#Hozier stop doing this to me challenge

[biboomerangboi]

“Darling, there's a part of me

I'm afraid will always be

Trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life

The weeds up through the concrete

The traffic picking up speed

All my love and terror balanced there between those eyes”

(I made the mistake of thinking about Xie Lian saving Hong Hong’er while listening to the bridge.)

[tempting-andromeda]

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

[bi-bard]

If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again - Charles Rowland Imagine [Dead Boy Detectives]

Title: If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again

Pairing: Charles Rowland X Witch!Reader

Based On: Francesca

Word Count: 3,361 words

Warning(s): physical attack, mentions of family trauma/death/injury

Summary: Whoever claimed that risking your life was only for the living had never seen the true devotion of a ghost before.

Author's Note: Wow, Kyli liked another project that was inspired by Neil Gaiman's work... what a surprise. If you have any characters that you want to see, let me know.

Also, I'M HOME! I MADE IT BACK TO YOU GUYS!

**written in third person p.o.v for sake of storytelling**

UNREAL UNEARTH - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

If there was one word that was always used in tandem with (Y/n)'s name, it was chaos.

Or messy.

Or clumsy.

Or wild.

Or any other word that could possibly mean the same thing.

Early on, (Y/n) could excuse it as inexperience. Maybe age would tame whatever beast seemed to be roaring in their brain and their chest. Maybe someone would explain the best way to leash an animal that was so much larger than you.

No one ever did.

Instead, (Y/n) ended up alone. Alone, terrified, and as out of control as ever. A cruel hand had been dealt to them when they were far too young. And now, the teenager was left coping with things that most adults could not handle.

Meeting Edwin and Charles had been the first good thing to happen to (Y/n) ever.

(Y/n)'s isolated life was interrupted quite abruptly by the ghosts. A case had brought the detectives to (Y/n)'s doorstep. They had been wearing disguises at the time, but those were quickly put away when they learned that (Y/n) was a witch.

A partnership of sorts formed between the three of them. With Edwin, it was more sternly a working relationship. He rarely found himself in (Y/n)'s home, especially when there was no case that required their assistance.

With Charles, it was very different. Charles would visit whenever he wanted to. He would usually be the first to ask for help, popping in through a mirror in the main room. He'd take the time to look around the small living space. And when there wasn't a case, he would pop in whenever. It was commonly just as (Y/n) was sitting down to eat or read or do anything.

Charles and (Y/n) developed an interesting friendship. A friendship that was resting precariously on held tongues. Anyone could see how close the two had gotten to crossing the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side. Anyone other than the pair. They were both trapped in a state of denial. Maybe that was for the best for a time.

(Y/n)'s chaos had been largely hidden away from the detectives. Some would call it careful. (Y/n) called it lucky. Incredibly lucky.

And then there was the case of Rory.

Rory was a young spirit. A young but troubled spirit. The boys had been contacted by a friend saying that Rory was becoming violent. The goal was to find what was tying the spirit to this plane and to send them to the other side.

It had all been going well. All things considered, anyway.

The only problem was time. There was this terrifying ticking clock between the trio knowing about the case and the risk of Rory attempting to hurt someone.

(Y/n) had only been there to help find what had been keeping Rory tied to this plane.

It had been going fine. Absolutely fine.

And then, (Y/n) lost control.

There was an intense moment where Edwin and Charles ended up being thrown in different directions. (Y/n) had tried to help. To get the spirit to stop for just long enough for the detectives to recover.

It didn't work.

Something else had overwhelmed (Y/n)'s efforts.

Whatever it had been had hit the spirit straight on. It had angered it... a lot. It ran at a terrified and confused (Y/n), causing the young witch to hit the ground, the scrape of the road below them causing a hiss to escape.

"(Y/n)!" Charles ran over first. "You alright?"

(Y/n) nodded as they pushed themselves up.

"What was that," Edwin asked as he walked over. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) said quietly. "It just... It just happened."

"It was reckless! You could have gotten yourself hurt and now we have to worry about the spirit being angry enough to hurt someone else!"

"Edwin-" Charles tried to get his friend to relax.

"What is wrong with you?" Edwin snapped before Charles could even try to stop him from asking.

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) murmured. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's best if you removed yourself from this case."

"Edwin!" Charles scolded.

"They're a risk!" Edwin insisted.

"He's right," (Y/n) turned to Charles. "I'll go home. Good luck."

Charles followed (Y/n) down the street. (Y/n)'s car sat alone on the street. Not much in terms of subtlety, but (Y/n) also hadn't been graced with the ability of travelling by mirror.

"(Y/n)," Charles said as he jogged to keep up with their quick steps. "Will you wait for a second?"

"Go back to the case, Charles," (Y/n) replied, not even looking at him.

"No," he stepped in front of them, attempting to block the path to the car. "Not until I know you're alright."

"I'm fine," (Y/n) insisted. "Edwin's right."

"No, he's not," he shook his head.

"Yes, he is. I am a risk. I always have been. I've hidden it well, but this was bound to happen at some point."

"What," he asked.

"A long time ago, when I was still with my family, I had issues like that happen all the time," (Y/n) explained. "I would... Something would overwhelm me, and I'd end up doing something dangerous or destructive. No one ever helped me with it. They expected me to sort it out on my own. And then... I hurt someone. Someone I cared about. I... I ended up being forced to leave. I still never truly learned to control anything. Tonight was proof of that!"

"We can help you-"

"That's not your job!" (Y/n) ran their hands over their face. "It's not worth the risk. I could get someone hurt, I could get myself, I could put you both in danger- none of it is worth it!"

"That's not your choice to make," Charles replied. "Any risk or danger is fine with me. I'm not leaving you alone, (Y/n)."

"You should."

(Y/n) moved around him and got in the car. Charles stepped back and watched the car drive off. He turned to see that Edwin had watched the interaction. Charles glared at him.

"It's for the best-"

"Let's just finish the case," Charles muttered, cutting Edwin off.

The case went by slowly and tensely. Charles was gruffer than Edwin had ever seen him. And Edwin had no right to question him about it. It was his comment that had caused this tension and anger. How was he meant to poke at it as if he had no idea what was going on inside the head of his best friend?

Charles didn't stick around the office once the case was done. Instead, he immediately went to the mirror, climbing through to try and see (Y/n) as soon as possible.

He ended up walking into (Y/n)'s room. He was somewhat expecting them to be there.

"(Y/n)!" Charles called out as he walked through the doorway. He stopped for a moment at the chaos that had taken over the living room.

It had been clear that some kind of fight had broken out. Between whom or what, Charles had no real idea. There were smaller objects thrown, furniture shifted, garbage scattered.

"(Y/n)," Charles called again as he walked around some of the mess. And then, he saw (Y/n) lying on the floor on the far side of the sofa. "(Y/n)!"

He ran over, rolling them on their back. They seemed to be breathing, but they were completely non-responsive.

"Shit!"

He shifted and carried (Y/n) to their room, leaving them on top of the bed's covers before he ran back through the mirror.

"Edwin!" Charles shouted even though Edwin was in the same room as him. "Something's wrong with (Y/n). I... I went to check on them and they were unconscious, and their living room was just destroyed. I don't know what happened."

"They're alive?"

"For now!"

"Come on," Edwin pushed Charles toward the mirror again.

Edwin let out a sigh as he walked over to (Y/n). He carefully lifted their eyelid to see if their eyes were responsive. However, all that was there was complete redness that had taken over. As if the eye had been filled with blood, but none of it was running out or swelling.

"Witchcraft," Edwin muttered. "I think I've read about this. Give me a moment to find the book in the office."

"(Y/n) was attacked by a witch?" Charles asked. Edwin was already through the mirror.

It was a suffocating matter of minutes before Edwin made it back to (Y/n)'s place.

"What is it?"

"If I am correct, then (Y/n) is currently trapped in a dream-like state," Edwin explained. "This dream-like state is keeping (Y/n) in a state of calmness while their brain slowly swells and presses against the skull. If we do not cure it fast enough, the swelling will kill them."

"How do we cure it?"

"We have to find a way to delicately wake (Y/n) from their dream-state. There is a cure that we can make, but it will take time."

"Is there another way? Something faster?"

"In theory," Edwin relented. "One of us could possess them and find a way to manually ease them out of the dream. The cure is our best option. Less risk."

"We don't have the time! We don't know how long (Y/n)'s been like this!"

"Charles, if either one of us chooses to possess them, then we set off alarms in the afterlife. We cannot take this risk."

Charles clenched his jaw.

"I will go get the cure started. Keep an eye on (Y/n)."

Charles did try to listen. He stood by and made sure that (Y/n) was breathing. He made sure that they were comfortable and that they were not suffering too immensely.

But then, he panicked.

He saw (Y/n)'s breaths becoming shallower and shallower. He heard nothing from Edwin. He was too worried to think of the consequences of his actions critically in any capacity.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was in a field.

He did a circle, trying to find some sign of something or someone. This was (Y/n)'s dream after all. They had to be there somewhere.

He saw something in the distance.

Approaching it, Charles could see a clearly outlined garden with a wooden fence around it. On one end was a gate, on the other end a cabin. A small cabin. The garden was beautiful. Full of flowers in full bloom with a swinging bench seat.

Charles almost chuckled at the vision. Something felt so fitting about something so peaceful being what (Y/n) pictured in a dream. Almost as far from their current life as they could get.

(Y/n) walked out of the cabin a moment later. Their clothes matched the garden. Soft, almost pastel colors. Very perfect, very organized.

He stepped forward, going to get their attention but stopped when he saw himself walking out of the cabin soon after. Well, some dream version of him. The other version of him was dressed exactly the same as he was, but it wasn't him. It couldn't have been him.

He watched as this alternate version of him pulled (Y/n) closer and kissed their head. The pair walked to the swinging bench seat, sitting together. (Y/n) relaxed into the fake Charles's side.

The view made the real Charles freeze where he was.

It felt wrong. Invasive.

He had kept his feelings private for as long as he had known (Y/n). He had been convinced that whatever connection the pair of them had was going to stay stuck in whatever form it was already in. Seeing this was a sign of something different. And he didn't know how to feel about that.

"(Y/n)!" he called from where he stood.

(Y/n) seemed to hear something. They paused and looked around but didn't seem to notice Charles. He could've sworn that they looked directly at him, but their eyes seemed to go right through him. As if he was never there.

(Y/n) leaned back into the seat, smiling as the fake Charles laid a kiss on their cheek as they did so.

The real Charles continued walking forward. He tried to think of a way to "delicately" get (Y/n) out of the dream.

"(Y/n)," he repeated, now standing just outside the gate.

Again, (Y/n) looked around but couldn't seem to spot him and was pulled back into the fake Charles's side.

He opened the gate and walked inside.

