#me writing this: IT'S NOT THE TIME FOR TENDERNESS IDIOTS THERE'S PEOPLE UNCONSCIOUS ON THE GROUND

[cosmicheromp3]

so yesterday it was 2am and i was feeling soft and i remembered this dumb post, and, well, i made it into an actual thing. and today it was 12am and i was feeling soft again and finally finished editing it. anyways here have some dickroy tenderness

A fist connects to a jaw and there’s barely any give under it, and that’s when Dick knows he’s in trouble.

There are one too many henchmen on a night where he shouldn’t, if he followed any logic, have gone out. He doesn’t remember the last time he got more sleep than just a quick nap – if he stopped to think about it, he’d realize it was more than three days ago. But to Dick, world-on-his-shoulders Dick, any night where he isn’t bedridden with an injury is a night when he can – should – go out. 

That’s not how the human body works, however. And Dick, for all the magic and powers and aliens that are part of his life, is just that. Human.

Maybe not “just” human, as he is still powering through, against all odds. He isn’t entirely himself, though, and anyone who knows him will notice – not enough flips, not enough show, not enough grace. His body, always yearning to take off and fly, seems to want to stay close to the ground. The limited space is working in his favor, the platform on the docks narrow enough that he can push attackers to the water, but a mistake is bound to happen any second.

And it does. One of the henchmen gets hold of a gun that, if Dick was the tiniest bit more lucid, he would have discarded properly. And this henchman, he points, to the bright blue symbol on Nightwing’s chest – shining in the night like a target he put on himself. 

But he never gets to pull the trigger. What he gets, instead, is an arrow knocking the gun off his hand and scraping his trigger finger, hurting him no more than a paper cut, like a warning.

It works like the flick of a switch; the air, heavy and humid like it always is in the docks, now feels electrical, like a song where there’s a sudden crescendo. Dick’s face is lit up by a grin that can’t be wider because it’s physically impossible, a slightly unsettling image paired up with the white eyes of his domino mask. Shrouded by the shadows, on his vantage point on top of a crate, the mysterious archer smiles, and almost wants to laugh. 

Even so far apart, they fight together like it’s a dance. No commands need to be called out loud; no warning to duck, no signal for where to shoot. It’s the practice of two people who’ve been teammates for as long as they can remember, and it’s the familiarity of two people who understand each other better than themselves. 

With a backflip and a kick and one last arrow zipping through the air, it’s done. Habit takes over and without stopping to think about it Dick’s tying up the mostly unconscious henchmen (only a preventive measure, for now, before he figures out what his course of action is here). He uses these seconds to try to get his breathing back to normal, but he doesn’t seem to be able to, and not entirely because of the fight.

“You can come out now.” He says to the now still darkness around him.  

Then, there he is. Roy Harper, bathed in moonlight, red hair and sparkling green eyes; he looks – impossible. Like a dream. With the sound of the waves splashing rhythmically against the docks, Dick thinks it’s hard not to find the poetry in the moment. He’s suddenly entirely awake, his chest pulsing with something he recognizes but doesn’t dare name. 

It’s been too long since he last saw him, and Dick aches. Roy does too. 

They both take a step forward at the same time – carefully, like they don’t want to disturb the night around them, but eager, hungry, impatient. 

Another step forward, another step forward, and then they’re only a breath away. The adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion kicking in, Dick is unable or unwilling to move, lest his muscles give out from under him – he only manages to stand there and breathe in Roy, his presence, his warmth. Roy lets his head fall, just the slightest bit, so his forehead rests against Dick’s. Dick is sweaty and his hair curls and sticks to the edges of his face, but neither of them notice, or care, for that matter. 

“You were supposed to arrive tomorrow.” Dick says, finding his voice, hoarse, and feeling the – the suggestion of Roy’s lips, so close, as his move to form the words.

“Something told me I would need to save your ass.” They both let out a breathy laugh, and their chests brush, if for a second. But it’s short lived, and then they’re still again. Roy tilts his head, not to kiss, not yet, and gets even closer: cheeks pressed together, softly leaning on each other. Dick’s arm, with a mind of its own, moves so that his hand curls around the side of Roy’s neck, thumb softly tracing the line of his jaw.

“Besides,” – breathe in; breathe out – “I wanted to surprise you.” Roy’s voice, barely above a whisper, fades out and melts into the night. 

For a moment, neither of them feel anything but their own breaths and each other’s heartbeats. When Dick’s body finally collapses – when he lets himself finally collapse –, Roy’s arms are ready to hold on to him, and Dick’s face fits perfectly snuggled into the crook of Roy’s neck. And if there’s a kiss, now, it’s only a brush of soft lips against dark hair; and if there’s a kiss, later, it’s in the comfort of home and in the privacy of each other – except, except, home was never really about a place. 

[dabi-does-cocaine-fight-me]

Hallucinations

Dabi x Shigaraki One-Shot

Warnings: So ooc, bugs, slight gore if you squint really hard, swearing, rOmAnCe, fEeLs, omg cliché

Shigaraki strolled into the League of Villains’ bar, wiping the blood off his hands with a discarded, musty towel. His gaze swept over those present in the room, hidden by the obstructing hand on his face. Toga was sitting at one end of the bar with Spinner, giggling obnoxiously at his dramatic hero imitations. Twice perched on a barstool at the opposite end of the bar, staring sullenly into the distance while puffing leisurely on a cigarette. Meanwhile, Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing glasses in a dutiful, restless manner, while Dabi lounged on an old moth eaten couch. Across from him, Compress made a move on the chessboard the two shared.

All of them eyed Shigaraki as he stepped further into the room, clearing his throat to get their attention. The effect was immediate. Toga and Spinner fell silent, Twice came out of his trance, and Dabi’s posture straightened slightly.

“News, Tomura?” Mr. Compress questioned. Shigaraki’s head turned in his general direction and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Different factions of the yakuza are still at war, competing for control now that they’ve removed Overhaul. One of the factions was delivering me a shipment of illegal drugs…I was expecting to use it to create more of those quirk destroying bullets, but it was intercepted by Ryukyu, Selkie and a few U.A. brats,” he reported in a bitter tone. He clearly wasn’t happy about how events had transpired.

“And all that blood on your hands, you slip and fall into Kool-Aid, boss?” Dabi snickered. Shigaraki turned to him and flexed his fingers, the unspoken threat apparent.

“How would you like to find out?” Tomura intoned quietly. Dabi scoffed, unfazed by the hostility.

“Well, you know, if you weren’t an insufferable dick and gave us straight answers…” he shrugged maladroitly. An unsteady and tense silence had fallen over the room, and everyone present was waiting to spring into action, should the need arise. Kurogiri inched closer, recalling the volatility present in the two’s previous encounters. Shigaraki and Dabi were continuing to stare at each other, Tomura’s demeanor calm and collected, Dabi’s wary yet relaxed. As they eyed each other quietly, Dabi realized Shigaraki was balancing all his weight on one leg and holding-no, more like nursing- his right arm. His gloves were absent. Tomura detected his examination and shot Dabi a nasty glare as their eyes met, daring him to say something. Kurogiri observed this interaction and decided it was time to step in, before things went any further.

“Tomura, where did all the blood come from?” he inquired, making sure to keep his tone level and to keep from sounding interrogating so as not to anger Tomura further. Shigaraki tore his gaze away from Dabi, muttering a response.

“One of the yakuza factions at war with the one I employed recognized me. Overhaul followers…one had a paralyzing quirk,” he seethed. It had hurt his pride immensely to have been surprised so easily, pinned so effortlessly, paralyzing quirk or no, and having that scarred idiot examining him only pissed him off worse. Kurogiri’s mist blew slightly, a draft from the open door causing him to dissipate and then reform as he spoke again.

“I see,” he soothed, “why don’t you go lie down, I’ll prepare you some food.”

Tomura nodded, looking rather beaten. He began to shuffle off to his room, Spinner and Twice both averting their gaze out of respect to their boss. Dabi sat thoughtfully on the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair as he rendered Compress checkmate.

~

A few hours later, Dabi was sauntering to his room in the evening, but as he passed Tomura’s room he heard muffled cursing. He turned around and rapped the door. The sounds quieted, and Tomura muttered gruffly for him to enter. Dabi obeyed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You okay in here?” he interrogated, already knowing the answer. Tomura was in bad shape. His food sat untouched, his laptop shut on the desk, no online gaming visible. He was sprawled on his bed, sweatshirt hood up, panting slightly.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his face obscured by his hair in the dark of the room.

“Cut the bullshit handyman, what’s got you sitting on tacks?” Dabi shot back. Tomura huffed.

“Why the fuck would you care? Get out,” he barked. Dabi scoffed.

“No wonder no one wants to be around you. You’re so kind,” he murmured sarcastically, turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when Tomura spoke again.

“The attack….there were three people. One paralyzed me, another rendering me mute, I’m assuming those were their quirks…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “The third?” he questioned.

“The third…didn’t move until the other two started leaving…as they walked away, he threw something at me….I flinched, so I didn’t see what it was but I felt it hit me…like…worms eating into my brain. I didn’t think anything of it, because there were no unusual effects but now I…”

He trailed off, glancing at his food before quickly turning his gaze elsewhere once more. “When I try to eat the food is all…full of maggots, and mold. When I try to patch up my injuries from the encounter, all I see is…blood. So much blood…gushing, squirting, blood. Bugs. Lots of…”

He shuddered. “In the mirror…my nails turn to beetles and crawl away…my eyebrows, spiders…worms for-for lips. My gloves…they’re rats…”

His voice broke slightly, and he stopped speaking. Dabi sighed, observing him quietly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that Shigaraki was trembling, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was scared. The kind of fear that you know is irrational, but it’s bone-chilling anyway. He knew that fear, he felt it roll through his body, consuming his thoughts every time he heard his father’s footsteps near his bedroom door when he was a small child. Something inside him tugged at his consciousness, telling him to comfort the man in front of him. He gave into it, strolling over to Shigaraki and perching hesitantly next to him on the corner of the bed. He clenched his fist, opening it to reveal a small, flickering blue flame.

“Focus on it,” he suggested quietly, softly nudging Shigaraki with his shoulder. Shigaraki turned his head, hyper fixating on the fire, anxious for his mind to be anywhere but on the events of the day and their effects. After a while, he sighed softly.

“Thank you, Dabi,” he murmured, looking up at the raven-haired male. His shivering had eased, and he felt slightly calmer. Dabi noticed the hand wasn’t on his face, as usual, and was surprised by how red Shigaraki’s eyes were. He’d been crying, for a long while. Dabi nodded.

“Anything for you, boss man,” he replied truthfully. He may act abrasive towards Shigaraki, but there was a fondness for him, somewhere deep inside. Shigaraki had accepted him, however slowly, and had given him a place to stay, a family, somewhere he belonged. Maybe that platonic feeling of respect and devotion had turned into something else…something more serious. Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge, he tucked a small portion of Shigaraki’s hair behind his ear. The smaller male turned to him, a soft vulnerable in his eyes that Dabi had never seen before. It made Shigaraki seem…almost fragile. Dabi slid his thumb over a scar on the man’s cheek, frowning slightly. Two imperfect beings, two scarred, broken creatures, adapted to the circumstances of the cruelty they were subject to…so perfect. Almost poetic, how they were frozen together in anarchy, yet the world kept spinning on its axis around them. And they were safe. Safe from it all, because, all though unspoken, now, they had each other.

He never thought Shigaraki would be so soft, so fragile, so carefully built. He wanted to accept Shigaraki as a part of him, to take him in, take his bones, his flesh, his mind and make the two of them one. To protect him through anything and everything, always. He’d break himself to keep Shigaraki intact, he’d never let the world touch him again. When his thought process broke, he looked up, only to find Shigaraki’s face mere inches from his own. The blue haired male exhaled slightly through his lips and Dabi could feel it on his own. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet them.

“Why are you such an ass to me?” Shigaraki questioned bluntly. The flame in Dabi’s palm flickered once, twice, and blew itself out.

“I’m…afraid of what I feel.” The hand that had been holding the flame came to rest on his upper thigh.

