#but usually they go away after a few days. certainly not stick for over a week

[daz4i]

it's incredibly hard not to despair over all of this ngl

[greatstormcat-hiatus]

COD Omegaverse Part 1

Part 2 here

Alpha!Ghost x Omega!Soap x Omega!f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, dub/con, heat cycle

You left the base pharmacy, pocketing your refilled prescription of suppressants just as Soap walked past. He spotted you and threw his arm over your shoulders, hugging you tightly against his side in a show of protective friendship.

“Getting your migraine pills?” He chuckled with a wink. Soap was one of the few open Omegas on base, despite being more than capable of defending himself, being Ghost’s mate meant that no one would dare step over the line and touch him for fear of being ripped to pieces by either of them.

“Yes, making sure I’ve got enough before we deploy,” you replied, falling into step with him as you both returned to the 141’s barracks. The team knew your true designation as an Omega and had kept your secret safe. You’d earned your place in the team over and over after all, and you were a part of the Pack now which was the almost the ultimate show of acceptance.

“Don’t blame you for takin’ those things but just don’t rely on ‘em forever,” he repeated his usual warning when he saw the pills in your hands. “They’ve killed as many Omegas as they’ve helped protect, understand?” He stopped you and looked you in the eyes, genuine concern and affection clear on his handsome features. You nodded.

“I know,” you reply with a weary sigh. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have an Alpha like Ghost though. I don’t want to end up locked away somewhere, not able to live my life the way I want because my mate says I can’t. I won’t give myself away and I certainly won’t take a mate.”

An odd look passes across his face, a knowing smile for some hidden joke.

“Ah hen, you could easily have an Alpha like him. Ya just need to be open to it,” he chuckled and started you both walking together again.

Several days and many miles later, the snow was thick and heavy, making going difficult as you followed Ghost and Soap towards the safe house, but you still felt sweat sticking everything to your skin. How could you be this hot in a fucking blizzard? It didn’t make sense and only worsened your sour mood caused by the aches and pains of the mission. You’d rolled down a stairwell after the firefight had started, to avoid a grenade blast, and you’d been sore all over ever since.

“Come on,” Ghost snapped, equally as irritable as you. Despite the mission going well, both you and Ghost had been snappy and argumentative with each other. Soap even stepped in to get between you both or risk the mission at one point. Now you were making your way to the safehouse to await exfil.

The safe house turned out to be an abandoned farmhouse at the edge of woodland, the door half buried in snow as you arrived. Ghost managed to force the door open and the three of you entered.

“You two check this floor, I’m going upstairs to radio in.” With that he made his way upstairs, rifle drawn.

You desperately peel open your cold weather gear, and your scent broke free causing you and Soap to freeze, wide eyed. You were in heat. That was why you ached all over, why you were overheated.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck no,” you breathed.

“How is that possible, lass?” the other Omega whispered hoarsely moving closer to you, as though he didn’t believe what he was smelling. “I saw you get the tablets, how is this happening?”

Ghost’s heavy footsteps interrupted you both, the sweet scent of your heat already filling the confined space with no way to hide it. Soap moved to the doorway protectively as Ghost approached, but the Alpha stopped in the doorway before he entered the room, eyes fixed on you intently and you heard him inhale through his mask. He visibly shuddered as he took in the scent of the room and closed his eyes briefly, as if savoring it, before he spoke.

“We’ve got a problem. Price has been trying to reach us. Told me the pharmacy fucked up and you were given the wrong meds, you’ve been off suppressants since the last refill.” He stood stiffly as he spoke, chest moving noticeably with the effort to stay back.

“That’s almost two weeks ago. How long til exfil, Lt?” You asked, panic bubbling inside you, along with your body's reaction to the Alpha standing across the room from you.

“With this weather? A day, maybe two, helo won’t fly in this. We are gonna have to deal with this ourselves, however you feel comfortable with,” he answered firmly. Soap gave a proud little smile at his Alpha’s response, and moved beside you to rub your shoulder, feeling the tightening of your muscles already starting.

“It’s up to you, lass,” he said softly. “Ghost is gonna rut like a madman if he stays too close to ya, but I can keep him busy if you rather do this on yer own. As much as I’d love to offer to stay and look after ya,” he tilted his head at Ghost, “havin’ an Alpha here complicates things. Even Ghost cannae fight his instincts completely in this situation.”

Your eyes shifted between the two of them, their surprising offer clear but your consent key to whatever happens.

“I trust you both with my life already,” you reply, you fiddle with the straps on your vest. The weight already becoming too much against your over sensitive skin. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable, you’re mates after all.”

“But we’re pack, we look after eachother,” Ghost said firmly, his voice deep and low with the effort to keep himself in the doorway and out of the room. The rumble in his words, their reassurance, teased and coaxed at your Omega instincts to trust and obey the Alpha, coupled with the scent of his arousal invading your nose. You needed to answer them now, before you were incoherent and unable to give a lucid answer.

“If the offer is genuine, then I accept.” You spoke as clearly as you could, despite that fact your heart was pounding in your ears already. Ghost nodded once.

“Right,” Ghost turned to Soap, the scent of both their arousals mixing into the air with your heat now, creating a heady cocktail. “Get her upstairs, there’s a bedroom at the back. I’m gonna make sure everything’s secure.” He glanced at you again. “Make sure she’s comfortable.”

Soap chuckle and nodded, “aye, Lt. Leave her with me,” and he grabbed you by the vest and pulled you towards the stairs, your knees already weakening and brain begin to drift. He ushered you upstairs and found the bedroom, hustling you inside before looking at you with concern. “Ya sure about this, lass? He’s a good Alpha but he’s also big. That knot will take yer breath away,” he said with a wink as he began to undo the straps on your gear with swift, sure fingers. You managed to mumble a reply, but the friction of your clothes and gear was too much of a distraction, you were whimpering as each piece of gear came away, relieving some of the discomfort. Soap led you to the dusty bed once you were down to your underwear, the scent of Ghost bleeding from Soap this close to you from his skin was enough to take the edge of the burning feeling inside. The other Omega quickly removed his own gear, down to his trousers and undershirt, the outline of his erection clear behind the fabric. Once he lay beside you on the questionable bed, you moved in tight against him, pressing your sweat covered face against him and breathing in the scent of his mate and his greedily.

“It’s okay, lass,” he whispered, running his hands along the skin of your back and pulling you close. “Alpha will be here soon and he’ll make you feel better.” He pressed a kiss to your fevered brow, and the first painful wave of need racked your body, causing you to convulse and whine. Soap hushed and soothed you as the pain ran through you, bringing tears to your eyes, and mixed with the unadulterated need between your thighs. Slick soaked into your underwear heightening the scent of the heat, and your body temperature spiked.

With a curse Soap pulled back from you slightly, and slid his hand down your stomach to your crotch, hissing slightly when he felt the heat radiating from your swollen pussy.

“Ah fuck, hen,” he said in sympathy, having known bad heats himself in the past, and began to rub his fingers across the fabric. Your head rolled back at the friction of fabric against skin, neck muscles loosening slightly and a groan rolled out of you. Your hips gyrated against Soap’s hand, his fingers zeroing in on your clit through the wet fabric and working to bring you to orgasm to ease your suffering.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, licking and nibbling at the skin as he rubbed your clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that built and coiled inside you until it snapped and you orgasmed shockingly quickly, but it was not enough.

“Shit… it’s not enough… more,” you whine into Soap’s neck, hips grinding against his hand in desperation as your pussy clenches around emptiness.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he cooed, “Alpha will be here soon. He’s gonna take care of ya.”

Both Soap and you were hit with the scent of Ghost’s arousal as he appeared in the doorway, your body trembling to a worrying extent against Soap. Ghost had already removed his vest, jacket and boots as he moved to the edge of the rickety bed.

“Sit rep,” he growled looking down at you, his eyes burning through his mask.

“It’s bad, Si,” Soap explained to his mate. “Those fuckin’ suppressants have done a number on her system and it’s gone haywire now they’ve cleared out.”

You convulsed again on the bed, your eyes pleading as you looked over at Ghost, the Alpha that could make it stop. His scent curled into your brain and drew a whine from your throat, which he reacted to on instinct. Ghost moved forward onto the bed where Soap cradled you, and reached out with a gloved hand.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Omega,” Ghost said softly, reaching out and putting one huge hand on the side of your neck. His covered thumb gently teased your scent gland, sending a wave of boneless submission through your body. “That’s it, just like that,” he said as he moved closer and gathered you in his arms. You curled in on yourself, pushing your face against him and taking great lungfuls of his scent, letting it work its way into your very veins to ease the burning all over you. “Shit, she’s burning up,” you heard Ghost say over the top of your head to Soap, concern clear in his voice.

“I already got her to cum once, she needs a knot,” Soap replied. Another wave of pain seared through your body and you cried out, clutching onto Ghost’s shirt. You were dimly aware of your body being moved and rearranged by the two men, the last items of clothing being shed from all bodies including your sodden underwear. Ghost even lifted the bottom of his balaclava to expose his mouth and you felt his breath tickle across your gland.

The musty mattress of the bed pressed against your back, which arched as the most painful wave of heat coursed through your sweat covered body. Your thighs clench together tightly as Ghost leant over you, covering your body with his and the contact of his skin against your causing you to whine.

His hand grabbed the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your scent gland in an attempt to relax you but the spasms refused to subside.

Strong hands gripped your legs and pried them apart roughly, the sting of the cold air against your superheated pussy an unwelcome sensation prompting you to struggle against them until a tongue ran over your gland, forcing you to submit.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost hissed as he pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, the heat almost searing his skin. The Alpha panted as your pussy welcomed him inside, slick coating and dribbling around his length as he hilted himself, and your cries of pain shifted into throaty moans of pleasure as your body was filled with what it needed. The stretch of his cock in your pussy satisfying and overwhelming at once.

“That’s a sight,” Soap whispered in awe, slowly palming himself as his mate began to grind into you. Once he began to pull his hips back and snap them against you, setting a steady rhythm, your body relaxed more and your hips rolled in time with his movements.

“There you go, good pup,” Ghost muttered against your ear, his breath huffing against your sensitive skin in time with his thrusts. Small kisses and licks were pressed against your neck and ear as the hulking Alpha moved at a delicious pace in your pussy, sending waves of electricity up your spine.

The sensation coiled in your lower stomach, burning hot with the hormones ravaging your body. He suddenly pulled at you your snarled, pure Omega instinct lighting your brain and sending your lunging at him to bring back what you needed, craved.

Soap grabbed you before Ghost could react pulling you back down, narrowly escaping your snapping teeth, fangs extended.

“Hold her Johnnny!” Ghost barked, the sound enough to make you cower briefly and let Soap and Ghost force you onto your front. “Calm down, pup. You’ll get what you need,” he snarled as he pushed into you again once he was happy with your position. You pushed your hips up and back to meet his thrust which went deeper, sawing his cock back and forth across your most sensitive spot. Soap cradled your head, watching in rapt awe as your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled from your mouth.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” he moaned and kissed you, pushing his tongue into your mouthy sloppily. One of his hands slipped under your hips and rubbed at your swollen clit again, rushing you towards another orgasm, this time on an Alpha’s cock. The coil of pleasure burning inside you quickly snapped and your screamed into Soap’s kiss, pussy clenching tightly onto Ghost.

You whined as Ghost continued to fuck into you through your orgasm, muscles spasming with each thrusts and squeezing his cock tightly to urge him to cum. Acting on instinct he lowered himself over your back, forearm supporting your abdomen to keep you where he wanted you, as his knot began to swell, catching in your entrance and sending shockwaves along your spine. You squirmed in his grip, the alien sensation of the knot causing panic to ripple through you, until Ghost’s mouth covered your scent gland, tongue laving over the delicate skin and robbing you of your will to fight the feeling.

