#but the story isnt exactly water tight

[s0fter-sin]

gotta love hassan “i have broken no laws” zyani. i guess illegally crossing borders, arson and attempted murder aren’t crimes?

[ickle-ronniekins]

dance with me

request from nonnie! “Hello! Im terribly in love with your writing! I was wondering if maybe, Charlie takes Bill, the twins an (either oc or reader insert) to a muggle party and they’re all super confused but love it and Fred is completely smitten by the OC when she danced and maybe did something weird/special of your choosing. I hope it isnt much, lots of love for u and Mischief Managed! ♥️”

pairing: fred x muggle!reader

word count: 2.2k

A/N: my dudes i don’t even know what the fuck this is but i loved this request so much, didn’t mean to make it sad, sry, also you can interpret this how you will.. personally i think they’re both too vulnerable rn to ~get it on~ but i like to think that maybe fred would open his heart again after this and she’d mend his heartbreak..... brb making myself big sad !!!!!! but listen if you wanna imagine him pinning her against the wall and having the time of his life then go for it, man i'm just...... big into angst;;;;;;; pls reblog & leave feedback & things of the like, thank you loves

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans​ @helloallthethingsilove​ @waschbiber​ @dreamer821​ @the-hufflepuff-of-221b​ @62442-am​ @wtfweasleyy​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @thoseofgreatambition​ @harrysweasleys​ @sleep-i-ness​ @shadowsinger11​ @shadychaoticcollection​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff​ @hood-and-horan​ @letsfightsomeorcs​ @theweasleysredhair​ @purpleskiesstorm​ @hxfflxpxffs​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @finecole​ @angelinathebook​ @highly-acidic​ @purplefragile @90shermione​ @zreads​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​ @parker-potters​ @andromedaa-tonks​ @bbstrawberry0421 | message me to be added!

The foggy, wet streets of the city were unappealing compared to the very comforting, open landscape next to the Burrow. The very last thing that Fred and George had wanted to do was follow their two eldest brothers in the frigid, rainy weather to some silly Muggle party in central London.

Especially Fred.

He didn’t want to be forced out of the one place that made him somewhat happy, especially when he was still nursing the heartbreak that had been causing him so much unpleasantness.

But they’d obliged, because Charlie had nearly pounced on the two of them about it, and they’d much rather go to this than be forced to sit inside the Burrow with pompous Percy -- although, since the war, he had admittedly gotten better at not being a self-righteous git.

The twins had a ton on their plate; not to mention, Fred wasn’t in the mood for any of it. They were dragged out of their business shop by Bill, who was adamant about the fact that they’d both needed a night out, and when they’d tried to persist, telling their eldest brother many times that they had too much to do before the newest shipment of magical inventions came in, Bill had nearly hexed the pair of them, causing them both to shut up almost instantaneously.

But now, as bright, fluorescent lights hit the middle of the room, highlighting you, your smooth and effortless dance moves, and the very lazy grin on your face as you sang along to the booming music in between sips of your drink, Fred wasn’t so huffy about being here anymore.

His heartbreak didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

At least right now, it didn’t.

Admittedly, Bill was right. They really did need a night out. They’d been so bloody busy working that they hadn’t even been to the pub in a few weeks’ time. Ever since the war, business had seemed to escalate, which was really saying something, considering it was incredibly busy even before all of this had gone down. The two of them hardly ever had a moment to breathe. Which, they supposed, was good for Fred. Kept him occupied, kept his mind at bay. But they reckoned they probably needed to hire some more help. Ron had reluctantly agreed to lend a hand. It was Hermione’s idea. A brilliant one, at that.

George thrust a beer frustratingly into his twin’s hands. “We’ve got so much to do, mate.”

“Yeah,” Fred replied breathlessly, truly not listening to a word George was saying.

Fred Weasley had always had it easy when it came to the ladies. They flocked to him, really. He didn’t like to admit it so as not to come off like an entitled prat, but it was true. It was probably due to the fact that he was always making everyone laugh -- something that came equally as easy to him. Perhaps it was his bright red hair that the girls ogled over. Maybe it was his wicked sense of adventure, and the fact that he was always landing himself in questionable situations more often than not. But that was school. He could easily impress those girls at school. He hadn’t had too in a while, though. He’d been happily tied up with the same person for years — that is, until he wasn’t. Until she’d picked someone else.

This was different, though. This was a Muggle party, in the middle of central London, in someone’s sweaty, sticky flat with a bunch of people he didn’t know. Fred couldn’t do magic here. He couldn’t impress someone with his inventions or with his stories about adventure without giving away the fact that he was a from a magical background. He couldn’t use his usual tricks in front of all of these Muggles or he’d be in a ton of hot water.

He also couldn’t let his very intense vulnerability and his rusty flirting get in the way.

But he wouldn’t be Fred Weasley if he didn’t try, right?

It was always easy for Fred to be able to flirt absentmindedly with women. But with his heart in a fragile state, he wasn’t so sure it would be easy tonight.

Bill, picking up on his younger brother’s locked knees and fingers gripped tight around his beer, stopped in front of them. “You alright, Fred?”

“Yeah,” Fred said again, clearing his throat and swigging a bit of his drink. He then thrust the nearly full beer into Charlie’s hands, who furrowed his brows in a confused look. Fred continued, “More than okay. Hey, you guys have fun -- I’ll catch up with you in a bit, alright?”

He left his brothers standing at the other end of the room as he pushed through tons of people. When he’d finally made it to the middle, you were gone. He casually swerved around, peering all around the room to try and meet the gaze with the eyes he felt like he’s known for years already. He then spotted you toward the corner, pouring yourself another drink. His feet began moving before he could register exactly what he was doing; so quickly, in fact, that he hadn’t even heard the obnoxious exchange of words and laughter from behind him from his brothers.

“Merlin, can we go anywhere without Fred picking someone up?”

“Give him a break, mate -- he hasn’t seen anyone since everything unraveled with the last one. It’s been almost two years. Reckon this is good for him — for me, too.”

“Wish it was that easy for me to pick someone up, bloody hell.”

With his heart pounding unnaturally against his ribcage, Fred slid next to you and too began to pour himself a drink, glad to have gotten rid of that beer that Charlie was now undoubtedly guzzling. He opened his mouth to speak, but much to his surprise, you spoke first.

“Ahh -- a whiskey man, are you?”

He was taken aback at the sultry sound of your voice; maybe it was because the music was pounding in his ears, or the fact that you were this foreign person he desperately found himself wanting to know, and very quickly. He looked down at his drink, and then up at you. You were already sipping yours. “That a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily -- though I haven’t decided yet.”

The slight eyebrow raise you gave him made his insides twist. It was too early in the night for nerves. He swallowed them down as he took a swig of his very strong drink. “Haven’t decided, hm?”

You turned to him and then around to face the rest of the party. You inched closer and crossed your arms over your chest, and nodded. “There are three different types of men here tonight, you see. Those, over there,” you pointed with your pinky finger to a bunch of very frat-like men sipping lazily on their beers or glasses of wine, “they’ve come looking for something casual. Not so casual as far as one nighters go, but a fling. Something of the like. Those over on that end,” Fred followed your finger over to a very messy looking group of men who were dancing far too close with some women in the middle of the dance floor -- they looked like they all needed to get rooms. Separately. Merlin. “You know the type of night they’re looking for.”

Fred couldn’t help but snort a bit as he sipped casually.

“And then there’s you. Sipping your whiskey. Cute as ever.”

You turned back toward him and he raised an eyebrow. He was now feeling a bit self-conscious — he was both thrilled and equally embarrassed at being called “cute” by a woman as stunning as you, way out of his league and probably having quite a laugh yourself. He didn’t even know your name. What would you say next? You’d already deemed him the “third type of man” in the room, but the fact that he was a standalone, and not lumped in with another group, made him feel both overwhelmingly relieved, and also slightly terrified. But he tried to play it cool.

“What about me?”

You brought your hand to your hip and wet your lips, pondering this. A small smirk spread itself across your face, the fluorescent light flashing across your eyes. “I dunno yet,”

He liked that. He liked that you didn’t know anything about him. He liked that he didn’t have to be the bloke who made jokes to lighten the mood, the guy who loved messing with people, or the boy who got his heart broken by a girl who’d never really cared for him at all. He didn’t have to be any of those people. He could just be Fred.

“Haven’t decided, I reckon? Like the whiskey?”

You smiled; it was bad enough that Fred was losing his mind solely at the perfume you were wearing, and the fact that this conversation was going absolutely nothing like what he’d planned. Your eyes met his and your voice was soft when you leant in closer, “That’s what makes it so bloody dangerous.”

He didn’t know what the bloody hell you meant by that but he didn’t seem to mind, especially when you grabbed him by the shirt and led him to the dance floor again, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you as some slow song he’d never heard blared through the speakers in the corner.

“And to think — I was just going to come over here and see if I’d even be lucky enough to have a chat,”

You laughed at this, shutting your eyes whilst doing so, and Fred noticed something sparkly painted on your skin toward the edges of your eyes. “What can I say? You’ve intrigued me.”

Perhaps he could do this without any magic. Bloody difficult to not talk all about it, though.

Perhaps his vulnerability would subside, and he’d be able to talk and flirt and dance without thinking back on his own overwhelming heartache that had rendered him nearly useless the last few months.

But after a while, he stopped worrying. The music was so loud, your laughter so infectious, that he’d forgotten all about all those stupid jokes he’d wanted to make about his shop, about Hogwarts, about the magic he’d learned growing up. It wasn’t until you’d asked him to be in the moment with you that he’d truly remembered them.

“Just,” you’d started, tugging gently on the collar of his shirt and biting your bottom lip as another song played loudly, “just be here with me, okay?”

Fred wondered, as glassiness seemed to fill your eyes through a grin at him, if you, too, were in need of this night out.

Maybe you were nursing some kind of heartbreak, too.

Maybe you were also trying to find some type of normal.

It was in your tone — in the way your voice trembled slightly when you’d said be here with me. He didn’t think you were looking for something like a fling, like those guys you’d pointed at before. And he definitely knew that you weren’t looking for one night and one night only, like those sloppy people he’d kept trying to avoid on the dance floor. Maybe, like you’d said, you just needed him to be here. In the moment. Just the two of you, shoes heavy against the hardwood floor, eyes sparkling underneath the lights.

He realized, when he peered down at you and felt some type of warmth for the first time since his own heart was crushed in its vulnerability, that he just needed you to be here with him, too.