“What do you feel?” Shigaraki asked, a note of gentle yet earnest curiosity in his voice. Dabi licked his lips once more, swallowing heavily. Shigaraki seemed much too close…

“Tell me,” he whispered when Dabi failed to answer. Dabi hesitated, visibly struggling before leaning in to capture Tomura’s lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Shigaraki gasped softly, but didn’t pull away, instead lifting his hand to hold the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, they both thought. Shigaraki’s hand came up to brush the stubble on Dabi’s jaw gently, and they were no longer aware of the passage of time. The stars whirled, the sun rose and set, a million years passed, and it made no difference. Their souls merged, never to be torn apart. They pulled away as one, exhaled as one. Their gazes caught each other, holding each other in a silent embrace, one that said everything…and nothing. They never left that place, that space of eternal bliss, where for once, everything was right.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY- If you like this story, drop a request for part two, and if you like my work so far, send a request in for another story!! Remember to name the characters (or if an x reader story, who you wish to be paired with) and a situation I can build on; i.e hanging out at the mall. I love all of you, regardless of whom you are and I hope you all have a wonderful October!!

[itswildwinters]

Seeing as it’s the holidays for me, I’ve had time to read (and re-read) quite a lot of fics, and I felt like sharing some of them with you. It’s my first time doing a fic recs post, so I hope it’s useful and not too much of a mess, especially since it’s quite long!

If you do end up reading any of these stunning fanfics, don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show your appreciation!

Enjoy!! ✩

✩ baby blue by @soldouthaz​ (39k)

summary: Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head. 

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin. 

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

I loved the dynamic between Cowboy Harry and Celebrity Louis. What I also really enjoyed about this fanfic is that the depiction of farm life was accurate. The way the story is written really gets you into action, so that you can picture everything quite well through the Louis-centric third point of view. 

✩ The Space Between by @lads-laddylads​ (39k)

summary: Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why. Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

A/B/O fanfic. I loved how Alpha Harry acted upon seeing Louis for the first time. You can really feel the tension and attraction through the screen, which is one of my all time favourite things. The way their relationship builds up is a delight, and Louis is a darling and so courageous in the end with how he deals with Harry, even when Harry is being an idiot. The connection they have at the end... just wow!

✩ fae series: Boiling Blood Will Circulate and Warming The Air Of The World by @crazyupsetter​ (42k and 3k)

summary of Boiling Blood Will Circulate: The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.

He misses. The shot misses.

Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.

Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.

The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry says.

I am a sucker for fantasy/supernatural fanfics, and this one is absolutely incredible. The suspense in there is well-built, and the dynamic between Louis and Harry leaves you hungry for more. There’s a lot of blood in this series, so if you’re not into that you should be careful, but for me the author really puts into perspective how complicated and different from mankind faeries are.

✩ With a whimper by @kitundercover​ (132k)

summary: Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

If you are into dystopian works, and doesn’t mind violence, blood and gore, this fic will make your day! I loved the world-building, the way it’s written, how Louis’ character is portrayed and how strong he is. I just couldn’t stop reading once I began. The secrets of the plot, the fear of the characters, and the curiosity that sparks within you as you read contribute into making this fic a unique one that’s so worth the read.

✩ Soaked In The Blood Of Angels by @crazyupsetter​ (40k)

summary: The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

Another magnificent creatures/fantasy fanfic. The writing is absolutely exquisite, and I love how hard to get Louis is. The violence between Louis and Harry might bother some people, but to me it really spiced up their relationship and made Louis and Harry, who are creatures of gloom, particularly interesting and even real, somehow.

✩ Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl​ (40k)

summary: They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

Where do I start? I usually don’t like fake-relationship AUs since most of the time Louis and Harry are famous, which make it less fun to me. But in this fic, they’re students and Harry is a frat boy while Louis is a nerd, but it’s not cliché or anything. It’s actually so well-written and the relationship between Louis and Harry takes time to progress which I absolutely love, seeing as I am a sucker for slow burn. Harry is so sweet as a frat boy, and Louis is an angel. Really loved reading this.

✩ at your fingertips by @risthebrave​ (27k)

summary: He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

-

Or, Louis really should have seen it coming.

Besides being well-written, the whole plot is quite original. I absolutely loved Louis in there, especially since all of his insecurities made me relate to him. He’s so sweet, and I’m glad Harry was there to get him to open-up and see how amazing he is. I had so many moments of secondhand embarrassment haha, and they made the fic all the more amazing. Honestly, what really struck me in this fic is how the author managed to make Harry such an amazing person, and how intrepid Louis is while he learns to overcome his insecurities.

✩ Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense​ (83k)

summary: Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

It was such a joy to read this fic. Even though Harry pissed me off on more than one occasion, I took great satisfaction in how Louis ignored him or replied with one of his witty comebacks. The plot twist was just awesome and Harry’s stubbornness ended up being very much welcome.

✩ push you out, pull you back in by @behisoneandonly​ (31k)

summary: Harry grips his head in his hands helplessly, yanking the base of his dark curls and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the strands of his hair.

“Hey, hey,” says the petite stranger in front of him, quickly standing up. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself.”

–

Or Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

Oh my god, this was truly wonderful. The size difference made me go crazy! The smut was just wow too. What really made this fic so incredible is how protective of Harry Louis is, and how Louis seems to just... understand Harry despite his issues. Jealous Harry also! I loved it. Moreover, Louis’ character is literally perfect in this.

✩ thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in by @absoloutenonsense​ (52k)

summary: Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

I’ve read and re-read this. I love Louis and Harry’s dynamic, and how they solve their troubles in the end. Harry is such a sweet soul, and Louis deserves the world!

✩ Canyon Moon by @eeveelou​ (40k)

summary: For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

What really drew me in is that I’ve never before seen a larry fanfic on the Lion King, and honestly? It was so beautiful. The way the author made the plot of the cartoon go along with the A/B/O world was truly surprising, and absolutely interesting to read. Also, when Louis is introduced to the modern world? It’s such a sweet part of the fic.

✩ a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent​ (27k)

summary: The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

Trailer park Harry? HELL YEAH! The concept has been going on in the fandom for so long that when I saw someone finally wrote it, I was genuinely excited. And I wasn’t disappointed! The writing is wonderful and the way Louis and Harry grow closer is just so sweet. Loved it!

✩ The Healing Song series: The Healing Song and The Wedding by 2204 (111k and 3k)

summary of The Healing Song: Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Or where Louis is a single father of two, suffering from PTSD, and Harry is there providing soulmatey and loving support while he heals the wounds of past abuse.

God, this fic I swear! This made me cry, laugh, scream... this is a roller-coaster of emotions. It’s quite a hard fic to read, because it deals with past abuse and trauma. And it’s even harder knowing this story is based on real life events that the author went though. But the way it’s written, the way Harry helps Louis through his struggles and issues, it’s so beautiful and inspiring.

✩ Sunrise and Pixie Dust by @moonyblouie​ (14k)

summary: Harry's taking a walk at sunrise in the forest he knows like the back of his hand when the wind starts blowing, the sky turns pink, and golden glitter starts to fall from the sky. He’s not sure about what’s happening, but when he comes face to face with a gorgeous winged-creature, he can’t help but be immediately mesmerized.

Or an AU in which Harry finds himself crossing the borders between two worlds.

I loved this, the smut is so hot!! But the end... I really hope there will be a sequel! But other than that, the way Louis is written? Wonderful!

✩ Weightless by @smittenwithlouis​ (25k)

summary: He hopes that Harry still thinks of him. God knows Louis thinks of him every day.

Or: Harry is the best dragon racer the world has ever seen and Louis is an almost-vet who feels like he is carrying the weight of the world.

This was... just amazing, honestly. I loved loved loved every time Louis interacted with dragons, I could picture it and it’s just so so sweet. The way Louis is concerned about Harry’s safety, and Harry’s will to make Louis’ life better, to give him the freedom he deserves... it’s just beautiful.

✩ The Blood of Love by @mugglemirror​ (25k)

summary: Harry is a nurse and Louis is a painting worth more than a thousand words. As desire and darkness encompasses him, Harry has to learn the secrets of Thorne Hills manor before he succumbs to the mystery that surrounds him.

I absolutely loved this! The plot, the writing, the suspense, the secrets... everything was on spot and left me yearning for more. The atmosphere really makes the reader completely engrossed into what’s going on, and the end doesn’t disappoint. Dark fics have always been something that I enjoy reading, and this one definitely didn’t disappoint. Just wow!

✩ Latibule by @quelquesetoiles​

summary: Louis had worked in the infamous resort placed in the median point of all worlds for longer than he could remember. He went through everyday with a soul-crushing emptiness filling his mind, going through the same routine over and over again. Despite all the happenings around him, his soul never wavered, his emotions stayed superficial, and nothing took his breath away anymore.

Nothing, except the intoxicating smell of lavender and the contemplating green eyes that came along for the ride every now and again. His heart always seemed to wake up full force whenever those pretty lips formed around even prettier, yet empty promises, and he felt the magic sizzle in his bones again only when contact was made between the divine body and his own deceivingly normal one. He hated it for the fact he really didn’t.

Or : A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

I have read this at least three times, that’s how good this fic is. I am a sucker for mythology, like truly, and Louis and Harry’s dynamic in there had me screaming! Jealous Harry is the best thing, and the semi plot twist at the end made my heart jump. But besides the universe we readers are diving into, it’s also the writing that’s left me pleasantly drunk. The words flow together perfectly, at after each paragraph you just long for more. Also the pet names!!! Just beautiful.

✩✩✩

If there’s any mistakes, please let me know! 

[kitkatopinions]

Jaune for the character ask?

I honestly love this kid, but he is a problematic boy, so I’m looking forward to this!

My top three ships for the character

Jaune/Ren is my new favorite Jaune and Ren ship. This is really recent, but the more I think about this ship, the more that I like it. They’re tender, they compliment each other, but they still can challenge each other... I just think they’d be really healthy and cute. Jaune/Neptune is my next favorite ship for him. I headcanon that Neptune had a crush on him in V2 (I also headcanon that all his flirting with girls was a front, though, that he put on to ‘be cool.’) But yeah, Jaune is dorky and cringe, but he learns and grows and turns into this strong leader and kinda a heroic figure, and Neptune puts on a ‘super cool’ act, but has his dorky moments and is an academic, who’s clearly a follower and I think he’d start to admire Jaune. And then, Jaune/Pyrrha as a ship has a lot of problems, and I don’t think it’s an ‘end game’ ship (I mean, she’s dead in canon, but if I was writing a fanfiction where they were in a relationship and she didn’t die, I’d have them break up.) But I do think they could be cute for a stretch with some great interactions and they looked good together. They’re a ‘start-dating-love-each-other-break-up-still-love-each-other’ ship and I’d have loved to see it.

My three least favorite ships for the character

Jaune/Penny is pretty bad because he’s killed her and whether or not she wanted him to, it still soured the ship for me. Jaune/Emerald and Jaune/Mercury are tied here for the next spot because contributing to the death of someone’s ‘might’ve been something’ best friend is gonna be a permanent mark against the ship imo. But the very worst Jaune ship I’ve seen is Jaune/Cardin. Cardin’s a bully and an abusive jerk and Jaune deserves way way better. I can’t see Cardin ever shaping up, and I feel like if they met now that Jaune’s older and has changed and grown so much, Jaune would just view him with an amused sort of contempt.

My biggest criticism for the character

The RWBY writers spent too much time framing him like the main character and giving him way more character growth and strong, emotional scenes than the actual main character. Jaune is a great support character, he thrives as the team-medic, Ruby’s best friend, support and back up where it’s needed. I’m not saying none of Jaune’s character beats should’ve existed - his storyline is one of the stronger storylines in the show - but this is supposed to be Team RWBY and specifically Ruby Rose’s story. They’re supposed to be the four main characters and yet all of them are constantly taking a backseat. Jaune isn’t the only offender in stealing tons of time and the emotional character beats that should go to Team RWBY, but he is the most frequent offender. I love love love Jaune, but I’d love him more if I wasn’t sitting here shaking my head at how the writers apparently can’t write a compelling story about four main woman heroes and instead have to give the most emotional moments of the finale to Jaune while dumping all of the mains out of it (one of them isn’t even in the finale at all!)