Neither (Y/n) nor the fake Charles seemed to acknowledge him in the slightest.

"(Y/n)," he said yet again.

(Y/n) again seemed surprised to hear anything, sitting up straight and going to look around until their eyes landed on Charles. They froze, eyes going wide at the sight of him.

"Hi," he grinned.

(Y/n) looked between him and the fake Charles, who was only looking at (Y/n).

"I'm sorry but I need you to come with me," Charles pressed, holding out his hand.

"What," they asked. "Sorry, but there are two of you. What's going on?"

"That's not me," he explained. "I... I don't know what he is, but he's not me."

(Y/n) stood up, stepping away from the bench. Once they were a few steps away from the real and fake Charles, they turned to look at them. The fake Charles didn't move, as if he were simply a mannequin that had to be moved around. He was staring at the space beside him as if (Y/n) was still there.

"You're in a dream," the real Charles explained. "This whole thing is fake."

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face.

"Do you remember how you got here at all," he asked.

"Yeah, I... I...," they trailed off, finding a blank space where some kind of memory definitely should have been.

"You were attacked," he continued. "Another witch found you and attacked you. You aren't standing outside some cabin in a field. You're lying in bed, unconscious."

There was a long pause before (Y/n) spoke up again, "I remember... I remember getting home. I remember someone being in my living room. It was an old friend..."

"You don't have to explain," Charles stopped them. He drew enough of a conclusion from those few sentences. It was some connection to whoever (Y/n) had hurt. Frankly, he didn't care about that. "We need to go."

He held his hand out to them. They finally took it.

He led them back to the gate to the garden. He didn't have any proof that this plan would work, but he didn't have anything else to go on. He just wanted to make sure (Y/n) had a chance at being okay.

Once (Y/n) stepped through the gate, it felt as if Charles was thrown out of (Y/n)'s mind. Like some explosion had happened.

Charles blinked a few times and spun around as he found himself back in (Y/n)'s room.

He heard (Y/n) grumbling. He grinned.

"Hey," he said quietly, going to sit next to them. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess," (Y/n) muttered. "My head hurts."

"I'll grab some water-"

"Wait, wait," (Y/n) reached for him as he stood up. He somehow managed to get halfway to the door by the time (Y/n) said anything. "I was... I was stuck in my head."

"And now, you're out."

"You... You popped up. You showed up there. You helped me."

"Yup."

"How?"

He paused for a moment.

"Charles..."

"I... possessed you."

(Y/n) sighed, standing up and placing their head in their hands. "Charles."

"It was to save you-"

"Oh my god!"

"I was trying to help-"

"You possessed me!"

"You need to relax-"

"No!" (Y/n) slapped Charles's hands away as he tried to guide them back to bed. "You possessed me!"

"I know that it's an invasion and it probably feels like you had some privacy violated-"

"My privacy isn't my concern," (Y/n) cut him off. "My concern is that you and Edwin have told me over and over again that possessing people sets off alarms in the afterlife. I don't care how close to death I am; you don't get to take that kind of risk for me."

"That's not just your choice," Charles replied. "I told you before, any risk that I take is my choice. I just saved your life!"

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face as they walked to the window. It was dark out. The moon perched itself perfectly to shine into (Y/n)'s room. There had been countless nights where (Y/n) spent ages just staring up at the sky, somehow feeling less alone when it was in sight.

(Y/n) could hear Charles walking to the window. They saw him out of the corner of their eye.

"I would do it again," he admitted. "No matter how much danger I put myself in. I'll do what I have to in order to save you."

"Why?"

"Because if you died, you wouldn't know how to get away from Death. I'd never see you again," Charles turned to (Y/n), who was still staring out the window. "I can run for eternity. I can escape anything and anyone. And I would do that as long as I knew you were at the end of whatever path I was running. I can't risk not seeing you again. You... You mean too much to me."

Finally, (Y/n) looked over at him.

"I... I love you, (Y/n)," he murmured.

(Y/n) loved him back. They knew that. They had for a long time now. But they couldn't bring themself to say it out loud. It was strange. Charles had seen the dream that (Y/n) had been stuck in. Surely, he knew how (Y/n) felt. So why could they still not admit it to him? Maybe it was they were merely scared of confessing it to themself.

"I'm sorry," Charles said after a few moments of silence. "I shouldn't have said that-"

Charles was cut off when (Y/n) stepped over and kissed him. It was as awkward as one would assume that it would be. It wasn't some perfect, fairytale-like kiss. It was an awkward kiss shared between a person who hadn't been kissed in decades and another who had never been kissed before. And it was short. It lasted a matter of moments before (Y/n) pulled back again. They stared at Charles with wide eyes, as if they had been just as surprised by their actions as he was.

He slowly grinned at them.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, face becoming warm. "We should... We should get Edwin-"

"In a minute," he muttered.

"Charles-"

He leaned over and kissed them again. When he pulled back, there was a smug smile on his face. "You haven't said it back yet."

"What- oh," (Y/n) felt their face get even warmer as they realized what he meant. "I love you too."

It was quiet. As if it was still some kind of secret that no one other than Charles was allowed to know. Maybe (Y/n) meant for it to be that way.

It was then that Edwin climbed back through the mirror with some jars cradled in his arms.

"Alright, I found some things in the office that should be able to help- oh," Edwin muttered as he saw (Y/n) standing there. "You went through with the possession, I see... Even though I told you not to."

"I panicked," Charles explained.

"I already told him off for it," (Y/n) added.

"I think that (Y/n) should stay at the office for a while. Until we know there's not a threat."

Edwin looked between the pair. "Very well."

"I'll meet you guys there," (Y/n) promised.

(Y/n) felt a kiss get pressed to their head before Charles stepped away. They looked at Edwin, who gave them a shocked look in return.

"Well... I'll see you in a bit," (Y/n) said, trying to ignore the look that they had received.

The ghost boys went to the nearest mirror and climbed through. (Y/n) could hear the two of them muttering to each other. It was going to be a very long visit, (Y/n) could tell.

But (Y/n) couldn't find it in themself to mind much.

It was all worth it to be able to still hear them at all.

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

TAG LISTS:

Everything - @geeksareunique

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Original Characters Masterlist

[daydreaming-in-letters]

I recently came across your blog and I enjoy your fics immensely, so this is a first for me.

This interview of Hozier killed me in the best possible way, so curious to see what you would do with Andrew driving. Also if it would have a NFWMB vibe, I wouldn't be mad. But do whatever you want with it :)

My dear, I cannot thank you enough for this request. This interview has been playing on repeat these past few days. I just...I can't get it out of my head. Seeing this man behind the wheel does things to me. And believe it or not, I had already been planning to write this. I had even compiled a tiny mood board to go with it. The NFWMB vibe was a challenge though, I'll have to admit. But I think I managed (kind of?). Hope you like it. 💚

warnings: language, maybe; one tiny insinuation to smut, blink and you'll miss it; otherwise pure fluff

It was not terribly hot, not for a summer’s day anyway, still the sun stung as it burned down on you from the highest point of its ellipsis. You checked your watch, then scanned your surroundings if there was a shady spot to be found. There was not, at least not anywhere close by, and he had told you to wait for him right here. He had been very specific about that.

That had been about ten minutes ago, and you were almost beginning to wonder if he would come back for you after all, when you spotted him in the distance, fashionably late as always. He circled around a corner, hair flying in the wind, and you could not help but laugh at the peculiar sight in front of you. Like a giraffe in a toy car, you thought, as he came closer. Still he seemed so pleased with himself, on his lips a smile so bright it put the sun to shame, and which, no doubt, reached all the way up to his beautiful eyes. You had never loathed a pair of sunglasses more for hiding them from you.

“What is that?” you burst out laughing when he came to a stop right next to you.

“A golf cart.”

“I can see that.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I meant, what are you doing in that thing?”

“It’s ours for the next two hours. Come on, get in, loser.”

He did not have to tell you twice. Two hours alone with your man sounded like heaven, even if he would potentially kill you both with that thing. And so you squeezed in next to him, not forgetting to nudge his arm.

“That’s for calling me a loser.”

He could not help but laugh upon your pouty face, still he leaned in to press an apologetic kiss to your cheek.

“Worth it,” he mumbled against your skin, making you shake your head in fake annoyance to hide that beaming smile that wanted to break loose. He was just too sweet for his own good.

“So, where are we going?” 

To have a picnic, you assumed, judging from the blanket and basket that were safely stowed away on the back seat.

“You’ll see,” he grinned, obviously enjoying being all mysterious about it. There was a snappy reply already forming on your tongue, but you almost choked on it the moment his large hand found the bare skin of your thigh. He just let it rest there, still it was enough to send a shiver up and down your spine, and for a second you thanked the fates that you had opted for those denim shorts this morning. 

It took you a moment to reach the exit of the vast festival grounds, also because he was going unusually slow. It was unmistakable that he was itching to go faster, and as soon as you had left the main road, you were proven right. 

“Let’s open that baby up,” he bellowed excitedly, slapping the wheel as he did, while his other hand squeezed the pliable flesh of your thigh. You felt dizzy for a moment, your thoughts spiralling upon his reckless antics, but as soon as his foot pushed down the pedal, they were washed away in an instant. You squealed as the two of you zoomed through the deserted landscape. Who would have known these vehicles could go that fast?

“Mr Hozier-Byrne, you are such a menace,” you hollered, breaking into another squeal as the cart went into a turn at full speed.

“True,” he admitted unashamedly. And as soon as the vehicle was reaching a straight again, he leant in. He took his sweet time to taste the skin of your neck, totally forgetting about the road once his lips had found you. You let him, it would have been a sacrilege to tell him to stop, so instead you reached for the wheel, gently correcting the course while he devoured you. “But I’m your menace,” he continued as soon as his head resurfaced, “So you better deal with it.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I certainly will.”

The audacity this man had. After almost crashing the cart because he could not help himself from having a taste of you, he now chose to counter your statement with a wink. “Can’t wait."

When he finally slowed down again, the sound of the festival had faded completely, not even the deep, rolling echo of the bass was following you anymore. There was only a welcome silence, and some happy birds chirping their joyful songs into the blue afternoon sky. He stopped underneath a large tree by a small track that split a flowery meadow in two.

In seconds he had rounded the cart, basket and blanket in one hand, he held out the other to you.

You took it without hesitation, and as always, your fingers immediately entwined with his, woven firmly together, inseparable. And neither of you did let go, not as long you strolled through the meadow anyway, the palm of your free hand floating along the high grass, enjoying the tickling sensation. 