So when you leant forward slowly, trying to read his expression, to see if it was okay to do what you wanted to do, he leant in too, pressing his lips gently to yours in a spark of electricity for the first time in Merlin only knows how long.

And what he tasted on your lips sent him spiraling.

When you pulled apart, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. “What?” You asked nervously, biting down on the bottom lip, desperately trying to hide the smirk that was growing on your face.

“A whiskey girl, eh?”

You shrugged casually, as if it meant nothing. But you both knew it meant everything. It was just strange, he thought — your first interaction just hours ago, the conversation you’d held, and how you were here, now, entangled together. You wiggled your eyebrows at him — and he was surprised that he found it both innocent and incredibly alluring. “Told you it’s dangerous.”

You sipped the very last of your drink before tossing your cup into the waste bin. Fred reckoned he could stay here all night, forgetting about all of the things that kept him up at night, the things that had been making him so bloody prone to unpleasantness for such a long time. He wanted to laugh again. He wanted to smile again. He wanted to love again.

When you cocked your head to the side and smiled softly at him, beginning to mouth the words to the music, he reckoned he might just be able too.

Then you tugged on both of his hands, placed them delicately across your waist as you locked your arms around his neck again, you said over the booming of the next stupid song you’d undoubtedly sing every word too,

“Just dance with me, Freddie.”

[samwinchestersgf]

obsession (part three)

prompt: “oh my god! he’s obsessed with you!”

warnings: horror, gore, obsessive weirdo, protective sam. language. nothing worse than what’s in the show, but still unsettling

read part one (here) and part two (here)

another cold slice of the blade makes me thrash in my seat. i could give up. i could give him what he wants, but that wouldn’t end the pain. besides, external pain in easier to deal with than internal pain.

my head slumps and my chin is almost touching my chest. bryan tilts my chin up with the knife. “you can always just tell me you love me, not sam. this can all stop.”

“it seems like you’re enjoying this too much. i’ll pass.” i glare.

i cry out as he cuts through my jeans for the fourth time. he yells, “say it!”

“go to hell!” i yell back.

he lowers himself, so that he’s eye level to me. “darling, it’s been a day. sam isn’t coming. so, you can either keep wasting both of our time, or admit that you love me.”

“i’m not a liar.” my voice is pure venom.

he grabs me by my cheek. “so say you love me.”

i spit at him. he wipes the spit off of his cheek and walks away, his hands behind his head. “i don’t know what to do with you.”

“you could let me go.” i propose.

“and have to go to the police, no way.” he scoffs.

“you’re really amateur at this.” i remark.

“i’ve never fucking kidnapped someone before.” he pauses. “i’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

i look at him pensively. “i don’t know if you know this or not, but this is not normal.”

“being in love in normal,” he argues.

“it’s beyond that, now. you’re not in love with me; you’re obsessed with me.” i correct.

“is there really that big of a difference?” he rolls his eyes.

“huge difference.” i laugh.

he pulls up a chair. “teach me.”

“teach you?” i raise an eyebrow.

“teach me the difference.” he demands again, sitting down.

“well, first of all, when you love someone, you don’t speak to them like that.” i start, deciding to play along. “because you’d never hurt them on purpose, even if it was for their own good.”

“you’re making things up,” he scoffs.

“i’m not. when you love someone, it hurts you to see them in pain. so, if you love someone, you learn to let them go.” i tell him.

i remember back to the time i had to let someone go. sam liked this other girl, and even though it killed me, i stayed quiet. sure, it was partially because i didn’t have the nerve to do anything else, but even if i did, i wouldn’t have. he was happy. i consider telling bryan this story, but it would only make him mad.

“what does being in love feel like?” he asks.

“calm.” i answer. “you can still get butterflies, but being in love with someone means you’re comfortable enough around them to be yourself.”

bryan raises an eyebrow, “are you in love with sam?”

i laugh darkly. i feel my mental walls breaking. it’s been a day. it’s dark, and cold, and dusty. warm, red liquid is everywhere, and i taste copper. i don’t have the energy to keep fighting.

“sam isnt even my boyfriend.” i blurt. “we’re not in love yet, but i love him.”

“you lied?” he stands up.

“yes, i fucking lied. i’m stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car, but i’m not stupid enough to let him think i’m single.” i laugh again.

he cuts my hand. “that’s for lying.”

“cut my tongue out.” i roll my eyes.

“that’s disgusting.” he drops the knife and walks away.

“what? am i too much for you now?” i call out.

“yes! you’re too fucking much for me right now.” he blows up. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

“love isn’t all roses, bryan.” his name is like belladonna.

“well, it’s gonna be. you’re gonna crack, okay?” he yells.

“can you put up with me that long? i can be more annoying, just wait.” i match his volume.

“i don’t know! will you shut up?” he rubs his temples.

i hum, “you don’t love me.”

he marches over and grabs my face roughly, slamming his lips against mine in the most unpleasant way. i stay still, not breathing, not blinking, not moving, until he pulls away. it doesn’t feel anywhere near the feeling i had when sam kissed me.

“why won’t you kiss me?” he looks offended.

“you fucking cut me.” i scoff.

he pinches his nose. “i’m not patient enough for this.”

“let me go?”

“or i could just leave.”

“further proving my point that you don’t actually love me.” i call out to him.

“i do love you, and i always will. i want you stop saying i don’t, because you don’t know how i’m feeling.” he blows up again.

i shake my head. i can’t even respond to him anymore. i’m tired, and cold. i’m starting lose hope. i’m starting to lose faith in sam.

he picks up the knife again, sighing. he lazily runs in across my left cheek, making the two gashes that are already there sting even more.

suddenly, i can hear sirens. i lift my head up and look at bryan. “think they’re coming here?”

“you better hope they aren’t.” he knicks my jaw.

the sirens grow closer and closer, until it’s evident that they’re right outside. bryan freezes, dropping the knife. he looks around, frantic. there’s a door behind me, but he’s not that stupid. he knows they’ll catch him.

“what are you gonna do, buddy?” i ask, smug.

“shut up!” he shouts, “i can’t think!”

the door is kicked down. a swarm of police officers walk in, catching bryan red handed. “hands up!”

he throws his hands up. “i can explain.”

“step away from the girl!” the police officers shout.

i let myself relax a little bit, until bryan speaks. “i was just coming in here to save her.”

“is that true, ma’am?” they ask.

“no.” i say coldly.

the police whisk him away, and emergency responders rush in, untying me and helping me outside. the bright sun outside makes my eyes sting and water. in the corner of my eye, i see sam stand up and get out of his car. they walk me over to him.

“do you think we need to take her to the hospital, mr. winchester? she’s not in any medical danger.” one emergency responder asks.

“i’ve got her, thank you.” he nods. he slips his arm under my shoulders and helps me into the passenger seat of his car.

he doesn’t speak until the door is shut. his voice is tender, and quiet. “what did he do to you?”

i can’t even look at him. “nothing too bad.”

“you’re exactly like dean...” he shakes his head, huffing gently. i want to respond, but i don’t know what i’d say.

“i’m-“

“don’t say your sorry.” he stops me. “just stop.”

i shake my head and sigh. the buzzing of the engine and the low hum of the radio lures me dangerously close to falling asleep. my body dares me to try to stay awake, but i decline. i let my body have what it wants. i sleep.

—————————————

“ah... damnit.” i hiss, eyes still closed.

“i was hoping you’d stay asleep for this part.” sam remarks quietly.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” i open my eyes and look down at him. he’s cleaning the cuts on my legs with alcohol, and damn, it hurts. “we... we obviously need to have a conversation.”

“do you really want to do that now?” he raises an eyebrow, not pausing.

“might as well rip off both bandaids at once.” i joke. “go ahead, yell.”

“i’m not gonna yell.” he states calmly.

“you want to.” i insist.

“i don’t want to yell,” he restates. “are you gonna listen if i don’t?”

“i’ll listen.” i nod quietly, taking a sharp inhale when he starts cleaning the next wound.

“i care about you, so, so much. i thought you understood that.” he doesn’t look at me yet. i remember two nights ago when he kissed me.

“i understand it, sam.” i respond.

“then, why would you go out and do something reckless like that? do you have any idea how terrified i was all day?” his voice breaks. “i tracked your phone to his house, and i tracked it to that abandonded place, and the whole time, i was terrified.”

“i’m sorry, sam.” my chest drops.

“why did you do it?” he asks, bandages a cut.

“i wanted to let him know that i wasn’t gonna talk to him anymore,” i swallow.

“you couldn’t have texted him? or, waited for me get home? or, hell, at least have told me where you were going?” he questions.

“i wasn’t thinking,” i admit.

“i know that,” he sighs and finally looks up at me. “i’m not even mad.”

“it would be easier if you were,” my voice breaks in sync with my heart when i see his eyes. his expression is hard, but there’s a hint of softness and worry that makes me want to crumble.

“i already have someone in my life that is stupidly brave, y/n.” he drops his cleaning supplies and grabs my hand.

i squeeze his hand ever so slightly. “yeah?”

“i... i don’t want you to be that person. i want you to be cautious.” he rubs my hand with his thumb.

“that’s just not me.” i swallow.

“i don’t wanna lose you. i just got you; i can’t lose you.” he reiterates.

i sit all the way up. i hesitate, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips, and in one swift motion, i close the distance. despite the butterflies in my stomach, i’m calm. i pull back quietly, letting out a slow breath.

he doesn’t say a word. we both already know what he’s thinking. he’s extra gentle when he resumes cleaning my wound. when he’s finished, he just looks at me for a second, and then gets up to go put the supplies away.

nerves course through my. i clear my throat and call out. “sam?”

he turns around. “hm?”

“don’t leave me.” i shake.

he walks back over and wraps me in a tight hug, kissing my forehead. “i won’t.”

—————————————

thank you guys sooo much for the overwhelming support on this series! if you like what you see, you could go ahead and follow me ;)

here’s my tag list for this series!@patrickfluegers @vicmc624 @vampire7595 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @eternal-maniac

[shhh-no-ones-home]

not an obituary javier pena x reader

+++++++++

i am in my feels, hello yes, it is sad boi hours. holy shit this is depressing as hell.

tw: strong mentions and themes of self harm, abuse, death, and past traumas. read at your own risk.

to anyone dealing with this it is okay to reach out, to get help, and to even feel this way. what matters most is your health and safety and just know that it absolutely does get better, i promise. i went through it and i know first hand, you will get through this, and you will live a beautiful life.

song: dead butterflies by architects 

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

my hands shook as i listened to the ringing of the receiver. i had been crying for hours and my face was still stained by tears. i was only just beginning to calm down, staring at the broken mirror in front of me. god i looked so tired. how did i let this happen again? i said id never let this happen again. well. i guess i hadnt broken my promise yet. i hadnt actually done anything, but the thoughts alone made me feel like i was betraying myself. i squeezed my eyes closed tightly. maybe i should just hang up and let it run its course. then i heard the ringing stop.