My favorite thing about the character

Jaune’s growth is just... Good. One of the best character journeys in RWBY imo. He starts out a gangly teen leagues behind everyone else who doesn’t understand his team, can’t stand up for himself, is throwing himself at girls in a desperate attempt at making himself feel better about his massive insecurities, refusing help from the people who care about him because he has this idea in his head that he has to do it all himself. But you can tell there’s a lot of potential and he cares so much. ”I’m tired of being the loveable idiot stuck in the tree, while his friends fight for their lives,” he says. Then he opens himself up, starts to learn, starts to improve, starts to stand up for himself, starts to get to know his team more. And I wish we’d seen more of that sprinkled here and there throughout the first three seasons (although of course I don’t want the extra focus if Ruby doesn’t grow too!)  But he’s still not keeping up in fights, still struggling at times and needing reassurance, and now going through the pain and grief of losing his best friend and almost-girlfriend. He lashes out, he’s aggressive, but he’s also much closer and softer to his remaining best friends, becoming the much needed family they’re both lacking, while being a great friend to Ruby. Then he becomes a huntsman, and while there are cringe moments and frustrating writing during V7 and V8 just like there are for almost every character, he still has some great moments. I actually love that everyone else didn’t want to take a mission of helping a bunch of kids get from point A to point B and Jaune did, because Jaune was just happy to take a mission as a hunter. I love that when Jaune was reasoning with Winter in V8 and accepting ‘if you go into that whale to get your friend, I can’t wait for you all, you might die’ and he understood that and didn’t try to argue it! He definitely lost some braincells in season 8, don’t get me wrong, but dang, I do love that consistent growth. It’s a shame Ruby didn’t get the same treatment.

A headcanon I have about them

I headcanon that Jaune was raised mostly by his sisters and that his parents were always working, and he had a lot of successful, high-achieving, talented siblings who were all a lot older than him and took care of him, so he wasn’t neglected at all. But he did grow up with an element of isolation and loneliness, not because he was ever really alone, but because he was always alone in his experiences. He was always the baby, always the only one struggling, his sisters always only able to come at his problems from the perspective of ‘I went through that ten years ago’ if at all, and Jaune always felt not even second best, but eigth best and I’m just realizing that that last one probably came from Ron Weasley omg. But I also think his parents loved him and tried to communicate that to him. But they really struggled with Jaune because things never came easy to him the way they did for the others and he was a sensitive kid a lot different than his dad (who I just decided did the whole toxic ‘I want a son to play baseball with because I can’t do that with a daughter and now my only son isn’t good at sports and idk how to talk to him because he’s sensitive and not manly’ thing.) So yeah, that’s part of the reason why Jaune struggled so much when he first got to school.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

Honestly, just reducing his role a bit and increasing Ruby’s role makes him so much better. No more being the only person who’s allowed to express grief, no more ‘Ruby is unconscious while Jaune gets to weep over Weiss’s wounded form and unlock his power while she’s out for the count.’ No more ‘Jaune’s the leader with the map and the special emphasis in the V4 opening, Ruby acts like his support character.’ No more ‘he’s the only one who can ever resolve issues and mediate and comes up with most of the plans.’ No more ‘Jaune is the one who gets the finale big moments with Penny despite not even really talking to Penny and he gets the climatic end and he goes on the special spirt Island void place with the mains to get extra attention. Jaune gets to thrive as a central support character.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Okay, right off the bat, I’ve got a big problem with Jaune’s allusion. A. I already think there’s a bit of a weird lack of line in what they’ll make a character allusion, but I think ‘a meme’ and ‘an actual historical figure’ should’ve been where they drew that line. And B. Jaune  he started the series in a place of toxic masculinity, which feels weird when it’s a real life person regarded as a feminist icon. So I would definitely for sure just change his whole allusion. I’ve been thinking about maybe Lucy Pevensie from Narnia? Older siblings, no one believes (in) Jaune, but he proves himself soon enough, Jaune winds up following what’s basically a god (Oz,) Jaune is the healer (juice of the fire flower,) and he comes into his own as a brave and valiant leader, but recognizes the authority of others, struggles with jealousy and feeling unprepared, but his pure heart drives him... Increase his devotion to Ozpin and add one or two of the classic Ruby gimmicks would make this pretty easily done.

So there are my answers to the Jaune asks!

[blue-lions-baby]

“D” is for...? (Dimitri x Reader)

hi!! here’s another pre-timeskip dimitri x reader fanfic! as much as i love post-timeskip dimi, sometimes my heart just needs a break from all the soul-crushing angst :’)

this is my first time writing all of the Lions at once, so please forgive me if they’re a bit ooc! regardless, i hope you enjoy my fic~

all fluff and no spoilers!!

~*~

No... No no no...

You cradled your head in your palms and rammed your head against the hard, stone floor. Your ears perked at the tiny scratching echoing from the opposite side of your sorry, hunched-over frame and your eyes zeroed in on any sign of movement in the dark crevices between a bookshelf and the wall.

This is bad... This is really, really bad...

“(F/N)...? Is, uh, everything all right?”

“D-Dimitri!” Without much warning (or thought) you shot up to greet the royal, but the ebony side table you were under kept you on your knees. A sharp, throbbing pain blossomed from the point of impact and the recoiling force was enough to propel you face first onto the floor. Dimitri just barely caught the wobbling vase in time and set it cautiously back in place.

“(F/N), are you okay?! D-Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?! I can fetch Professor Byleth or even Mercedes to take a look--”

“No!”

“N-No?”

“I have to get him back!”

“Get who? (F/N), what are you--”

“My duck!”

Your... Your what?

Dumbfounded was not a strong enough word to describe what this man was feeling. All he could do was watch in silent confusion as you desperately clawed at an invisible being lurking in the dark. He stepped away and around the table you unceremoniously slammed your head on and peered into the darkness.

“Come here, darling,” you cooed gently, a tinge of anxiety tainting your sing-song plea, “c’mere, baby...”

“Um... Please come out, little one.” Dimitri commanded? Can you even call that commanding? What in Goddess’ name am I even doing He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around anxiously. Judging by the proximity of the bookcase against the wall, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to surmise that the duckling was stuck, or trapped in some way. Dimitri coaxed his chin in deep thought, assessing the situation like a tactician trying to sneak their captured comrade out of enemy territory.

“Boar. (F/N). The hell are you two doing?”

Both your heads whipped to face the steely voice by the entrance (you especially careful with your still aching head) and saw a frowning Felix glowering at the... activity, he walked in on. A glowing Sylvain followed shortly.

“W-Woah! Hey there, Your Highness! (F/N).” He purred your name sweetly and shot you a wink. “Is this really what you call flirting, Your Highness? Honestly... I know you don’t know much in the ways of love, but seriously--”

“Shhh!!!”

Sylvain’s mouth flew shut as Felix stalked over to the both of you cautiously. He planted his feet behind the side table and squinted into the dark. Sylvain took position under Dimitri just in time for him to hear faint scratching and weak chirps. A flurry of excitement and shock surged through the redhead’s amber eyes; Dimitri slapped a hand over the redhead’s piehole before a gurgle of surprise could leave him.

“(F/N),” Felix growled lowly, “what is that?”

“I-It’s--”

“Coming closer...!” Dimitri scream-whispered. Everyone instantly shut up and focused their attention down the dark trail. Soon a small, white puff with two beady eyes shimmied out of the corner and closer, closer, so close to your shaky outstretched hand. You all held your breath; the corners of your lips slowly turned up. You felt a tickling sensation at the tip of your middle finger. Almost...!

“Hey everyone! What’cha doin’?”

The spooked duckling let out a distressed cry and scurried back into its dark corner. Your insides twisted themselves into a knot as your heart ignited into pure rage. The air around you suddenly grew chillingly biting and murderous; everyone (even stone-cold Felix) shivered slightly. Your head whipped around so fast Sylvain could’ve sworn he heard a crack.

“Who,” you spat, pure venom dripping from your tone, “said that?”

Poor Ashe-- sweet, sweet Ashe. He was a dead man walking.

Your body coiled out from under the table like a snake snapping out of its hidden lair and you immediately pounced at the silverhead who scared away your baby. Ashe let out a small yelp and stumbled backwards, petrified in fear by the bloodthirsty glint in his classmate’s eyes. The three men who were with you scrambled to get you under control; it took Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri’s beastly strength to keep you from separating Ashe’s head from the rest of him.

After that fiasco (and Dimitri hastily explaining the situation to the trembling archer), you finally calmed down and dutifully went back to your post, futilely calling and cooing to your lovely little duckling-- a direct contrast to the wild beast that everyone had just witnessed. Ashe, still understandably shaken up, kept to the door and informed anyone coming into the classroom to enter in a calm and peaceful manner (a ghastly glare from a certain (H/C) individual sent prickling chills down his spine every so often).

Before long, everyone in the Blue Lions was aware of the fuzzy little occupant wedged between the bookshelf and wall.

“Everyone, listen up.” Professor Byleth’s voice rang softly throughout the classroom. They paused, despite having everyone’s full attention. They looked at the spot where all their students were congregating and then the empty desks in front of them. With a slight sigh and a small nod, they continued.

“No lesson for today. Our top priority is getting Ms. (F/N)’s duck out of its... current location.” 

Your features lit up and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You bowed gratefully to your teacher and whispered sweetly to your darling duck.

“Please come out, sweetie... No one’s going to hurt you...”

. . .

“Ugh, Mercie... I can’t see...”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry... Is this better now?”

“Your Highness, are you feeling all right? You’ve been hunched over like that for awhile now...”

“I am fine Dedue, thank you.”

“I read somewhere that ducks like to eat plants and small creatures... Maybe we can--”

“Ow! ... Felix, stop shoving me!”

“Shut up, you idiot. If you can’t handle a little push like that, then you should probably spend more time training than chasing girls.”

“Ugh, I swear you two don’t ever change...”

“Everyone, I am going to try and say this as politely as possible,” you inhaled sharply, “but please shut the hell up.”

Several “sorry’s” resounded around you and you internally groaned. Byleth scooted over to you and tapped you on your shoulder, motioning for you to come closer.

“Have you considered moving the bookcase?”

“We did, but... Seeing how close the bookcase is to the wall, we might squish my lil’ duckling...”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully and took a quick glance around the classroom. “Perhaps... All these people crowding around it is making it hesitant to come out?”

You lightly gasped and looked at the smirking professor with wide eyes. Dimitri’s hypersensitive ears picked up the tiny sound you made and instinctively listened in. He eventually got the general idea and (alongside Byleth) informed the rest of your schoolmates to slowly back away.

Your back cricked and ached from being hunched over all day; your vision began to blur-- possibly a consequence from staring into the dark for too long. Your limbs shook slightly and you could feel a painful knot in your calves slowly tying itself into existence. You blinked away the pain and reconstituted your mental fortitude for the umpteenth time that day. You wanted to give up, to give in to your exhaustion, but--

Chirp! ... Chirp, chirp...!

Your foggy eyes drifted to the source of the noise and every muscle in your quivering frame clenched. Dimitri began to unconsciously float to your side but was quickly stopped by the firm grip Byleth placed on his arm. This was something you had to do alone, his professor’s eyes read. Dimitri bit his lip and tightened his palms into paling fists, praying to the Goddess to grant you strength.

Yes... Yes...! Almost there!

The prickly sensation of budding claws clambering onto your palm shot sparks through your body. Slowly shimmying out from under the table, you patted and held the little duckling close to your heart. You cooed sweet assurances into its ear as you sent the brightest, most triumphant smile to your classmates. Everyone cheered (silently, of course) and each one of the Lions took turns to pet and fawn over your fluffy companion. A look of surprise reflected in your professor’s eyes when your duckling took a particular interest in them, inciting a quiet giggle from you.

At last, the house leader sauntered up to you slowly, eyes trained on the minuscule bundle of fluff awkwardly waddling on your palms. He curved around the side of your frame and took the back of your hands in his gloved ones gingerly. Your classmates held their breath (and a few giggles from the more... knowing individuals) for an entirely different reason altogether. 

“May I...?” Dimitri mouthed, unconsciously rubbing shallow circles into your hands. You nodded quickly, pushing your darling pet slightly away from your heart lest it get spooked by its quickening pace. The corners of the prince’s lips turned upward slightly as the tips of your fingers connected with his, forming a bridge between your hands and his much larger ones. 

As soon as the duck crossed over, he slowly pulled the creature close to his heart and lovingly rocked it, akin to the tenderness of a mother cradling her newborn babe. It took everything in your power to hold in a squeal. You mentally engraved this heartwarming scene into your mind, tucking it away to cherish forever. 