“Stay still… gonna knot you…” he grunted, still thrusting until the knot swelled to lock him in place leaving him only able to make shallow thrusts which ended with a final, almost vicious thrust as he came, his body shaking and breath leaving his chest in a rush.

Ghost held you tightly and rolled to the side, taking you with him, and held you against his chest. Soap lay down with you both, pressing against you to keep you in place on his mate’s knot.

“That better, bonnie?” Soap asked, gently touching your lower stomach where Ghost’s engorged cock made a small mound.

“Yeah, bit better,” you managed to reply, your head still fuzzy but the fire subsided enough to breathe again whilst not letting go of you completely.

“It’ll be back again soon, but we’ll get ya through this,” he murmured, stroking your sweat covered skin.

It was several more hours before the heat broke, during which Ghost and Soap took turns with you, stuffing your aching pussy with cock and cum. When Ghost’s urge to place a mating bite was too much to ignore, Soap would lay across you letting his mate bite him instead.

Eventually it broke, and you were left exhausted and drained, sandwiched between Ghost and Soap. The snow finally stopped and the sound of the help approaching spurred you all into action.

You trembled as you dressed, but the others helped you with longer touches and tenderness that hadn’t been there before.

“What happens now?” You asked Ghost after you boarded the helicopter, your voice hoarse. The Alpha looked at you thoughtfully in the seat beside him.

“We will work it out,” he answered with a nod from Soap opposite him.

Captain Price was waiting on the tarmac when the helo landed, and watched as Soap and Ghost helped you down onto the ground in a weak and dehydrated state. As the three of you neared, his nostrils flared with the mixture of scents, his expression unreadable.

“We’ll get you to medical soon but you three come with me first,” he said in a low voice, devoid of any hint of what he was thinking. You stiffened slightly, doubt and worry gnawing at you.

“Come on,” Ghost said softly, nudging your shoulder gently to get you moving.

The three of you trudged into Price’s office, with Soap keeping close beside you as you wobbled slightly as you walked. Ghost glanced at you from the corner of his eye, from time to time, checking you as well.

As you enter Price's office, a heavy hand gripped your shoulder and steered you towards a chair and pushed you firmly into it, your knees buckling willingly as you sink into it. Ghost huffed in response to your compliance and stood beside you, Soap taking position on the other side.

“I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece,” he said, although it was hard to tell if he was referring to the mission or the heat. “We need to address the issue with the suppressants, obviously this wasn’t your fault but it leaves you in a difficult situation. Anyone with a nose on base can now tell your true designation, plus right now you’re reeking of these two.”

“That’s not a problem, sir,” Ghost volunteered, and Soap nodded his agreement. Price raised an eyebrow at this.

“You’re collecting Omegas now, one not enough for you?” Prince asked the Lieutenant, who shrugged in response, any hint of his feelings hidden by his mask.

“Didn’t mark her, Soap kept gettin’ in the way.”

“What he means is,” Soap jumped in, “we are a pack and we don’t see why the lass shouldn't be afforded all the privileges of that. We’ve helped each other through heats and ruts plenty of times, Captain.”

Price sat quietly and considered this for a moment. “You’ve got a point, son. However,” he said, looking you firmly in the eyes, “you're now officially an unclaimed Omega in a base crammed with Alphas, you know the risks associated with this. Some cannot, or will not, control their instincts as well as they should.”

“I understand sir,” you reply, returning his stare with your back as straight as you can manage. The intense fatigue and aching in your bones stealing your normal confident posture.

“Think carefully, you’re going to medical next and they will want you to go back on the suppressants. It’s your choice if you do or not though, I’ve never forced you before and I won’t now, but you have to accept the consequences. The 141 are your pack but we cannot be with you 24 hours a day.”

Gaz escorted you to medical and stayed with you while you were treated for the effects of your extreme and prolonged heat. You were badly dehydrated and placed on a drip for a few hours which gave you time to talk to Gaz, who was a Beta and Price’s mate.

“Just think, if you decide to be open about your designation you may find yourself getting courted now,” he winked, trying to lighten the mood as you lay on the gurney.

“Great, getting hounded by random Alphas, watching my back in every corridor and darkened room,” you grumbled miserably. You had been recommended to go back on the suppressants by the doctor but not for several weeks until your body had recovered from the sudden absence. That meant another heat was likely to hit in that time.

“You never know, you may be interested in some of them,” he countered, his voice soothing and calm. “You’d be surprised who has been keeping an eye on you all this time.” He smirked knowingly, making you stare at him suddenly.

“You know something,” you accused him and his grin widened, adding to your curiosity. “Tell me.”

“I promised them both I wouldn’t,” he replied.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

[scarletttries]

Roronoa Zoro Falling In Love Headcanons (One Piece)

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro (Live Action One Piece) x Reader

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: After lacking a bit of inspiration recently I just finished watching the live action One PIece on Netflix and am completely obsessed, especially with Zoro! So here a few little headcanons for him, and I might do a part two of relationship headcanons too. Also requests are now open for any of the one piece characters so send them in! 💗☺️

- Oh Zoro. Truly the epitome of a heart of gold hiding behind a sarcastic, borderline cold, facade. A man who pretends to be affected by nothing, despite having so much space inside him for friendship and devotion.

- Chances are he'd first come across you when he and Luffy are docked in another new town. Maybe you're a pirate whose name he's heard in passing and considers trying to capture for the bounty. Maybe you're someone who just loves and helps out the small seaside village you live in, trying to make a few Berry from the ships passing through. Maybe you're the next key step to reaching Monkey's dream of finding the piece. Whatever he expects to find when your paths cross, it certainly isn't you.

- Before he even knows you're the person he's looking for, one look at you and he knows you're important. Like you exist in a slightly brighter light than everyone else he's ever met before, and he's not sure if he should shield his eyes or if he can't bear to look away. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, the first glimpse enough to have his heart pounding in his chest like it never has before. Luffy watches his usually stern friend let his mouth fall open in silence, baffled by his actions until Nami leans over and whispers to him. Zoro can't hear exactly what she says but he hears the word 'crush' and feels his stomach churn at the thought. He wants to run, but he's unsure whether he wants to go towards or away from you. He grips his white katana as a panicked instinct when finally you glance up and send a friendly smile to the eclectic group of pirates standing, staring at you.

- Luffy can tell before you ever say a word that you're good and kind, and destined to be aboard the Merry as a part of his crew. Zoro can't bring himself to do anything but loom over his captain as he makes a sales pitch. The part of his brain that likes to be in control hopes that you're busy and tied down, that you'll reject Luffy's offer and he'll never feel as shaken and desperate as he does in this moment again. A much bigger part of him knows that he won't survive if you say 'no'. Like without you he might never dream again, doomed to spend the rest of his days sailing aimlessly, searching for the same rush he feels every time you look up at him over his friends straw hat. Thankfully Monkey rarely asks someone to join his crew that he isn't certain will eventually say yes. And so you do, accepting it's time to try a new path and join this strange group of good-hearted sailors, hoping for a new shot at your dreams.

- Monkey, Sanji and Usopp are all friendly from the get-go. They can't wait to share stories of their journey so far, and make sure you feel as safe and at home on the ship as they do. Nami takes a bit longer to open up to you, but when she does you can understand why, and while her friendship is harder to earn, it feels all the more solid for it. And then there's Zoro.

- You notice that whenever you all walk into a room, he'll always take the position or chair next to you, awkwardly stepping in front of Sanji on more than one occasion, or forcing himself into a tight spot rather than create distance between the two of you. He doesn't often strike up conversation first, but when you ask him something about himself he always looks very relieved and happy to have something to talk to you about. If the group has to split up he'll always stick by your side, taking the role of keeping you safe to heart. Your unspoken bodyguard. It gets to the point that the crew adjust to leaving a spot next to you for him to settle into, and never asking him to go out without you. All the while Nami takes great joy in speculating on his behaviour with you, and teasing Zoro for his complete inability to act like a normal human being. Sanji has to lay off his harmless flirting with you after he notices the daggers Zoro's shooting at him, and he's sure one night at a bar he heard him start to draw his sword when he put a hand on your leg.

- It doesn't take many conversations with Zoro, or many chats with Luffy who spends a lot of his time telling you about how wonderful and impressive Zoro is, for you to start finding his strange behavior more than a little flattering. The tall, talented swordsman can't help but soften under your gaze, and you feel yourself slowly leaning closer to him every time he settles at your side, before long finding yourself practically draped against him when the group find themselves at some gaudy bar on the outskirts of a marine base, failing to keep a low profile. Usopp insists on dragging you onto the dancefloor, and thankfully Nami asks Zoro to come dance with her before he has to either sit without you, or volunteer to dance of his own volition. Despite his athleticism, of course he's a terrible dancer, all uncoordinated movements and awkward energy as he fails to copy Usopp's charismatic moves. Taking pity on him, you take his hand in yours, letting him hold you closer as the rest of the group seem to fade in the crowd behind you having seen more than enough of his desperate longing to stick around for this. As Sanji and Usopp slink off to find another drink, Nami and Luffy can't resist keeping just in view so they can watch on as they finally see Zoro smile widely and let his guard down, relaxing against you as the pair of you sway. Nami wants to make a bet on if Zoro finally gets the nerve to say something about his feelings, but after a few months of being her closest friend she decides to just root for you both instead, trying to pull Luffy just far enough away to give you two some much needed privacy.

- As you feel his arms encircle you, a soft sway in his hips that matches yours, his mouth drops open and closed a few times over. It's always hard for him to find the right thing to say to you, but when he has you this close, with your eyes sparkling up at him, it's almost impossible to even think. It's all consuming living on the same ship, his heart jumping in his chest every time someone enters his cabin in case it's you, his feet taking him to stand outside your quarters almost every day just willing himself to knock on the door and finally put words to his devoted actions. He couldn't fight his longing to be near you for even a day, and watching you open up to him and start to inch closer yourself, he can't help but hope that you might be feeling just a drop of the ocean of affection he navigates for you. His eyes focus intensely on yours as he tries again to speak, stumbling over the word 'I' a few times before resigning himself to silence for another night.

- You could see the conflict of fear and hope in his eyes, the man of few words clearly straining to explain things his training had never left room for. He was trying, and you were sure you knew what he was going to say, but you didn't think you could be the one to articulate it for him. That didn't mean you couldn't give him a bit of encouragement.

- Trailing your hands over his arms to settle on his shoulders, you stepped flush with his body, the extra contact enough to stop his gentle sway and turn his whole frame rigid. With the softest smile you could muster you leaned up onto your tiptoes, giving him a moment to pull away before letting your lips press softly to his. It was just for a second. A mere moment of soft, sweet, contact. The kind Zoro had never even let himself imagine because it felt so far out of reach for him. But it happened, and it was perfect. A wide grin spread over his face at your action, finally feeling like he might be able to share his life with someone other than the ghost he carried with him on his hip.

"WAHHOOOOOO!YES YES YES!"" A deafening cheer echoed through the bar, shaking the light fixtures and turning every single head towards your ecstatic captain. Nami looked mortified as Luffy continued to punch the air in celebration of his first mate finally achieving a dream a little less violent than he'd first set out for, his joy for his friend all consuming and without an ounce of tact.

"Luffy! Stop it! We'll leave you to it." Nami had to physically drag him away as you heard the unfamiliar sound of Zoro laughing to himself, the grin across his cheeks only spreading as his focus returned to you. Leaning back in to find your lips again, he whispered,

"What Luffy said."

[woso-fan13]

Trouble

“Y/N, are you even paying attention?” a frustrated Vlatko sighs. 

Your gaze focuses on him when you hear your name, sitting up straight in your chair. Your cheeks flush and you squirm slightly when you notice that everyone’s attention is on you. It brings back countless memories of getting in trouble at school either because you couldn’t sit still or because you were too deep in your daydreams to follow directions. 