After a while you took up camp in the shade of a tree, a blackthorn, you realised, and quietly smiled to yourself. Sated and wanting for nothing but each other’s company, you had leaned your back against the stem. Andy’s head lay safely in your lap. You loved when he did that, entrusting himself to you completely. And you knew he loved it too, to give himself over to you while he let the world be what it was for a moment, eyes closed, hair gliding through your fingers, braiding a few strands, leaving some flowers here and there. He had started to hum a while ago, unconsciously so, you believed. It was one of your favourite sounds in the world, along with his boisterous laughter, and the sweet, mewling sounds he made when you satisfied him. 

Another time, you thought, and smiled in anticipation. Not now though. Now was the time to be soft, to shed the hard shell you usually carried. It was the only way you knew to protect yourself from a world you hardly recognised at times. But with him, you did not need to. 

Ever since you had met him, Andy had never left any doubt that he loved you, all of you, the strength, the weakness, the anxiety and kindness, your joy and your sadness, every little fragment that made you you. He saw it all, and he loved you despite all that, no, because you were all of that. A love that was reciprocated to the fullest.

[buckets-and-trees]

Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows Title: Let All Light Go Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.  

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Office Party Challenge 🎉

The following are prompts including an Office Party! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🎊 Prompts 🎊

It’s a BAU kid’s birthday!

The BAU throws a ridiculously large/lavish bridal/baby shower.

It’s rare that the BAU gets to celebrate the return of an old team member.

The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B.

After sharing sad prom stories (or lack thereof), Penelope throws a BAU prom.

It’s characters first Missed Holiday Meal (MHM). It’s also the first time a holiday meal actually felt like home.

The team discusses holiday traditions. Characters decide to try a few out.

The FBI is throwing a family picnic. The playful competitions get a little… heated.

It’s the anniversary of the BAU. The team throws a party to celebrate the greats.

Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party… with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)

The BAU has been dealing with a lot of stress. Penelope plans a day at a pottery shop so everyone can make something. It causes even more stress.

The team pairs up to play the newlywed game. Someone starts to notice that, despite not being partners, A knows the answers to every question about B…

Rossi is finally (actually) retiring. The party brings together friends that haven’t seen each other in years.

An anniversary/award brings back old team members. There used to be a time when they couldn’t fathom a week away from one another, but they haven’t spoken in years.

More Prompts Below + Create your own! 🎉

Each team member has to find an obscure holiday to celebrate (pi day, random acts of kindness day, unicorn day, etc.). Character goes above and beyond.

Character has very surprising responses to Never Have I Ever. They have even more shocking admissions.

There is nothing that a bonfire can't fix.

Characters are stuck at a party, but they can't stop thinking about each other (based on "Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier).

Characters always find each other. Even at a masquerade, when their faces are almost entirely covered.

A party is the perfect place to see a new side to your coworker.

🎄 Holiday Specific Prompts 🦃

Halloween prompts / Winter Holiday prompts

It’s time for Penelope’s Halloween Party! Someone comes in an… unexpected costume.

The single members of the team decide to host a lonely hearts club dinner on Valentine’s Day. Two people leave together.

Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party.

Character accidentally started an ugly Christmas sweater tradition which somehow turned into a contest.

After an awful case, the team comes back on Christmas Eve to find that Penelope has gathered their loved ones and quickly decorated the BAU as a surprise.

Character only wanted to reveal that they are someone's Secret Santa at the BAU Christmas Party but they end up confessing a lot more than that.

🎂 Dialogue Prompts 🍰

"... Surprise?"

"What are adults supposed to do at a kid's birthday party. Does anyone actually know?"

"Whatever you do, be sure to avoid the food. I don't know who made it, but it's awful." "Oh, it uh... it was me."

"If you help me win, I'll owe you one great big giant favor."

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I think you're bluffing." "Am I?"

"You are the last person I expected to have attended clown school. I figured your clownish nature was inherent in who you are."

"So, if you had to guess, who do you think is going to drunkenly confess their love for someone else at this party?"

"The year is over. Did you accomplish everything you hoped for?"

"I fucking hate balloons."

"What's the point of a fridge on the jet if not for a celebratory drink?"

"If we're stuck here all night, we might as well have fun."

"I love you. I do. But you are a terrible Santa."

"Next time, I'm in charge of the karaoke mic."

🎈Rules 🎁

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

[keruimi]

Hey! I think your requests are open, but if not please feel free to ignore this!

I was just listening to Too Sweet by Hozier and had the idea of a reader who has a crush on (or is dating) Nishinoya and feels like she doesn’t deserve him

Falling In Love With Him

Pairing: Nishinoya x Reader

Warning: Comfort

Note: To write an angst story, I need an edit of them but I can't find anything so writing this is quite difficult but I seem to manage. My apologies if I decide to use another song for your request. But Thank you for the idea!

_____________________________

Admiring one of the best players in the school sports club is much more difficult than what I have thought. No matter how friendly he is to the people around him. Approaching him is like a damn challenge.

When a timid girl like me is the one who started to like him.

I was hopelessly in love with Nishinoya. Because I can put so much effort for him.

From the food I secretly give to him through Yachi. The notes I put on his table before he arrives back on class.

The nights I stayed awake just to think what I could do for him again.

Yet confessing was never one of them.

I once thought of it until I accepted that I am not deserving of him.

I can't taint a loveable man like him.

My mind is full of negativity. It feels like there's no positive things around me unlike him.

I am just an average student who is only good at one thing.

And that is my studies. The thing that made me feel like I am no one without it.

I keep chasing the academic validation I needed that I thought I shouldn't be in a relationship with anybody.

It was one of the reason why I never pursue the libero further.

I knew I couldn't give more than he deserve.

I'm Kazue Y/n, an average girl who can't have a leading man like him.

Until Intrams arrive. The time I feel like God showed another sign that I need to believe in.

A chance to move so I can obtain my happiness. And that's him.

A long week of Intrams gave me another chance to see him play in the court without getting scared that he would find out about it.

My eyes during his matches were always in him that I started to think...

Can I go closer to him? Can I close the distance between the two of us?

Can I take this secret admiration further?

"I'm so lost" I muttered while letting my body move on its record as customers piled up in our booth.

I sighed in annoyance with how timid I am in his presence yet can't stop thinking and even blabbering about my admiration for the libero.

It feels like all of my classmates knew how much I like Nishinoya. One time, they almost used Takeda-sensei so I can just enter the gym.

But it didn't happen because of the panic attack I had that day.

Yes, I really couldn't face him and I'm not even joking.

It feels like I prefer to move behind the curtains.

I want him to know me, love me like I did.

But I can't dream of it. It was simply impossible for me.

Because I'm scared on the way he would see me. Even though he is not the type of person to judge somebody.

I slap both of my cheeks to focus on the orders placed on the bulletin board.

I can't slack off because this is our test in another subject.

"Y/n!" I heard a male friend of mine call me from the front that made me peek on the curtains to look at him.

"It's time to switch" he told me as he stood up that made me go back behind the curtain to remove the apron I was using.

I planned to be an accountant that's why on this entire activity we are having, being a cashier is what I love the most.

In other words, I love Intrams week.

I sat down in the chair near the cash register to start taking orders when my hands halted the moment I looked up and saw him in front of me.

It felt like my heart dropped from my chest.

I just snapped out of it when I heard chatters behind the curtain that made me take a deep breath to calm myself down.

I can't hate them for this.

"Good Morning! What would you like to have?"

Those were the first words I uttered to him.

The first time we properly met and face each other.

And the reason why I decided to move up my game.

Because I want to feel the same happiness I felt during that time.

I found myself running to the gym where his match would be held the moment I heard their team was up next.

Until I felt like Yachi dragging me to a much better view when she saw me.

There I saw his skills that made me like him more.

I didn't regret admiring him at all.

There are times I urge Yachi to take videos of him so she can send it to me. Times when I couldn't prevent myself from cheering when he received a ball.

Those are the moments I confirm that this is not some puppy love or infatuation.

I did start liking him more than I thought.

I leaned on the wall behind me to catch my breath after all the screaming I did out there.

It feels like I'm more tired than the players.

I heard Yachi chuckling beside me as she lent me a bottle so I could take a sip from it.

"You really like Nishinoya-san" she uttered that I can't help but laugh.

"Yes" I admitted without any hesitations. Because it was true.

I don't know what I saw on him but I can't explain how my heartbeat skipped the times we walked past each other in the hallway.

His cheerful voice never made me get tired of hearing it.

The Man who I want to be with me.

In my eyes, he is my motivation to keep going.

But for him, I am just one of the many who admire him.

If he is just aware of the way I look at him. That wherever I go, he never left my mind. The way I hold back just so I can have the freedom to like him from a far.

Somewhere within me, wish he felt the same way. That no matter how hard I try to abandon my feelings, it just came back stronger than before.

But I don't deserve the love he is giving. Not even a percent of it.

"But he doesn't like me. He doesn't know me, nor look at me"

The same way I did to him.

"I should have been a manager" I joked but we both knew, I wanted more than this hopelessness of watching him from afar.

"But right now, I'm just his fangirl"

I stood up properly from my position and the girl I am with didn't waste any second and just started dragging me without informing me where we were heading.

But I feel like my world slowed down the moment I saw his figure among the crowd.

He was talking to the other players as Yachi dragged me closer, nearer to him who halted from drinking his water when his eyes laid on me.

Is this a dream?

Do I deserve this kind of chance?

"Nishinoya-san!" Yachi called for him and made me decide to stick my feet on the floor beneath me.

I don't dare go further...

Yachi looked back when she noticed I stopped. I took my hand from her as I hid it behind me so he wouldn't see how much it was trembling.

She didn't even give me a chance to bring anything

"Hello to you ladies!" He beamed and I felt how my cheeks warmed from his voice.

The voice I thought I would just eavesdrop from. I never dream that his words would be directed to me at all.

"What did you thought of the game?" He ask us but I knew he was talking to Yachi after noticing how I seem to preserve myself from them.

They could at least give me a warning so I can prepared myself.

"Miss" I flinched when I heard his voice louder and saw he is now in front of me.

Now my feet are also trembling from nervousness.

"Yes?" The stutter from my voice didn't go unnoticed that made him scratch his head.

"What did you think of the game?"

No matter how much I made it awkward for him, he still managed to lift a beautiful smile from his lips.

"You did great..."

I have a lot of things to say but I don't know where to start.

I bit my lips when I felt his silence as I closed my eyes shut.

"So great that I didn't regret admiring you at all"

And then I felt his eyes on me. I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes.

"Please stop staring at me" I mutter in embarrassment when I notice his gaze seems to stay in my trembling figure longer.

"Wow..." He whispered that made me look up to him and saw the shock he plastered on his expressions.

"You like me?" He ask again that made me took a deep breath before giving a slight nod.

Never have I dreamed that I would confessed, especially in public.

He was silent like it feels like he is trying to process everything before a grin lift from his lips and out of nowhere, I felt him twirl me around.