Dimitri’s azure eyes flashed to yours briefly before returning it to the duckling who has long become acclimated to everyone in the room. The longer he held the baby fowl, the bigger his smile grew; everyone felt at ease watching the scene before them. Believing that he has separated you from your darling duck for long enough, he began to extend his arms to hand it back to you--

Soft gasps filled the room and you stood there, absolutely dumbstruck. Your duckling was snuggling closer to Dimitri’s chest, black eyes on the verge of closing. A full day of hiding and scurrying must’ve tuckered the poor baby bird out, and it now laid sleeping comfortably on the palm of the prince.

A look of pure panic was seared onto the royal’s face as he looked at you worriedly and apologetically. A sizable lump formed in his throat while he tried looking to his other classmates for help. Students and professor alike shot him an equally baffled look, though the streak of resignation on their faces contrasted the anxious energy that exuded from Dimitri.

You gently cleared your throat, catching the attention of the frantic teen instantly. You held up a note to him that read,

“It seems to like you a lot. I really don’t want to disturb it... If you want, you can keep it for the rest of the day; just give it back to me tomorrow.”

“Are you certain?” He whispered, overly-cautious in rousing the duckling to consciousness. You smiled happily and scribbled down your response.

“Yup! I don’t mind. I know you’re pretty fond of it too. You look super happy holding it! Just please take good care of it.”

He would’ve bowed, but a curt nod would suffice in this situation. The serious look in his eyes softened instantly when the ultra-adorable bundle of love in his hands pressed further into him. He looked up at you and beamed.

“Have you come up with a name for it yet?”

You leaned back on a desk and mulled it over, letting your head roll back slightly in your deep contemplation. You traced the curve of your chin, mentally eliminating name after name in your head. What could you possibly--?

Aha!

The somewhat frazzled man almost leaped from how fast your head whipped back into place, and the throbbing in his heart swiftly escalated to rocketing levels at the sight of your breathtakingly gorgeous smile. You excitedly bounced over to him and stood on your tiptoes; despite your best efforts to allay the obvious height difference, Dimitri still had to bend over slightly to hear what you had to say. Your answer to his query almost sent him to the Goddess above.

“D-Dimi? ... Hah... If I may be so bold, I would think that you named it after me, using a name like that.”  

“Good, because I did.” You whispered teasingly in his reddening ears. You stifled in a laugh at how absolutely red your classmate has gotten, and that lovely hue of crimson didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of your peers. For now, however, Dimitri’s social standing among the members of his house would last one more day all thanks to Duckling Dimi.

*bonus: Dimitri did not let go of the little duckling for the rest of the day, cradling and (when no one was present) humming to it every now and then. Despite already having a name, he couldn’t help calling it (Your Nickname)-- named after the cutest and sweetest person he knew.

[dalgikiss]

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 13

Iwaizumi has only ever been truly mad at you twice in your life. 

The first time was way back in your first year. You had to dig deep into your memories if you wanted to find it, burying it under other things that took precedence in your life like your shoe size, Oikawa’s favorite boba drink (taro milk tea with white pearls), the fact that Hanamaki had to have all his pen caps aligned with the label or else he couldn’t write, the way Iwaizumi liked to eat his cereal (he never drinks the milk left over) and Matsukawa’s least favorite exercise (mountain climbers). 

You can’t remember what it had been about, something so trivial it had slipped your mind entirely but you remembered the look on his face. 

Iwaizumi has many facial expressions when he tries to be scary. There’s the regular one that he has when Oikawa decides to do something dumb and must be reprimanded for it, the one he has to give Kyoutani when he decides to act up and the intimidating one that he uses with the rest of the boys when some idiot decides to make a move on you but the one you saw that day? That one was completely different. This one was…

Dangerous

You know danger when you see it, each part of your body telling you to get out of there when he had loomed over you, pure anger and power emitting from his body. Even at the tender age of 15, Iwaizumi was built bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you and you knew that you never stood a chance against him. 

You remember being too scared to breathe properly, shallow breaths coming out of your mouth because you were terrified of making the wrong move as you warily watch Iwaizumi seethe with anger in front of you. 

Iwaizumi is not explosive. He does not scream or yell or throw things but he does not shut down either. He stands and waits for you to make a wrong move and then he snaps, like a snake does to a mouse. 

You had never felt more like prey in your life under his gaze. 

You remember your heart thudding too loud in your ears when he moved ever the slightest, flinching out his way as fast as possible. 

You remember forcing an apology out of your too-tight throat and dry mouth and Iwaizumi’s hard stare. 

Do you really think I want to hear your apology?

Sorry, sorry

Shut the fuck up and stop saying sorry, you’re not helping anyone

Memories of that night are hazy and you remember only fragments, pieces of what happened. You remember Iwaizumi’s mom opening the door, yellow light from the hallway spilling into his dim bedroom. You remember the sound of your footsteps on the asphalt as you ran home, fingers clutching your shirt so tightly, you had grown numb. You remember your mom asking why you were crying and then your soft pillow hitting your head when you fell asleep. 

It took you over a month to fully come back to Iwaizumi, even after he had apologized for his behavior, looking like a puppy with his tail in between his legs. You spent most of your time around him like a wounded animal, hiding behind Oikawa or Hanamaki when he was near or just fully leaving the room when it was just you and him alone

When you finally relaxed around Iwaizumi again, he had immediately engulfed you in a hug so hard, it sent the both of you tumbling to the floor. His grip never loosened on your shirt, wrinkling it in his grasp as he whispered apologies into the crook of your neck and swore up and down, cross my heart and hope to die that he would never do it to you again and you believed him because he is not a liar. 

Despite the upholding of his promise and your trust in him, you never forgot the way he looked that night, even when you could no longer remember the details. 

The second time he was angry at you was in the empty classroom of Aoba Johsai after class, later that day

x.

Iwaizumi has made up his mind to try and work things out with Ryuoko, no matter what anyone else had been telling him. 

You should have waited longer

She’s staying away from you to help your relationship

He unconsciously made a face at his memories, pressing his pencil into his paper a bit too hard until the tip broke off. How would they know if you actually liked him or not? 

There’s no point in getting his hopes up for nothing. 

“Iwaizumi, is there something about my notes that you don’t like that you have to make that face?”

He blinked when his literature teacher suddenly loomed within his line of vision. He hears the sound of your soft snickering and the teacher’s bushy eyebrows look like they’re dancing with how much they wiggle. 

He whispers an apology and the teacher walks back up to the front of the room, rapping his desk twice and reminding the students they had an exam coming up so there was no time to be angry at the material.

Although he hates to admit it, the sound of your laughter is always comforting to his ears and his shoulders relax against his better judgement. 

x.

His hand encircles her wrist after classes end, gently pulling Ryuoko into the stairwell where students had begun racing down to go home or to clubs. 

The both of them wait, Ryuoko’s nails tapping against her phone screen while Iwaizumi grips the phone in his pocket a little too hard. 

When the sounds inside the school begin to quiet down until there’s only muffled laughter coming from inside the classrooms and coaches barking out instructions from the fields outside that float in through the open windows, Ryuoko finally looks up. 

“Do you have an answer for me?” 

Her tone is condescending almost, as though she was scolding a child. Iwaizumi bites back the wave of irritation at this, reminding himself of what he had initially come to do.

“I do but-”

“If you’re choosing me, there’s no ‘buts’. This conversation is over if you choose your friends”

Ryuoko turns to walk away. Panic rises in Iwaizumi’s throat and he throws himself in front of her, effectively cutting off her getaway.

“Please listen to what I have to say” 

She regards him for a few moments, brown eyes honing in on every detail of his face before taking a step back. “Okay, so talk”

The speech that Iwaizumi had so carefully prepared in class instead of taking notes (he reminded himself he needed to ask a classmate for their copy) died on his tongue when he looked up to meet her eyes. 

“Look I-, I just-, can’t I still hang out with my friends and still be with you?” He rubbed his knuckles underneath his thumb, searching for the right words to say. “I’ve always done everything you’ve asked and a relationship is about two people who trust each other. Don’t you trust me enough to let me hang out with my friends and be with you?”

Feeling a bit more confident in himself, Iwaizumi continued on. “I always do my best so you can trust me and-”

“So you choose your friends?”

Iwaizumi stared at Ryuoko with an astonished look on his face. Did she just ignore everything he said? 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Ryuoko, did you just not hear anything I was saying?” Iwaizumi spluttered, extremely confused at the turn of events. The interaction could almost be considered comedic, if he was an outsider looking in. 

“What I heard was you giving me a long winded explanation over you choosing your friends over me”

“I didn’t even say that! I just wanted to tell you that even though you’re my girlfriend-” he put extra emphasis on the word ‘girlfriend’ in hopes she’d understand what he was trying to say, “- they’re still my friends and that’s all they are”

It almost seems like Ryuoko is on board with Iwaizumi, his little rant beginning to sway her and he internally praises himself until he sees her gaze harden. 

“And what about [surname]? You won’t hang out with her anymore?”

Ah yes, the age old argument was making its comeback. 

“She’s my friend” Iwaizumi almost yells in the empty staircase, his frustration getting the best of him “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not when you’re around her!”

“What does that even mean?” 

Ryuoko took a step closer to him, a glossy nail poking into his blazer. “You honestly can’t tell me that you don’t treat her differently from the rest of your friends” 

His argument dies on his tongue when she says that and she smiles, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You can’t even argue against that”

“Like I said before, choose me or your friends. Let me know when you’ve finally given up on her”

She might as well have just pulled back and thrown a punch in Iwaizumi’s face by saying those words. He stands there in shock even when she walks away from him, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. 

x.

You frantically searched your bag for your keys, haphazardly throwing the contents of your bag onto the steps you were sitting on. Oikawa narrowly avoided a pencil flung in his direction, letting out a yelp of surprise and throwing himself onto Matsukawa, who only caught him with a grunt. 

“Cutie-chan! Watch where you’re throwing your stuff!”

You mumble an apology, shaking your bag in hopes your keys would magically fall out, despite you having already thrown all your belongings out onto the floor. Much to your dismay, only a few pieces of ripped up papers and torn gum wrappers fell out. 

“Looking for something?” Hanamaki asked, an eyebrow raised at the mess you had made around them.

“I can’t find my keys” You groan, throwing your head back and Hanamaki shoots forward so you crash your head onto his palm and not onto the stair behind you. “I’m so screwed if I lose them again! I am not climbing in through the window again”

“Where are your parents?” Hanamaki asks, wrinkling his nose when his hand was beginning to go numb. You smiled sheepishly, pushing yourself back up into a sitting position.

“Went out for a trip”

“Your brother?” 

You sigh, beginning to collect your belongings around you. “He’s at some judo tournament in Tokyo. I’m supposed to meet up with them after my entrance exam”

You crammed the rest of your belongings into various pockets, thanking Oikawa who had silently begun handing you the objects that were just out of reach. Matsukawa watched as you stuffed loose papers and stray pens into your bag, shaking his head silently. “No wonder you can’t find anything”

Crumpling up a piece of paper, you threw it at him, silently cursing your horrible aim when it missed him by a mile. “Be quiet”

“Did you check your classroom? You might’ve dropped it” Hanamaki says, watching you pout animatedly, lower lip jutting out and trembling ever the slightest as you tried to formulate a plan to get back into your house. 

You stare at him blankly. Hanamaki wonders if you‘ve been hit in the head with a volleyball lately with how slow your reactions were. 

“Oh yeah. I’ll go do that now” 

You stood up from the step, Hanamaki sitting up slightly to help you brush away the dirt that had accumulated on the backs of your legs. Hanamaki and Matsukawa wave goodbye, Matsukawa’s hand holding onto the back of Oikawa’s shirt as he tries to go with you, screaming something about it being unsafe to go anywhere alone “you’re too cute for them! You need to be protected- Matsukawa let me go, you’re just going to send [name]-chan to their death like this?”

You tell yourself he’s being overdramatic, just like usual and wave away your friends who promise they’ll still be here waiting for you to come back but there’s this unnerving feeling that’s eating away at your stomach that tells you to take him.

You tell yourself you’re being paranoid, you only need to get your keys and come back. It shouldn’t take anymore than a few minutes. With that, you push open the doors to the school building and ascend up the staircase.

[aj-writes-here]

Hello! Could I request a scenario of the reader having a huge crush on levi for so long, they've been growing somewhat close but she walks in on levi and petra kissing and it breaks her heart? she grows really cold and distances herself from him and everyone and after petra dies levi realises that he lost someone important already (the reader) and realises it and tries to make it up to her, she's still cold but slowly warms up to him again? thank you! love your writing! have a great day!!