Today, though, you had been on your best behavior. Even though it felt like you needed to move or you would scream, you kept still the entire meeting. Well, mostly still. And you had done your best to pay attention, but your mind was racing and you knew if you had to stay in your chair much longer, your body would start racing too. 

Christen leans over slightly from her chair next to you, whispering,

“Did you take your meds this morning?”

You knew what she meant- it’s probably what everyone on the team was wondering at this point. It was no secret that you had ADHD, but you usually were on top of taking your medications. Except there was currently a shortage on (it seems like) everything, including Adderall. But you would be playing intense soccer for hours a day, and spending your free time in the gym. You really didn’t think anyone would notice if you skipped a few doses. 

You shake your head no, looking at your lap to avoid her eyes. Christen gives a slight nod, looping an arm around you and pulling you closer. She keeps her arm wrapped firmly around you as a grounding pressure, and deposits her other hand in your lap. You get the hint quickly, and start fidgeting with her rings, trying to keep yourself occupied. It wasn’t an ideal solution, and it certainly wasn’t long-term, but it should allow you to sit still for the last 20 minutes of the meeting. 

—-

Almost as soon as the meeting ended, most of the team headed out to the field. Practice was already done for the day, but there was a collective agreement to try and wear you out before the sun went down. 

Becky headed into the back, grabbing a bag of soccer balls. Coming to centerfield, she unceremoniously dumped them out and let everyone loose. You instantly grab a ball and start juggling until someone gently kicks it away from you. Kelley’s standing in front of you, eyebrow quirked in challenge. Honestly, she may only be doing it because she was your roommate and she wouldn’t be able to sleep if you were up all night. But a challenge’s still a challenge. 

You chase after the ball, quickly dribbling it back over in front of her. You pause only briefly before taking off, trying to get past her. She manages to get contact with the ball, but only detours it a few feet. You quickly regain control, and just when you think you’re going to be able to get past her, you look up to see Emily waiting behind. 

It’s almost an hour before you finally stop to take a breath. You hadn’t even shot a goal, just circled the field trying to get past people. You laughed at Tobin’s shock when you managed to nutmeg her, and teased the forwards about their lack of defensive skills. You babbled about nonsense, dribbling and tackling, running away with screams of laughter when you managed to get past someone. But, finally, your body and your brain were calm, neither begging to move. 

Sensing that you were tiring, everyone collects the balls and packs up. Tobin scoots up behind you, lifting you up and placing you onto Christen’s back. You wrap your arms and legs around her, your head dropping onto her shoulder. You stick your tongue out at Tobin after she ruffles your hair, but you’re otherwise content.  

—-

You had been dropped in your bathroom and given strict instructions to quickly shower. By the time you got out, there were pajamas sitting on the counter. You dried and dressed, brushing your damp hair and your teeth. 

Exiting the bathroom, you see the door to your room propped open and about half the team already spread out across the beds and floors. Christen and Tobin weren’t there yet, so you plop onto Kelley. 

Soon, everyone else enters the room and a debate about what movie to watch starts. For once, you don’t have much of an opinion. You’re warm, comfortable, and tired. You’ve ended up laying basically on top of Kelley, your head on her chest rising and falling as she breathes. Her hand is on your back, rubbing gentle circles.  

As you hear a movie start playing in the background, the neckline of your shirt works its way into your mouth. As one does, you begin chewing on it distractedly, the sensation soothing. The repetition motion is pulling you further to sleep. 

Seeing what you’re doing, Kelley reaches her arm out to get the attention of Christen from where she had settled next to you. She gently nods her head towards you, and watches as Christen gets the message and leans over to the bedside table. She pulls your shirt out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with a chew tube. 

You had protested when she had originally presented them to you, claiming that you were neither a teething infant or a dog, so you didn’t need a chew toy. But she persisted, sick of your constantly chewed clothing and seemingly ever present wad of gum. Now, you don’t even hesitate when handed one- or, usually, it’s just stuck in your mouth. 

The lights in the room are off, the soft glow from the tv serving as the only illumination. The low whispers from teammates and the chatter from the movie became white noise in the background. Kelley’s hand was still on your back, but she had switched to tracing your spine with her nails. One of your hands was holding onto her shirt, the other held firmly in Christen’s grasp. Your brain was quiet, your body was quiet, and you could sleep. 

[archangeldyke-all]

butch dad!Sevika and her little one going to the first day of kindergarten, and Vika is dazzled by her kid’s teacher & develops a lil crush 😣🫶🏾🫶🏾

omg imagine one day Vika’s dropping her kid off then when she sees reader, her kiddo just jumps and tells reader about Vika’s feelings toward her 😭😭😭

i love butch dad sevika, but i'm gonna change this just a bit and make it butch god-father sev, because kids are really hard for me to write, but i already know how to write for jinx haha

men and minors dni

there are always parents crying on the first day of school.

this year, the most endearing by far was the skinny man who just couldn't seem to let go of his daughter, who was vibrating with excitement at the sight of all the toys in your classroom. she kept trying to squirm out of his arms, and he kept pulling her back into his chest and kissing her head.

once she finally broke free, you approached the man, handing him a tissue to blow his nose and sop up his tears.

"i'm sorry, i'm usually not this emotional." he laughs at himself. you smile.

"it's really okay. i find that the parents who cry the most tend to have the best kids." you say. this brings a smile out of him.

"well, jinx is certainly the best." he says. "though, i should tell you, she has a bit of a destructive streak. i usually distract her with a coloring book." he warns. you smile.

silco cries every other day that week, and the two of you form a friendly report as you hand him tissues every morning and give him a breakdown of jinx's behavior every night.

jinx is a great kid. she's full of energy and eager to learn, friendly with others, and funny as shit. you're not supposed to have favorites as a teacher, but jinx is definitely your favorite this year.

the next monday, when she shows up with a woman (a tall, broad, devastatingly handsome woman), you greet jinx with your usual exploding fist bump then approach the woman.

"is silco okay?" you ask. she nods.

"he was a mess at work last week so i decided to take over on drop off duty. can't have him crying in all his meetings." she responds. you laugh.

"well, you must be jinx's mom then?" you ask. the woman laughs. jinx laughs. you blink.

"oh, god no." she grunts out. "no. not her mom." she says, wiping a tear away from her eyes. you blink.

"step-mom?" you ask. this just makes the woman laugh harder. jinx has been distracted by a few kids playing house in the play corner, and she runs off, leaving you and the woman alone.

when she finally catches her breath, she stands back up and introduces herself.

"i'm sevika. jinx's godmother. silco's my best friend." she explains. you shake her hand.

"oh, it's nice to meet you." you say with a smile. "sorry for assuming." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"i don't get mistaken as straight often, it was a good laugh." she says with a shrug.

something inside your stomach flips over.

she is pretty butch, in a power suit and a silk button up underneath. she's got a few chains around her neck, and her chin length hair has been gelled back to stay off her face. she's handsome. and she's staring at you with a sparkle in her eye.

sevika continues to do pick up and drop off for the rest of the year.

each time, she walks into the classroom jinx runs out of her hold to play with her friends, barely waving goodbye to her godmother. sevika lingers, though, hanging out by the door and waiting for you to get a free moment to talk with you.

one day, around halloween, she asks you your coffee order. you find the question odd until the next day, she shows up with a cup of your order for you.

she brings you coffee every day after that, too.

right before winter break, jinx comes in with a mischievous look on her face, and for the first time, sevika doesn't stick around to talk to you. she leaves your coffee on your desk, and bolts. you try to pretend you don't miss her, but your energy is low all day.

jinx seems to notice.

"are you okay miss?" she asks. you sigh and nod.

"i'm fine jinx, how are you?" you ask, as you color with the girl, waiting for sevika to pick you up.

"you don't seem okay. you seem sad." she says. you chuckle and ruffle the girl's hair.

"i'll be okay, don't worry about me." you say. jinx hums, and returns to her drawing.

as she colors in the sun in the corner of her page, she speaks again, not looking at you. "y'know aunt sevika's got a crush on you?" she asks.

you nearly fall out of the toddler-sized chair you're crouching in.

"what!?" you ask. jinx shrugs.

"she keeps askin' me about you. tells me she thinks you're pretty and cool and stuff. she asked me if you were gay, i told her probably." jinx says matter of factly. you choke on your tongue.

"what?!" you ask again. jinx shrugs again.

"you wear a lot of flannel." she says simply.

when sevika arrives to pick jinx up, you can't look her in the eye. she seems to notice.

"fuck, she said something to you didn't she?" sevika groans. you look over at her and bite your lip.

"i, uh. she said something but... i don't think she knows what she's talking about." you whisper, scratching the back of your neck.

sevika groans. "c'mon, when has jinx ever not known what she was talking about?" she grumbles. you chuckle.

"so... it's true?" you ask. sevika gulps. "is that why you ran away this morning?" you ask. sevika sighs.

"i told jinx i'd ask you out before the end of the semester. today's the last day, and i was gonna ask you this morning but... i chickened out." she says. "i guess jinx wasn't having it." she mumbles. you giggle.

"so..." you start. sevika bites her lip.

"i can make silco take over pick up and drop off duty again, if you want." she says, avoiding your eye. you blink.

"what? why?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"'cause... i got a crush on you?" she says. you nod.

"so?" you ask. sevika blinks. "y'know asking someone out means seeing them more, right?"

"wha-- you-- what?" sevika asks, blinking rapidly. you grin.

"oh my god, adults are so stupid!" jinx screams. "she'll take you out to dinner on friday, okay? c'mon aunt sev, i wanna go home and play roblox already." jinx says. you bite your lip and look back at sevika.

"i'm free friday." you say with a smile. sevika blinks, and grins.

"c-cool. awesome. let me just give you my number." she says as she quickly grabs a student's notebook and marker, scrawling her number down on a piece of paper and tearing it out before shoving it in your hands. you grin.

"see you friday." you say.

jinx is dragging sevika out of the classroom by her hand, but sevika's still got a dopey smile on her face as she stumbles behind the girl.

"see you friday!" she calls from down the hall.

by the end of the year, you and sevika are planning your wedding.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian

[milkypompon]

Chapter 2 | Scrawled Nothingness

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, flirting, angst (mentions of Marc's past)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: Thank you for all the love in the first chapter! I'm so happy summer's started, so I'll have more time to write out more chapters AND get to the fun and silly asks you sent me!! My inbox is always open for unhinged thoughts and requests. Enjoy!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

–

Marc shows up at Coffee for Two at 11:59 p.m. on the dot every Monday night.

Not a Monday morning when people showed up in slacks or pencil skirts for a shot of espresso. And certainly, not a Friday night when teenagers line up for a tooth-achingly sweet drink they found the recipe for online. 

Besides, he likes his coffee black.

The closing shift was clockwork at this point after helping your Nan for years — prop the chairs snug against the table, wipe the floors, and cheekily bag up a couple of pastries for the next day’s breakfast.

Your eyes flick over at the clock nearly striking midnight, as you lean the broom against the edge of the countertop. 

Marc should’ve been here by now, shoulders pulled back and head tilted down, ready to sweep the to-go cup and splash stick.

You remember that he typically parked a white limo… Maybe he chauffeured for a party, hence the break in the weekly conversation. If you could even call it that. It was more like an exchange of stolen glances and nods before parting again.

The logical part of you yearns to walk back to the apartment sooner than you planned and plop down face-first onto the couch. But a nagging twinge irked you to stay a little longer to see if he’d stroll in as usual.

 You could already imagine his face if he saw the sign flipped to close, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, and a crease between his brows. 

You laugh to yourself at the image of Melodramatic Marc instead of Moody Marc then ultimately deciding to give in to the latter. Maybe you’d curse yourself out when you have to wake up in a couple of hours to prepare the croissants for the next day, but you wanted to take your chances right now.