"You don't know how happy I am right now"

His words made my fear disappear as those thoughts that keep preventing myself from admitting my feelings also diminish from my mind.

The only thing that I thought that my feelings were the reason he is happy.

I made him happy.

And a smile finally lifted from my lips.

How did I get so lucky?

~•°•~

"Excuse me everyone, my girlfriend is coming through" his cocky words made me hit his shoulders before I took a seat on the end to not disturb the team more than I intended.

My boyfriend just love boasting me around. Especially to his best friend, Tanaka. Who is now glaring daggers at him.

I didn't mind them anymore and started preparing the first bento I made for him, which I already inform him yesterday.

But it seems like his antics is still not stopping.

"How lucky I am for my girlfriend to prepare my lunch. I don't deserve this"

I started to wish to melt there right now when he keeps pulling the trigger of his senpai's patience and the jealousy of his friend.

I hit his shoulder harder to shut him up and just start eating which he obliged when he notice how red I was already.

"Oh?" I heard him let a small sigh of confusion on his first bite that made me halt from taking my first bite.

"What is it?" I ask him as I put down my chopsticks and saw how he slowly chewed the food.

"Taste Familiar"

I smiled from his words before I started eating my lunch.

"Why does it taste so familiar?"

"Because she is the one who was giving the food to you after practice" Tsukishima's nonchalant statement made my boyfriend look at me.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Oh how much my chest warmed from his words.

I really did win him over

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Elias's writing!

Socials: @starwritebrekker (Tumblr) | starlightwrite (AO3) | starwritecos (TikTok) | wellelwrites (Instagram)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: What’s your favourite fic you’ve written for this fandom?

A: Do Us Part! It’s my first time writing a modern AU and I’m loving the challenge of finding modern day equivalents to the Crows world.

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today?

A: I’ve been writing stories since elementary school, earliest I can remember is second grade (seven years old). What keeps me writing is how much writing feels like a release. I’m not very good at speaking what’s going on in my head (see: neurodivergent), and writing it out helps me comprehend my own thoughts more and it helps me communicate my thoughts much better. It is my favorite form of expression.

Q: Who is your favourite character? What do you love about them?

A: Kaz Brekker. This boy is the embodiment of a person in survival mode for most of their life and not truly understanding what it is to come out of it. The world has hardened him but inside him, despite his best efforts, there is still that hope. That heart.

Q: Have you had a chance to interact with the SAB cast? Tell us about your experience(s).

A: Amita liked the photo of my Dregs tattoo on instagram! I love her so much and I’m so glad she interacts with the fandom so much as well.

Q: If you could be friends with any character in the Grishaverse, who would it be?

A: Matthias and I both grew up with organized religion being the backbone of our perspective of the world, so I feel like he and I could get along well. I want to give all the crows a hug (an air hug for Kaz).

Q: What are some headcanons you have that you consider your personal canon?

A: Kaz Rietveld-Brekker is transmasc. Argue with the wall XD. (I am nonbinary transmasc I hold this headcanon so close to my heart).

Q: Are there any songs you strongly associate with a favourite character or ship?

A: Francesca by Hozier is Kanej coded.

Q: How do you feel about your fics being translated into other languages?

A: Go forth and translate (just give me credit please and thank youuuuu)!

❀

Part Two: Selected Works

Do Us Part

Teen | 4.1K | Kanej, Wesper, Helnik Modern AU, Mentioned Character Death, The dog lives In Progress

Part of the Wesper Fic Club Big Bang 2024! The Crows run a funeral home in the suburbs of a modern day Ketterdam. There’s death. There’s a dog. There’s healing. There’s still a dog.

No Funerals

Teen | 10.1K | Kanej, mentioned Wesper, mentioned Helnik Vampire AU, slowburn, Wesper Child, Alby Rollins is there In Progress

There’s a figure that haunts the Barrel at night since time immemorial, he exists in the shadows and watery reflections of the canals of Ketterdam. He was once the undisputed king of the city, and now? He runs a gang of misfits and swindles the merchant council, not even death can escape his cheating. 

Forever Not to Disappear

Teen | 20.5K | Kanej, Wesper Sickfic, slowburn, healing from trauma In Progress

Kaz Brekker is stuck in bed (it’s a bad illness day) and is forced to reflect and process his emotions.

Clouded Judgement

Teen | 441 words | Kanej, Wesper Stream of Consciousness, Wishful thinking, Reflective Kaz Brekker Completed

Post-Season Two finale of Shadow and Bone, Kaz is hoveled up in his room, and his mind never stops moving. Nor does his pen.

❀

Part Three: Author's Recs

I’m The Perfect Stranger Who Knows You Too Well by @remadora-black / actressforever14 (my sister Cassie!)

Teen | 54.9K | Kanej, Wesper, Helnik Jordie Rietveld Lives, Childhood Trauma, Major Illness In Progress

Cassie’s description: What if Jordie did not die of Firepox? What if, instead, when Kaz returned from the Barge, his brother was waiting for him. Firepox would leave them both forever changed, but how will the course of the rest of their lives go? What will happen to Jordie when he realizes his little brother is no longer the boy he knew before, and that he has been left with a shell of a boy with only one thing on his mind: vengeance?

What the Water Gave Me by 19burstraat (astardanced)

Teen | 23.9K | Kanej, Crows friendship Post Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst With A Happy Ending Completed

Kaz as a Tidemaker. Get into it. Kaz as a grisha is extremely my sh*t. 

You’re A Dog And I’m Your Man by limelacroix

Not Rated | 27.8K | Kanej, Wesper Kaz Brekker gets a dog, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Kaz Brekker gets a dog. That’s the whole thing.Also extremely my sh*t

The Unexpected Visitor by insignificant457

Mature 90.9K | Kanej Post-canon, Implied/referenced SA, Implied/referenced sex In Progress

Inej brings one Bastard of the Barrel to the caravans for a family wedding. Hijinks ensue.

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

[smellingofpoetry]

Strangers

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: They were just two strangers, dancing in the middle of a club.

Warnings: pre-smut

Word count: 486

A/N: Hi! I wrote this little thing for @princessmisery666's "Daily Mixes Challenge". I got "Tell It to My Heart" by Hozier, MEDUSA. While listening to the song I could imagine so well to be in the middle of a dance floor, so I let the melody guide me and here we are. I hope you guys are gonna like it. Feedback is gold. ❤ All errors are mine.

Dean noticed her the moment she stepped into the room. She walked down the stairs and into the dancing crowd, following her friends. He watched her move, glancing around herself while trying to keep down the short skirt she was wearing and that it kept rising with her every step. He kept following her with his eyes, ignoring Benny's rambling, too busy watching her. He was at his third beer when her friends managed to drag her to the dance floor. Unlike her friends, she slowly moved from one foot to the other quite shyly. Dean watched her move her hips in time with the song playing until the beat faded. He drank what was left of his beer, patting Benny’s shoulder before walking towards the dancing floor. His friend watched him walk away with a smirk before ordering himself a new drink. Dean moved through the sweaty crowd, following the beating sound of the song, stopping only when he was a few feet away from her. He started to sway from one side to the other, matching her movements. She noticed him right away, glancing at him through the crowd. She kept shuffling before, with a half spin, she gave him her back. Dean moved a few steps closer then, making her bite down her lower lip while trying to repress the smile that was trying to escape her. They both kept following the beat of the song, with her glancing back at him and with him reaching for her hips to keep her a bit closer. Dean boldly sneaked one of his arms around her middle ever so slowly. Y/N was now pressed against his chest while their hips languidly swayed back and forth. Dean moved a strand of her hair to one side, exposing her neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps along her skin while his perfume invaded her nostrils. So, Y/N turned around, lacing her arms around his neck while Dean’s arm was firmly around her middle. She welcomed one of his legs between hers without missing a beat. His jeans were the only barrier between them. He could feel her nails scrapping at the base of his neck, making him shiver. Y/N smiled at the feeling of the goosebumps under her fingertips, and before she could do anything else, Dean’s lips were on hers. All it took for her to disclose her mouth was a second to register the warmth of his mouth against her painted lips and welcome him. And just like that, they suddenly stopped moving in the middle of a crowded dance floor, too busy to taste each other. Dean didn’t waste any time, kissing her a bit harder while his tongue went searching for hers. The moment their tongues touched, a moan escaped both. The loud music was the only reason they didn’t hear it. Nobody could. The heart, instead… well, that was a different story.

[nerdieforpedro]

Fare Well

For @wannab-urs Hozier Song Drabble Challenge

Dieter Bravo x plus size female reader (Sweet Pea)

This fic is for those 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 1.8k (Yeah so…I went past Drabble 👀)

Summary: Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

Warnings: unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

Notes: I listened to this song 5 times in a row because I didn’t really listen to Hozier (now I do). The color this fic is purple or violet, whichever you wanna say it. 💜 I bolded lyrics I was able to put in the fic. 🤗 Thanks to Gin for giving me two Dieter fics to write back to back. ☺️ That little trash panda is always so giving.

Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Writing Challenge

Tapping his foot on his hardwood floors, Dieter Bravo is in an all too familiar place. He’s been purposely busy. Keeping occupied except for when he’s completely exhausted has kept him out of trouble, even in the tabloids. People are saying he’s changed for the better. He knows he’s keeping clean, keeping in the straight and narrow.

Bravo has run into a snag on his progress.

The last few paintings had done well in gallery showing, even selling for double than asking price, his last movie was well reviewed. These are both very good things, wonderful. He’s happy, proud even. Bravo is having plenty of sex, mountains of it. In his head. Reality has played out much differently. All this work he’s doing, he hasn’t been able to chase a different high. One he’s used to replace the drugs. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find people to have sex with. He’s been more careful about it, not something he’s been concerned about prior to his new leaf. In doing so, acts he’d normally attempt weight more heavily on his mind and keep little Dee from swelling when needed. Bravo knows the rumor that might be going around but it’s not true! Since his mind is clearer, he actually thinks about who he’s having sex with more and little D isn’t always on board. You know, one of those words his therapist mentioned – cognitive dissonance except it’s happening with his partner in pleasure little D. Big D when he’s feeling in the mood.

He knows he could just go to one of those discreate clubs, seek his needs out there, but he always assumed he wouldn’t need one. The Oscar Winner keeps looking for different projects, in his studio trying out new paints, trying to learn the saxophone (it was a bad idea, but sounded great at three in the morning when he called his assistant and told him what to buy), he then went to a spin class and damn near passed out after fifteen minutes and tried a cooking class but was kicked out for causing an oil fire.

Nothing was working so he called and asked to stop by, check the place out. The owner of course said that was fine – he’s Dieter Bravo, they’d love to have him. Dieter told the owner,

“I’ll take any high. Any glazin’ of the eyes. Any solitary pleasure that masks my sorrow. No drugs though, I’m not willing to backslide over it.”