Hi! I just finished it and I hope this is what you were looking for! I have to say that this one gave me feels 😢 and thank you so much for your compliment! 💕

Sorry if it took me too long, and by the way, for the requests I have pending I apologize as well if I delay, as you may know English is not my native language so I have to check and recheck grammar, syntax, and all of those things, that is why it takes me a bit longer to finish some requests, but I’m working on them 😅

Wrong Idea

y/n had been part of Levi's squad for as long as she can remember, and someway somehow their relationship was... Different from the rest of his squad. Even though they were different, they grew closer to each other as the moons went by. Maybe it was because she knew how to respect his space, but also being with him when she knew he needed it. It was not a talkative situation, but there they were, supporting each other in their way. The way they only knew.

There were moments where Levi would just pour her some tea, or save some pastries for her whenever there were some. Where those actions the ones that made her fall for him? Or it was just an idealization of the person that she was unconsciously looking for? No, it was not an idealization, y/n had a huge crush on Levi since they met, his way of behaving, his dry and shitty jokes, his appearance, everything. His subtle different actions towards her just made her feel more for him, and maybe she was the only one who noticed them. He was different when they were together, but only the two of them. Nevertheless, that changed when they arrived at the old castle.

The day was looking nice and everyone had duties to accomplish, getting rid of the dust, insects that may have made the castle their home, washing sheets so they could use them at night, and more. y/n was heading to the room she was supposed to clean, hoping to find Levi on her way so maybe they could clean together and... Who knows, perhaps if she could find the right timing or words she could let him know how she felt. As she kept fantasizing on her way to the room, she saw it. And she only had to move his head just a bit to watch the entire scene in front of her eyes.

Levi was standing there, holding a broom on his right hand. It looked as if he wasn't even breathing, his eyes were closed and in front of him? Petra. Her lips were locked on his, Petra's cheeks were completely red and one of her hands was resting on Levi's chest. y/n looked at the image with eyes wide open, her jaw dropped and her heart shattered from one second to another. He didn't push her away, it looked as if he were enjoying the kiss of the red-haired girl. y/n just went back the way she was walking, trying to control the hurricane of emotions forming inside her. When she was finally outside, a tear appeared on her cheek. How could she think that Levi had feelings for her? Clearly she had misinterpreted all of the actions she saw the past few years. What an idiot, she said to herself in a low voice. Cleaning the rebel tear on her cheek, she took a deep breath and tried to forget about the scene she had just witnessed.

But a voice stopped her.

His voice.

''Oi, y/n. Why aren't you cleaning the room you are supposed to?'' He said with a harsh voice, but when he noticed the redness of her eyes and pinkish cheeks he asked again ''What's the matter?''

''Allergies, Captain. But it's fine, I'll go now''

That was all she said before pulling herself together and walking back to the room, and she didn't even look at the first room where she had seen Petra and Levi.

Still outside, Levi furrowed his eyebrows with doubt, why did she call him 'Captain?' They had become closer through the years, closer at the point of she calling him Levi every time they were together.

Something had happened, and he had to figure it out.

That same night after dinner, the entire squad stayed sitting in front of the table speaking about Eren's abilities, or how the expeditions were going to be. But y/n head was somewhere else but not there. Petra was her friend, but it was hard to see her that happy, were she and Levi dating now? Were they a thing? Those were the questions in her head, and they were so loud she didn't even notice that Levi was not looking at Petra when she was talking to him, his eyes were focused on y/n. She has been quiet the entire night, he thought.

''Right, Captain Levi?'' Petra's voice took him out of his thoughts, and he just gave a simple answer. 

''Yes, tomorrow we'll explain the formations for the next expedition. After Eren finishes cleaning the garden.'' Of course, he had been listening to everything in case a question like that came out.

''If you excuse, I'll go now. Good night'' Short and plain as that. y/n stood up and close the door behind her once she was out.

It was weird for everyone to see her like that, she was always talkative, proposing new strategies, and even mocking Levi when Hanji was not around. She even stayed and prepared some tea for everyone, but now she had just left.

Minutes passed and Levi did the same as y/n, he stood up and left the room. Perfect timing, I must say because Hanji had arrived and she was completely excited about her new experiment and she wanted to share it with everyone. Levi walked through the halls of the castle and knocked on your door.

''It's open'' y/n answered, untying her hair from the ponytail. Her heart started beating faster when she saw who walked in, but when she remembered the scene she just felt sad. Very sad.

''You haven't been able to take a shit or what's with you?'' he asked, standing at the door.

''I'm just tired, cleaning this entire thing was exhausting, Captain.'' there it was again.

''You never call me Captain.'' 

''I should, that's what you are after all'' she raised her eyebrows trying to look natural ''And you should try rest for a bit, tomorrow will be exhausting again.''

After that, Levi knew she was done with talking. He just gave her a bored glare and left the room, he was not the kind of man that was going to force her to speak if she didn't want to.

Days went by, and y/n had gained some distance from the group, she cleaned the stables or places where she could be just with her thoughts. But she knew that her friends could be gone on any expedition, even she could lose her life, so making an effort she tried to keep just a bit close to them. How much weight was she going to carry if something happens to them?

Not even speaking about Levi, she was no longer visiting him at his office or getting him some tea when it was late. And of course, he didn't bother her either, if she wanted space that's what he was going to give to her.

___________________________

The ones who remained alive were walking with their heads down, avoiding the look from the people who were looking at them. They had lost many lives, just some a few them were able to be back inside the walls. y/n patted the neck of her horse, the image of the bodies being thrown out of the cart was still on her head. And her heart crushed again. At least, she never told Petra what she saw, and they didn't fight, so guilt was not that terrible.

A rotten tomato fell on her feet, were they really throwing rotten fruit? Yes, apparently people hated the Survey Corps and how the incomes were spent on those expeditions that the only thing they could get, were lost lives.

Once they were back at the HQ, y/n took a shower getting rid of the dry blood and dirt, it was never easy. The fight against the female titan had been one of the toughest events they had to endure, but that was their world. And it was not going to be the last battle.

y/n had run into Erwin when she was heading to the kitchen, and he politely asked her if she could give Levi some reports, and how could she say no to the Commander?

She knocked on the door and when heard Levi saying yes, she walked in. He was looking... Tired, his eyes seemed more bothered than the usual.

''Commander Erwin told me to give you this'' she said while placing the folders on his desk. Not even asking how was he doing.

''Tch'' That's all he said. y/n turned around and walked towards the door again. He was tired of losing people he cared about, so before she could open the door to leave he stood up ''Oi, brat. Get your ass back here'' 

''What is it?''

She said stopping in the middle of the room, looking at Levi getting closer to her. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand on her nape, and then all she could feel was how she was pulled against his body, his face resting somewhere between his chest and his neck. It was a rough hug, not tender, not sweet. And well, Levi was not the softest man around.

She couldn't even move, because her body was surrounded by his grip. The hand that was still on her nape was warm, and y/n felt how Levi articulated his fingers to caress her head. They stood there just for a few seconds before he let her go.

Levi walked back to his desk and sat on the chair while y/n was still on some kind of shock. Did he hug her? Levi Ackerman had just grabbed her by her nape and held her tight against his body, no one would believe her if she told that. It was the very first time he had had such reaction.

''I'm not losing you too'' He said ''Now go and sleep. That's an order''

He started looking at the folders, and y/n left the room. She was not sure about how to react, what was that? Maybe they were just sensitive because of the nightmare they went through. She knew Levi was emotional, but he never ever showed that.

From that moment on, it looked as if Levi was trying to get closer to her, he would create excuses to have her in office, other days he would bring her some tea to her bedroom, he would even set his jacket on her back whenever he found her asleep on a table, or others he would sit by her side without saying a word. And that happened on a Saturday morning.

She was sitting on a bench looking at the guys training, they had joined the SC just a few days later than Eren, and they looked they had energy despite the previous events, y/n smiled to herself while looking at the guys, some training more serious than others.

''I give them one week before they end up like titan shit'' She recognized Levi's voice as he was sitting next to her.

''They have potential, I give them two weeks'' She had joked, first time after all of that self distance. She swallowed hard, gather bravery, and asked him ''Are you ok?''

''Why do you ask?'' Levi looked at her.

''For Petra... I mean, you lost her''

''Yes, and the rest of my squad to'' Levi looked away, and it that moment it hit him. ''Is that why you've been so distant lately? Even before the expedition?'' His voice was calmed, eyes stuck on the kids practicing body to body combat.

''I saw you kissing her, so...''

''Bold of you to assume it was something, brat. She kissed me in a rush, and after she said that it was because she was confused, but still didn't want to die before doing that shit. Right after I told her to keep cleaning. Petra was aware of how short our life can be, that's why she did it, and I just let her.'' y/n looked at him with surprise.

''So there was never anything happening between the two of you?''

''No, you idiot.'' Levi's eyes went to the guys and screamed ''Brats, ten laps now!'' They did as told, starting to run away from the couple sitting on the bench. 

''Why did you do that? They were happy'' she said in amusement, understanding when he grabbed her hand, he wanted to be alone with her.

''Petra was important for me, I lost her already. I don't know what the fuck did you do to me, but I care about you so much and that's fucking annoying.'' squeezing her hand softly, he looked at her again. ''So don't lock yourself without asking first, brat.''

''I was an idiot, the biggest'' She laughed looking at the ground, avoiding his grey gaze.

''You are'' He corrected her, and right after their eyes found. y/n played with his locks, and then spoke.

''Levi, I-'' The black-haired men interrupted her.

''I know. And that makes us two''

He noticed she had feelings for him, he wasn't an idiot, and when he finally understood that she was acting like that because she thought he was dating someone else, just confirmed his thoughts.

y/n lips were against his, her hand cupping his cheek. It was just lips against lips, eyes closed. Simple, short, emotional. When they looked at each other again, y/n gave a smile to him, Levi grabbed her hand again and pressed his lips over her knuckles holding her hand when he was done, her head laying on his shoulder after.

They just sat normally again when the brats return from their first lap, and Levi and y/n would have plenty of time for themselves before the cadets could finish the nine laps the had left.

[yikesharringrove]

hello, love your writing :) would you do 7 & 34 for the prompt thing please?

Thank you so much! I seriously have such a great time writing for harringrove, so nice comments really mean the world to me :’)

7: “You’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you.”

34: Monster hunting

If anyone else is interested in sending in a request, I’ve got the prompt list right here! Honestly, my requests are always open and anyone is welcome to slide into my inbox with headcanons, prompts, or to say hey!

Post-season 2 because that’s the monster-hunting energy we live for. (Although, this is like the aftermath of monster hunting).

There is some description of gore, so be gentle if that kinda thing is yikes for you.

Read on AO3

Billy is absolutely terrified.

He had to carry a nearly unconscious and delirious Steve Harrington all the way from their spot in the woods to his huge and empty house.

The demodog had come out of fucking nowhere, attaching itself to Steve’s left shoulder before anyone could even process what was happening. Billy had seen red, taking his ax to the ‘dog again and again until it was a heap on the forest floor.

Steve was bleeding. Billy had tried to fashion some kind of tourniquet, using his own shirt and belt to keep firm pressure on Steve’s shoulder while Billy held him to his chest and ran as fast as he fucking could in a pure, blind panic.

They had forged an uneasy friendship in the tunnels under Hawkins, clinging to one another in the swarm of ‘dogs when they thought the end was imminent. The tension soon drained from their friendship, nights getting drunk and getting to know the other’s deepest fears and pain chased it away.

He busted into Steve’s house, the back door left open like always, because Steve never locked his doors, because it’s a small town, people don’t really break in and something else about if a demogogron shows up, a lock’s not gonna stop it.

So he carried Steve inside, up the stairs to the bathroom to the left of the landing, the big immaculate one Steve always lead Billy to when his dad went too far. There was a big first aid kit under the sink, fully stocked and replenished every month.

He propped up Steve as best as he could on the closed lid of the toilet, getting the kit and returning to Steve, crouching between his legs to survey the damage.

Steve’s head was lolling about, his eyes glazed over, the pain of the injury causing his brain to go fuzzy.

“Billy,” he whined when the wound was unwrapped, the air stinging the bite.