Rounding the corner of the counters, you duck your head under the cabinets and look for the roast you wanted him to try and the materials you need for a pour-over. 

You place the paper filter onto the dripper then unfurl the bag of coffee beans and toss just the right amount into the grinder. The crushing hum and toasted smell of the grounds was a welcome change after a day of listening to grating ice and spurting whipped cream. With a kettle in hand and the setup complete, you gently trickle the water into circles, watching the grounds set in and coffee drip down the other end.  

You grab a white cup, soon covered with drawings of stars and sparkles, reminiscent of the few you could see from the window. The moon outshined them all, full and on display without a cloud in sight. 

You pour the coffee into the well-dressed it (scrawled with Marc’s name in the annoyingly very pink Sharpie) and notch the lid.

Checking the time again, you realize it’s well past midnight. 

Maybe it’s time to go home, but you didn’t have the heart to toss the drink away. You take a sip, the liquid barely touches your tongue before you hiss at the bitterness. 

How does Marc drink this?

No sugar, no milk.

You drizzle in a couple of pumps and squirts of your preferred add-ons, vowing to yourself to never take it purely the way he does. Drink and purse in one hand, you turn the sign to “closed” and twist the lock with the other. 

Hermano, just check if the place for your coffee fix is open. It won’t hurt, Jake rolls his eyes.

Marc mutters, “No, we don’t need another pitstop after the shit Khonshu just dragged us through.”

Maybe they’ll still have those biscuits I like to eat with the tea! Steven's heart flutters at the thought of eating a couple of the raspberry linzer heart cookies. 

He concedes. “Fine, but the moment I see the closed sign we’re going straight home. I didn’t ask to be in charge of snack runs, ya know?”

A unison of hurrahs echoes in his headspace, he can’t help but smile. In the whirlwind of events of carrying himself in a country that reminded him of crumbled relationships and even faultier progressions of moving on, the desire to find a place where he belonged was something he hated to admit. 

Marc was good at playing the part of blending in for missions. Tugging on a disarming smirk to draw out intel from loose-lipped drunkards at the bar came naturally. As easily as turning on the charm while bargaining at the market for the first edition books Steven claimed was what he’d been searching for his whole life (Oh my days, I need those for my collection!). Or, yet another pair of leather gloves for Jake (Those are fingerless and the straps look cool).

But stripped of bells and whistles created by answering to every whim of humans and gods alike, Marc was just… him.

Steven had his apartment filled with knickknacks and collectibles. 

Jake had his car housing his armaments and gadgets.

What did he have? 

Marc frowns at the thought as he leaps across the rooftops, the moonlight catching the arc of the cape. 

A cot in the storage unit and a fuck ton of baggage that couldn’t fit in his duffel bag.

But maybe Coffee for Two could be his. 

As he leaps down behind the shop, his ceremonial suit unravels, tucking in on itself to reveal his black shirt and jeans. Surely, it’d be closed by now, but he still wanted to check.

Marc turns the corner and sees a sign written in big, loopy letters.

closed let's have "coffee for two" tomorrow

He sighs. “Told ya, who in their right mind would’ve kept open for one customer.”

A gust of wind ruffles his hair, Khonshu’s presence stronger than usual.

“Alright I get it, you damn bird! I get that we have another mission–” 

A post-it flutters onto his shoe. He bends over and holds it under the streetlamp.

If you’re Marc, keep reading.  if you’re not Marc, why are you still reading this?

I think you can keep reading.

“Jake, shut up.”

I drank your black coffee.  Don’t know how you drink this.  It tastes like battery acid.

Steven laughs out the last two words. Think this sweet ol’ message made up for you looking so miffed, mate! She’s right about it though. I oughtta steep her a good cuppa.

“Hey, it keeps us awake! Your hot leaf juice makes our piss smell like flowers and does nothing else.”

Marc carefully tucks the paper into his jacket pocket. 

–

A week after Marc’s absence, he walks in and you greet him with a tired smile as if there was no time lost in between.

“Black?”

He cocks his head up and grins. “Yes, miss.” 

That’s new, you note.

“Got any of those uh, berry cookie thingies?” He makes two “Cs” with his hands and connects them, forming a crudely shaped heart. 

Your eyebrow quirks up and the air is quiet with stillness before laughter bubbles up in your chest, pointing to what he was referring to. “Oh! The Linzer cookies!”

Marc flashes his teeth. “Mhm, a couple of those with the coffee.”

“I’m a little surprised you liked them. Did the sweetness grow on you?” 

“Not for me, actually.”

“Did you want a second drink to pair with it?” 

He replies cooly, “Nah, nothing like that. Just, for my brother.”

You give a noncommittal hum and turn your back to him, looking for a box to place the cookies in. 

Marc chuckles, the corner of his lips curling. “Woah, don’t come pouncing at me all at once.” 

“I just meant to mention that we have a promotion of buy two get the second drink half off for your partner.” You smile to yourself, the view obscured from him. “That’s why it’s called Coffee for Two after all.”

“Mm, right.”

Quietness blankets the pair as you assemble his orders. 

He couldn’t recall the last time his headspace wasn’t buzzing with chatter without gut-wrenching aid, a bandaid haphazardly stuck on. Drowning out the noise wasn’t necessarily the problem, it was finding a way to keep a constant peace of mind. At the very least, keep it at bay. The past year was saturated with blackouts and memory gaps, the swirling gold whiskey dipped him into a hazy state. It wasn’t his favorite way to keep the quiet, but it did the job.

Every twist of the cap dragged him back to what was soon to come.

Every whiff of the liquid reminded him how her hot breath, seething with disdain, warmed his cheek.

And the heat he felt after chugging it was reminiscent of how she would hit the other, turning his head to the side. 

The soft shifting of the pen on paper brought him back. 

“See? Told you I give good service.” You slide the decorated coffee cup and a box of cookies in front of him with a smile. 

Marc thumbs over his name, a little surprised you spelled it with a "c" instead of a "k", along with the twisting designs. “Nuh-uh. Think you forgot something again.”

“I worked hard on that masterpiece!” You frown, feigning annoyance. “You should be asking for my autograph.” 

“I should be asking for your number.”

You don’t reply for a beat. “Well, are you going to?”

He smirks, pausing to mimic your surprise before saying, “Can you write down your number?”

You nibble your bottom lip, failing to hide your giddiness. 

He reaches over to pluck the alarmingly pink Sharpie from the pot and hands it to you. “Think that godawful marker was made from toxic waste. Nothing in the natural world could create that color.”

You scrawl your number on it, careful not to spill the coffee. “Well that ‘godawful marker’ gave you an opportunity to claim that promo.”

“Can I use it now?”

“Not until you call me.” 

Marc chuckles and picks up his order. “Well, I’ll be sure to do that.”

“See you when I see you. Monday at midnight again?”

“Or sooner.” His eyes flit over to your hand, knuckles white from the grip on your apron.

“Uh, not sooner. I’m closing for the week. There’s a couple of things I need to sort out… for the shop.”

Marc nods, not bothering to push the matter further. “I have a funny feeling you waited for me to come before you closed.”

You smile, the tension eases from your body. 

–

Marc wakes up from the early sun rays filtering between the cracks of the curtain. He grumbles, Jake always forgets to pull it close before going to bed. He knew that if he stood up to fix it, his body would betray him and lose the cottony sleep he felt. With a groan, he flops over to his side, but before his eyes flutter close he catches an unfamiliar cup standing on his nightstand. 

He doesn’t remember buying it yesterday and god forbid anybody forces Steven to drink anything quote battery acid unquote.

He picks it up, he notices the drawings… and a set of numbers. 

So, it must be–

Marc flings the blanket off of him and stalks to the fish tank.

“Jake! I know you’re there!” 

Gus peers at him curiously and releases little bubbles.

“I’m gonna slash your tires if you don’t come out!” 

Jake stares back at him and raises his hands in surrender. Ay, you and I both know you wouldn’t do that. My driving gigs are one of the few ways we stay afloat these days.

Marc buries his fingers in his unruly curls. “It was mine!”

What was yours?

“Going to that place!”

I don’t get it–

“Of course you wouldn’t!” Marc bristles. “Couldn’t I just have this one thing without one of you weaseling your dick into my life?”

Hermano, look, I was just trying to help. We thought it was about time you make a friend... or something.

"And you didn't bother asking me first?"

“Oh and remind if I'm remembering this wrong, the last time you set up Steven was when you asked out his coworker to the steakhouse! He’s a vegetarian for god’s sake!”

Don’t get your panties in a twist.

Can we all just calm the “ef” out? Steven appears on the kettle’s reflection. Take a time-out or whatever you Americans say.

Marc fights the urge to raise his voice again in an attempt to dispel the ringing in his ears. If the pair tried to explain the situation, they’d be in for another scolding. 

He opens his mouth before they can. “We can’t do this right now.”

Don’t speak for all of us, pendejo. 

He fists the cup, it crumbles in on itself and tosses it into the bin.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

Taglist: Open (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!)

@rachelsnows @basicalyrandom @cleothegoldfish @batsycline69 @lonelyisamyw-0love

[charmercharm3r]

Masterlist

warnings: smutty thoughts, dom!chan, sub!felix, gender neutral reader, poly relationship, threesome, use of toys, oral (m receiving), cum eating

thinking about a bratty Felix not getting his way for once...

What a wonderful predicament you’d found yourself in. Your boyfriend trembling beneath you, his head hanging upside down off the bed with his tongue sticking out, his cock fit inside you snugly. There was the subtle vibration of the toy in his ass that had been placed there prior to you sitting atop him, feeling it softly through his body.

Felix was very adamant about how much he could take, though he always bit off more than he could chew.

He had been a brat all day, bugging you when you tried to do chores, being unnecessarily needy for attention, or whining about whatever minor thing had inconvenienced him. Usually, it didn’t bother you, you loved to take care of him, but you weren’t the only one on edge. Chan, the other partner of your relationship, was also having a bad day. Things weren’t going very well for him at work and it carried that weight even when he came home.

Initially, you sighed in relief seeing your boyfriend come through the front door, but it was written all over his face, he wasn’t in the mood for playing. Neither were you, only summarizing your other boyfriend’s behavior today and the pair of you agreeing on how to go about it.

Chan always took the lead when initiating anything in the bedroom that was to be… say a bit on the meaner side. He filled the dominant role so well in your complex relationship, it was natural for Felix to avoid eye contact as soon as he saw Chan step into the bedroom. Without even saying anything, the younger was already falling into line. You never understood how he did it, but gave him a pat on the back as you joined them.

Felix had given you a quick, knowing glance and realized he had fucked up.

That’s how Felix ended up on his back, vibrator in his ass and you cock warming him. Not your best idea in terms of positioning for getting to orgasm, but it wasn’t about you. Not now, at least.

Chan had been sitting in the corner of the room just watching for what felt like ages. You weren’t going to disobey him and use your blonde boyfriend for your benefit, but you certainly had more leeway at the moment.

“Baby, c’mere. I want a kiss,” you cooed, reaching your hand out for him. Felix’s eyes were watering, looking in the direction of the brunette who had decided to finally join the fun. Chan took his time, drinking in the view of you waiting patiently and Felix doing his best not to cum. In his eyes, it was beautiful, he wanted to commemorate the both of you for being so good. But after all, this was a punishment.

Not just for Felix, but you as well. Granted, Chan wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t happy, either. Coming home from work in a bad mood, he didn’t want to hear you complain about your boyfriend being annoying. He just wanted to have a nice dinner, take a bath, have a cuddle. So this was, albeit not as severe, a punishment of sorts for both of his partners.

Felix did his best to keep his hips still, but the slow, steady vibrations pressing against his prostate have been keeping him on the verge of what feels like a dry orgasm. He’d been leaking so much precum that he was sure you were filled to the brim. Oh, the sweet clench of your warm walls drawing out deep, whiny moans every few moments. As Chan came to the side of the bed and caressed your cheek, leaning forward to meet him halfway, you convulsed tighter around the blonde’s cock, making him cry out the loudest he had so far. It was cute, his little pleas for mercy, though cute only got him so far.