The owner said they understood and had the perfect person for him.

So now Dieter waits in this room. It’s an array of different purples well violets since this is a more classy place. He wanted to undress to his boxers but was told by the front desk to leave them on. He did remove his shoes, socks and jacket, but otherwise he’s dressed. Simple black slacks and a white button-down shirt that had bellowing sleeves with a deep v-cut exposing his chest down to his sternum. He felt like dressing up a bit but still kept it simple, most of the clientele were in suits and dresses that Dieter saw. Soft guitar music played in the background, he closed his eyes as he waited curious who they might have matched him with based on what he asked for.

Dieter heard the clicking of heels first. Then smelled a deep woodsy fragrance, it approached slowly, matching the pace of the heels. They stopped in front of him and he caught hints of citrus and a flower. Using his aquiline nose to sniff closer to the source, feeling body heat radiating from whoever was in front of him. “It’s faint but you smell like a sweet pea.” He released a deep breath he’d been building from taking in and trying to identify the different components of their scent.

“Welcome Mr. Bravo. I hope my fragrance invokes pleasant memories. I’m told you want to rid yourself of sorrow. Correct?” The voice embraced him as soft fingers coiled around his neck, thumbs pressing into his chin.

“Yes, please. I need to forget, just for a bit. Then I might be able to get my body to function properly. Everything is fine, great even.” He kept his eyes closed and he felt them. Lips on his forehead, warm and plush. They lingered, “Can I touch you, please?” No answer was given as hands left his neck and were placed on each side of a torso. His palms roamed slowly tracing the lace that wrapped the body he had in his hands.

The lips left his forehead and he was tempted to reach for them, but kept his eyes closed, he would wait, trying to keep his breathing even. “Is this alright Mr. Bravo or do you want someone who might-“Dieter wildly shook his head.

“Don’t you go anywhere Sweet Pea. Stay right here with me. Just like this. Maybe more. Can I look at you?” He pulled the body toward him, sniffing more. “Call me Dieter. Mr. Bravo is the one having issues with his little D.” He made himself chuckle knowing what a stupid joke it was. Fingertips graced his cheek and tipped his chin upward.

“Look at me Dieter. How do you want me to drown your sorrows tonight? I usually go by Violet due to the room, but I like Sweet Pea when you say it. It makes me sound cute.” The giggle from this celestial being has Dieter wondering if she’ll still giggle if he’s buried between her legs. He wouldn’t need to come up for air, just search for what would be his reward: her moans and his tongue squeezed by her pelvic muscles. His palms ran around to her back, feeling the different rolls of her body.

“I want to see if I’m going to go into a coma from drowning in your nectar Sweet Pea. Can I be your first casualty? If I was going to go, I’d want to be surrounded by thick thighs and a woman’s cries I offer her.” Slipping her left heel off, Sweet Pea places her leg on the bed beside Dieter’s right leg. His hand slowly makes its way across the curve of her wide ass to her thigh, his large fingers dipping into the small holes of the fishnets, tugging on them. “Let me show you gorgeous.”

Smiling, Sweet Pea gives his lips a quick peck before bending to reach between his legs, “Seems just the thought is enough Dieter. Why come to me? I’m sure you’ve got many offers, especially if you’re asking like that.” She lowers her leg and stands back up, turning her back to him but looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes. The glint in them makes her lick her lips, she could ask him to do it, just to see if he will. Given how desperate he is, he might. He won’t say it, but his body betrays him, he said that ‘little D’ was having trouble but that didn’t seem to be the case at all from what she felt. Maybe it’s the scents, the atmosphere and that what happens here will remain here until he comes back. She crosses the room and drops her black thong, stepping out of it and her other heel, sitting on a violet velvet loveseat with her legs open wide. “This is what you want right Dieter?” Her elbows are on her knees with one hand beckoning him. “Come to me, but undress and crawl.”

Bravo doesn’t want control right now, nor does he want to think. He just wants to act, to perform. In this moment, he isn’t thinking about how lonely he is or how his career could crumble on some whim of culture or random video. There’s only this purple room he can melt into as he removes his clothes, making himself bare to Sweet Pea. Dieter’s actually hard, dripping onto her carpet as he lowers himself onto the floor on all fours. His knees are burning as he makes his way across the padded carpet. It’s worth his goal though, into her tender folds. “You like to see a man work, huh Sweet Pea? That’s more than fine.” Halfway there, his bobbing swollen cock made a mess of the carpet and his belly. Upon reaching her, he placed his hands on her knees and looked up to her, balancing himself on his knees so little D was at full attention. He wanted to show her what she’d been able to bring out of him so far. Something changed though, he was smiling but Violet recognized it. She used her fingers to rub circles into his biceps and shoulders before tracing the pronounced vein on his neck.

“You adorable man. This isn’t what you want. At least not now. You can’t seem to decide between the two Dieter.” Fingers run through his hair, and he knows she’s right but couldn’t she had said so after he’d had his fill, hear her cries?

“You’re not wrong, but I still need this. Need you.” He dipped his head to nibble on her thigh and she hummed but pushed his head back. In standing, she also helped him to his feet and brought him back to the bed, removing her lace corset and climbed on the bed.

“From behind, I’m not going to have your tears dripping where I can watch while you fuck me.” Now Sweet Pea was on all fours and Dieter’s sorrow returned. It was inescapable, but he wanted to see her face. He could block it off, just for a short while he tried to get the sunshine.

“No, I need to see how your face changes as you take me.” Crawling across the bed behind her, he pulled her back flush to his chest and turned her chin over her shoulder, capturing her lips. Slipping his tongue in, the warmth felt good. He hadn’t had it in months, he didn’t know why now, in this place with her, but he’d accept it. All of it. “Pleasure to mask my sorrow is why I’m here, Sweet Pea. Have me bask in the sun.”

Their kiss broke as Sweet Pea turned to put her arms around his shoulders, kissing his forehead once again as Dieter laid back on the bed, she fell forward as he took her hair out of the high ponytail it had been in. Her hair fell around her face, her wet folds grazed his shaft and he moaned. “I’ll be your dawn until the light shines on you Dieter.”

Coming unbound, feeling elated and devastated when he had to leave, Dieter had been able to bury his sorrow in pleasure for a time. Another appointment was made for later in the week. To quote Bravo, “I’ll deny me none while I’m allowed because I wouldn’t fare well.”

Bad ideas that Dieter could use: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @titlee78 @tinytinymenace @magpiepillsjunior @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @rhoorl @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @yorksgirl @heareball @laurfilijames @maggiemayhemnj

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Move Me ||

Matt Murdock x gender neutral reader

Tags/warnings: dancer reader and boxer/DD Matt. slight angst but mostly lovely fluff.

A/N: this is for the March TFC writing challenge with the prompt "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too much?" heavily inspired by Movement by Hozier which I've listened to so much recently.

You had found Fogwell's gym through your friend's dad, somewhere that was close by and cheap enough that you could practice for your dance exam final and didn't mean you were missing out on dinners for half the week.

When you first tentatively pushed open the door the smell of stale sweat met your nose and you could hear the soft huffs and grunts as a boxer worked out on the bag. He was focused and unrelenting, and doesn't notice you coming in and you find yourself watching him for a few minutes.

He's not the busted up, heavy set kind of guy that you might have expected to find in a place like this. No, he was lean, his strength and power clear as day, the loose vest he was wearing was soaked with sweat and showing off his upper body as he hit the bag with a flurry of punches.

You put your stuff down to change out of your street shoes and the thumping stops, the silence only permeated by his soft panting of breath.

"Hi." He says brightly. "You must be the dancer?"

"Oh, hi, yeah. I'm sorry I didn't mean to disturb you!" You manage to stutter out as you look up at him and see that he's gorgeous. His eyes are a deep, warm brown and you notice that they never exactly meet yours.

"You didn't, just taking a breather." He says, smiling in your direction.

"I'm uh, just gonna use the ring for my practice. I promise I won't get in your way." You assure him, and he does this thing where he tilts his head, raising a brow as he follows your voice. It's cute.

"Sure, no worries." He smiles again, a little wider this time, "I'm Matt."

"Hi, Matt." You reply and introduce yourself before ducking into the ring and putting your earbuds in.

Yeah, Matt was gonna be a distraction for sure.

Matt carries on with his training, the sound of his punches and kicks interspersed with the soft sweep and swish of your body as you start to move across the sprung floor.

A dancer and a boxer. You had more in common than you thought.

Five nights a week you find yourself in Fogwell's, sometimes there's one or two other people training on their own, but he is there all the time. Every night you respond politely to his cheerful hello, then you both get on with your routines. You always wore earbuds when you were practicing, not wanting to disturb the few boxers from their own rhythms.

"I just wondered, there's plenty of dance studios around the city, do you mind if I ask why you come here?"

His question makes you look up from the floor where you're warming up.

"Well, for one it's a lot cheaper, but mostly I feel better knowing that no-one here is watching me fuck up all the time." You smile and he nods, realising that you already noted his impairment. He was usually here when you arrived and you were gone before he left so you had never seen him using his cane but he guessed it was otherwise obvious.

Despite that fact, Matt could always feel the shift in pressure as you crossed one foot over the other into a seamless turn, your arms extending outwards before pulling back in and down your body. He could feel you move, and he thought you moved beautifully.

He tilts his head to one side. "Forgive me, but you're all dance students right? I'm sure that they fuck up sometimes too?"

You swallow, your mouth suddenly very dry. You loved dancing, couldn't stop yourself from embellishing a walk down the street with a spin, swaying along with the trees in the park, or choreographing in your head when you were on the train. But despite that you so often doubted yourself, got anxious and felt sick when you knew people were actively watching you perform. But you were trying to work on it, trying to find some way of dealing.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a little more uh, self conscious about it than they are..."

Matt nods softly, aware of your slight anxiousness. "I'm pretty sure you've got nothing to worry about." He assures you, and maybe you open yourself a little to believing it.

Sometimes you swore Matt was watching you. The way he'd place his palms to steady the swing of the punching bag and pause there, his head cocked and fingers gently tapping along in sync to the beat that you only thought you would be able to hear in your earbuds. But it was impossible, he was blind, and despite what people say about the other senses making up for those lost, no one could hear that well…

The next session, you say your usual short hellos and small talk when you're sitting on the bench tying your shoes he speaks again, his soft easy voice a caress to your ears.

"You know it's just me, or uh, us here tonight. We've got the place to ourselves."

You look across at him and nervous butterflies start swirling in your stomach. "Oh…really, I um…"

Matt realises that it sounded like a come on and quickly adds- "What I meant was, there's a Bluetooth speaker over there that you can play your music through. If you wanted to."

You find yourself almost disappointed that it wasn't a line after all. You'd grown comfortable with him being there, you would even say you actually looked forward to your practice time because of him.