Billy was going to be sick. He didn’t know how Steve is able to do this, stuff down his own fear and pain to clean and heal. He was choked by fear, afraid to lose his closest friend, afraid to cause any more harm to the boy he absolutely loves.

He had to cut the rest of Steve’s shirt off, not wanting to deal with shifting Steve around any more than he already had.

“Okay, Stevie, I need you to hold on for me okay? Keep talking to me, Baby. Tell me about-what was the last book you read?” He was wetting a washcloth, wiping the blood steadily oozing from the bite marks.

“I don’t, Bill you know I don’t like,” he hissed at the scrape of the cloth against tender flesh. “I don’t like reading.”

“I know, Honey. But just think. You read The Outsiders in class last semester, didn’t you? I know you liked it, you kept telling me about it.” He rang out the cloth, the water tinged pink. He soaked a new cloth with disinfectant. “C’mon Sweet Thing, this is gonna hurt. Keep on talkin’ to me. Who was your favorite character?”

“Dall-Dallas Winston, ah fuck Bill.” The burn was ridiculous, causing Steve’s vision to go fuzzy-black at the edges.

“I know, I know I’m sorry, Pretty Boy. Why do you like him?” Steve was white as a sheet, his eyes clouded over.

“I like, he cares. He helps Johnny and, and Ponyboy. He loves them, they’re his family. He’s, he’s rough around the edges, but-but he cares. He protects.” Billy was wrapping a clean bandage around Steve’s shoulder, bringing it around his chest and under his other arm to secure it to the odd placement of where the thing’s jaws clamped onto Steve. “He’s like- I mean, he makes me think of you.”

Billy’s hands twitched as he secured the bandaging. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying. Let’s get you to bed.” He gripped Steve again, pulling him up gently and tucking him to his chest again.

Once Steve was safely in bed, a bag of peas usually reserved for Billy placed against his inflamed shoulder, a few Vicodin pilfered from his mother’s stash running sweetly through his system.

“Bi-lly, Billy Billy Bill,” Steve was high as a fucking kite. Luxuriating in his bed, making grabby hands (hand) at Billy. “Come lay with me. I wanna, like, hold you and-and squish you.” His big eyes boring through Billy, pleading with him.

“Stevie, do you even know what you’re saying?” Steve gave a giggle. Billy was turning to mush.

“Yes, yes I know what I’m saying. I’m saying come here. I wanna love on you some.” Steve was the clingiest fucker Billy’s ever met, constantly snuggling up to Billy, telling him, you’re so warm, man it’s like you’re made ‘a California.

Billy tried not to move Steve as he joined him on the bed, allowing Steve to tangle their legs together and take his hand. Billy reveled in these little touches. He knew Steve only meant them between friends, comfort for his own self, but sometimes, Billy would close his eyes and imagine they were shared between lovers.

“Bill, I gotta, there’s something I needta tell you.” Steve’s eyes were nearly closed, unfocused as he looked at Billy. “And you may hate me for it, but I just gotta, say it or else, or else I’m gonna explode.”

He took a breath, glazed eyes meeting Billy’s.

“I love you, Bill. I’m in love with you. Have been since we almost fucking died in those fucking tunnels.” Billy’s heart dropped to his ass. He so wanted to believe him, those honey-sweet words everything he’s ever wanted to hear whispered in that silky voice.

“Pretty Boy, you are absolutely soaring right now. There’s no way you know what you’re saying. Maybe you should try to sleep.”

“NO.” Steve was indignant, trying to shift to look at Billy, being impeded again and again by his injured shoulder, pain shouting through the drugs. “ I know what I’m saying dammit! You’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you. And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or whatever, and it’s-it’s okay if you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, but I just, you had to know. You’re so good, so good, Bill. And, and I know you don’t think it, but you’re nice. And you care about me. And that makes me love you.”

Billy was stunned. Completely speechless in the wake of Steve’s confession, he just took in Steve’s face. He was chewing at his lip, doe eyes bright with unshed tears of uncertainty in the face of possible rejection.

“Jesus fuck, Pretty Boy, that’s all I ever wanted to hear from those sugar lips of yours.” Steve beamed, his smile big and lazy.

“You need to kiss me then. Don’t believe you ‘til you plant a big fat one on me.” He giggled, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh yeah, you gettin’ all bossy on me now?” Billy sat up, leaning over Steve, minding his shoulder. He pressed one of his palms to Steve’s cheek, leaning into his space, close enough to see those big brown eyes cross in an effort to maintain eye contact.

Billy gently connected their lips, keeping it short and chaste.

“For the record, I love you too Stevie.”

Steve had never been happier.

[humblemagic]

a crisis of the romantic sort

also on ao3 | As the day he meets his soulmate approaches, Jon is having a bit of a freak out over how unkind his words are.

Jon: I’m having an existential crisis.

Sansa: What kind today, love?

Jon: The romantic sort.

Sansa: Ah.

Jon: How does my soulmate hate me already? It’s not fair. And if that’s the case, maybe all this soulmate business isn’t what we’ve been told.

Sansa: A government conspiracy to distract the people from social issues by making us believe in love?

Jon: Yes, exactly.

Sansa: But some of the greatest advocates for change - health care, women’s rights, trans rights, all our rights - are people who’ve met their soulmate.

Jon: Yeah, there’s that. But they never get much done, do they? It’s the same push and pull and five steps back for every step forward. They’re outlawing abortion in some states!

Sansa: I’d say that has more to do with men’s desire to control women than soulmates. Anyway, your words don’t carry the tone. It could be the most affectionate telling off said on this side of the Atlantic.

(Five minutes later)

Sansa: Jon?

Sansa: Jon, are you getting weepy?

Jon: I don’t weep. I consider the purpose of life outdoors for aesthetic purposes, and the wind makes my eyes well up.

Sansa: *hugs* It’ll be alright. Only two more days to go. I’ll meet mine tomorrow, and you’re just the day after. Maybe they’re my soulmate’s sibling… That would be something.

Jon: Something, lol. Can’t wait.

Jon slips his phone into his pocket and wipes at his eyes. He does get a bit weepy about it. Who wouldn’t? He doesn’t let himself get down on himself for his sensitivity over them considering some people even write full books rashing on their soulmates because of their words. He’s sure it’s awkward when they actually fall in love. Maybe at a book tour.

He sighs and gets up. He doesn’t even drive, so he can be sure not to crash into his soulmate’s car. Sansa says that’s silly, and he ought to live his life like he would without trying to be his very best for someone he doesn’t even know. She’s always right, but it doesn’t mean he listens to her as often as he should.

Take their completely platonic relationship. Or… mostly platonic.

Sansa doesn’t believe in waiting on anything. She’s dated, had her heart broken, had sex, all without her soulmate. She even shared a flat with a particularly foul-mouthed man, Harry, who she kicked out after he went in on Jon for being a sensitive twat. His words, not Jon’s. She laments losing the good sex sometimes but says she probably couldn’t get off with someone who talked to someone she loves like that anyway.

Then, a few months later, a leak sprung in Jon’s apartment. As he’d been staying at Sansa’s more often than not, she proposed that he just move in. The second bedroom could remain a workspace and they could have a good cuddle before bed, wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s torture is what it is. Jon wakes up with Sansa’s lavender-scented hair in his face, her legs tangled with his, her head on his chest, and he doesn’t see why they can’t be soulmates instead of whichever nameless ass is going to be mean to him straight off. They touch all the damn time - brushing each other’s hair from their eyes, a hand on the back as they move about the kitchen, a hand on the arm while they tell a story, and then, of course, there’s the outright cuddling during movies and getting ready for bed and when one of them has had a terrible time of it at work.

He’s drawn the line at anything sexual, though. He’s a virgin at 28, and he’s determined to stay that way until he meets his person. He doesn’t want to give his soulmate any reason to say these words to him which is foolish and completely pointless. Once they’re written, they can’t be changed. It’s done. His soulmate is going to call him that, and they’re going to fall in love anyway. Or he’ll end up part of one of those soulmate pairs where there isn’t love at all and it’s just some companionship bullshit. That’s all good and well for the asexuals, but Jon has always imagined copious orgasms, both the giving and receiving. He’s spent too many hours on the couch listening to Sansa go at it with her vibrator to not want to make her his soulmate sound like that someday.

Some asexuals fall in love and others have sex, he remembers reading. Maybe he could negotiate.

Besides, it could be worse, he reasons. If Sansa is right, and she usually is, he’ll have to watch her with some idiot for the rest of his life and not even be able to badmouth them to his own soulmate because it’ll be their sibling. Fuck.

So distracted is he by his miserable thoughts that he doesn’t look left and see the minivan barreling towards him.

It’s all very scary: the blurry look of the sky, people’s gasps of fascination and faint concern, the ambulance lights. He hasn’t stood up. Someone yelled at him not to try. He lifts his hand to his head, and it comes away bloody. So, he’d dying then. But he’s supposed to meet —

When he wakes up, he’s in hospital. The lights are bright and it takes his eyes several blinks to adjust. He’s scared and confused. He looks to the side, and Sansa is there. Her face is splotchy red, her eyes puffy, and she’s shaking her head down at her phone. She looks distraught, and he guesses he really is going to die. His breathing gets heavier, and he closes his eyes again to focus on the 4-7-8 breath count that helps him keep his anxiety at bay.

Sansa’s looking at him when he’s done. Her face is mutinous. She’s never looked at him this way before. He’d take a step back if he wasn’t lying down and, therefore, unable to escape.

“You absolute berk.”

He croaks, “You should be nice to me. I’ve been in accident.”

The fury falls off her face, and she stares at him with wide eyes. Her mouth falls open. His own eyes open further in response. She shakes her head with a chuckle. She stands up and pours him a cup of water, plopping the straw in it and bringing it to his mouth.

“I felt it buzz, but I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to meet my life partner with you laid up in hospital.” She runs a hand through his hair.

“What?”

She lifts up her wrist and shows her zeroed out timer. Above it are the words: You should be nice to me. I’ve been in accident. “I should’ve realized.”

He looks down at his own wrist to his own zeroed out timer and the dark words that have haunted him for the past sixteen years. “Why did you have to call me a berk?”

“Because you are one,” she says, remembering her anger. “You died. Twice. They weren’t sure if you’d survive the night and all because you were so worried that your soulmate would be too much of an idiot to realize how fantastic you are.” Her hand clutches his. She is everywhere as she always is.

“This means —“ he clears his throat and tries again. “This means we can have sex.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Her eyes darken, and she looks down at his lips. He thinks she’ll kiss him now and maybe make one of those soft whimpers she does. “Not ’til you’re out of hospital, though.”

He leans back onto his pillows, fingers caressing hers. “So, I must have been unconscious. You saw me, and I woke up today and saw you. Who designs these timers anyway? We ought to file a complaint.”

“We ought to become anti-soulmate advocates. Not really anti, more… Don’t put your life on hold waiting for the one. We’ve been in love with each other for years. The only thing stopping us was the thought that we weren’t endgame. We could’ve had years together.”

“We did, though. Have years. Just without the, ahem, and I must not have become the right one for you until I died. That’s strange, that. Maybe I’ll be different now, more well-adjusted.”

“Doubtful. It wouldn’t make sense regardless. I find your idiosyncrasies endearing.”

“It could happen,” he argues.

And then she does kiss him. It is soft and tender and quick like she’s done it every day for the past ten years. The look in her eyes, though, that’s lingering and holds a promise. She lifts up and presses the call button, her other hand bringing his to her lips.

“Let’s hope not.”

[solign0501]

You Were Maid For This

Part 12

Pairing: AU Bucky (Royal) x Reader (Peasant)

Summary: Prince Bucky has everything life could offer at his command, except somebody to share it with. The Reader’s mother works in the castle and manages to get you a job there, working for the spoilt prince. What happens when he discovers the only thing he ever really wanted is so close, but so out of reach?

A/N - Slight change of plans - it seems I’ve wrapped this up in this instalment so this is the last one of this. I’m hoping to write a Loki x Reader fic in the near future - thank you everybody for your love with this series! 

You waited nervously at the gate for your heart to stop pounding. The sounds of music and merriment drifted out on the cool evening air and you smiled. He was in there somewhere. Your grip tightened on the small package that you held and it gave you courage. Lifting your head and setting your gaze resolutely forward, you entered the palace.