Chan kept the kiss short and sweet, calmly slipping his tongue into your mouth and easily winning that battle by putting a hand on your shoulder and forcing you to sit fully on Felix’s dick. Just the little slide of him deeper into you made you moan into the brunette’s mouth before he pulled away.

You didn’t know what Chan was thinking, but you could tell he was frustrated in more ways than one as he took his red, leaking cock in hand, lazily stroking himself and standing over Felix’s head. Felix instinctively opened his mouth, wet and inviting. He always was good with his tongue, always knowing how to use his pretty plump lips.

You assumed that was his punishment, being used like a toy while also being filled with one, but yours, you weren’t sure.

Chan rubbed the tip of his cock on the younger’s lips, smearing the milky white substance like lipstick. It made him look so pretty, you bit your lip and watched the rest unfold, sitting politely and unmoving as your only job was to hold Felix down. You certainly did a good job, despite how loud he was, Felix didn’t move an inch. He took every thrust of Chan’s unrelenting cock and enjoyed the suffocation of his balls smothering his nose when Chan would sheath himself entirely, feeling the bulge of his cockhead in the blonde’s throat. Felix would choke, gag, whimper until his eyes started to well up, tears dripping down his face. When he started to cry, Chan looked at you and nodded, “go ahead, sweetheart. Just don’t let him cum.”

Felix loudly whimpered and reached for your hand. He knew this was one of your weaknesses, hand holding during sex. But now he was using it to get out of his punishment, and you wouldn’t let yourself sink down with him. Despite knowing Felix had an agenda when intertwining your fingers, you held on just as tight for your own self indulgence.

Smiling at you again, Chan filled Felix’s mouth as you raised your hips and slammed them back down. The blonde was a crying mess, uncaring about how loud he was being. His moans were like heavenly bells, voice falling down and up in volume as Chan abused his throat. Doubled now was the lewd wetness bouncing off the walls as you rode him to your heart’s content. You could still feel the dull vibrations through his pelvis, helping you get further along as Felix used every muscle in his body to repress his ever building high.

You wished you had thought to bring your phone into the room to eternalize the view before you. Chan had leaned over Felix and was now resting his elbows on either side of the blonde’s torso, close enough that you reached down to cup his cheek for another kiss. Chan’s hips were pulling all the way out and throttling down into Felix’s face, both of them now gutterally groaning in pleasure. Even if Felix couldn’t do anything about his being denied, he loved the build up just as much.

That being said, it was gratifying watching your two lovers enjoying themselves, losing themselves even. You could’ve cum from just watching them, having Felix’s cock in you providing that much more relief. Chan delivered a last few hard thrusts before hastily sitting back and pumping himself to completion into your boyfriend’s mouth, to which Felix happily kept his mouth open for. He lapped him up like a dog and swallowed every drop. Even after Chan had finished, the blonde didn’t stop, suckling him like his favorite lollipop. The look of pure bliss and relief on Chan’s face as his head fell back and eyes closed, the desperation to please with tears staining Felix’s face, you got in maybe five more full lifts of your ass slapping back down onto his pelvis before you body was overcome in heat and pleasure. Every muscle in your body somehow relaxed and froze solid at the same time, clenching helplessly around Felix’s dick until your orgasm subsided.

You didn’t move after the high dissipated, thinking that the warmth between your legs was just body heat and sweat.

“Oh no,” Chan’s voice feigned sympathy, faking a pout, “our baby boy came.”

“N— no, no! I didn’t! It’s precum, I promise!”

“C’mon now,” Chan mockingly wiped just a dribble of the ring of cum around Felix’s mouth, bringing it to your lips for you to suck away. Sweet as always. 

As you pulled away with a pop, you licked your lips and smiled down at him, “you wanted this, angel. Be a good boy for us. Besides, Channie hasn’t gotten to fuck you yet.”

-

A/N: may or may not have come across a nsfw audio that sounded a little toooooo much like poor lix...I do not take any responsibility for the damage this does sdkjfkdjskf

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules

[sakusaur]

first time?

rin itoshi x fem! reader

a/n: first piece of rin! hope you guys like it :) will definitely continue from this piece

you are part of blue lock’s logistic team and your role at the facility was to make sure BLUE LOCK MAN was operating perfectly, ensuring the players have enough equipment and to make sure the whole logistics was taken care of.

sometimes you bump into the players in the hallways as they head to the different training rooms and they throw you a shy smile, as its been a long time since they’ve seen a girl. you bow slightly at them as a polite greeting but never strike conversations with them until one day, where you accidentally bumped into two players as you were heading out of a training room.

“oh sorry!” he says, and you quickly apologise too. you quickly stepped out of their way and turned into the hallway until the boy calls out again.

“hello! you’re one of the staff here aren’t you?”

you paused and did not turn around as you weren’t supposed to be having conversations with the players as it might cause a distraction as stated clearly on the contract you signed.

“stop bothering her. she’s clearly busy.” the other player said grumpily.

“oh sorry,” he apologises again,”i didn’t mean to bother you but i just wanted to thank you for your help! i’ve seen you going around checking the equipments.”

that was such a nice thing to say and it’s the first time someone has thanked you so sincerely in the past few months, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. so you turned back around and bowed slightly.

“thank you, i’m glad you are using them well.”

you recognised the both of them from the screens they broadcast in the viewing room where ego usually camps in. isagi yoichi was the one who thanked you while rin itoshi was the one who told him off.

and you’re blown away by how rin itoshi looks like up close (he doesnt look this pretty on screen). though his hair is slightly sticking with sweat to his forehead and covering his eyes, you can still see his bottom lashes peeking out and he looks absolutely adorable with semi-flushed cheeks.

“yeah we definitely appreciate it….” isagi runs off, waiting for you to fill up the blank with your name.

“y/n, i’m on the logistics team,” you say.

“well thanks, y/n!” isagi says again and knudges rin, “c’mon say something to her.”

you fidget with your finger nervously as you look at rin who looks like he has a scowl on his face but at the same time he looks embarrassed? after a few awkward moments, isagi nudges him harder and almost glares at him till he decides to speak up.

“thanks, y/n”, rin glances at you and quickly walks away when he noticed you were staring at him. isagi starts grinning ear to ear and says goodbye to you before he catches up with rin who has already speed walked a few hundred metres away.

what a weird interaction with the best player in blue lock, and it certainly won’t be your last.

moments before…..

isagi was about to ask rin what on earth was he doing standing outside the training room and peeking behind the door and when he called out rin’s name, rin immediately jumped and shut the door behind him, running up to isagi to put a hand over his mouth.

“what are you doing!” isagi struggles to say that while rin tries to silence him.

“can you shut up for a moment you big mouth?” rin shushes him and lets him go when he’s sure that isagi is able to keep his mouth shut.

“okay so what are you doing standing outside the door?” isagi whispers and tries to peek behind the door. this is the first time he’s seen rin acting all suspicious and- oh he sees you behind the door, checking on BLUE LOCK MAN.

isagi is really smart so he pieces everything together, its either rin is afraid to talk and chase someone out or he has a crush. it is obviously the former because why would rin not chase anyone out of the field when he really wants to practice.

“oh! oh you-!” isagi tries to say it out and rin knows he’s screwed so he tries to wrestle isagi down but isagi lost his balance which led him to bump into you as you opened the door behind them.

[akoyaxs]

Tunutu pt 2

Okay so i'm FINALLY getting somewhere with my writing!!! Enjoy this little snippet of what I've written so far, and I swear the rest WILL be better it'll just take a few days 💗

The next time you saw Aonung after that day in your room, you didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe, like he usually did with other girls, he'd pretend nothing ever happened. Maybe he'd taunt you and say it was all a joke, despite everything you said. 

If you're being honest- you didn't have high hopes. It's not like all your other experiences with Metkayina men had ended with them ackegknowledging you afterward, after half-breaking your back and saying you were the tightest thing they've ever felt. 

But you certainly weren't expecting him to stick to his words.

Days had passed since you slept with Aonung, days in which you didn't see him around the village or anywhere around Awa'atlu. Of course, your mind had just come to terms with the fact he was like all the other guys, and you really had been stupid, listening to the meaningless pillow-talk riff raff he'd cooed at you afterwards. 

No one would say where he was, and Tsireya, Rotxo and the Sully's all acted infuriatingly knowing and smug when you sneakily asked them. Very casual. Definitely off-hand. Nonchalant for sure.

And you were. It wasn't that deep that Aonung, like you predicted and prepared yourself for, did not stick to his words about sticking around and everything. You were stupid and hopeful, and you didn't really blame him either.

So you were trying your best to put him behind you when a whole week had passed without you seeing him, and you were starting to fall back into your old patterns.

Which is why, on the eighth day, you could be found in the Tsahìk's marui. 

There had been an incident at training where Zei'ke had gotten a little bruised and battered. He was very good looking, so you tolerated his chatter. God- he really was even stupider than Aonung. Why did you always just go for big stupid hunks?

But at the end of the day, he was a big hunk, so you were happy to patch him up, applying ointment to his cuts and bruises, bandaging the worse injuries and massaging his sore muscles.

The trouble was, Tsireya had begged you to come swimming that afternoon, and this was your first time wearing swimmers out in the village. So maybe your bikini was a little smaller than it could of been, but who was it hurting, really, to be showing off the best assets you had to offer in a strictly na'vi village.

It certainly wasn't hurting Zei'ke, given the way his eyes stared not so conspicuously down your top when you bent over, or how the ties of your bikini bottoms peeked over your shorts.

What's the harm in having some fun, you thought.

It wasn't like Aonung was going to do anything, his absence had made it pretty clear that he was a liar, that it really was just about sex, maybe even just experimentation.

But when you moved closer, leaning up to massage Zei'ke's shoulders, you were surprised by the way he flinched back.

"What, am I hurting you?" you ask, frowning slightly. You had been careful, using your hands gently and besides, na'vi were literally impossible for you to injure.

"No," Zei'ke says slowly, blinking owlishly at you. His gaze flicks down to your breasts, then he clears his throat and looks away. You frown.

"Is there a problem with my clothing?"

"No- I just... I should go," he says hastily.

"Why?" you ask, weary and suspicious. You wonder vaguely if suddenly, everyone's starting to wonder if you're turning into the evil sort of tawtute. "I haven't finished massaging your muscles-"

"You shouldn't," Zei'ke says shortly. "He wouldn't like it."

That was new. Your eyes narrow as you try to guess what this skxawng is going on about, but you have a sinking sort of feeling you know exactly what's happening.

"And who are you talking about?"

Zei'ke blinks guiltily. Obviously he wasn't supposed to say anything, but if he was careless and clumsy enough to let the first words slip, you could pull the rest out of him.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain future Olo'eyktan, would it?" you ask casually, shifting on your feet to look more careless. "You know, tall, stupid, very good looking. Name's Aonung?"

"No!" Zei'ke practically bursts out, before scrunching his face up guiltily. Even someone that thick would realise he wasn't convincing anyone. Your eyes narrow further.

"What does him not liking it have to do with anything?" you ask.

"He is my commander," Zei'ke says owlishly.

"No," you huff, growing tired of his incompetence. "Why would he not like it?"

"Because... well... you fucked him..."

"Charming," you mutter under you breath, rolling your eyes at his very limited vocabulary. "What does us sleeping together have to do with anything? I've been with other na'vi men, and that didn't change anything, especially about others?"

Zei'ke frowns, processing your words, and you want to take him by the shoulders and rattle him. It would be hard though, given he's double the size of you.