"Oh! That would be really great, but you're sure it won't disturb you?"

"Not at all. It'd be great to hear some music in here for a change."

You smirk, "well it might get a little annoying, hearing the same track over and over, so just let me know when you get sick of it."

Matt shakes his head. "I'm thinking it might be meditative for me, maybe give me something to focus on." Something that's not the way your heart flutters when you look at me. Matt thinks to himself.

You move over to the shelf the speaker is sitting on and set it up on your phone, skipping to the end of the track so that you can get in place before it loops and starts again. Matt resumes his training and you continue like that for the rest of the week, sharing the space but doing your own thing.

In the second week after a couple of hours you crash down onto the floor with a frustrated groan, flopping onto your back and hammering your fists against the mat in annoyance.

"Are you okay?" Matt asks with concern. You let out a heavy sigh.

"Ugh, yeah. It's just.. I can't get this section to flow, it's all wrong and I can't think of what else to do with it!"

"You've been at it for ages. Maybe take a break, clear your head?" Matt gestures at the bag. "Here, you can come and punch this for a while, I promise it'll help."

You heave yourself up, suddenly feeling energised at the thought of spending some time with him. "Okay, but I don't really know how to punch."

He steps aside, giving you space when you climb down between the ropes of the ring and stand beside him. "Make a fist?"

You close your hand into some approximation of a fist, frowning as it looks wrong. "Uh, is that right? Can you show me?"

Matt clears his throat. "Sure. Um, do you mind if I…" he holds out his hand for yours and you give him it, holding your breath as his warm hands carefully manipulate your fingers into the correct position.

"So you don't break anything." Matt explains, and gives your hand a quick squeeze now that you've got it.

"Thanks." He hears the smile in your voice as you bounce a little on the balls of your feet like you've seen him do when he's training.

"Alright you're all set, throw your arm out from the shoulder, and try to imagine you're hitting out beyond your fist. Now, just give it your best shot!"

You take a deep breath and lash out at the bag with a yell, making it shake on the chain. although not as much as when Matt does it. Still, you're pleased, and seemingly he is too. He listens as you land another few hits, and you're both grinning as your frustration melts away.

"Shit, I would not want to get into a fight with you, I could tell that was a decent punch!"

"Do you fight? Like with other people, sparring and stuff?" You ask him, and he scratches the back of his neck, feels the constant ache in his body.

"Uh yeah, sometimes." Every single night.

"Teach me how to kick?" You ask, and he nods, loving how curious and eager you are to learn.

He demonstrates the kick a few times, striking out with the lower part of his shin hitting the side of the bag and then it's your turn, but you're not sure if you're doing it right.

You watch carefully as he does it slowly this time, the muscles of his thigh and calf so strongly defined as they tense, and he thumps into the bag.

You try again, putting more force into it this time and somehow he senses you're unbalanced and reaches out, catching you gently before you nearly fall over.

"Whoops, heh careful!" His face lights up as he smiles, righting you and you laugh as you regain your balance. "It's much harder to do slow."

"Yep, just like dancing!" You try again but you're not satisfied.

"Do you think… would you mind, maybe if you move me with your hands, you would be able to tell what I'm doing wrong? I'm just not sure-"

What are you doing?? You scold yourself.

"Uh yeah, of course. Let me just-" he moves to the side behind you, placing his left hand on the outside of your hip and his right ready to catch under your leg just above your knee when you swing it out.

"Okay, so make sure you're turning your hip into the kick, like this." He pushes on you gently, guiding your movement so you get the rotation and your shin contacts square on.

"Oh!"

"There, you've got it, you're a natural!"

When you're back standing on both feet his hand is still resting on your hip. Your face heats up and you're so glad he can't see how hard you're blushing but he hurriedly lifts it away as if he's been burned by the heat of your skin.

"Try a few on your own?" He suggests, stepping back to give you more space. You find yourself missing the contact with him but you kick the bag again and it feels good.

"Thank you so much Matt, that really did help." You climb back into the ring and take a huge gulp of water trying to calm the buzzing high you feel from being so close to him.

"I'm glad it did, and honestly, anytime. I'll uh, let you get back to it."

"Thanks," you say, stretching your arms before you start back on your choreography. "Maybe I could teach you some moves sometime… uh, dance moves that is!" You blurt out, the heat rising to your face yet again, but Matt is nodding with a genuine smile.

"I'd really like that."

You find the conversation between you flowing even easier after that, Matt's easy to talk to and you never feel under any pressure to be anything but yourself when he's around.

On Monday night you arrive at the gym and the door is locked. You have a key but had never had to use it yet as Matt was always there before you. But not tonight. You switch on the flickering lights and get ready to go through your routine, but it feels lonely without him in the room and you wrap up much earlier than normal.

The next evening the door is open when you get there and you're glad to see Matt's sitting on the bench. He's hunched over and the loose tail of his hand wraps dangles from his fingers onto the floor.

"Hey, get up to anything fun last night?" You try your best to keep it casual, but you can't help your mind wondering if he had been on a date or something.

He looks up and it's then that you see the deep cut across his brow and the dark blooming bruises on his arms and legs.

"Oh Matt! Are you alright?" You rush over, kneeling down in front of him. He's surprised as you gently brush his hair from his face, hearing your heart rate increase with worry as you check him over.

"It's okay, it's nothing really."

You knew there was a first aid kit in the toilets and you hurried to retrieve it, sitting down again in front of him, taking out some antiseptic and a cotton ball.

"It's not nothing. Here, hold still for me?" He winces a little as the alcohol stings as you carefully dab it along the opening. He can't help marvel at how determined you are to take care of him as you close up the cut with a couple of adhesive strips. Your fingers graze along his stubbled jaw as you turn his head from one side to the other making sure there was nothing else that needed tending, and when you let go Matt finds himself wanting to chase after your touch.

"Okay, I think that's better. I've got some arnica for the bruises at home, I'll bring it tomorrow."

"You're an angel. Thank you." He says, and just like that your confidence wanes, and you feel the heat flooding your face again as you pack the medical supplies away.

"So, what happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Matt considers lying, telling you that yeah, it was a fight with the stairs and they won, but he finds he can't, doesn't want to.

He sighs. "Yeah. I- I just made a stupid mistake. But you should see the other guy." He tries making light of the situation even though he's feeling miserable, but you don't laugh. It doesn't take a psychic to know that there was something more going on, but you weren't going to press him.

"Maybe you shouldn't be here tonight Matt, you should go home and get some rest." Your heart tugs at his lost expression, you really don't like seeing him like this. You just wish you could do something to make it better.

He fiddles with the shredded end of the wrap, picking at the loose thread. "I, uh, came in because I didn't really want to be alone."

He's silent for a beat and then…

"Would it be okay if maybe I could… just listen to you dance?" Then he shakes his head and goes to get up, dismissing the request. "No, no sorry that's just… weird. Nevermind just-"

You stop him in his tracks, your hands on his shoulders and a soft smile on your lips. "Hey, it's not weird. And last night, when you weren't here… I kinda missed having the company."

You see the corner of Matt's mouth tug up just slightly and it fills you with warmth. "Yeah?"

"You're one of the best audiences I've had." You tell him, and it raises a small chuckle.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

You run through your routine and your heart skips as every time you steal a glance at Matt, he looks lighter and happier.

Matt feels his mood lift almost immediately as you pad across the floor of the ring, turning, stretching and moving your body so gracefully in time with the music. He feels your gaze and smile on him, and he's grateful. You've brought something into his life he didn't even know he was missing.

The end of the fourth week comes round so quickly and it's your last session. Your exam is on Saturday morning but you feel ready, ready to face a room of examiners and the other students. You know exactly how you're going to get through it, how you'll beat your nerves and anxiety. All you have to do is imagine that you're performing right here and it's only the two of you. Just you and Matt.

"Dance with me." You say, at the end of your run through, as Matt kicks the bag and it nearly knocks him over as it swings back as he hears your request.

"What?"

You laugh at his sudden adorable awkwardness. "Dance with me! I said I'd teach you some moves, and you seemed kinda keen before…"

Matt grins and starts peeling off his wraps. "I am. Just don't hate me if I step on your toes."

You laugh as he joins you in the ring and you come to stand facing him. "You won't."

"Alright, so… give me your hands?"

He holds them out and you place them on your hips. His touch is light but keeps perfect contact with you as you slowly swing your hips out, around and back in a figure of eight. Your heart is racing a mile a minute.

"You feel that?" You ask, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You've got to know what you're doing to him.

"Yeah."

"Now you try." You can't help laughing a little as he moves slightly stiffly at first, but when you put your hands on his hips to guide him the movements very quickly smooth out and you're impressed.

"Okay good, now you're gonna step forward to me with your right foot while I step back, and then your left goes back and my right forward, and layer on that movement with your hips. Does that make sense?"

Matt smiles and lets you lead him for a few steps then falters a bit and stops. "Shit, I'm sorry, told you I'd mess up."

You grin, "don't worry, but it might be easier if we're a bit closer?"

He nods and your heart is now thumping in your chest so hard that you swear he must hear it as he holds you so you're pressed to him. You can feel the heat of his body, smell the light sweat from his workout, and you're giddy with it all.

Matt can't even hear the hard pattering of the rain on the plate glass window over the dominant sound of your heart, and he doesn't want to. It's a beat he would dance to forever, but you'll be gone after tonight and he'll probably never see you again, so he tries to just savour this moment, to get lost in it as he follows your body, the way you move and move him. You're light and soft, but simultaneously grounded and strong. As you start to gently sway back and forth, he closes his eyes and goes wherever you want to take him.

"You're a natural, Matt." Your voice is barely a whisper as he moves a hand to your mid back and your own slides up to lay on his shoulder. Your free hands join, fingers interlocking as you start to lead him around the ring and he follows you effortlessly, in contact the whole time, the two of you moving as one as if you had been partners for years.

You feel so lightheaded as you dance together, becoming more daring with your steps but he always follows. You hum and laugh as he lets you spin out from his arms and then reels you back in again.

When you lean backwards he's got you, supporting you easily as you let your upper body arc around in a half circle dip and then he guides you back upright. With your face now only inches from his you notice, and not for the first time, how pretty his lashes are, laying soft against the tops of his cheeks, how full and pink his lips look, as his tongue slips out to moisten them.

He feels your sweet halted breath fan over his face as you both wait for something.

It's Matt that speaks first.

"Good luck tomorrow, for your exam, but I'm sure you'll be amazing."

You're amazing.

You move and he moves, your face tilting up towards him as his fingers gently tip your chin, your lips brushing chastely as he kisses you so softly you could melt into the floor.