Familiar voices reached your ears as you rounded the corner of the corridor leading to the Great Hall and your smile widened as you saw Mack, Daisy and Fitz in all their finery, standing outside the great wooden doors. Fitz stopped mid-sentence as he saw you and his face split into a dazzling grin.

“Y/N,” he said, causing the others to also turn and gape. “You look incredible.”

“You scrub up well yourself,” you said as you embraced him warmly. You hugged the other two as well.

Your family are already inside,” Fitz said. You nodded.

“I told them to go ahead, I had something to pick up.”

“Your mother mentioned,” Mack said, looking curiously at the little package. “We thought we’d wait for you. Well worth it, you look stunning.

“Shall we?” Daisy asked, the skirts of her grey taffeta gown brushing the stone floor as she turned. Looping her arm through Mack’s, they opened the doors and walked in.

A wall of sound hit you as they opened and your nerves came back tenfold. Fitz took your arm and linked it with his as he smiled gently at you.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, his lilting accent instantly soothing you. “He won’t know what hit him.” You swallowed and nodded as you allowed him to sweep you forward and into the room.

 It was a sea of colours and smiling faces, the conversation swelling as much as the music. You glanced around quickly but you couldn’t spot him in the press of people. 

Jemma appeared out of a nearby group and waved enthusiastically over to you, beckoning for you to join them.

“You go,” you said to Fitz, unhooking your arm from his. “I’ll be over in a moment. I should probably just find my parents and let them know I’m here.”

“You sure?” Fitz said, looking levelly at you. You smiled broadly to hide your nerves and nodded.

“Positive. Now go, your lady awaits.” Fitz gave you a quick hug and moved away. A nearby group shifted, giving you a better view of the room.

Suddenly your gaze landed on him and a white hot flash shot through you. He was gorgeous. His clothing showed off every line of his muscular frame, his cheekbones sharp and defined underneath carefully groomed stubble. His glossy dark hair had been pulled back, allowing you to clearly appreciate his face and those vivid ice blue eyes that were focused now solely on you. You summoned every bit of courage you could muster and smiled as you dipped a curtsey.

 Bucky couldn’t remember moving, but he was suddenly in front of you. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind but he couldn’t speak. Looking at you before him, in that dress it was a wonder he could breathe.

You both stood in silence for a moment, simply looking at each other. It was your mother’s voice that finally broke the tension as she walked over.

“There you are Y/N, that dress looks beautiful on you. Thank you for finding her, sire.” She turned and curtsied to Bucky, who cleared his throat, the spell broken.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he said, his voice steady despite his pounding heart.

“I couldn’t really refuse a royal command…” you said with a smile. Bucky scoffed.

“Apparently I owe him for that. I didn’t really think you’d listen to me.”

Sensing the mood between you, your mother bowed and took her leave, pretending to wave at a non-existent friend across the room. You barely noticed.

“I’m inclined to listen now,” you said softly. Bucky looked around at the smiling, noisy groups surrounding you and shook his head.

“Not here.” He reached out for you but paused before his hand could make contact with your skin. You could feel the fine hairs on your arm prickle with the nearness of him, as though reaching out to close the minute gap between you.

With far more courage that you felt, you stepped forward and looped your arm through him.

“The balcony is probably the best spot,” you said as you forced yourself to start moving, ignoring the enquiring glances shot in your direction from basically everybody.

You didn’t realise how warm you were until the brisk night air hit your skin. The sound died down around you until the loudest things were the birds and the trickling of a nearby fountain.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you breathed, letting go of Bucky’s arm to lean against the stone balustrade as you looked up at the stars twinkling overhead.

“It is now,” Bucky said, his eyes fixed only on you. You turned to face him, holding out the small package, carefully wrapped.

“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” you said. Bucky simply looked from your face to the package and back again. You chuckled nervously. “It’s called a present, people usually get them on their birthdays.”

“You didn’t have to…” Bucky started but you cut him off.

“Yes I did. I want to apologise for how I acted. You were trying to be kind and I threw it back in your face.”

“I didn’t exactly go about it in the best way,” Bucky said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” you admitted. “But I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I let my insecurities get the better of me. Yes, you were an idiot, but it took a king to make me see sense.” This earned a laugh from Bucky and you felt your chest tighten at the sound.

“So,” you looked pointedly down at the present. “Are you going to take this or not? My arm is starting to ache.”

Bucky reached for the package and his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shock right to the core of both of you. Almost unconsciously, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you. You swallowed hard as you dropped your hands to your side, looking up at him. His eyes never left your as he opened the plan brown wrapping paper. His gaze broke, however, as his fingers brushed the embossed leather cover.

Looking down, he pulled the paper away, letting it flutter slowly to the ground as he held the book. The painted leather cover was as familiar to him now as the contours of your face and he traced it as lovingly with the tips of his fingers.

“It’s your own copy,” you breathed, throat tight. “It was made by the same man who did mine.” Bucky opened the book, feeling the spine creak as the smell of the leather and parchment drifted up to him. There, on the inside cover was a small note in your handwriting.

              As much as I tried, I couldn’t find a Beast. But the Prince was easy to love after all.

His eyes widened and he swallowed heard as he read the words.

“Do you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” you pointed out.

“I have been a beast,” he said, dropping his gave to the floor. “I’ve done things I regret.”

“Not to me.” You reached out and took his chin in your hands, lifting his head and forcing him to look at you. “Not to me.” Your voice was firm and it hardened your resolve. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you stretched up and caught his lips in a soft kiss. Surprise froze him in place for a second before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you apart with a holt and you jumped away from him.

“Sorry to interrupt such a beautiful moment,” Steve said, looking not even remotely sorry. “It is customary for you to be present at your own birthday party, Buck.”

“Seriously, punk?” Bucky growled. Your eyes widened in shock, sure that he was the only person allowed to speak to the king like that.

��Seriously,” Steve said, his expression stern. “I’m sure Y/N will stick around for the rest of the night?” You nodded your agreement and it reassured Bucky.

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh. Turning to your he smiled ruefully. “Think you can spare me for a little while?” You returned the smile willingly.

“Absolutely. Go and be celebrated. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered as he planted a soft kiss on your lips. Pressing his gift to his chest, he walked past Steve and into the ballroom, casting his friend a half-hearted glare as he went.

Steve strolled over to where you stood, giving you an appraising look.

“Has anybody mentioned that you look stunning?”

“They might have done.” He laughed and leaned casually against the balustrade as you both looked up at the stars in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” he said eventually. You turned to see him looking at you, a tenderness in his eyes. “I haven’t seen him look that happy in a long time.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you said, looking through the glass into the ballroom at Bucky, deep in conversation with Sam and Natasha.

“I’m not sure I’m quite ready for what is going to come next, though. This isn’t exactly the lifestyle I’m used to…” You felt comfortable enough with Steve to admit this, despite his rank. He was easy to talk to.

“He will be a challenge,” he said with a shrug.

“But honestly?” You nodded for him to continue. “You were made for this.”

@soonlazymoon @not-so-bad-ass @snuggleducky @sadanddeadsoul @vivianbabz @sawdustandsugar @wolfgamzee @marvel-fanfiction  @iamwarrenspeace @huntermichelle @tremilyteapot @captainthisshipinmyhead @vgurl18 @seems-sosimple @slender–spirit @all-my-favourite-things91 @scarletthornrose @rockerchicktravellinwidthedoctor @thinking-writing-pixelated @bookgirlunicorn @anamcg317 @avigravy12  @how-to-oyster @sebastixnstxn @scarletttvisions @nanna022

[mf-despair-queen]

No Strings Attached- Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 12,357

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Both Receiving), Stiles’ large dick, Stiles being a fucking idiot, Clumsy Stiles, Sappy Sex, Sappy moments, just generally really romantic and fluffy sex

Notes: So like, this was for @fillthevoid-stilinski‘s writing challenge and I really hope I didn’t disappoint Em with this because I didn’t wanna do something cliche considering the prompt was “What Happened to the no strings attached concept?” If y’all hate it, I’m sorry :’) I’m really scared of how this came out...

“Scott, I swear this case has everything to do with something supernatural.” Stiles paused, listening to his friend talk through the receiver. “What do you mean you doubt it? Dude, you saw the picture I sent you right? Every single person killed has had the same mark. It’s not a coincidence.” He paused again. “Ten people, Scott. Ten people with the exact same tattoo? I asked the only tattoo artist in this small town and he’s never seen it before. It has to be a pack symbol.”

Stiles sighed to himself, sitting on a rock, glancing at his surroundings. He was wandering in the woods outside the small town in Colorado, the crisp leaves crunching under his feet whenever he took another step. He was looking for clues not far from the most recent crime scene, his colleagues investigating the body of the young man that was chopped to bit. It was hard to believe he was finally a full-fledged FBI agent, traveling the states on different missions. He had thought his life would be more different than it was in high school, escaping Beacon Hills and the supernatural world that inhabited it.

But no. He always seemed to get stuck on cases that dealt with the alternate world he was thrown into at the tender age of sixteen.

“Scott, I’m not losing my mind of this,” he mumbled to his friend, sighing loudly. “Are you sure you don’t know of any pack that lives in Colorado? You’re the one that went on a cross-country crusade to stop Monroe so you’re the only one I can think of that would know someone out here.” He stopped talking, biting at his lip in frustration. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep you updated. It doesn’t look like Monroe’s work since they are literally hacked up and their back has the carving of two like… arches with a line between them and two little dots on that line. It’s like an oval that is spliced by the line and the dots are in the middle of the oval. But I know it’s not her, but I will find out why someone is hunting the supernatural down here.” He paused, groaning. “Yes, it is supernatural! Bye Scott!”

He hung up, picking himself up off the rock he had perched himself on, wandering further into the woods. Stiles fumbled to unbutton the top button of his burgundy button up, letting out a deep breath when he felt he could finally breathe properly. The late-summer Colorado heat was getting to him and he regretted dressing up the way he normally did when he was in the field. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he trudged through the trees, finding nothing that could help him.

“How the hell am I supposed to solve this if it is supernatural?” He asked himself, running his hand through his spiky quiff of hair. “No one will understand. And how the fuck do I explain the reason these people are targeted is because they do things no other people can?” The spastic boy let out a huff, kicking at the dirt and rocks under his feet. “Fuck! Why is this my luck? Why!”

He went to kick the ground again in his frustration, finding himself tumbling down a nearby hill when his feet slipped from under him. He landed with a grunt in a pile of leaves, mud and leaves straining his pressed shirt and jeans, twigs sticking up from his hair. His back ached in pain from how he landed, Stiles sure he was going to wake up with bruises tomorrow.

“Well, that was smart, Stiles,” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his face. “Really smooth. I thought we were passed this clumsy stage of your life.”

“Obviously you aren’t,” a voice cut through the air, breaking Stiles from his daze. His eyes snapped open, his hands moving so he could stare at the figure above him. His honey-brown orbs dilated, taking in a ray of sunlight before focusing on your eyes staring down at him. His mouth dried instantly, his jaw going slack. He admired your beauty silently. The way your hair draped over your shoulders, the sparkle behind your eyes, the plump lusciousness of your lips, the faint blush that spread over your cheeks. The tops of your breasts slightly spilled out from your tank top, the vibrant blue lace peeking over the hem line. Your hands were on your knees, your ass sticking out in your bent over state, but Stiles could see how perfectly round it was. He licked at his lips, trying to ease the dry sensation, though it seemed to be failing. “What are you doing here anyway? This is private property.”

Stiles chuckled aloud unconsciously, his hand ruffling his hair. “Haven’t I heard that before?” He saw your head cock to the side in confusion, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I-I mean…”

“I really don’t care,” you stated bluntly, a dull look on your face. “I just want you off my property.”

Stiles rolled onto his stomach, lifting himself to his feet slowly. You stood in front of him, shorter than him, arms crossed over your chest. He attempted to dust off his pants, clearing his throat. “I um… I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski. I’m with the FBI and we are here-“

“I know why you are here,” you cut him off. “I also already knew who you are.” You held up his wallet, his ID and badge visible to him. He pat his pocket, realizing it had been missing.

“How did you…”

“You’re easy to pickpocket,” you retorted, handing him back his wallet. “I don’t know anything about the murders. I don’t know the people that got murdered. I rarely go into town. So, you have no business being here. Can you please leave?”

Stiles’ brow furrowed, looking you up and down. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” you sneered, glaring at him. “I just want you off my fucking property.”