"You are his," Zei'ke says simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"No other man goes near you," Zei'ke explains. "Sometimes we can argue with the claim, but he is to be Olo'eyktan, and we do not dare-"

"What is he playing at?" you snap. "We just fucked, I've fucked others and nothing ever happened with that? Just because he's the little prince he thinks he can control what I do?"

"Uh... I don't know?" he says weakly, and your scowl deepens.

"How did you even know about that anyway?"

"We can all smell his scent on you," Zei'ke says, face flushed with embarrasment. "You did not realise, tawtute?"

"Obviously fucking not," you growl. 

"Besides," Zei'ke says, obviously eager to take some of the heat off himself, "Aonung got upset with us asking about you. That's why I'm so battered."

At this, you freeze. Zei'ke can obviously tell he said something important, because he winces and scrunches his face up.

"I mean- no- I tripped-"

"Shut up," you say carelessly. "You saw Aonung?"

"Yes? I mean... he's been at training for day-"

With a furious growl, you push past Zei'ke, storm out of the marui, and stalk along the village. You can feel his eyes blinking owlishly at you, clearly torn between confusion and worry for what Aonung might do to him.

Rage is boiling in your veins. First, Aonung ignores you after promising a million things. Then he "claims" you or whatever the fuck that means. And now it turns out, he was here. In Awa'atlu. And he just didn't come and see you.

You storm across the sand to the warrior grounds, hands balled into little fists. All the sparring and beatings and fights don't faze you, you storm straight through all the tussles towards the familiar broad figure of Aonung on the very opposite side.

Fights pause and everyone stares as you stride past, all tiny and furious in your bikini and shorts, less clothing than they'd ever seen you in.

Finally, you reach Aonung. He hasn't noticed all his warriors have stopped fighting, he hasn't even noticed you storming towards him. He's busy sharpening a spear, discussing something with Neteyam seated beside him.

Neteyam is the first to spot you, and his eyes go wide. Before he can say anything, Aonung notices his friend's surprise, and turns with a small, puzzled frown on his stupidly handsome face to see you right in front of him.

Thank Eywa he's seated, because it makes your next action a lot easier. You slap him. Hard.

Several people gasp, everyone mutters, and all eyes are now on you as you glare up at him. Aonung's eyes are dark, but he doesn't say anything. He looks a little confused, and that makes you even more furious.

You shove him hard. Mortifyingly, yet predictably if you're looking at it logically, Aonung doesn't move a single inch, and suddenly you're right against his warm, muscular body. Stupid skxawng, his hotness making it hard for you to be mad at him.

"You dick," you growl. "You fucking idiot-"

Aonung clears his throat, clearly aware of everyone watching with varying degrees of surprise, interest and amusement as this little angry tawtute snarls curses at their commander. Neteyam, too, looks slightly entertained.

"Dismissed," he calls to his warriors. 

They all wander off, taking their sweet time to cast glances back at you, muttering excitedly between themselves. Neteyam stands awkwardly, trying to hide a smile.

"I'm going to go," he says decidedly. "I'll see you later bro. Good luck."

Aonung nods tightly, before his gaze flicks back down to you, glaring up at him with all your might. This fucking skxawng is going to be the death of you. He obviously wasn't going to be the first one to speak, so you took a deep breath.

[darkwolf989]

Outside the office Part Two

Hi All! It seems my first post has garnered some interest- I am so excited! Here is part two- I hope y'all enjoy!

After that second night, I began to settle into their routine. Breakfast in the morning-  usually cooked by either Valentino or Vox. A morning workout using the gym in Velvette’s studio. Lunch was always chosen by Velvette- options were varied, but made and served by their housekeeping crew both in their work spaces and in our kitchen.  

I spent my afternoons either reading every book I could find, trying to answer my own questions about hell. When I wasn’t reading, I bounced between Velvette and Vox’s studios- performing any tasks they happened to have available. I wanted to learn about hell and its inner workings- what better way to do so than spending time in several of the most important offices?

More often than not, I went from lunch to floor number five. Velvette would spend hours talking about her designs and was happy to have a sounding board to bounce ideas off of. Most of the time she would stick me on the stage and try on different outfits. She claimed blonde hair and blue eyes were a money maker- and then quickly changed the subject when she saw how uncomfortable I was. 

Every night we had dinner out in public, followed by a night out at any one of Valentino’s clubs. It was more typical that all three of us went out, but occasional Velvette or Vox needed to bow out for a work event. I, however, was obligated to be out. It was safest, Vox told me, for me to be in close proximity to one of them at all times. So no, staying home was not an option. 

Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights were the exceptions to the routine. Valentino and Vox took turns cooking breakfast and dinner, though on occasion they agreed to order out. I offered to help only once and they both shooed me away. 

My first Wednesday in hell I found out that the movie night Vox mentioned was not, in fact, optional. 

I was settled in bed, propped up as I turned the page to start a new book when the blare of the surround sound stereo system shattered the silence of my bedroom. I jolted from my book, annoyance and frustration washing over me. What in all of hell's creation was going on? 

I ventured down the hall and found myself staring at a giant television screen that most certainly was not there when we had dinner two hours ago. 

“Hey! Come join us, it's movie night.” Vox waved me over. “Sit next to Val. Best seat in the house.”

“Glad you crawled out of your bedroom babe. Wine?” Valentino offered me a glass. 

Although it had unsettled me at first, I had come to realize over the past few days that nicknames from Valentino were simply par for the course. I accepted the cup and sat down next to him. On the couch across from me, Vox had Velvette nestled in his arms, half under a blanket. She looked more comfortable and relaxed than I had seen her since my arrival. 

“Blanket?” Valentino asked.

“Sure.”

He tugged one off the back of the couch and tossed it over us. I propped a pillow between the two of us and settled in as best I could as the screen turned a bright blue. 

“What exactly are we watching?” I asked. 

“A Night in the Woods with Angels.” Vox replied, giving Velvette a squeeze. “The scariest of all the horror movies.”

“Angels are not scary!’ I protested. 

Valentino reached across the pillows and gently swatted my arm, “Shush. It’s starting. Popcorn?” 

I took a handful from the bowl and watched as the scene unfolded. Horror was an understatement-the idea of depicting angels as evil creatures was laughable at best. That being said, more than once, I found myself jumping back until the pillow was on the floor and I was practically sitting on Valentino. 

“It’s just a movie princessa.” he said softly, his voice almost comforting. “It isn’t real.”

“I know it's not real.” I said defensively. “Angel’s don’t act like that.”

The screen roared and I jumped again. He gave me a sympathetic look and wrapped his arms around me. The sense of security that I felt my first two nights in hell washed over me. Against my better judgment, and without alcohol as an excuse, I settled against him and pulled the blanket over the two of us. The rest of the movie was spent pressed against him as I watched the teenage demons make poor decisions that eventually led to their demise. 

The lights around us grew brighter as soon as the movie ended. Vox stood up, Velvette passed out asleep in his arms. Wordlessly, he carried her off towards her room. 

I pushed the blankets off, grateful for there to be light. My heart still pounded in my chest from the final scene, and as soon as I stepped away from Valentino, the sense of unsettledness washed over me again. 

“That was fun princessa. We should do that again.” Valentino said lightly as he stood up and stretched. 

“Are there horror movies every week?” I asked, trying to shake myself back into reality. I pulled the blanket around my shoulders.

“No no, that was Velevtte’s choice. She wanted something to fall asleep to.” 

I stared at him. Fall asleep to? Did demons actually find this carnage…relaxing? 

 He burst out in laughter. “I’m joking, Princessa. She falls asleep during every movie.”  He turned away, amusement on his face. “Goodnight mi amor.”

“Goodnight Valentino.” I watched him make his way down the hallway, and heard his bedroom door close in the distance. 

Vox hadn’t remerged from Velvette’s room- at least not that I saw. I got up from the couch a few moments later and turned off the lights before heading to bed myself. Curled up in my bed with the nightstand lamp on, I wondered if angels were to demons what demons were to angels- evil, chaotic and merciless. 

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 1 - Overstimulation

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader

cw: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, crying, fingering, penetrative sex, a hint of sub/dom dynamic, praise, cum marking

word count: 1211

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

Your body feels sticky with heat, sweat coating your forehead and your neck, and the obscene wet noises down below make it entirely difficult to differentiate where you’re sweating and where you’re dripping from Ice’s work on your tired and spent body. You feel wet everywhere.

A strangled moan escapes your throat as your legs start to coax up in sensitivity, but his fingers don’t stop their unrelenting thrusts into your leaking cunt. Three fingers, and the casual, tormenting tease of his tongue. Despite the very significant mess he’s created between your legs, he still hasn’t fucked you. It was all you’d wanted tonight, after rushing home from the O Club. You’d asked him to, moaned it into his mouth when he backed you against the wall as soon as you were behind closed doors. 

“Please fuck me.”

And now, an hour later, you’re exhausted, your fingers stiff from gripping the bed sheets. And there’s still a hard look of concentration on his face.

He’d started out with his usual foreplay, his kisses deep and full as he touched you all over. Tingling sensations and feather light touches, quiet praises against your skin. And when his big hand cupped your core and his first digit sank into your heat, he was set on what he wanted to do.

You’re not sure how many times he’s made you cum so far. Two, perhaps? Three, most likely. Or four…? You don’t know. All you can focus on is the tight, achy feeling in your core and his continued spill of praises as you take it.

And God, how good it feels.

“Tom,” you rasp, a whine stuck in the back of your throat as he scissors his fingers inside of you. The noises would probably embarrass you if you were in the right headspace to process them. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t take pity on you. You’ve got a safe word. You can use it whenever you need to. And he knows you’re strong. He knows you can take it.

When he leans down to swipe his tongue over your nerves, it washes over you again. Another orgasm, and it feels so good, but so agonizing. It takes over you entirely, legs somehow shaking and going limp at the same time. You wearily reach between your legs to push him away, the sensitivity becoming too much, but he doesn’t budge. He does harshly draw his fingers out of you all of a sudden, though, eliciting a high-pitched noise from you at the unexpected emptiness.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, leaning up off his haunches to finally finish undressing himself. 

“Tom.” 

You feel so fucked out and overwhelmed, all you can speak is his name. Tears brim your eyes as the orgasm lingers, the buzz sticking to every corner of your insides. 

Ice gets his pants off, languidly stroking himself as he nears you. “You okay, baby?” he asks sweetly. 

You almost hiccup as a tear slips down your cheek, but you nod in response. 

He leans down to wipe it away, pressing a few kisses to your cheek. “You think you can handle one more?” he asks, voice still tender.

If it means finally having him inside you, you nod again, tired arms reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. “Yes,” you mumble weakly.

His face breaks out into a beautiful smile, and he kisses your lips one, two times. “I know, baby, I know you can.” Another kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You’re distracted then, from everything except his grin above you, his full lips, the twinkle in his eye. He does take such good care of you. Softens you up and then tests your limits, makes you keep up with him. He’s always so fast, so collected, so well put together. You feel like you can do anything for him. Certainly this.

Although he’s still kissing you softly, your momentary relief comes to a halt when you suddenly feel him press the head of his cock against you. 

Yet another whine slips past your lips and against his when he very gently pushes in. Your grip around his shoulders tightens. It’s all too much again.

He’s got you, though, as always. His face hovers above yours, watching your lidded eyes and how your lashes flutter as he sinks into you. Despite how open he worked you, he feels too big, the stretch slightly more painful than pleasant. It’s not until his cock touches the same spot that he’d been agitating with his fingers that the budding feeling in the pit of your stomach returns. He swallows your moans with kisses, situating himself as deep inside of you as he can. 

You wail out when he starts thrusting. 

His lips remain soft against you but his pace immediately quickens as he chases his high. You’re an incoherent mess, your body wrecked in sensitivity.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he coos against your cheek, finding his rhythm in the slick of your walls. A stifled groan escapes him, his composure halting. 