With your foreheads leaning against each other and your breathing shallow, you both pause. You're unable to keep the smile from your face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matt says in quiet apology, "was that… too much? I didn't mean to-"

You beam even harder, your fingers stroking the side of his face. "No Matt, it was perfect, and I'll let you know how it goes."

He looks up then, head tilting to the side. "You will?"

"Yeah, say... tomorrow afternoon? Maybe over coffee?" You suggest, unable to hide the glee in your voice and the butterflies in your stomach as you ask him out.

Matt grins, the pad of his thumb running small circles over your knuckles as he's still holding your hand in his. "Tomorrow? I, yes… yeah. I'd like that a lot!"

Tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @officialjanetsnakehole

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel

[bi-bard]

You Don't Have to Sing it Nice, But, Honey, Sing It Strong - Eleventh Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: You Don't Have to Sing it Nice, But, Honey, Sing It Strong

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor X Reader

Based On: To Noise Making [Sing]

Word Count: 1.305 words

Warning(s): grief, mention of major character death

Summary: [Season 7] The Doctor suddenly stopped when he lost Amy and Rory. (Y/n) makes it their goal to get him to move forward and continue the good that he had done.

Author's Note: I talk about this plotline so fucking much and I am so sorry. I just... I have so many thoughts about it and when it came out, I was either not writing yet or my writing was shit, so I'm making up for lost time.

WASTELAND, BABY! - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

I took for granted how easy it had been for the Doctor to walk into trouble.

I never realized how hard it could be to search for something that he would think was interesting. Especially when I was confined to one time period on one planet.

After losing Amy and Rory, I did everything in my power to take care of the Doctor.

He cried at first.

I could still vividly see the time spent holding him as tight as I could as he sobbed into my shoulder. There were a few times where his crying would soften but his nails would dig into my back or sides. I thought it was a way for him to remind himself that I was still there. I was real.

There were times when I was convinced the dull marks were still there. A reminder of how long I held him.

I don't remember exactly when the crying stopped.

It felt more sudden than it probably was. All of the sudden, he just stopped. A switch was flipped.

He parked the TARDIS in the skies above London and completely stopped. No helping, no adventures, no running. His curiosity suddenly ended.

I started to split my time.

I would spend half of my time in the TARDIS. I would stay with The Doctor and talk or read or merely rest my head on his shoulder and try to enjoy the admittedly tense company. Granted, it never felt tense on his end. Only mine. It must be my longing for escape.

The other half of my time was spent walking the streets of London, searching for something interesting. Not for me. For the Doctor. I needed something that would spark enough curiosity to get him to just... investigate. I guess.

I needed the Doctor back, and this felt like the best way to do it.

"Wasting your night again?"

I jumped at the sound of a voice behind me. "Vastra. I'm not one of your suspects. You don't need to sneak up on me."

"I'll be sure to make a note of that. Now, would you care to answer my question?"

"I'm not wasting my night. I'm helping the Doctor."

"You and I both know that he has no desire to be helped now. How many times will you break your own heart?"

I closed my eyes and turned away from her, continuing on my way.

She had a point. That was what annoyed me the most. There were too many occasions where I stood in front of the Doctor and told him of something I found only to be dismissed. It had gotten to the point where those conversations didn't consist of any substance. They were just me begging for him to listen to me. To do something.

I just wanted him back. I didn't care if we went back to our normal routine. Just some sign that he was still there would've been enough for me.

"(Y/n)-"

"Forgive me if I feel no need to sit and talk about this anymore," I snapped. "I... I have to help him. I can't just sit and watch him wither away in that stupid box. I can't. I... I am going to help him. You can either assist me in that or leave me be."

I was never one to be confrontational. Especially not with her. But anger and fear and grief all mixing together can lead to many people doing things that they never thought were possible.

"If you have no interest in helping, then stay out of my way."

I refused to believe that this was hopeless. I refused to believe that this was going to be my existence for the rest of time.

I just needed to find something to help fix it.

And then, there was the snow. Alien and new.

And there was Clara. A young woman who stumbled into the same alley as the Doctor and me.

The more I look back at this time, the more tragic the story looks.

She had been that thing I had been looking for. She caught the Doctor's attention. She got him to come down from his blue box in the cloud and help when the world needed it. I remember the countless moments that I made a mental note to thank her later. To thank her for helping him, even if didn't even know that he needed help.

But that hope had a price.

We met the Great Intelligence. A name that still burdened my heart with so much dread that it felt heavier than stone.

Worse than that was the fate of Clara.

Even after defeating the Great Intelligence, for the time being, Clara was still dying. And we couldn't save her.

I knelt next to her as she rested under the device that was meant to be keeping her alive. I grinned at her.

"I wanted to thank you," I said. "I... I thought I'd have more time."

"For what," she asked.

"Doing what I couldn't," I whispered.

A small, amused smile crossed her lips. "The Doctor and his cloud."

I nodded. "Thank you."

I pulled her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

I stepped back so the Doctor could have a chance to speak with her. They whispered back and forth until her voice stopped.

I saw something change in the Doctor when he heard the last words fall from her lips.

I didn't hear what she said.

All I knew was that the moment she was gone, the Doctor jumped up with this shocked look on his face. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the TARDIS, which had been conveniently parked in the very room all of us had gathered in.

"What's going on," I asked as he dropped my arm and took off around the console.

"She said something!"

I furrowed my eyebrows. That didn't help much.

"Do you remember the girl from the Dalek asylum?"

I nodded. Another heartbreaking story. We were just too late. She deserved more.

"When I found her, she... she said something. 'Run. Run, you clever boy, and remember.' I didn't think much of it, but then Clara- this Clara said the exact same thing! They're the same girl! Both named Clara, both saying the same words!"

"So, now?"

"I'm going to find her. And figure out exactly why she's jumping around my timeline."

I nodded, still stuck in my spot.

I couldn't help it.

I stopped and watched him as he ran around the console again. It was like seeing a ghost. It had been so long since I got to see the Doctor with a mission. Something had finally caught his attention. That idea brought me a lot of comfort.

"What," he asked, stopping for a moment when he saw me staring.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"(Y/n)..."

I let out a breath. "It's just... It's nice to see you like this. With something to run for."

The Doctor walked over and cupped the sides of my face. "I'm sorry that it took so long."

I didn't say anything. I had no interest in waving off his apology like it didn't mean anything to me. That wouldn't be fair to him. Instead, I reached up and pressed my hands to his as I smiled at him. A soft grin traced his lips. The silence was enough to show that forgiveness had been offered and accepted.

He wiped away tears that I had no memory of shedding. My brain and heart were a jumble of emotions. Grief and relief. Heavy yet suddenly weightless.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Through that confusing mess of my feelings and thoughts, one thing stuck out to me as clear as day: it was nice to have him back.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[imeanitplsmorenamifics]

hi! i don’t know how asks work very well so i’m like eyeballing it here but if you could do too sweet with sanji that be so kind thanks 🙏

Hi! You're doing it perfectly fine, don't worry! Of course I can do Too Sweet with Sanji for you! This came across as more of a headcanon post to me so I hope you don't mind that. If so, message me and I can rewrite it. Either way, I hope you enjoy it! This is set for when Sanji was at the Baratie still. You can find my Flower Asks here, Hozier Asks here, and my Taylor Swift Asks here. You can find my masterlist here and my rules here. And you can request here! Too Sweet: The two of you are vastly different. It makes things a little difficult at times. Characters: Sanji, GN!Reader Pairings: Sanji x GN!Reader TW: None that I can think of!

Too Sweet

.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

Opposites attract is something you hear about relationships. This couldn’t be more right with you and Sanji.

The two of you were polar opposites in every sense of the phrase. He was very outgoing, flirty, charming, and what could be described as the life of the party. You were the opposite of that. You were very introverted, you couldn’t flirt to save your life, you were sure you were devoid of any charm, and you were the one to avoid a party. To say that this caused some challenges would be an understatement.

Sanji was the first one up in the morning to go to his shift at the Baratie and the last one to get in at night because of him staying longer to attend a party at the bar. You were the last one up, seeing as your shift started later, and the first one in since you didn’t really stick around once your job was over. The only time you really had to spend with the other was when you both had a day off.

You tried to do the things Sanji did. You tried to go to parties after work. You tried to meet more new people. You tried to do the whole outgoing thing but it just wasn’t what you were good at. At every party, you were in the corner of the boat, wanting to disappear while Sanji was off dancing or drinking his weight in alcohol. You had awkward conversations and it always made you feel like an idiot afterward for even trying.

And it was the same for Sanji. Sanji tried to stop staying out so late every once in a while to spend time at home with you. He tried to just have the day be you and him, no one else. No distractions. But he couldn’t do it either. It made him feel like he was being tied down. It made him antsy. He couldn’t sit inside all day. He needed to get out and interact with people. You didn’t.

This caused a few arguments here and there. You argued that he never stayed home enough and he argued that you never go out with him. It was an ongoing cycle that felt like it would never be solved. It rarely ever was solved. The conversation always ended with the two of you avoiding the topic and acting like it never happened.

It made people wonder how you were even together at times. What made you both, polar opposites, actually get together in the first place? The answer was simple.

You balanced each other out very well. You played to the others strengths and weaknesses. If you were lacking in one area, Sanji would fill that void so you could work more efficiently. It was the same for Sanji. Where he lacked, you provided the necessary support.

The only problem you had before this was at the start of the relationship. You were the type to want to move things slow. You wanted to truly know a person before you jumped into anything. Sanji had a hard time with this. Sure, he would wait for you for however long he needed to but he wondered when you would be ready because it felt like it would be forever until that day finally came. This problem slowly resolved itself over time. It just took time. Maybe this will too.

Either way, there were still times it was hard for you to function in the relationship because of the stark contrast in personalities. This stemmed from underlying issues.

Sanji felt like you didn’t need him at times. You were always so independent. You relied on yourself to the point you didn’t need help from anyone. You didn’t require human interaction to function. You could sit in your own silence and be comfortable with it. It felt like if he was removed from your life, you wouldn’t even notice.

Then there was you. While Sanji felt like you didn’t need him, you felt like you held him back and like you weren’t enough for him at times. You always got onto him about staying out late, something he enjoyed. You could tell it irritated him when you argued with him about it. You knew that he was doing something he enjoyed, but he was almost never home to spend time with you. It made you feel like he was more comfortable around complete strangers than his own partner. You felt like you didn’t give him enough.

It frustrated the two of you so much.

You felt like he was too sweet for you and he felt like he wasn’t savory enough for you.

[shares-a-vest]

💖 Fic Writing Review 2023 💖

I was tagged by @penny00dreadful @rocknrollsalad @cranberrymoons and @unclewaynemunson Thanks everyone! You all smashed it in 2023. Here's to more words wording and fun fandom times with our faves.