"pena."

he said urgently and i felt a sob leave my body.

"hello?"

he asked, a little concerned and the tears started again.

"javi i need help."

i said, crying into the phone as i slid down the wall of my bathroom.

"im leaving now, dont do anything till i get there."

he sounded so worried. but in all fairness he had every right to be. i had told him about my past, at his request, but i still did it. it was hard to hide them given our usual past time so i figured i might as well. he knew where the scars on my body came from. each one had a story that i longed to forget, the new bruises on my wrist just bellow one of them. it was from the rubber band i refused to take off, being apparent of a better habit i had once picked up. it was just enough pain. but what does one do when that isnt enough?

"hurry."

i whispered before the phone went dead. my whole body shook as i kept coming back to the memories of how it felt the first time. god i craved it. i wanted that life back but id come so far. i shook my head as i pressed my forehead into my knees. i just want it to go away. i want the suffering to go away, the memories, the way it felt then and the way it feels now. i could easily let it go now, i knew a million and one ways. but javi was already on his way. i couldnt do that to him. i couldnt let him find me like that. especially not after he'd pushed me to celebrate a decade of being clean. ten whole years of not hurting myself. i almost couldnt believe it. it felt like such a long time when i heard it out loud like that.

"y/n!"

i heard, snapping my attention to the bathroom door as it swung open. javi was staring down at me with a worried look on his face but he sighed in relief when he saw me still fully intact.

"jesus, you scared the shit out of me."

he said, standing beside me and sliding down the wall to sit beside me. i just stared at him, eyes blurry as he looked back to me.

"i cant do it anymore."

i croaked out, feeling another hot tear slip down my cheek. he looked at me with the utmost pity before kissing my forehead and pulling me into his side.

"talk to me, please, what happened?"

he said softly, petting my hair as i pushed my face into his chest. i just shook my head.

"i dont want to feel this way again."

i mumbled against him, moving my hand into his. i looked down at them together as he ran his thumb over the back of my hand.

"when was the last time you left the house?"

he asked and i bit my lip, watching as he turned my hand over. i felt so guilty in that moment. he knew the answer, i hadnt been to work in over a week.

"would you mourn me?"

i asked and he pulled me up, holding my head in his hands and looking between my eyes. i wanted to cry again, seeing now just how broken he was too.

"you know i would."

he said softly and i nodded, closing my eyes but only for a moment. i looked back at him as he pressed his thumbs through the tear tracks on my face, pushing them away.

"but you and i both know i dont do funerals."

he said and i let out a shaky laugh, watching as he tried to flash me a smile, albeit unconvincing.

"i dont think i could trust anyone else to write my eulogy though."

i said and he moved his hands slowly away from me, taking my hand back in his.

"well if i have any say in it, you wont need one for a long while."

i glanced over his face a few times before he stood up, pulling me to my feet too. he brought me out into the living room and it was the first time id really had a good look at the damage id caused. my furniture was all flipped about, glass shattered from the flower vase on my coffee table and the water from it poured out onto the rug. if anything it reflected exactly how i felt about the situation. i sighed at the sight of it.

"ya know,"

i started, taking his attention as we made it passed the wreckage and to the door. he paused as he reached for it.

"once upon a time i wanted so badly for my address to be six feet under."

he looked over my face again as i spoke.

"but even all the depression in the world couldnt make me leave you."

i said and he just stared at me for a second. when i looked down and moved to open the door he pulled me into a tight hug, holding me like id slip away if he let go or loosened his grip. i hugged him back like my life depended on it, and in that moment it felt like it did.

"ill do everything i can to keep you safe."

he whispered before kissing the side of my head. i breathed deeply, feeling some of my stresses melt away as i inhaled him.

"as long as thats true i promise to stay out of the paper."

i said as he pulled away, nodding once at me and opening the door.

"if i ever got that call i dont know what id do with myself."

he confessed as we made our way to the stairs of the apartments that led outside. i side nodded.

"i guess we'll never find out."

i said, offering my pinky as we stepped into the warm open air of the Columbian summer. he just looked at me for a second before interlocking his pinky with mine.

"thats a deal. now lets go get you something to eat, im sure you could use it."

he mentioned and i laughed a little, looping my arm around his as we made our way down the street. i watched the ground for a moment as we walked, thinking how lucky i was to have him in my life. how lucky i was to be able to live for someone that wasnt myself, because the one thing they never tell you is that if you arent tethered to someone it makes it that much easier to let go. now i had someone who would look after me, keep me dependable, and keep me alive. even if he didnt know it. i half smiled at the thought, slipping my hand in his and swinging our arms back and forth. he just looked at me and i kissed his shoulder lightly.

"thank you javier, i dont know what i would do without you."

[seijorhi]

asks :)

so this is now a thing because i’m terrible at staying on top of them

have a bunch of answers below the cut

I've never even seen Haikyuu. I found your writing first, It hits all my kinks, and I have booked a weekend off work this week specifically to spend it watching the anime! So thanks for a new obsession!!

Funny story, I was exactly the same - I stumbled on some amazing Haikyuu fics and kinda got interested and decided to give the anime a shot even though I’ve never really been a sports anime fan and... well, here we are. 

But just so you’re aware 99.9% of the characters are actual sweethearts and not at all like how I write them haha. I hope you like it though! It’s a weirdly addictive show I never thought I’d care so much about a bunch of volleyball nerds haha

holy shit holy shit outrunning fate is so good??? your writing is magic??? thank you for blessing us with it oh my God

Hi i love you, thank you for being so sweet??

Suga AND daichi?? BARK BARK WOOF GRRRR 🥴

Suga and Daichi could literally wreck me any day of the week, I am such a fucking whore for them. But really, thank the big brain anon who requested it!

that goshiki anon 😳 it got me thinking.........tsutomu would defo have a praise link of somekind; him hearing his partner goad him on during sex would just get him WILD

I’m not sure if this comes across in my fics or not, but I am a huge slut for praise kink and you are so right, anon! Goshiki just wants you to tell him how good he’s making you feel, how much you love his cock driving into your tight, warm pussy (and it’s really better for everyone involved if you do) 😌

MAAM !! Oikawa with breeding kink got me WEAK. I totally saw an art of timeskip him, iwa + matsuhana in black suits looking like the daddies that they are JUST BEFORE I read it and your writing definitely is the beautiful cherry on top for my aoba johsai missing hours. That closing like is just superb, ma'am. SIMP

I think I know which art you’re talking about and I 1000% agree that shit is HOT. I was not expecting to love them as much as I do, but here we are

also I have some de-fucking-licious third year requests sitting in my inbox I can’t wait to write for y’all!

You write so so good!! The way you write yan!Aizawa and yan!Kuroo, ughh! Pure perfection ❤️ I'm a simp for these two. I just can't. So so good 😭 Okay imma leave now

Wait no anon come back!! asdfghjkl they’re two of my faves and I adore them, so thank you, bby!!

omg did i just wake up to breeding kink oikawa? i wonder, are yanderes nice to their babies? i mean ofc they’re their child, but isnt there some part of them thats bitter towards their offspring bc they take their darling’s attention away from them?

It really depends on the individual character I think. Some would see your kid as the perfect physical representation of your love together and would dote on and spoil the fuck out of their kids. Others would use the kid purely as a means of a) keeping you bound to them and b) for lack of a better word - leverage, and some would find they liked the idea of a kid more than the actual child itself. They want to love and adore it as much as they do you, but it’s always crying and taking up so much of your time

um youre highkey one of my fave yandere writers mwah thank you for your works, pls rmb to drink some water today ily 💕💕💕

Hi anon, i love you, you’re a gem. Please take care of yourself too, bby!

in the bully! oikawa fic, what would happen if iwa fell for oikawa’s darling? since yk, theyre both strong ass personalities

So I’ve touched on it a little bit here and here but I think it’s a tough one. It really depends on Oikawa and whether he’s willing to outright share. Because I think he’d have no issues leaving you with Iwa when he can’t be around for whatever reason because he knows that on some level, Iwa cares for you (and is willing to excuse all the giant red flags) and will stop you from doing anything stupid. He’d try and temper Oikawa, to a degree, but I also think his own impulses would let him be easily swayed by the setter - at least where you’re concerned.

He’s not the type to try and take you for himself - that’s not his style - but growing a bit bolder when Oikawa’s not around (and sometimes when he is) the lines between friend - or in this case, semi protector/captor - and something more gets blurry pretty quickly. And it’s not like you’re gonna fight back.

And maybe Oikawa likes seeing you at his best friend’s mercy a little too much.

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 14

IN THIS EPISODE OF THE OFFAL HUNT LIVEBLOG:

On the other end of the line, Cinder let out a tight sigh. “Yeah. Okay, well—I’m in a difficult position right now. I’m balancing a lot. So, that wasn’t, you know, directed at you or whatever… I’m just trying to deliver you to Atlas. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Glynda said. “This apology sucks.”

CINDER FALL TRIES TO HAVE MANNERS. AND FAILS. BUT SHE TRIES.

it’s been a WHILE but i’m STILL HERE!!!!!!!!! also i’m a little late to the draw and also unlike w/ prior chaps i did actually read this one when it came out so i’ve had my first run already. BUT that means i actually get 2 Focus so lets get this party started

so we’re now entering into the New Umbraroot Arc which Frightens me on a deep and intrinsic scale because now i have no padding to ready me for whatever the Hell is going to occur, but i do know it will be gay(er) than the current content was (is/shall be) and here’s the proof

It had only been a day, but the sound of Cinder’s voice was a relief to Glynda’s senses.

glynda that’s gay. hey. hey. glynda have u been told yr a lesbian. lesbeeb. besbion--

“Not at all.” Thank god. It was one thing to be traveling with Cinder Fall. It was entirely another to have her checking in on Glynda’s well-being.

cinder: my well-being is SHIT but thankfully there’s someone nearby doing WORSE than me, which makes me feel better at least,

“Oh.” Our sounded strange in her mouth.

my favourite thing abt any gay media and content is that it’s gay in ways that hettie(tm) nonsense can only dream of being. when a story is abt a guy and a gal all the romantic tension comes from like. looking at a tiddy or getting naked or w/e the shit. here? it’s literally found entirely in the use of the word our. such power. i love it.