“Tom,” you cry out. “Please.” You’re blinking and more tears are slipping down your cheeks, but you can still hold on, you think.

“You can do it,” he reiterates, a stern tone in his voice. Very Iceman of him. 

The budding feeling in your stomach grows as he pounds into you, but it feels inaccessible. Too far to reach. As if it were outside your body instead of in, but you feel it after all and it still feels good despite the pain.

Your moans begin to mix with choked out sobs, Ice’s pace harsh and punishing despite your state of disarray. You focus less on the sting inside you and on the decorative look of pleasure on his face, and it somehow alleviates your discomfort just a bit, white hot ecstasy licking you from head to toe.

You unintentionally claw at his freckled shoulders when you somehow cum again. 

Ice groans against your ear when he reaches his orgasm and then immediately pulls out,  pushing himself up on his knees and wrapping a hand around himself to paint you with his cum. Sticky and warm, it falls all over your throbbing core and around your upper thighs. He bites down on his plush bottom lip, trapping most of his moans. Always too good at controlling himself.

You, on the contrary, fling an arm over your eyes, wiping at your tears with your forearm. You’re a mess; still wet and flushed, body buzzing. You’re sniffling a lot and your face is probably puffy from crying, you think to yourself. You’re beat. 

Ice leans down again to kiss you deeply, grinning against your lips. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, he presses his forehead to yours and gently wipes at the tears marked on your face with the back of his hand. “You did good, baby.”

All you can do is pout in response.

Ice cups your face with both hands, kissing you gently as you both come down from your high. Your heavy breathing ceases eventually, his and yours, and so does the electricity flowing through your body. 

“How does a warm bath sound?” Ice asks.

[nightofhappylight]

Initially just wanted to draw Sasori and Kisame in their respective villages' standard uniform.

...And now there's a whole idea for a fanfic, so here's a short one of GuardianNinja!Akatsuki AU.

.

Snow Country Reading Club

Sasori hates waiting.

Not that he would go on a frustrated, genocidal mass-killing over waiting for a few minutes or anything, but if any of the idiots don’t arrive soon—or worse, if they change shifts without informing him—then there’s no telling what his smallest, mostly harmless doll he’s now fiddling with would do.

Flicking a finger, Sasori absently watches as the doll picks up a stick and starts to draw something on the ground. Not quite distracting enough, he makes it take up a stick on each limb and do a weird, half-remembered imitation of Suna’s traditional fan dance. If he cares enough, there’s a faint laugh he can hear from inside the big, heavily guarded building some meters away from where he’s sitting. He looks down and sighs.

Just fifteen more minutes. He would ditch the idiots if they don’t come after that.

༄ ༄ ༄

Deidara, for the umpteenth time, curses the ancient Tsuchikage for making him put up with this.

The job pays well, yes. And he is qualified, certainly.

But does he care? No, not really. Feudal Lords can do anything and Deidara would pay not even a quarter of shit to it. Their orders are shinobi’s main source of income but Deidara prefers the messy, explosive kind to the boring, tasteless, mind-numbing ones, like body-guarding.

He doesn’t have a choice, though. Not if he doesn’t want to get in another trouble with the old old man. Besides, it’s better than desk jobs, he guesses (because sage forbids he has to sit and write and think), and he gets to switch and take a break for a few hours to do whatever he wants.

…He just hopes a certain redhead wouldn’t stick a poisonous needle in him or something, though, because his shift lasting for one more hour is not his fault.

༄ ༄ ༄

When Kisame comes to their usual secret-but-not-really place, he is in a fairly cheery mood.

After seeing the familiar redhead, though, there’s something concerningly similar to fear—and morbid curiosity—that makes him blink.

“Uh” he starts, eloquently, “Where are the others?” because he’s usually the last one to arrive but there’s no blond or raven in sight.

Sasori looks downright pissed—Kisame wonders why the guy’s still there—and levels him with a look, “Who fucking knows.”

Oh. Wow. Okay.

Whistling a random, carefully low tune, Kisame sits a few feet from the puppeteer, “There’s a change in the Lightning’s Guardians, I heard.”

That, thankfully, gets the redhead’s attention.

“Who died?”

Kisame snorts, “Nah, just resigned, I think. It’s Dodai-san”

“The rubber guy” Sasori recognizes, “He is old, I guess.”

Kisame thinks about how Sasori is pretty old himself—despite his very misleading looks—and keeps the thought to himself. He glances to the windows of the building that currently holds the nations’ Feudal Lords, chuckles at how constipated Deidara had looked and faintly wonders why the convoy from Fire hasn’t arrived yet.

༄ ༄ ༄

When Itachi appears, it’s a day later than the schedule and he is greeted by a whole sour mood that turns off like a light the second he steps onto their self-claimed patch of clearing.

“Hey, Itachi-san” Kisame greets, a hand in a lazy wave, and Itachi follows the Kiri nin’s gaze and blinks at a raised eyebrow.

Ah. Right, he hasn’t had time to change yet.

“There was some trouble on the way” he explains, which is a normal occurrence, really—Feudal Lords eat assassination attempts for breakfast—but there has been a little more effort in the last couple times, “Asuma-san’s team is currently acting as decoy and we went here undercover.”

(Not that Itachi would say it out loud, but he is forever grateful the Fire’s Lord is mostly a chill guy and is fine with their modus operandi, however questionable it can be).

Vainly tapping his flak jacket to at least dust some dried red, Itachi takes a seat on the ground where Deidara is patting enthusiastically.

“We were talking about the Lightning new guy, yeah.”

“Darui-san?”

“What – you already knew??”

Itachi nods, pulling out a gray-bound scroll and a soft-cover book and thumping them on top of the other ones piled on a relatively cleaner spot, “Hokage-sama told me.”

Deidara rolls his eyes, “Of course he would, yeah” he says and goes to mutter something about blonds and old mans and retirement.

Kisame smirks, eyes alight in humor “Good for you, Itachi-san. Yagura-sama prefers his subordinates having surprises.”

“That’s because Kiri nin would die if you don’t get anything exciting happening for more than twenty minutes—”

“Hey! The one who had a rampage on a ‘seemingly empty desert’ doesn’t get to talk!”

“I’m not the one with the huge-ass, chakra-eating sword—”

Itachi snorts softly, taking one random book and flipping it open. Ah, a general history of the Stone’s alliance with Grass. He has read about it in Konoha’s archive, but having another point of view wouldn’t hurt.

“How old is the guy anyway?” Deidara asks by way of redirecting the topic because Sasori is now starting to bring up their tardiness.

“Young.”

“Younger than Itachi was?”

“No one is younger than Itachi was when he first joined.”

“…Fair. Younger than Deidara?”

“No, a little older,” a pause, “Acts ten years more than his age, though.”

They each grab a book or a scroll, a comment slipping here and there, and soon they’re sitting in a semi-circle, silent, each reading one thing or another.

“…We could invite the guy some time” Kisame says some half an hour into the silence, page opened on a certain kata illustration. (…So that’s why he has been… weirdly moving his hands about.)

“I’m fine with that, yeah” Deidara nonchalantly agrees, already on his third book and flipping many pages all at once and stopping randomly to read “Hey, somebody gotta teach me this one!”

Itachi glances at the pointed passage. A chakra control exercise. …Hmm.

“I could show an example” he offers, before looking at Sasori, “Unless Sasori-san is willing to demonstrate it” because the book is from Suna, after all. Said puppeteer just waves a dismissive hand, eyes still focused on an old, fraying scroll pertaining… Kiri’s desserts?

Deidara shoves the book into his hands. The raven reads the page once again to make sure of the theory and starts channeling it into practice. Brown and black dust falls from the hem of his sleeves and he glances forward as he feels the other half of Konoha’s convoy arriving and getting into the building.

It would be his shift in a couple hours, but for now, he is content to enjoy his break with some company.

[charleecat-bat]

Blaze in my SU/Gem AU (Updated and wrote her backstory... at least my best attempt at one for her. Kinda struggled tbh)

Nickname/s: Sugi, Su, Gem Location: Forehead Weapon/s: Rapier sword Rarity and Status: Very Rare High Class Gem Role on Homeworld: Judge Unique Powers/Abilities: Heat Blast, Violet Fire Manipulation (It's just Fire manipulation, but it's purple for her instead)

History:

Sugilites on Homeworld are given the very important job of being judges over legal cases unless they involve the Diamonds, but those are usually very closed-off matters. The scarce few Sugilites are assigned to be judges for other' gems legal cases that aren't 'important' enough for the diamonds to be involved.

But they are ordered to be just as strict and ruthless as the Diamonds would be. And like the others, Sugilite was just that. Keeping a calm, cold exterior at all times, her chilling gaze barely ever flinched away from the condemned, even when having to strike a gem with her fiery blasts if they stepped one foot out of line or if the gem was sentenced to be poofed or at the very worst-shattered.

For a long time, she kept to her duty and let nothing else distract her. She couldn't afford to, the Diamonds expected her to be cutthroat and perfect at her job.

During her time off from trials, Sugilite would ponder at spires, but at most used it to get away from gems for just a few moments.

It was during this time at she met another gemstone that made quite the impression on her. Moonstone.

Of course, she was aware of Moonstone's equally or even more important duty of being an oracle to gems. But yet, he acted differently. It confused her at first, but eventually, she found it quite endearing. Sugilite didn't want to admit it, but if she was put on trial herself, she would have to say that she did care for the Moonstone and consider him a friend.

But she was aware of his issue of leaving so suddenly to go off to explore, and she knew of the consequences. Sugilite did not want to see him get into trouble, especially if he was condemned to go on trial, but even with her warnings, it didn't seem to stick, and the next time she came to the spire to get away and, of course, see her friend, she was horrified to see a device in his place... and his gemstone embedded inside.

While she had to act as if she didn't care at all and was unaffected...it wasn't true. She was hurt; she felt awful for her friend. Was he even conscious in the machine? She didn't know. Sugilite couldn't even get close enough to it before finding herself getting too upset; and considering her reputation. She couldn't afford to do it.

But after her friend vanished, she closed herself off and tried to focus on her job from henceforth... but had slipped up many times. Either going a bit too soft on some trials and let gems get off less harshly while previously punishing gems severely for similar punishments... and other times she'd go off and send a fiery blast at any gem who annoyed her just the slightest bit during court..

It was miraculous that the diamonds did not question her behaviour, but many of the other gems in her social class noticed. The ostracisation came clear after, whether out of fear or repulsion.

Things would remain rather unremarkable one faithful day, centuries later. She was assigned a case, one for the fugitive Mahogany Obsidian. He had been captured during a hunt for these rebel groups, and he was found among them and another gem with him.

Initially, she planned to be the most vicious and cutthroat she could be; it was what would be expected of her course. Not from just the Diamonds. From anyone. This Obsidian had made quite a deadly reputation for himself, and he needed to be dealt with.

It was certainly and interesting trial but it when Sugilite called that second gem to the stand as a witness to get their view of this latest sighting and capture of Mahgaony. She found herself caught off guard hearing this story of this little Amber. Not even just her incessant defending of her friend but... a familiar sense of precious naivety and hope... one she missed.

It was at that moment that her usual ruthlessness had been cracked by this little gem.

She knew the law; legally, Mahogany had to be punished. If not shattering, then being bubbled or rejuvenated at least. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. So when she spoke of a bizarre new punishment of 'exile' that came up for Mahogany... the room flew into a rage. The gems demanded for 'true justice' in seeing Mahogany's gem shattered to pieces right then and there but Sugilite stood firm at least until the room fell to chaos. She tried her best to keep it in order but she had lost the power in the room and found herself getting poofed within the chaos of the brawling court room.

Mahogany Obsidan and Amber took this time to escape but Amber had quickly come back for Sugilites gem and bringing it back to a ship to escape to. It took quite a bit of pleading and convincing on Ambers behalf but eventually she was allowed to bring the poofed gem back to their base.