Tbh, it took me a good month minute to work out how to do this, seeing as I don't post much to ao3 (something I intend on mending in 2024). I'm very much going with the 'feel free to show whatever stats you like' aspect of the rules.

But before all that, I'd like to use this post as an opportunity to acknowledge everyone who enjoys my writing. I kinda just fell into writing in this fandom and discovered that I love it!

I'm also sending love and appreciation to my beloved moots and everyone in the stwg discord server. Here's to another year of creating, sharing and interacting 💖

This fandom really is my happy place a lot of the time, a much-needed creative outlet and a space where I can talk to people who let me be my silly little old self.

I have so much I want to write in 2024 (including some in-the-works stuff listed below). One goal I know I have in 2024 is to write what I'll temporarily title, 'The Origin of Joanie Munson'. I would really like to knuckle down and write a looonnnggg fic this year that would tell that story.

Anyway, enough of me talking, I'll stop before I get too sappy...

Top 5 Posts by Notes:

Wayne and Claudia to Steve's Rescue

I'm Dating Garfield

My Prince

Eddie gets stuck in Steve's shower after the power goes off

Eddie Munson: Sparkly Vampire Boyfriend

Proudest Work & Reflections:

Wayne and Steve get hearing aids: This post was very much inspired by my pop's ongoing struggle with his hearing aids. HoH Steve is a beloved headcanon of mine so I was happy to receive so much love for a little ficlet that came from a very real place.

Steve spends Father's Day with the Buckleys: If there's one Steve trope I will write, it's Steve Has Bad Parents™. I always find myself writing this trope and getting Steve all sad and angsty as a personal coping mechanism/outlet for irl Dad Stuff™. I was a pile of goo over the tags and comments saying this ficlet resonated with readers! We really are just out here projecting onto our blorbos to get through shit.

Joanie Munson's First Word: I love my Joanie Munson AU. And one thing I love writing into it is Wayne being a doting Grandpa. It was a WIP for quite a while and I remember waking up at like 3am, unable to sleep and bam I finished it, proving that sometimes it's worth letting something linger in the drafts until the moment strikes.

My Fandom Events in 2023 (I did a sprinkling of others, but these I completed/worked on consistently):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge SPRING and SUMMER

Steddie Week 2023

Steddiemas

Upcoming Works & Events (aka, next in the pipeline):

Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge WINTER

Clarkson Mixtape Fic

STWG Hozier Project

Tagging some precious moots (plus those above) to send my love and good New Year vibes to! @thefreakandthehair @tboyeddie @steventhusiast @imfinereallyy @hbyrde36 @spicysix @momotonescreaming @withacapitalp @farahsamboolents @hellion-child @sidekick-hero (also feel free to do this tag game too if you'd like/haven't already!)

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

[lonelyroommp3]

what would be on your enjoltaire 8tracks playlist if you made it today

you know what i didn't realise how effective my recovery from e/r had been until i sat down to make this and actually ended up having to crack open my beloved 2014 iPod That Still Has Flappy Bird On It And All in order to make a decent length playlist bc i just do not listen to enjoltaire songs anymore apparently. all this to say this has about 5 songs that, per your actual prompt, would be on my enjoltaire 8tracks playlist if i made it today and then 15 others that are direct dispatches from the mind of teenage alix. do NOT listen to this for sonic cohesion because trust me you will not be getting any

anyway i set myself one (1) rule for this which was i am not allowed to use any song that i have seen on an enjoltaire fanmix before. this made the entire project even more challenging

and if you're curious to know what the fuck i was thinking here, director's commentary below the cut:

secret diary - autoheart rip enjolras you would have loved listening to this song when you were really pissed off with grantaire

too sweet - hozier loath as i am to include a song that has become this grossly overplayed via tiktok, the very first time i heard this song i thought my god if hozier had released this song 10 years earlier it would have had the enjoltaire 8tracks girlies in a CHOKEHOLD. i can't not include it

i'll come running - brian eno i might be breaking my own rules here because a rando song being on my old ipod from an artist i otherwise barely listen to probably suggests i stole it off an 8tracks fanmix. but whatever it's an enjoltaire fanmix, it's a good song, did anyone else clock it in the background of baby reindeer (i have not finished that show and i am not going to, but anyway, great song)

satanist - boygenius "solomon had a point when he wrote ecclesiastes/if nothing can be known then stupidity is holy" could literally be a line from one of grantaire's drunken rants. welcome back victor hugo

the bird and the worm - owl city this is a teenage alix enjoltaire playlist classic. i won't apologise

stephen - kesha i firmly believe every e/r playlist requires at least one song that doesn't really fit in the details of the lyrics but the vibes are so grantaireish it's got to make it in. do you guys think the ugly girlfriend sneering across the room was epo-*i am shot*

gold rush - taylor swift IT'S THE ONLY TAYLOR SWIFT SONG ON HERE I PROMISE. HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING. HEY STOP WALKING AWAY AND TELL ME "AT DINNER PARTIES I CALL YOU OUT ON YOUR CONTRARIAN SHIT" ISN'T AN ENJOLTAIRE LYRIC. COME ONNNN

for you and your denial - yellowcard about here is where i just gave up and cracked open the old ipod. i also wanted a clear vibe shift in this playlist and right about here is where i think we move from "mostly lighthearted pining and jabbing at each other's conflicting beliefs" to the "enjolras and grantaire biting each other's heads off" part of the fanmix. anyway i literally bought this entire album in hmv in like 2012 because i stumbled upon this one song on youtube and thought nah mate. this is e/r

make me wanna die - the pretty reckless i honestly have very little to say on this one. just more pissed off vibes

call me when you're sober - evanescence the simple fact of the matter is evanescence defined my teenage years and this will always and forever be an enjoltaire song

for a pessimist, i'm pretty optimistic - paramore i have really vivid memories of being on holiday with my parents in like 2013/14, stuck in rush hour traffic out of rouen, this album blasting in my ears, thinking this song is exactly what enjolras is thinking when grantaire goofs up at the barrière du maine

one big beautiful sound - johnny manchild and the poor bastards it is my near religious belief that every enjoltaire fanmix should have at least one song that sounds like this because i think this is precisely the kind of music that grantaire would actually listen to. actually tbh i think he is also into really really filthy drum and bass but i'm trying to keep this playlist at least slightly sensible

ever - emilie autumn this is such a perfect e/r song that it even talks about painting somebody's portrait. straight out of the fanon playbook, thanks emilie

misty - laufey right around here, or really starting with "ever", we hit the third phase of this playlist, which is "songs to be passed out and suicidal to while all your mates are getting violently killed around you". please note the hand holding foreshadowing. don't ever say i half arse these things

i'm your man - mitski genuinely this one speaks for itself i think. jaw dropped when i heard this one for the first time.

what if - emilie autumn here's where we kind of transition into the fourth portion of the playlist, which is "grantaire wakes the fuck up and goes hey wait no, i think i am going to die for & with this man actually". getting a bit more optimistic and determined but we're still in that wistful acoustic ballad space we've slipped into previously

twin flames - epica this is not from design your universe, epica's previous album, but i just wanted to use this space to say that i would regularly sit on the bus home from school imagining a whole elaborate barricades themed visual album set to design your universe. this bonus track from their next offering was just the icing on the cake. any song with a lyric like "you're all i need/my one belief" was like CRACK to teenage alix i s2g

save yourself, i'll hold them back - my chemical romance 15 year old alix would have figured out time travel to come and kill 27 year old alix in my sleep if i hadn't put a single mcr song on here

bows and arrows - kaiser chiefs i was OBSESSED with this album in 2014 and completely forgot its existence until i resurrected the old ipod. and it's REALLY good. especially this song, which i decided to check the lyrics for on genius bc i vaguely remembered it being an e/r song to me but i also haven't listened to it in like 10 years, and these quotes from ricky wilson absolutely flabbergasted me: "I liked the idea that bows and arrows are pretty useless on their own but when you get them together, they can be quite formidable... What’s wrong with a load of blokes admitting they need each other?"

i, carrion (icarian) - hozier listen, half of the reason i'm including this song is a bit of a joke at the fact that due to my self imposed rules i can't put icarus by bastille on here, but i do kind of like it as a frozen in time slo mo as the bullets hit kind of finale to this whole thing :)

[thetravelingtyper]

Our Shattered Heart Chapter 6 Sneak Peak

I am FERAL for Oliver I cried during multiple parts of this story and my heart hurt writing some of this so please suffer with me!

Oliver's song is From Eden by Hozier

Read it all Here!

“I brought some stuff from home Bug.” 

The nickname makes you freeze and you turn to him and find him with a small smile, and suddenly you're 8 again, running barefoot in the back garden when you stop suddenly and are falling when Oliver runs into you.

“Ow what was that for?”

You move onto your knees in gardenia patch and say simple word,

“Bug!” as a large caterpillar lumbers by.

He’s looking at you the same way as that night and theres movement in the door and you find Simon watching. His eyes meet yours are you remember kisses trailed down your neck and you flush and turn away. Oliver’s eyes widen at that and he looks to Simon, the taller man smirking under his mask before raising a brow in challenge and turning away from the door and stalking off. Something clicks in Oliver’s brain then and his chest tightens. 

So there was something. His mind whispers. He calms himself before unzipping his duffle. He pulls out a little box before calling your name. You look to him before your eyes widen and excitement runs though you.

“You didn’t”

He smiles heart thumping, 

“Yea I did Bug.” and he offers the worn box out and the rush forward with a happy laugh and snatch it out of his hand. You smoothly open it to reveal a vintage sony walkman and you tenderly hit the button and tilt back a laugh when Hozier starts playing from it. You move forward and tackle the man in a excited hug. He holds you with a chuckle as you flip the button from stop to play. You then look up at him in his arms and he is content for the first time in years.

Your eyes shine and they flicker back to the duffle bag at the gleam of silver.

“You can look its fine.” He looses his arms and allows you to move forward and you do but his arms wrap around your middle. You wiggle a little bit and a deep chuckle moves through you, you feel a muscular chest press against your back and can feel his dog tags.

“Not letting you go again darlin’” He murmurs it into your ear before setting his head next to yours. Your heart thumps in your chest and you look through his duffle finding a treasure trove of artifacts. He had been by home, Your old stuffed frog is lovingly holding a few mixed cassette tapes. You find a Polaroid and the film for it and something that hurts your heart, there is a picture of your unit signed by everyone. You see Steve holding hands with a girl and smile, happy for him. Then there is one more item, your pulse quickens. On a silver chain is a set of matching rings. The silver is a little wonky, and the gems are glass but you handle the necklace like it is the most valuable item in the world. 

It was the same rings you both got that day before he left. 

“Where?”

“I took a lone trip back home after the ops. I thought about everything and I found them in the space in the wall.” His voice deepens and he spins you in his arms.