I went from unknown to one of Atlas’ most wanted overnight, which is charming… And also annoying, because they refuse to stop pasting wanted posters on every street corner.

i feel like cinder is the type of bitch to send pics of them back to emerald like ‘is my face ACTUALLY that janky??? my hair is a state. you think they’ll use a selfie if i ask nicely???’

Cinder hummed, affirmative. “Which would be unnecessary, if you hadn’t reported me.”

Glynda returned, “I wouldn’t have reported you if you hadn’t been committing a crime.”

glynda you snitch. you narc. you bootlicker. does be gay do crime mean NOTHING to you,

We left a funny taste in her mouth, almost as strange as when Cinder had said our. She tried not to examine it too closely.

again. look at this shit. this is real slowburn hours. this is how u DO IT.

Her heart was beginning to feel like a pin cushion with all the needles pulled out, little holes left in their wake.

would i be showing my age if i glanced at this and wondered if it were a reference to the inciting og offal hunt inspiration fic or. it does doesnt it. okay moving on.

“Okay.” And then, in an effort to change the subject to something lighter: “I’ve never broken into a country before.”

glynda’s complete and continuous inability to actually like. do what she plans on doing is SO funny to me. she’s going to be stealthy, she says, throwing a man aside in obvious fashion. i’m going to be subtle, she says, being as conspicuous as possible. she’s a disaster and i live for it.

"The Faunus." Cinder's voice was cold. "Don't speak to her."

this part of this fic is subtitled ‘cinder’s rank opinions time’, apparently. not that u can tell. but it is. dsfhgjsdfghjghfjdk

In the silence that followed, Glynda thought of the stunted horns jutting above Cinder's hairline at the restaurant.

Glynda murmured, "That’s a horrible thing to say."

"Don’t start." There was no concession in her words. “I mean it.”

“...I just didn’t expect that from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was something in Cinder’s tone that told Glynda that nothing she said would be correct. She said nothing.

cinder’s! rank! opinions! time! honestly this section victimises me the MOST as i very famously cried over an earlier section in which cinder thought abt all the faunus she grew up with, so i know that kc and diesel were looking to hurt me directly. that said i DO find it funny that cinder, yet again, looks like a pile of shit.  she can’t do anything right. naturally inclined to be the villain completely unintentionally. what a moron.

A harsh laugh. “What do you think we are, friends?”

“Well, no—um. Not really, but—”

YOU SEE. CINDER. PLEASE. £10 FOR U TO BEHAVE FOR FIFTEEN SECONDS.

“Then, just—just listen to me. I’m going to get us there. I p-promise.” There was a soft sound, like disgust or the prelude to a gag. “Urgh, your soul—give me more space.”

cinder: i’m inclined to being an asshole glynda: every time yr mean 2 me i’ll make u feel worse cinder: ah no. ah shit. i have to be nice??? ah fuck. what the shit is this.

Glynda thought of Ozpin. It wasn’t a comforting thought—more like the memory of a near-accident, like sliding on ice and feeling the world shift beneath you. It was a flinch-thought, and it would have made her miserable instead of just homesick had she not shut it out so quickly.

god the writing in this fic is so especially pristine. everything feels so real and visceral and you just know Exactly how that feels. it’s brilliantly punchy and i adore the way u get have the exact sensation click into place. it’s SO good.

She wondered if it was the same moon Bacia and Vivienne had looked upon. If they had felt the same beneath its pale light. The Great War had seen two shatterings of the moon, so perhaps it had appeared different, but… Glynda couldn’t help but wish that it was something they shared, even lifetimes apart.

👈😎👈

actually im a little nervous abt doing fingerguns because WHAT IF SMTHNG HAS CHANGED... but i think this bit is. safe. maybe. diesel. kc. am i safe,

Glynda closed her eyes and tried to feel out that instinctual power within her. Tried to know herself better. It resonated around her like a water in a tank, nearly palpable.

again this is just GREAT storytelling. i just LOVE how well kc and diesel turn abstract ideas into such physical manifestations it’s completely unreal. r y’all seein this shit???

upon checking his number, she’d discovered it had been blocked.

i love that glynda is abt as knowledgeable abt little jumps like this as the reader is. are we surprised as a reader? yes. is glynda also surprised? HELL YEAH SHE IS. SHE AIN’T GOT A FUCKIN CLUE MY DUDE.

Remembering the notes to herself not to trust Winter, Glynda opened the log hesitantly.

glynda no yr sending read receipts to yr future gf and thats a bad move on everybodys part

The indicator showed this wasn’t the first time Glynda had accessed the message. She couldn’t remember doing so. 

OH NO BITCH U ALREADY DID

“Special Operative Schnee, things are…” Glynda paused, searching for something suitably vague to say. “Proceeding.

do you see what i mean abt glynda’s ineptitude. it’s slapstick levels of ridiculous and i’m living for it.

Do you suspect she’s attempting to cross the border?”

“Maybe.”

‘sure,’ glynda says. ‘you could word it like that if you wanted to.’

“Bold of her, if nothing else. She should know there will—” Glynda skimmed through the rest of the paragraph to reach the end, the corners of her mouth curling. “—can make arrangements. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

HGSDFGKHJSFDGHKJDF JESUS CHRIST

its like in fallout 4 when someone tells u important info and when u click past it the main character just goes ‘uh huh’ ‘yeah’ ‘okay’ ‘sure’ ‘mm-hm’ as the text boxes whizz by GLYNDA PLEASE

Bubbles appeared, showing that Cinder was typing. Glynda waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The bubbles appeared and disappeared four times.

She flipped back to Cinder’s conversation and found that, after all that time, Cinder had finally settled on a reply.

It said:

“Good.”

i just had to pair these up for a second if only to say: dis me lol

okay let’s double back for a second just to cover this Juicy Lore:

If you’d like, I can arrange a bouquet of flowers to be left at your mothers’ memorial site. My thoughts are with you.”

For a long moment, Glynda simply stared at the screen. [...] In quick succession, she realized that it had been sixteen days since she’d met with Cinder in the restaurant and that it was soon to be the anniversary of her mothers’ deaths.

WHAT IS THIS LORE MA’AM AND MX??? **MA’X**??? firstly idk what the HELL the Black March tragedy is but im fascinated but also: did u have to do that. can ONE person in this fic not have [spoilers redacted cant say that yet no sir] problems??? no??? die. dsfhjgghjkfsddf

Glynda picked herself up from the armchair, neat and tidy, and disassembled into bed, pulling the covers up to her throat. With her Semblance, she turned off the lights. She closed her eyes.

It was quiet. Cold. The only thing she felt was the weight of her soul.

Her Scroll buzzed. Glynda answered it.

“Glynda.” It was Cinder. “I can feel that.”

okay following on from cinder’s text message, i just. love that cinder’s having such direct repercussions to her shitty shitty actions. like this is all tying together in some 👈😎👈 instances but having cinder be her usual callous self and having to literally turn around and start fucking Being Nice For Once is VERY gratifying. fuck you you lil round-faced one-braincelled baby. time to learn to have some Manners. jgdsfghsdfghfjd

She’d simply resigned to the loneliness of having no one to trust but Cinder, and then, not even having her.

... thats gay. hey lads is that gay? its gay. it feels gay.

On the other end of the line, Cinder let out a tight sigh. “Yeah. Okay, well—I’m in a difficult position right now. I’m balancing a lot. So, that wasn’t, you know, directed at you or whatever… I’m just trying to deliver you to Atlas. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Glynda said. “This apology sucks.”

this feels like a reference to 👈👈👈😎👈👈👈 (IS IT. AM I RIGHT. IT IS ISNT IT) but also: LOOK AT CINDER GO. TRYING. BADLY. BUT TRYING. i love her she sucks so much shes such a dumbass. feel the consequences. feel them.

Glynda chided herself; Cinder Fall wasn’t capable of remorse, but she was more than capable of simple math. It seemed the worse she treated Glynda, the worse she herself would feel.

glynda: she’s doing this because it makes her feel better, not me cinder in like idk 20 chapters down the line:

(i guess thats another 👈😎👈 moment but for GOOD REASON)

There was a shift, like Cinder was rolling over, or maybe propping herself up. Was she in bed also? It triggered the remembrance of Glynda’s own physicality, and she turned over as well, searching in the dark for the nightstand and the lamp upon it. The light clicked on. The room brightened. Glynda settled in, ready.

OOOOOH THE PARALLELS. glynda turning the lights off and sinking into darkness and the void versus perking up and sitting up and turning the lights on when talking to cinder!!!!!!! POETIC CINEMA. OOF. OOF. HOW DOES FIFTEEN POINTS OF LOVE TASTE.

“Great! Lovely. Glad to hear it.” Fangs rounded out the words like scissors. A pleasant sense of satisfaction unfurled in Glynda’s chest. “So, once upon a fucking time—”

there were two gays and they were enemies to lovers but didnt know it yet. but they will be.

THATS CHAPTER 14 BABEY!!!!!!!! i LOVED this chap and i can rly feel kc and diesel gearing up for umbraroot. its great being able to like. feel the shift of focus goin on here and im SO ready to see this arc play out. once again offal hunt is the best fic ever made. this is a fact.

[an-umbra]

You put a smile on my face. [Joker X Reader | One shot]

SHORT SUMMARY

Becoming a comedian. That's your dream. You have the opportunity to prove yourself because you have a guest appearance on a Murray Franklin Show. But it will be anything but amusing. While you hope for a successful evening, Murray amuses himself with Arthur's clip. Instead of bursting out in laughing you defend the man on the screen. Without knowing that the Joker has kept an eye on you now ...

AUTHORS NOTE

This is my first post on Tumblr, I am kinda nervous! Since English isnt my first language I apologise for any mistakes in the story, I tried my best though, haha-

Also, I didnt write anything for ages, so I am very thankful for any feedback on this! 🖤

Last but not least; Thank you to anyone who is taking her/his time to read the story. 🖤

CONTAINS

- The images/gifs used are from the Joker played by Joaquin Phoenix. Also, the story is based on events that happened in the movie. Still, you can imagine this with any version of the Joker you want to ~

- No real sexual content, but a bit of tension and touching 

- Word count: 1440

STORY

Faster, faster and faster your heart beats, until it feels like it could jump out of your chest at any moment. You could just turn around. It wasnt too late. Your eyes turned to the mirror where you saw your fear-distorted face. The wobbling of your legs - that was one of your habits when you got nervous - made your reflection shake up and down. "Just be yourself" you gave your image as advice and pressed the muscles of the corner of your mouth up, but you could not stop them from trembling. Nervousness was a feeding sensation. You just wanted to disappear, maybe back into your protective four walls, without spectators, without any human soul.