When reforming, Sugilite was not only shocked to not find herself in the presence of furious diamonds... but she wasn't even on Homeworld. She didn't even know where she was. It frankly caused quite a panicked reaction at first but she was given the explanation she needed as well as a friendly welcome by some of these 'rebel' gems...including the little Amber that seemed to wing her over in that case.

Now, as a member the of the rebel group, she hopes to bring some actual justice. Looking back at her previous duty with regret and shame. It's been quite an adjustment to undo some of the thinking that Homewold has put into her, in fact she still is. But she is happier then she was on her Homeworld... especially after being able to find and reunite with an old future seeing friend.

[badcaseofcasey]

Steddie Soulmate/Met as Kids AU - Part 5 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: there should only be one more part (of Steve's pov, at least), so we're almost to the end! I promise they will actually interact in the next installment, lol. Thanks for sticking with me, hope you enjoy it!

Usually, it was pretty easy for Steve to get by without showing off his words. The only ones who really saw them these days were the few girls he actually ended up hooking up with, which Robin would tell you were pretty few and far between.

But he’d rather deal with the potential awkwardness of having Eddie see his words for the first time than try to swim to the bottom of Lover’s Lake with his sweatshirt dragging him down.

He tried to do it as quickly as possible, but he certainly didn’t miss the glance Eddie threw his way as he caught the yellow sweatshirt. Steve’s entire body had been buzzing with that once-familiar electricity since Eddie had thrown him up against the wall in the boathouse. It was easier to dive into the murky waters, even knowing what he might find down there, than stay on the boat and deal with the weight of Eddie’s eyes on him.

From that point on, there was very little time to think of anything but the plan. Looking back on it, he would blame ranting about six kids and a winnebago on the blood loss, coupled with being so close to his soulmate for the first time in years. Between that and being in the Upside Down, his brain felt like a ball of mush. Even when he and Eddie had actually spoken for the first time since they were kids, it just ended with Eddie encouraging him to go after Nancy and left Steve more confused than ever.

When it came time to split up, Steve couldn’t help but worry. The idea of Eddie or Dustin getting hurt was almost too much to think about. The plan kept them as far away from harm as physically possible, but even still, he felt a pit in his stomach. There was something in Eddie’s eyes as he got ready to leave that made him pause, but against his better judgment, he’d stuck to the plan.

He had told Eddie specifically - don’t be the hero. So why was he now sitting in a hospital room watching his soulmate breathe through a ventilator?

Eddie and Max had both been in the hospital when they went after Vecna for what was actually the last time. Steve made it through their last battle on pure adrenaline, really. Any time he’d stopped for more than a second, all he could see was Dustin clinging to Eddie’s lifeless body, reliving the few minutes where he thought he had lost his soulmate before he’d even gotten to have him.

Now that the gates were all closed and Vecna was gone (El had made absolutely sure this time), Steve allowed himself to slow down for the first time in weeks. He’d spent every day since then (after a quick shower and a night spent in his own bed, at Robin and Joyce’s insistence) at the hospital, either in Max’s room or Eddie’s.

It was hard to explain to the others why Steve was spending so much time at Eddie’s bedside. He could tell they were curious, but luckily, they held themselves back from actually asking. Other than Dustin, Steve was the one to have spent the most time in Eddie’s room. Eventually, Dustin had to start going back to school, despite the cracks in the ground all over Hawkins. So Steve was now the one to keep vigil at Eddie’s bedside, eating food from the hospital cafeteria or brought in by Joyce and showering in the attached bedroom (one of the perks of being a wanted fugitive with a shady government organization working on clearing your name was a private room).

Robin came to sit with Steve whenever she had the spare time. She was still working at Family Video, which had somehow miraculously survived the “earthquake,” so she could only come between shifts, and dates with Vickie.

One day, she finally got up the courage to ask, “Steve? …Why Eddie?”

Steve looked up from where he had been reading aloud from The Hobbit (one of Dustin’s conditions of going back to school was that Steve picked up where he left off). “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Max’s room is right down the hall,” Robin clarified. “I know she has her mom, El, and Lucas, but you could be down there, too. I didn’t even think you liked Eddie, and now you’re here all the time. I guess, I’m just wondering… why?”

“Honestly, Robs,” Steve sighed, putting the bookmark in and shutting the book. “I’m impressed you made it this long without asking.”

Robin nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “You should be proud. But you’re not getting out of answering the question.”

Steve paused, considering. “You know how I told you that I didn’t remember getting my words?”

Robin nodded. The night that Steve and Robin had ended up drugged in the Starcourt bathroom, Robin had confessed that she’d gotten her words earlier that year, from Vickie of all people. Steve had managed not to tell her his own story - but only barely.

“I lied,” Steve admitted. “I got them when I was eight. I was at the playground and this kid came up, wanting to fight dragons with me. We played together all afternoon and I had the most fun I can ever remember having, to be honest.”

Robin’s eyebrows had shot up as soon as Steve started talking. “What happened to the kid?”

“I never saw him again - or well, I didn’t for a while,” Steve said. “He was in town… visiting his uncle.”

Steve let his eyes slide over to Eddie’s face, dark hair fanned out against the white hospital pillowcase.

Robin gasped lightly. “Oh, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, feeling his throat tighten up. “I didn’t see him again until high school and by then, I’d already fallen in with the popular crowd and I was so scared at what it would mean for me to give that all up for - well, for someone I really hardly knew.”

Steve turned back to face Robin and saw her eyes were wet. Steve knew his were as well.

“I ignored him, Rob,” Steve confessed. “I knew he was my soulmate, but I decided that popularity and making people like me was more important. And now-“

“Hey,” Robin cut him off, wrapping her arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Now nothing. The doctors are saying he’s going to make it. Now, you get a second chance.”

Steve’s shoulders shook as he finally let himself cry for the first time since seeing Eddie bleeding in the Upside Down. All of the hurt and pain and guilt he’d felt at not being able to protect his soulmate came flowing out of him at once. Robin, for her part, just held him, even though Steve knew that people crying made her uncomfortable.

After a while, his sobs quieted and he was able to pull his face away from Robin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve, that night at Starcourt.”

“Hey, if you should be sorry for anything, it’s getting snot all over my favorite sweater, dingus.”

Steve laughed and rested his head on her shoulder, eyes back on Eddie.

“I almost lost him, Rob.”

“Well,” she said. “Make sure you don’t, this time around.”

Part 6

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[five-rivers]

Banshee

It took months for him to realize it, but ever since the accident that took half his life, Danny could sense the approach of death.  He could, metaphorically speaking, hear the fall of their footsteps, the wind whistling over their scythe. 

The length of time was because, in the modern world, the dying are segregated.  Kept away in homes or hospitals.  Not out and about where teenagers could run into them.  Certainly, people died in public only infrequently. 

But death is an unavoidable fact of life.  Sooner or later, he was always going to run into it, and he did. 

The first time was in the park, on a peaceful, ghost-free day.  Maybe that was surprising, considering how often he got into violent, dangerous fights.  Maybe it was just the universe being kind for once.  He’d been walking past a group of elderly people playing chess when he felt a prickling in his eyes.  The prickling turned into tears.  Tears he couldn’t stop until Sam and Tucker dragged him away. 

They chalked it up to a freak act of teenage hormones and left it at that. 

Except, that wasn’t the last time it happened.  A car wreck.  A day at a restaurant.  An ordinary walk down the street.  In the middle of a ghost fight, where Danny saved a civilian from being crushed by rubble and barely registered that his tears stopped in the same moment. 

But he didn’t put things together until that time he and Sam visited Tucker in the hospital, after he broke his leg. 

It wasn’t a power Danny had any desire to experiment with, but like all of his powers, not knowing the limits of it felt irresponsible at best.  Although most adults wouldn’t consider Danny responsible, between skipped classes, missing homework, and staying up until dawn to play video games, the fact was that Danny took his responsibilities very seriously.  He just had to prioritize, sometimes. 

(Also, he was a teenager.  If he didn’t have some fun now and again, he’d shrivel up and die.  Playing video games was one of the few fun things he could do at all hours.)

Eventually, between himself, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, they worked out that this power only activated, for lack of a better word, when the death was going to happen within twenty-four hours, and usually much less than that, such as in the case of things like almost-getting-squished-by-rubble. 

The good thing was that for some things, Danny could intervene.  But for others, there was nothing he could do.  He could stop cars, but not strokes.  He could give CPR, but not a new heart.  He could tell people to go to the doctor, but there wasn’t any cure for old age.

And that was assuming he could find the person and figure out what was wrong in the first place.  He couldn’t always. 

Which led to things like the current situation. 

.

Regardless of supernatural goings-on, school was a blessed constant.  A point of stability when everything else threatened to dissolve.  Danny’s friends were there.  Ghost hunters weren’t going to burst in without warning.  People regularly practiced evacuating. 

Was it his favorite place?  No.  But even Vlad couldn’t just shut down a public school.  So, even when Danny resented it, he appreciated school. 

Worst thing that could happen, outside of a ghost attack, was Dash sticking him in a locker, and Danny had figured out how to pick them from the inside.  He did so now, and hopped out, sneakers squeaking a little on the linoleum. 

Today was a completely normal day.  He’d walk into class late, get scolded and marked tardy, sit through a lecture that was both boring and confusing, finish up the day with more of the same, and hang out with Sam and Tucker after school.  Maybe do some homework.  Patrol at night, since tomorrow was Saturday. 

Normal. 

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, it’d be true. 

He trudged down the hallway, having made himself depressed.  If he went faster, maybe the teacher wouldn’t be too upset, but it wasn’t his fault that Dash was a troglodyte. 

He reached the door and paused, his eyes were stinging.  Had he gotten something in them, or…?

Or…

The tears began to fall. 

Oh, no.  Oh, no.  This couldn’t be happening here.  Not now.  Not–  No.  It couldn’t be happening to someone in his class, or– His teacher?  Could it be the teacher, Mr. Falluca?

He opened the door slowly. 

“Thank you for joining us, Danny,” said Mr. Falluca.  “I’ll be marking you tardy for– Are you alright?  Why are you crying?”

“Uh,” said Danny, scanning the room.  No one looked hurt or anything, but he of all people knew how to hide injuries.  Just because they didn’t look hurt–  Wait, could it be someone in one of the neighboring classes?

How did someone die at school anyway?

Wait, no, stupid question.  He knew people who had died at school. 

“Lockers,” he said.  The word was hard to force out.  He took a few steps back, and looked to the lockers on either side of the door.  They weren’t made to be easy to see into. 

But… 

Danny put his hand on one of the lockers. 

“Danny?” said Mr. Falluca, having come to the door.

“I think someone’s stuck in here,” said Danny.  “I don’t think they’re conscious.” 

Falluca blinked and withdrew before coming back with his key ring.  “If this is some sort of joke,” he started, warningly, fishing a key labeled ‘locker master’ in tiny script from the mass of jingling metal. 

Mikey tumbling, unconscious, from the locker wasn’t a joke. 

.

So.  The day wasn’t normal. 

That was okay.  Disaster (death) had been averted.  Mikey would be… not fine, but alive.  Danny was also fine.  Mostly.  Even though he was currently in (the front seat) of a police car. 

The police had wanted to know how Danny had noticed that Mikey was in the locker, so he’d had to stay for a while after.  They were bringing him home now.  Mom had sent him a text a few minutes ago to let him know they had ordered pizza from his favorite place for lunch, and Jazz had just come home from picking it up. 

The policeman parked in front of his house.  “You’ll be okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, jumping out as fast as he could.  “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.”

Danny took the stairs to the front door two at a time, and more or less barreled through the door at top speed.  He was hungry and tired and stressed and wanted that pizza, darn it. 

At the door into the dining room, he stopped. 

The corners of his eyes started to prickle.