that would disappoint Maddie and Buck, believe me,” You gave him a faint, sad smile and for a second he wondered what memories were the source of it. “And you never have to be scared. We’re your family and we’re here for you. Me and Alex and Buck and Maddie. Athena who stayed with you until we got there and after. Chimney who’s breaking the news to Maddie to save us all. Albert. May. Bobby. Reggie. You have all of us. I hate to break it to you but you’re a part of our weird little family and we aren’t going anywhere any time soon. So please, please never feel like you have to hide from us. You’re home here, Luke.”

And he believed every word. For a moment he wondered why he ever doubted it in the first place. It was evident in the way he had a designated spot at the dining table at Maddie’s place. In the way his clothes took up a good amount of space in one of the dressers upstairs. In the pair of house keys that hung on a chain around his neck. Reggie and Bobby were also given a pair long ago.

“Does one of you want to explain to me what the hell happened!” The sound of the door being thrown open startled all of you. Alex sat up quickly and Buck came barreling down the stairs to meet Maddie at the door.

Bobby and Reggie came in after her, holding piles of various items she’d insisted on bringing with. They were followed moments later by Albert carrying bags filled with takeout and then Chimney with Jee-Yun in her car seat.

It was dead silent for a moment as Maddie looked between her siblings, her cousin, and the boy she considered one of her own. They were all her family and that was that.

Finally the silence was broken by Luke leaning over in your direction and quietly asking, “Hey, does home have a place I can hide from Maddie until she’s less mad?”

“Oh, Luke,” You offered him a smile he recognized as a slightly sympathetic yet playful one. “There is nowhere you can hide where Maddie’s anger, love, and aggressive post-injury nurturing won’t reach. Good luck.”

She sat in your spot the moment you stood up and was immediately making sure Luke was okay. Her eyes scanned each injury just as yours had and when she finally let him take a breath he looked around.

All of this, the chaos that was unpacking the various takeout boxes. Setting up a little station on the kitchen island with various medical supplies. Chasing Jee-Yun around as she crawled and wobbled all around the place. Music playing softly in the background as everyone smiled and talked and felt relieved that he was okay.

This was home. Luke was sure of it.

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