"Are you ready?"  a voice asked coming from the direction of the door. Am I ready? You repeatedly thought to yourself. You pressed your fingertips against your palm and exhaled one last time for the jump in the icy water. "For sure!" came back in response from you.

You stood up and let your hands slide over your dress. Every single fiber tickled your skin. One last look in the mirror; you at least should look good if everything went wrong. A pair of pants would have been more comfortable than this tight dress. You sighed and started questioning everything again. "(Y / N) please stand behind the curtain!" Your body jerks briefly before your feet carry you towards the curtain. While you stood in front of the curtain, you would have liked to disappear - whoosh - just gone like you've never been here. "Please welcome our next guest, (Y / N)!" Tap. Tap. Every single step echoed through the great hall. The clapping of the audience boomed in your ears and the spotlight fell on your pale skin. Swallow. Breathe. Everything would be fine, that was your first appearance. You gave the audience a short smile and raised your hands in the air to greet everybody. "Thank you so much for having me here today" you squeezed out of you as Murray reaches out to you. Next to him, you looked like a trembling puppy taking his first steps. Would you ever achieve this professionalism?

When you sat down on the sofa, Murray asked for an applause again, after all, it was your first time on a big stage. An audience like this and thousands of people watching you in front of the TV, it felt good. It felt really good. As if you could finally be heard. As if that was the beginning of your long-awaited dream as a comedian.

But Murray did not ask you for a joke. Not for a single one. "Today we want to take a look at the something" he told the audience. Alright. Maybe you could do a number afterwards. A clip appeared on the studio screen. It was a man. He held a kind of notebook in his hands. He flipped through the pages until he folded the book and began to speak: "It's funny, when I was a little boy, and told people I was going to be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one's laughing now." The uncertainty in his voice promised that this guy was probably just as insecure as you were. You could understand him though. "Youre dead right!" Murray exclaimed with a puffed-up laugh. The audience laughed in rows. "What do you think of our encouraging beginning (Y / N)?" He turned to you and smiled at you. Put on and experienced. That's exactly what his smile looked like. "Are you serious now?" You put back as a question. You did not dare to blink, you even stopped the breath of air that you just took. What did you just say? Why were you so angry? It doesnt matter. It was too late to change what you just said. The moderator's smile slid down his face. The eyebrows snuggled closer to his eyes, which he squashed. He probably did not believe what he had heard himself. "Well" he began unaware, "dont you think that's funny?" Funny? You did not know what was funny about it. This man wanted to make people laugh. But they robbed him of this attempt. "I found the gentlemen you just demonstrated here funny" swallowing, you pressed your fingertips even harder in your hand until it almost hurt. "I do not want to be part of this show anymore." Now or never. You got up and looked into the audience. Disappointed faces. Whispering heads, which leaned towards their counterpart. Everyone was as horrified as Murray. Then you turned to the camera. "I apologize to you on behalf of this show ... keep trying to make people laugh. You already made me laugh." You tried to cheer up the man who had probably just watched this series with great anticipation and was now the victim of a corrosive society.

                               Tonight was your last performance on TV.

TWO WEEKS LATER

You sat in the train. The usual everyday life, working, eating and sleeping. Itwas sad, but it was paying off your bills. You had pressed your bag against your chest, because today the train was overcrowded again. Breathing was hardly possible, it felt like breathing in dust. Not long ago a movement had started in Gotham. Many people disguised themselves as clowns and protested. Triggered by a clown who shot and killed three employees of Wayne Enterprises in the subway. The tense situation in the city did not surprise you. Dissatisfaction. Poverty. Everything carried the city into the abyss. The train jerked your body back and forth, while your eyes remained fixed on the ground. Which station were you at? You looked up - boom - he had met you, the look you would never forget. First ice cold. Rigid. But when he noticed that you returned the intense eye contact, his expression changed. 

He puts a smile on his face, at the same time his right brow made a small jump. Left. Right. Your eyes looked around hastily. Nothing. He actually looked at you. You were overwhelmed. What should you say? Should you even say something? How did this guy know you? Thousand of questions. No Answer. He was different from the rest of the protesters, his face was full of make-up, it was no mask. Somehow it fascinated you. Was that weird? You saw the passion with which he had applied the mak -up. "City Hall" an artificial voice finally said. All clowns gathered before exiting. The squares emptied rapidly. Suddenly, a large hand placed itself on your thigh. The fingers slide into the inner side of your leg and gently pressed themselves into your flesh. "Thank you, beautiful" the deep voice whispered softly in your ear. Goosebumps appeared over your entire body and you released a pleasant sigh. Your ear became so hot that it was barely noticeable. The red lips of the clown easily brushed your ear and made you stare. "You turned my negative thoughts into some .. lets see how I should put it .. pretty" amusing "ones .." You could feel him grinning on your ear and starting to laugh softly. You recognized the laughter, even if it was only short. It was the laugh from Murray's show. The laughter of the man you were protecting. But this laugh, which now escaped his lips, reflected the madness of his soul. You liked it, you liked it a weird way, very much. He removed his face from your ear and looked you in the eyes for a few seconds. You could feel his hot breath on your lips. You may have been apart at one fingertip. His eyes fixed on your lips. Slowly you lowered your eyelids, so that they were only half open. It felt like an eternity until it happened, but finally he put his lips on yours. Nothing. There was nothing more than the overwhelming feeling in you. And the desire not to stop. But after your lips were touched briefly, the artificial voices made another announcement: "Step away, the doors are closing." He looked back hastily, took a few steps back and left the wagon. "Dont miss me too much (Y/N)" He licked his lips briefly and laughed a little louder. Him knowing your name made your heart skip a beat. But it also gave you the most sincere smile since a long time. 

When the train left the weird feeling remained in your entire body. Your eyes followed him until the last moment. "Too late .." you gave back as a late reply.

                 One little taste already made you went crazy for him

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[reesewestonarchive]

chapter seven / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

Twenty five cents seems so much heavier than it should. A weight in his pocket, in his palm, and Nakoa knows getting the heaviness from him will only make him feel better, but…

He still can’t pick up the receiver.

Rain pelts against the side of the phone booth, and Nakoa shivers. Across the street, Rem sits in the van, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, smoking. Nakoa can just barely make him out through the foggy window panes.

They haven’t talked all morning. Not even so much as a hello.

With shaking fingers, Nakoa drops the coins into the payphone and lifts the receiver. Dials home, and waits.

If his father picks up, Nakoa will hang up. He’ll return to the car, he’ll ride off into the sunset with Rem. If his father picks up, Nakoa won’t listen, won’t even speak. He’ll let the fucker wonder.

“Hello?”

It’s his mother. Nakoa’s heart clenches, nausea twists his stomach into knots. He voice cracks a, “Mom?” and he feels twelve years old again, the first time Michael hit him. Donna says nothing, though, so Nakoa says, “Did I lose you…?”

“No, one moment, let me get a pad…” Then, distantly, “Just someone from work, Michael, I’ll take this in the other room.”

Relief spreads through his veins, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. She’s keeping him from Michael, and—he chokes out a laugh. Thinks if she’s stood up for him years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Nakoa,” she says, her voice watery and weak. “Are you okay? I won’t ask where you are, but are you okay? Do you need money? I can—” She pauses. “I don’t know how I would get it to you, but I /could/, sweetheart, I could.”

Nakoa grips the receiver, closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of tears. Fuck. “I didn’t—No, Mom, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

A sigh of relief. “Now I know you’re safe, yes.” Another pause. “Why did you leave?”

“Don’t—this isn’t. I’m not—” He leans his head against the phone box. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I miss you so much,” Donna says. It feels like Michael’s hands around his throat, hearing her words. “I wish you would come home.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He swallows. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Okay?”

“You’ll visit, though, won’t you?”

Fear grips him tight around the throat. “No—I can’t—” Once upon a time, Nakoa thought maybe he’d never get out of his father’s sight. Now that he has, the idea of ever seeing him again…

He looks back at the van, at Rem playing air guitar in the driver’s seat. “I’ll—I’ll call again, okay?”

“Nakoa, wait!” Donna hesitates, then says, “He has people looking for you. You know your father is an influential man, I just… please be careful.”

People—why the fuck would Michael care about it. Why would he waste resources on finding his own fuck up of a son?

Nakoa shakes, anxiety rocking him apart. “I gotta go. Love you, bye.”

He slams the phone down in its cradle harder than he needs to, steps out of the phone box, and stumbles to the van. The rain’s at a downpour now, and when Nakoa climbs in the passenger seat, next to Rem, he’s soaked.

“How’d it go?” Rem asks, turning down the music. Then, seeing Nakoa’s expression, asks, “Hey, what the fuck—what’s wrong?”

Nakoa’s throat feels tight, tears burning at the corner of his eyes again. He blinks, says, “Nothing,” but then Rem’s hand is on his shoulder and Nakoa breaks.

His sobs are silent, quiet things sung to the backdrop of The Cure, and Rem pulls Nakoa into a hug, awkward from the angle but no less appreciated. He speaks against Nakoa’s ears, but the blood roars too loudly in his ears to be heard.

Searching for him. Nakoa thinks about the stories Rem’s told him, about the guy with a bat, the windshield, and, when he can speak, Nakoa asks, “Did you know?”

“Know what?” But Rem sounds sufficiently confused, and Nakoa doesn’t want to believe he’d lie to him, so he decides he doesn’t believe it. “Hey.”

Nakoa doesn’t look at him. Thinks back to all the stupid shit he’s said and done, the mixtape, leaving in the first place without a plan. “Rem.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is soft, and in the storm, Nakoa thinks this is the safest he’s ever felt. Locked away from the world in Rem’s arms.

Maybe it’s how lost he feels, maybe it’s Rem’s breath warm against his neck, but Nakoa still feels safe enough to say, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It doesn’t hurt to say them. Nakoa’s not sure if it’s because he already hurts so much, another piece of it won’t make it worse, or if it’s…

Rem’a lips brush against his neck, soft, softer than Nakoa’s used to from him, but he says nothing. After their morning, Nakoa’s surprised by his closeness, surprised by how easily he came to Nakoa, but.

“I’m an idiot,” Rem says.

Nakoa blinks. “That’s not exactly the response a guy wants to hear.” Rem laughs. “Neither is that.”

“It’s not… badly received, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Rem clears his throat, pulls away. “…you’re…that’s…”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Nakoa says. “That’s what the tape was for. Kind of let you figure it out on your own.” Without Rem’s body heat, the van’s cold. Nakoa reaches for the knob for the heater, fingers shaking again. “I didn’t wanna fuck this up.”

Rem’s voice is soft when he says, “You wouldn’t have fucked it up. Hell, if I haven’t fucked it up…”

But commitment’s a different storm than… whatever it is they’ve been doing. Intertwined, but Nakoa knows the feelings he gets from Rem, but he’s wanted to fuck plenty of people. Rem goes farther than that.

He always has.

“Hey,” Rem says, knocking his elbow against Nakoa’s. “We’ll figure this out. That’s what we do, right?”

Figure it out. A weight settles in Nakoa’s chest. “Right.” He turns away. The van no longer feels like home, but like a prison. Maybe he was better off at home, under Michael’s thumb, or…

With a frustrated sigh, Rem says, “I’m not. I don’t mean—”

“Can we just not talk about it? Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t say it back.” Rem gives a frustrated groan. “I’ll get there, okay, I will. Just, this is important. You’re important.”

Nakoa certainly doesn’t feel that way. He clears his throat, wipes a hand down his face, and says, “Can we just go?”

-

He splurges for a hotel on the coast. It takes half of what Nakoa has left, but it’s worth it for two nights of the view of the ocean, for two nights with the salty breeze.

For two nights of Rem getting decent rest in his own bed.

They arrive at 9am to the hotel. Nakoa’s kept his distance for a while, after his accidental confession, and he hasn’t touched Rem without being touched since. He’s passed out in the passenger seat, instead of sleeping with Rem on the mattress, because the closeness feels wrong in the aftermath of Nakoa’s words.

But he steps out of the van and closes his eyes at the wind coming off the ocean, and feels peace. Water droplets spray his face, and Nakoa imagines what it might be like to drift away on waves like these, away from Michael, from money and the concern of where they’re going to sleep next.

Rem takes two towels from their room for the beach, and Nakoa disappears with a fake ID to the nearest liquor st to surprise him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Aw,” Rem says, twisting the top off. Behind him a sign reads, NO ALCOHOL ON BEACH. Rem downs half the small bottle and hands the rest to Nakoa. “You spoil me.”

Nakoa shrugs, downs the rest of it.

With the people around, Nakoa keeps to himself a little more, thankful for the excuse. Still, Rem has other ideas. “No one knows us here,” Rem says, against Nakoa’s neck. “We could fuck on the beach if you wanted.”

“And get thrown into jail?” Nakoa snorts. “Actually, fucking you might be worth the public indecency charge.”

Rem’s mouth is warm at his neck, sends shivers down Nakoa’s spine. “You think you can take me?” His voice is low, rough against Nakoa’s ear.

“Bold words,” Nakoa says, but instead of turning around and pulling him into a kiss, Nakoa elbows him in the ribs and ducks away, laughing as he takes off down the beach.

They settle, finally, a good distance away from the others. Nakoa slathers sunscreen across Rem’s back after he writes ‘fuck me’ with the lotion, feels the reverberation of Rem’s voice against his own hands as Rem speaks.

“I thought we could head back through the mountains, right? Montana, then through North Dakota.”

Nakoa wants to tell him they should go back to Colorado, but the place still has Nakoa checking over his shoulder, so maybe not. Maybe this is best, this haphazard map searching.

“Maybe settle in for a week somewhere,” Rem says. “Get a job or something.”

“You mean I get a job. When was the last time you held down anything?”

Rem shoots him a look over his shoulder, reaching for the lotion. “Depends. When was the last time I fucked you?” He pushes Nakoa back against the towel, bites at his neck. “I miss handcuffs.”

Through the fog building in his head and the heat building in his stomach, Nakoa says, “You lost the keys last time!”

“They were plastic!”

“You had to cut me out of them with wire cutters,” Nakoa says, but he’s grinning. Rem’s pressing kisses along his torso as he goes down, his hands holding him up, sinking into the sand. Nakoa really doesn’t want sand in his business anymore than strictly necessary. “I’d rather not be locked up and at your mercy for the rest of my life.”

“No?”

“Gotta have my fun too, don’t I?” For a few seconds, he just stares into Rem’s eyes, hoping, searching… until Rem pulls back with a goofy grin, and the world rights itself.

“What?” Rem’s eyes are shining.

Nakoa shrugs. “Nothing, just…” His gaze drifts, over Rem’s eyes, his hair, his tattoos—down the horizon, down the beach, across the water. From their spot in the sand, it’s hard to see anyone at all. They’re almost completely hidden by a small spot on the beach which is hidden by rocks. Rem has a mischievous glint in his eye, and he unbuttons Nakoa’s jeans, fingers moving so slow Nakoa can barely handle it, before Nakoa shoves him away with a laugh.

“Come on!”

“I’m not fucking you here,” Nakoa says, grinning like a fucking fool at Rem. He thinks about the mixtape, about Rem’s response. He thinks about what Rem had said about not being able to say it back.

He thinks about Rem, about how much Nakoa does love him, in spite of his bullshit, in spite of the shitty things that he drags them through.

Nakoa’s hands ache for a joint, and all he wants to do is get high and fuck, slow and leisurely, until Nakoa’s not sure where he ends and Rem begins, but Rem, here, sober and smiling and pleased…

He’ll take it.

Rem covers him in sunscreen and presses open mouthed kisses along Nakoa’s shoulders, then pulls him up against a rock and leans against one of the shadowed sides. Sunglasses sit atop Rem’s nose, blocking out the sun. He’s already turning red, though, Rem.

With a longing glance towards the water, Nakoa crawls up to lie beside Rem. He sinks into the warm sand, like a backrub against his muscles, cramped from the van. If he lifts his head, just a little, he sees Rem.

The warmth, the breeze, the distant sound of kids playing. Rem sitting at his feet, his breathing quiet and steady.

It’s more like this than it isn’t, but it’s still not often enough that Nakoa won’t take the brief respite from the bullshit.

Nakoa dozes. Dreams of small ocean-side cottages and sex in motel rooms, in resorts. Working at a job he doesn’t hate, of Rem’s smile and his laugh and the cadence to his voice when he’s trying to turn Nakoa on (so, always).

When he wakes, Rem’s fucking with a Walkman, fumbling tapes between his fingers. “Hey,” he says, nudging Nakoa with his foot. “Come here.”

So Nakoa goes, because he always goes, settles in between Rem’s legs, his back to Rem’s chest, and waits for Rem to plop the Walkman in his lap. Rem shoves the headphones on over Nakoa’s ears and says, “Listen. Yeah?”

His hand brushes down along Nakoa’s arm, and, after hesitating for just a second, Rem presses play.

[bxckybxrnxs]

All This Time

Summary: ‘You and Bucky have recently started sleeping together and when you’re wearing his joggers your ex boyfriend Pietro sees you and gets jealous. Bucky finds you pressed up against the door by Pietro and doesn’t know what to think.’

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, past Pietro Maximoff x female reader (ex)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, Tony Stark

Feels: Low-medium, fluff

Warnings: Swear words, implied smut (references made)

Word Count: 2,350

Part: 1/1

Author’s Note: (Not my gif cred to @whatwasdead) All my own work, this story is copyrighted to me (@bxckybxrnxs) but I do not own the characters or setting. There is a slight POV change near the end I’d like to make readers aware of but it is marked :)

You wrapped the fluffy towel you had set out for after the shower around your shoulders, after lightly drying yourself with it. Stepping out of the bathroom into your room you felt a rush of cold air as you left the warm, moist air from the bathroom behind.

You had forgotten to pick out clothes to wear before you went in and as goose pimples were beginning to form on your arms, you brushed your hands up and down them and decided to throw on clothes that had been left on the bed.

Grabbing a tank and some joggers, you threw underwear on before almost jumping into the clothes. Instantly feeling warmer, you ran your hands through your hair, pulling the wet locks up into a bun.

Kicking your feet into flip flops that had been on your floor for a while, you left your room in search of food: it was past 8 and you were starving.

You had heard Tony mention something about getting take away pizza for dinner earlier, so you made your way to the usual hang out place to find some other Avengers, and if needed: to beat the shit out of them for eating all the pizza. Stopping in the kitchen to get a drink, you opened the fridge to grab yourself an iced water.

You straightened up and pulled the joggers higher around your waist for the fourth time. Taking a look at them properly since you’d seen them on the bed, you noticed that they trailed around your ankles, clearly far too long. You swore under your breath, they were Bucky’s joggers, and if this wasn’t a gigantic marker for your rapidly progressing relationship, you didn’t know what else you could have done.

Might as well have put on some blaring music and ran around the tower with a flashing sign that read, ‘ME AND BUCKY ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER!!!’

There was no one else in the kitchen now but you could hear laughing voices not to far away. Deciding you’d rather starve for a bit longer than completely embarrass yourself you quickly started to walk back to your room. Before you’d even got anywhere near the door there was a complication.

Quiet as a mouse but as fast as lightning like usual, Pietro had whizzed into the kitchen and was leaning back again the fridge, usual smirk plastered on his face, “Hey Y/n.”

“Hi Piet,” you sighed, slowly edging towards to doorway.

Things were a difficult enough between you and Pietro at the moment, you had broken up two months ago but he was still doing everything to try and get you back. You could feel his eyes on you and you wished he wasn’t such a flirt, with him constantly checking you out there was no way he was not going to notice that the joggers you were wearing were clearly not yours.

Almost as if your thoughts had cued him, his eyes narrowed as he looked at your pants. “Either you’ve shrunk…a lot, or they’re not yours,” he scowled.

“Er-what are not mine?” You replied innocently, playing for time as you continued to slowly move towards the door.

“Don’t play dumb with me Y/n,” He snapped, storming towards you, coming so close you could smell his aftershave; the aroma dragged up so many memories that it was like rubbing salt into a burn, “Who’s are they?!”

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him away. “It has nothing to do with you!” You hadn’t been this close since you broke up, the intimacy was making you feel uncomfortable.

“Nothing to do with me? Y/n are you fucking serious? It has everything to do with me.”

“Maybe once! But not anymore,” you replied staring directly into his frosty blue eyes which were filled with jealousy.

“Tell me who’s they are!” He persisted, leaning further into you, his fingertips pressing into your hips. Your back was against the door of the kitchen, there was no way you could move away with his hands holding you there in his strong grip.

“Get the fuck off me now.” You said icily, glaring at him.

“Not until you tell me,” The rage burned bright in his eyes and although he spoke quietly you had spent enough time in close proximity to him that you knew he was furious.

Suddenly a door slammed on the other side of the kitchen. You could imagine exactly how this looked and you let your head fall back against the door. “Fuck,” You swore softly.

You couldn’t see who had entered, Pietro’s silvery blonde head blocked your view. His fingers brushed against your bare skin of your hips as he loosened his grip, turning to look. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you just managed to stifle a gasp.

Opening your eyes, you craned your neck, trying to see around Pietro. You took advantage of his slackening grip and finally pushed him away from you, only to come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

Shit.

Another guy who could express so much emotion purely with his eyes alone. The rest of his face was blank but in his eyes you could read uncertainty, anger and jealousy. He’d obviously read the situation in the worst way possible.

“What…is going on?” Cat like, his eyes slowly flicked over the two of you in the deafening silence. His arms were by his sides but his fists were already clenched.

Pietro stepped forwards, “We were just talking,” He said, covering his rage with a smooth smile.

Bucky wasn’t satisfied with that answer, “About what?” He asked, dangerously calm.

You were looking directly at him, trying to catch eye contact, but his gaze never fully focused on you as it brushed around the room. He must have taken the jacket he was wearing earlier off, as now he only wore a black t-shirt with his dark jeans. The top was tight fitting and practically outlined and highlighted every single one of his muscles, they looked more pronounced than ever. A few strands of hair had fallen over his face, obscuring-what you would imagine-his clenched jaw.

“About things,” Pietro replied, carelessly. You looked around at both of the men you have gotten to know so well. To an outsider this could have been a casual conversation among friends but Pietro’s shuffling feet and twitching fingers along with Bucky’s tightening jaw and emotionless face were obvious indicators to you that they were both extremely pissed off.

“What ‘things’?” Bucky questioned, “Were you talkin’ about that involved you holdin’ her up against the door?” He still looked completely unruffled about what had taken place but you could almost see the rage building up inside of him.

“Why do you need to know Barnes?” Pietro said in reply and you could tell Bucky was itching to slap that antagonising smirk off his face.

“Guess I’m just curious punk,” Bucky said, a ripple of tension flowing through his body as he stiffened. If he was annoyed before, that was nothing to how he felt now.

You wanted to intervene, to step in and try to sort this out, but there was no way to do so that you could think of without one of the Avenger’s losing their shit at the other.

“Maybe you should keep your nose out of business that doesn’t include you, ‘punk’.” Pietro mimicked with a sarcastic laugh.

“What happens if this ‘business’ does include me?” Bucky hissed, taking a step towards Pietro, letting his pretence fall, not caring anymore as Pietro registered his obvious rage which you knew was mirrored in the other man.

Glancing across at Pietro, you looked away instantly as an ugly scowl tore across his handsome face. You had never seen him so angry before in the whole time you had known him, even when he thought you were cheating on him. His hands were shaking with fury as he glared at Bucky with full force.

“You,” Pietro spat, “It’s you isn’t it?! The one she-” he nodded sharply at you “-has been fucking.” The last word was said with such ferocity that you took a step away from him. “ISNT IT?!” He shouted, fixing Bucky with a look of absolute hatred.

“So what if it is? You don’t own me Pietro, and you definitely don’t control what I do, not anymore.” You snapped, finally wading in, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. Taking a step towards Bucky, you placed a hand on his arm, “Leave it Buck.”

As your hand made contact with the bare skin of Bucky’s arm, it was the last straw for Pietro and he launched himself at the dark haired soldier. Snarling like a savage cat his fist crashed into Bucky’s face before you or Bucky had even noticed him move.

Tumbling back, Bucky raised his own hands, already curled into fists, swinging back. You stood there in shock, furious that Bucky was being hurt over Pietro’s stupid jealousy.

“Stop it!” You screamed as you noticed that Bucky was pulling his punches. You’ve seen him fight properly many times, in and out of Winter Soldier mode and you knew if he was going 100% Pietro would have been knocked out on the floor by now, even with his super speed.

Kicking Pietro in the knees, making him falter, Bucky grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back as he lost concentration. You stormed over to where Bucky was holding the speedster against his will and slapped him, hard. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” you hissed, “And stay the FUCK away from my boyfriend,” you added, nodding at Bucky to let him go.

Pietro took one last look at you, before speeding out the kitchen with his hand clutching his bloody nose, not without sending a glare in Bucky’s direction.

There was an expectant silence between you and Bucky as you took his hands, leading him to sit on a stool at the island. As you made to let his hands go, he held onto the for a little longer, a need for closeness between the two of you. You grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer, wrapped them in a clean tea towel and gently pressed them against his eye which was beginning to bruise from one of Pietro’s punches.

“Boyfriend?” Bucky questioned, breaking the quiet.

Your relationship hadn’t been more than long, passion filled nights and this moment was loving and tender, which the two of you had yet to experience. Drawing a stool up and sitting next to him at the island as he held the frozen peas to his black eye, you sighed. “I’m sorry, I know we haven’t put a label on what we have. But I-” Breaking off, you turned away from him slightly.

He leant forwards suddenly, lowering the peas and captured your lips with his gently. This kiss was loving, nothing like the heated make out sessions you usually share. Your eyes fluttered shut and you brushed your fingertips though his dusky hair. There was so many words to be said between you, so many feelings and expressions that had been pushed into this kiss.

You were glad that Bucky had understood the situation, everyone in the tower-hell everyone full stop, it wasn’t exactly hidden from the media- knew that Pietro still had feelings for you. You had briefly talked with Bucky about your and Pietro’s history because Bucky hadn’t wanted to go behind the other man’s back if there was still something going on, which you had assured him that there was not. You had noticed the jealousy burning bright in Bucky’s own eyes when he had walked in upon Pietro pressing you against the kitchen door, but you knew that when you had slapped Pietro it had evaporated all of Bucky’s concerns.

(POV change)

That jealousy and anger Bucky had felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before. All the feelings that he had kept simmering under the surface had all come bubbling out in an unstoppable torrent. Y/n was the first girl to ever make him feel this way, not since before he became The Winter Soldier, but for the first time.

When the two of them made out on the veranda at the end of one of Tony’s parties, he had pulled away, convincing himself he would only hurt her. But she kept on coming back, again and again until after one night when they couldn’t deny the chemistry they had any longer, they had fallen into bed together. After she admit one morning that she found him insanely attractive, he had presumed that that was all there was, pushing down and suppressing his feelings, settling for the feel of her skin against him but nothing more.

(POV change back)

You smiled into the kiss, pulling away. “All this time, you felt this way and never told me?” You asked.

Bucky broke his eye contact with you, looking down as he picked at his fingers, “I didn’t think you felt the same doll,” he replied.

“God you’re an idiot Barnes,” you giggled, “I was trying my hardest to show you that I liked you but you always seemed to brush me off,” you added.

He leant forwards to kiss you again, his fingertips trailing down your jawbone. Your stomach fluttered at his touch, barely containing your happiness. He pulled away from you sooner than you would have liked but left your foreheads still touching. “So all of this is because of that jerk Pietro, he opened my eyes,” he laughed.

“Don’t let him hear you saying that,” you replied as you stood, wrapping your fingers in his, pulling him to stand too. “Now can we please go and find some food, I’m starving!” You complained.

“There’s nothing left,” came a voice from the door. Your head whipped round to see a smirking Tony Stark with, what you presumed to be, the last slice of pizza in his hand. As you glared at him, he took a huge bite, his eyes locked on yours, “Mmm delicious.”

“STARK!!”

[smoltododorki]

ahh i read the other anon's take on an atla au and i liked their adaptation, but i had pictured shouto as the avatar instead in my head. like endeavor still is the firelord and i like the idea of him marrying a water tribe princess but consider,,, the previous avatar was nana, from the earth kingdom whose best friend is the air nomad gran torino, and that's how she meets air nomad toshinori who cant actually bend, but has a big heart and takes him under her wing. needless to say, she dies

(didn’t have space to mention it previously) but toshinori is so strong he somehow fools everyone into believing that hes an earthbender. as there’s no avatar to stop him anymore, endeavor is free to do as he wishes. before nana dies (and in the time todomama is pregnant) he’s warned by someone that she’s going to die. so this is kind of perfect for him, he has the opportunity to have the next avatar be his son. so he does the unthinkable and a warning to his kingdom is sent that every pregnant woman that gets into labour when nana dies is to be killed with her child. the fire kingdom keeps a tight register of the children born from then on, shouto is born about two days after that, and it takes about a week for the news to reach the fire kingdom that effectively, nana has died, but no one is sure when, as previously all the kids that were born during that week (but shouto) were killed, enji is sure his child *has* to be the avatar, but as soon as shouto can walk hes taught fire and water bending techniques. enji is still the abusive asshole that hes in canon, and his other children suffer neglect and his wife is abused, but he controls the fire and water kingdom so there isnt really anyone that can do anything to prevent this. after nana dies and enji takes over both kingdoms, the only reason he can’t take over the air nomads and the earth kingdom is toshinori. he somehow has never been able to defeat him (he doesn’t know all might is a non-bender). toshinori inspires people in a way no one has before and has good people that surround him, and can take down good benders any day any time. enji kind of is scared of confronting him himself and loosing. toshinori keeps enji off of the air nomads and earth kingdom. 

meanwhile, as enji’s army fights toshinori and co., shouto has been able to bend water since a young age, but can’t seem to be able to bend any other element. but one day while playing with his siblings he bends his sibling’s fire. todomama sees this and is terrified of what enji will do to shouto now. the training was already too hard for a five year old kid who couldn’t yet bend fire and for so didn’t actually trained with it. she makes him and his siblings to never tell anyone about shouto bending fire, and shouto swear that hes to never use any other kind of bending besides fire.  

 enji is so mad. shouto is almost six and he hasnt shown signs of being able to bend anything but water. he blames todomama for this, saying that he spoils him too much, that if she wasnt so weak and also cared about her family and their kingdom shouto would be able to bend anything by now, and todomama slowly builds up the idea that maybe shouto isnt the avatar, that maybe the avatar was one of the kids he killed. enji can’t tolerate that idea, and when shouto is eight and cant bend anything else.  

he decides that he cant allow anything to get in the way of his world conquer, its already too difficult with toshinori. so he decides that hes attacking the air nomads next, where the next avatar would be born. but he cant attack them with toshinori still defending the air temples. so he makes a temporal alliance with some weird guys who claim to be able to take and give bending powers as they wish. they send their leader to fight toshinori, and meanwhile enji sets to attack the air temples.

izuku is eight years old, and he also can’t bend. hes really good at making plans tho. he has grown with his mum in the air temple all his life with his friends iida and ochako. ochako is really cool beacuse she can make things fly with her bending techniques, and iida prefers using air bending to reduce air resistance and go fast. iida’s dad builds machines while his mother is an air bender, he travels a lot with both their parents while his brother fights in toshinori’s side.his father sells some stuff for the fire nation, because he believes if he doesn’t, then someone else would, and it helps toshinori’s side to know exactly what is attacking them and have better equipment than what they have (much to enji’s annoyance they somehow seem to be always one step ahead) that’s how they know that the air nomads are to be attacked soon, by trading information with some militar that knows his wife is an air nomad but doesn’t know about his children. 

they return to their temple to warn people to flee. but there’s little time, not everyone can scape. present mic, an excellent bender, decides to stay and defend them while some attempt to scape. aizawa meanwhile arranges a plan to save the kids, as they know they are going for them thinking one of them is the avatar. shit goes terribly wrong and only few manage to scape without enji’s army noticing, among them, izuku and friends with aizawa’s help.  

on toshinori’s side of the story, hes battling afo. afo tries to take his bending away, and to his surprise there’s no bending to take away. this to toshinori’s advantage, knowing that hes the one who probably killed nana, he fights with all he can, and even though afo manages to fatally wound him, he defeats afo. (or so he thinks). by the time he knows the air temples have been attacked, is too late. but aizawa finds him and informs him that is quite possible that the next avatar is among  enji is so mad, because he didn’t find the avatar among the kids he took from the air temple, and even though with toshinori weakening hes managed to control part of the earth kingdom, there’s rumors of a kid that seems to be able to bend different elements being thaught by toshinori (being nana’s apprentice) 

everyone believes izuku is the avatar, and hes freaking out bc he knows hes not, but all might tells him that rn he gives people hope, and that has always been the avatar tasks, so for now there’s nothing wrong with pretending. and of course, the only ones that know hes not the actual avatar is todomama and kids. until one day enji is particularly mad and lashes at todomama, that is. he attacks her with fire, and shouto gets in the way to protect her and directs the fire towards enji and himself (getting his scar). enji is now even more furious and lock up todomama for her betrayal to the fire kingdom by hiding the avatar. shouto is mad ofc, and so he decides to never use his fire bending again. enji is so mad, bc now he has an avatar that only bends water. the only reason shouto still trains his bending (starting earth) is bc enji still has power over todomama.

his siblings have already left, save for his older sis. she then receives a letter saying that todomama isnt under enjis control anymore, that shes been banished, along with what seems to be evidence. she then convinces shouto to scape and he does. shenanigans ensue from now on, he joins toshinori’s army and meets izuku “the avatar” while knowing hes not. it might be somehow ridiculous bc even izukus childhood friends like ochako believe him, and shouto never says anything about it. tododeku also ensues and shouto tells izuku the truth and izuku is so embarrassed bc he knew all long (even though izuku tried to impress him with his “bending” several times) but shouto finds it kinda cute. izuku “its your power” helps shouto understand that he needs his fire bending if hes to defeat endeavor, and shouto helps izuku deal with all the guilt he feels for lying to the entire world, assuring him that it was the right thing to do at the time.

i cant’ believe i constructed an atla au from my only previous idea that was “what if shouto is the avatar” when i have homework to deliver like, today. 

holy shit anon this alternate atla au is intense as hell ahhHH ((ty for taking time to construct it even when you were busy))

i like the idea of shouto helping the idea that izuku is the avatar by using his bending to make it seem like it was izuku who did it??? kinda like what conan does for mouri in detective conan, except both parties know whats up lmao. ppl come up with rumours that izuku only bends around shouto bc izuku wants to woo him,,, like, to show off to a love interest. tddk are super embarrassed, but they’ll take what they can get because they’re helpless and can’t think up any other reason.

[sinistersaltqueen]

The Promise... Part 3!!!

Title: The Promise Summary: You have spent the last few days with the guys when cas collapses at the door to the bunker. Author: sinistersaltqueen Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Reader, Reader’s family mentioned Word count: 1294 Warnings: (mildish idk its not awful, but its there) smut, violence, Language                      

Pairings: Reader x Dean, Destiel is mentioned because i hate myself. Author’s Notes: Oh my gosh guys. I cant believe im writing a part 3!!! Im sorry, but i kinda messed with the plot and hinted at destiel but it isnt. Dont hate me please

Part 1 

Part 2

You watch Cas hit the floor. At the same second, Sam and Dean rush over to him. You grab a knife off the table and run over to the door Before you can reach the door, a group of three vampires run in Sam and Dean run to grab weapons when you rush up. Holding the knife, you take the first off guard, slicing it’s throat. The second grabs your other arm, pulling you close. It goes to bite you, but you reach around it’s back and drive the knife in. Pulling it towards you. The third tries to grab you, but Dean gets there in time, and wielding a machete, cuts the head off of it. Sam does the same for the other two. Dean pulls out a lighter, flips it open, and drops it on the three of them. “Shit man.” Dean gasps. “Y/N. I’m so sorry. Normally we’d have the weapons we need on us. The bunker is basically everything proof. They must have attacked Cas on his way in, and then followed him when he came in.” Sam explained “Looks like you held your own Y/N. Where’d you learn to fight like that” Dean asked. “Combination of the books, and a shitty family I suppose.” You say softly. Preoccupied with the burning corpses in their living room, they barely register what you say. You kneel down next to Castiel and check for a pulse. You feel a steady rhythm. The constant beating is comforting. Dean sets down a glass of water by you. “He okay?” He asks “I think so…” you remark. You aren’t so sure. You don’t know anything about how an angels heart should sound. This sounds human. Is it supposed to? Does an angel have a heartbeat? Are you just hearing your own? You’re pumping with adrenaline after the vamp attack. You barely know what a heartbeat is. Dean seems really worried about him… Cas slowly pries open his eyes. His breathing is labored, but he will be okay. “Hey Cas. this is Y/N. She’s staying with us for a while.” Sam tells him from across the room. He is leaning against a wall. His body is stiff. He’s tense. Him and Dean look at each other, nod, and join each other in the other room. You wish they would stop doing that. That silent communication thing is getting old. Cas looks up at you. “Hey cutie” you whisper. Cas looks up at you. Confused he says “that’s what dean calls me. You’re not dean. You giggle “Who are you” he asks quietly “I’m Y/N. Sam and Dean kinda saved me? It’s a long story. I’m sure they will explain it later. All that matters right now, is that you’re okay” “I like you” Cas says. It’s clear that he is still a bit out of it. Dean trudges I’m slowly. Dean grunts as he throws castiel over his shoulder. Although it looks effortless, he seems pained by the action of having to carry his friend. Dean moves him to what I can only assume is Cas’ room. A few minutes later Dean walls back in. You are still sitting in the same place. You haven’t moved since it sat next to Cas after the fight. “Don’t make me carry you like that too.” He laughs. “Hey… are you okay Y/N?” You look at him. Something inside of you flipped when you killed that first vamp. You’d gotten in a fight before, but this was something else. He was dead… You start crying. You bury your face in Deans chest he wraps his warm arms around you. “Cmon cutie” he says, picking you up, your arms wrapped around his neck, one of his arms under your legs, the other behind your back. “I thought you only called Cas that..” you whisper. Dean mumbles something under his breath angrily and you just giggle. “Sorry….” you whisper sadly. Dean quietly carries you back to your bed. He plops you down on the covers and starts to walk away. You don’t move. He gets to the door when you barely make out the words “wait-“ He turns around and makes his way back to you. He sits between you and the edge of the bed, putting one hand on your side. You struggle to sit up. It felt like your body weighed a million pounds, but you needed to be close to him. You whisper one word. “Stay…” “Okay Y/N/N… I’m here” You reach out one arm and try to pull him towards you. He lays down next to you willingly. You curl up against him and breathe in the smell of his old t shirt. “This is where you felt most comfortable. In the arms of someone you’ve known for less than 3 days. How sad is that.” You think to yourself. He puts an arm around you and breathes in deeply. “You smell pretty good for someone who just killed a vamp” you both lightly chuckle. He lifts himself to where he is barely above you. He uses his pointer finger to carefully lift your chin to the same level as his. His lips graze yours. They are softer than you expected. It’s like kissing a pillow. He falls back next to you, and whispers “sorry. I couldn’t help myself…” Suddenly it’s like you have regained all of your strength. A rush comes over you. You climb over him, kneeling over his chest, and look at his face. He breathes heavily. His emerald eyes have a primal desire hidden within. You bite your lip. Before you can even think Dean grabs your head and has engulfed you in the most passionate kiss you have ever experienced The excess adrenaline from the fight kicks in and you start to make your way down his neck. You both sit up, you kneeling on the bed over his lap. He pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unbutton the flannel you were wearing. After realizing there are a ton more just like it, he rips the shirt off the rest of the way. He flips you onto your back and starts kissing his way from your neck down to your chest, then to your bellybutton. He uses his teeth to pull down the lacy thong you were wearing. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks. You nod desperately. This is exactly what you needed to get your mind off of everything, a winchester in your pants. ~ You lay next to dean, his arm under your neck Both of you breathing heavily This could make things in the bunker a bit awkward “Shit” dean whispers “What??? Was I bad. Oh my god I’m so sorry. I knew I-“ you panic “No, cutie, it’s okay.” Dean stops you, “Sammy just may or may not have a crush on you” “SHUT UP” you yell back at him. Dean chuckles and squeezes you tight “It’s okay. I got dibs” he winks. “You guys are such kids” you laugh. You both stand up, Dean putting his pants back on, you, throwing on an old curtain that you quickly made into a simple dress. Dean is pulling his jacket back on when Sam walks in the room. You see Sams expression go from ‘I have something important to say’ to ‘what the fuck did I just walk in on’ “Dean. The vamp nest a few towns over is back. Get dressed. Let’s go.” He says. He seems upset. You didn’t know he liked you. Hell, you’ve known the both of them for just a few days. Dean turns to you, you jump up and hug him tightly He grabs you and kisses you. “I’ll be back soon” he whispers. And he’s gone.

Part 4