You turned to walk away, his arm darting out to grab your wrist. “Who are you? You know something about what is going on, so please tell me what you know. If you don’t, I will have to come back with a warrant and I know you don’t want that. Please answer me.” Your head snapped back at him, growling slightly, your eyes flashing a dangerous shade of crimson. Stiles’ eyes widened, slowly releasing his hold on your wrist. “You’re an alpha…”

You chuckled coldly, beginning to walk away from him. “Alpha? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not some stupid wolf. I guess I’m the equivalent of though.” You stopped walking, looking back at him. “How does a human like yourself know about the supernatural?”

“A few years’ experience, I guess,” the spastic male said, his tone slightly bitter at the thought of his best friend. “If you’re supernatural, you must have some information. Please, I could really use your help.”

“I’m not interested in helping the police,” you said quietly, though Stiles could feel deep inside that you weren’t being truthful.

“Why are you lying to me?” He asked, hesitantly stepping forward. “Why won’t you help us? Whoever is doing this is terrorizing your home. Why won’t you do anything about it?”

“Mr. Stilinski, with all due respect, you know nothing about me. My kind are very solitary people. I want nothing to do with anyone. I’m sorry that they died but this has nothing to do with me.”

Stiles frowned, glancing down at the ground. He processed your words, sighing loudly. “Please, I’m begging you. All I’m asking is for a little bit of help. You know this area, you know the pack that is being killed. I’m not asking for you to drop everything and help us find the unsub. All I’m asking is for a bit of knowledge. A bit of insight on what is happening. Because I know how this goes. No one else on my team knows about werewolves, or banshees or hell, I’m sure even vampires exist! But if I’m not careful, they will die. This person, or people maybe, they are capable of killing of werewolves. I’m here to stop them without losing anyone else. So, I ask one last time. Will you please help me?”

You looked back at him, seeing the conviction in his face. His heartbeat was steady, telling you that he meant every word. You bit your bottom lip, your heart speeding up with anxiety and fear. “Stilinski…”

His phone suddenly rang, him holding up a finger. “Just… don’t leave yet.” He pulled the black phone from his pocket, pressing it to his ear. “Stilinski. Yeah, sorry.” He stopped, his eyes widening. “What the hell you found three more bodies? Have we even gotten an ID on the last one we found?”

Your eyes widened. Three more people dead. Your heart clenched, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Ryan Harper?” He said, glancing over at you. He noticed you stiffen, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Keep looking and text me any details. I will meet you back at the police station in a bit.” He hung up, pocket his phone, rushing over to you. “Hey, you alright?”

You nodded slowly, hugging yourself tighter. “If I agree to help you, we need to set some rules, alright?” You told him abruptly, Stiles looking taken aback by your statement.

“I… yeah, yeah. Completely. Totally. Whatever it takes to stop this guy,” he rambled. You sighed, your tense body rushing away.

“Meet me at my house in five.”

He watched you retreat, a million questions rushing through his mind. He wondered what caused the sudden change in your mannerisms. Was it because of him? Or the fact that three more bodies were found? Was it the man Ryan Harper they identified? Stiles wasn’t sure what it was, but his heart swelled at the fact that you agreed to help. His feet moved without him thinking, following in the direction that you disappeared to moments earlier.

The door was open when he arrived at the worn down wooden cabin, finding you sitting atop an old couch that squeaked under your weight. He closed the door carefully, afraid it would fall if he was too rough with it. You glanced at him, gesturing to the blue lounge chair across from you. He smiled in thanks, sitting down slowly.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Stilinski,” you started, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not the most social person. I don’t want to get close to you or close to anyone in the town. If I’m going to help you, I am going to help and that is that. Got it?” Stiles remained silent, a sign that he was listening and agreeing. “I don’t want to help the police because I don’t want to risk getting close to anyone. But I will help because this is my home. If this person is coming after supernatural, naturally they will come after me, right?”

“Most likely,” Stiles said, leaning back in the chair, kicking one leg over his knee. Your eyes narrowed at him, annoyance written on your face at the idea of him getting comfortable. “So far it’s just this one pack as far as I know. And the only reason I believe that is they have the same pack symbol on their body. I don’t know if there is more besides you and this pack, but my guess is they are going after all supernatural creatures in this town.”

“Exactly,” you told him, leaning forward on your knees. Your stomach churned, licking at your lips.

“Why did you agree to help?” He asked, playing with his fingers. “It’s not just about saving your own skin.” He saw the hard look on your face, interlocking in fingers in thought. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You know, I may live alone and don’t interact with anyone, but this is my home. I was born and raised here. The last thing I want is to see more people dying because they had no choice in what they were. No one in that pack is bitten. They were all born werewolves. They protect this town for the most part. Why are they being punished for that?”

Stiles ignored the “for the most part” aspect of your statement, knowing he would be risking your cooperation if he pried too early, or even at all. He made a mental note of it, however, never forgetting what you said. “I can’t answer that now, but I will find out why. And I will stop this guy, whoever he is.” He slid forward, hesitating briefly before taking you hand in his. “I promise. I understand what it means to protect a town. I will do everything in my power to help.”

You glanced up at him, cracking a small smile. “Thanks, Mieczyslaw.”

The brown-haired male chuckled, running his thumb over your knuckle. “She smiles. Imagine that.” You glared at him slightly at his words. “I’m kidding. And if it’s easier, call me Stiles. That’s what I prefer.”

“I like that. Stiles,” you repeated, Stiles’ body heating up when his name rolled off your tongue. “I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, though he knew deep down your trained ears heard him clearly. “So. Not getting close. I get that. You help us stop this guy by providing any information you can. But what can I do for you in return? You’re helping in an FBI investigation. What can I do for you in return for your help?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” He asked confused at your single worded answer. “Nothing? How is that fair to you?”

“I want my home safe, Stiles. That’s all I need,” you told him, standing from your seat and heading for the window. You leaned on the frame, staring out the dirty glass. “Have you ever heard of doing something with no strings attached?”

“Honestly, the only no strings attached I think of is the kind I saw in movies when people fuck without developing feelings for each other, not wanting to be tied down in a relationship,” he uttered seriously, a small chuckle amidst his words. You laughed a bit at his answer, shaking you head.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” you laughed at him, Stiles cracking a large smile at the noise. “No strings attached is more like… I don’t need anything in return. My help is free of charge. I want to help, but I don’t want to risk being close to you. Or tying you down to some debt you might owe me. I don’t need money, I don’t need friendship. I want you out as soon as possible.”

Stiles sighed, lifting himself from the chair. “Fine. It’s a deal. From this moment on, we are professional colleagues. No relationship passed that. You help us, no strings attached.” He walked over, sticking out his hand to you. “Deal?”

You looked between his hand and his face, slowly reaching out to shake it. “Deal.”

The silence was thick, the tension palpable as you sat on the couch looking through photos and reports with the Stilinski boy. He was perched on the floor across the table from you, two pens behinds his ears, one in his mouth, and one scrawling what seemed to be gibberish on a notepad. His eyes scanned over the various photos in front of him haphazardly, but he held the same look of determination you came to recognize daily.

Roughly a week you found yourself waking up to the agent pounding on your door, bundles of papers in his arms, ready to enlist your help in trying to figure out what was happening and why. It was always quiet between the two of you, though you always caught him sparing a glance at you every so often, his honey brown eyes turning away in fear of you catching him. Occasionally he would drag you off the couch and through the woods, telling you that you were going to find more evidence hopefully.

You never did.

Stiles’ brow furrowed, placing the papers in his hands on the table. The pen dropped from his mouth into his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled, placing the notepad on the table and standing from his sitting position. His hand ran through his hair, his back muscles flexing in the blue button up he chose to wear. You watched him silently, confused as to what he was mumbling to himself.

You picked up his notepad, scanning over the gibberish of his notes in hopes to figure it out without having to outright ask. Something about the man set you awry, making your stomach churn in ways you weren’t sure how to judge. Even in the silent times you had spent with him, you deduced a lot of the man. He was definitely passionate about trying to help, just as he had promised he would. He didn’t like to give up. But he was growing agitated but the day that he was no closer to finding the killer.

You couldn’t blame him. You were getting frustrated as well. But it was more that he wouldn’t really tell you anything. Maybe it was your own doing and you not really asking for more ways to help. You feared talking to the Stilinski boy, afraid of what would come if you dd. Every time you opened your mouth to say something, it immediately shut, you heart hammering in your chest. And it irked you more than you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the couple times he would dare pop a question about your personal life, though he hadn’t done that in two days. Maybe he finally got the hint when you shut him down every single time.

Your eyes finally stopped on the small drawing he kept repeating in the corner of every paper he scribbled on. “Stiles?” You finally spoke up, catching his attention. You pointed to the symbol, the circle with a dark black dot on the right and left side of it. “Is this on everyone you’ve found?”

“Yeah, it has been. What do you know about it?” He asked, his eyes narrowing on your form as he scratched at his chin in thought. “I figured it was their pack symbol since everyone had it…”

“Well, you aren’t wrong,” you mumbled, Stiles hearing every word clearly from across the room. “It represented the full moon. They weren’t the… most controlled on full moons back in the day from what I heard. So, it was supposed to be a reminder that the full moon doesn’t control them.”

Stiles nodded, glancing at the symbol. “You know an awful lot about this.” You stilled, placing the notepad on the table slowly. “It’s not because you’re part of their pack. So how do you know about it?”

You played with your fingers, not glancing at him. “I thought we agreed on no personal questions, Stilinski.”

“Yeah, but that was before I learned that you know more than I originally thought. I knew you had information, but you knew these people. How do you know them? Do you know who would be attacking them? What relationship did you have with them? Does it have to do with Ryan-“

Your head snapped up at him, your eyes flashing their red color at him. “This has nothing to do with that bastard!”

Stiles sighed, taking careful steps towards you, daring himself to take a seat next to you. With a shaky hand, he reached for your own, his large, veiny one enveloping yours completely. “You know you can tell me. Nothing will change from you telling me.”

You sighed, watching his fingers rub your skin. The feeling was soothing and felt right to you. “It’s not that easy.”

“Does this have to do with why you don’t like getting close to people? Why you wanted a strictly professional relationship on this?” You spared a single glance at him, your mouth staying tightly shut. “You fight having any personal relationships. I understand that your kind is supposed to be solitary, as you put it, but you can’t shelter yourself from everything.”

“What do you know, Stiles?” You sneered. “You know nothing about these parts. You know nothing about me.”

“Because you’re still human too. And us as humans crave some form of interaction in some way,” he stated quietly, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You think you’re a monster and you’re not. It’s ok to feel.” He watched quietly, awaiting a response, his moon taking a downturn when he not none. “Maybe you should go rest for a bit. I’m gonna look for some more clues now that I know a bit more about their pack and I will be back. And how about I bring some Chinese take-out?”

“What?” You asked, looking at him. He had this stupid smile on his face and you had to fight your own smile from plastering itself on your cheeks. “I thought we agreed that I didn’t need anything in return for your help.”

“It’s not in return for your help. We just need dinner if we are going to go over more photos and reports when I return,” he laughed, poking your nose. “No ifs, ands or buts about it. I’m craving some chow mien and we have work to do. You need a nap.”

Stiles placed a quick kiss to your cheek before removing himself from the couch and grabbing his gun, which you always insisted he leave by the door, and jacket, slipping them on his body. He left before you could protest further, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You barely knew the man but he made you feel flustered, a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. You ran your fingers over your face, sighing into your palms. Picking yourself up from the cushions, you made your way down the hall to your room, collapsing on the bed.

“What are you doing to me, Mieczyslaw Stilinski?” You asked yourself, letting your eyes close. I told myself I would never feel again after him…

Stiles struggled to open the door with the bags of Chinese food in his hands but never gave up in his endeavor. The door was kicked shut noisily behind him when he finally shuffled through the frame, dropping the bags onto the table. The room was dark, the sun outside not lighting the tiny forest cabin like he was used to. Clicking on the flashlight on his phone, he found a few candles, lighting them till the room was lit enough that he could make out the furniture he was so used to.

He glanced around, seeing no sign of you, frowning slightly. “Y/N?” he called out, receiving no response. He checked the kitchen before wandering down the hall, cracking open each door to check. It wasn’t until he heard a small scream that his head snapped to the door at the end of the hall, his eyes narrowing and his hand reaching for his gun. “Y/N?”

The scream echoed through the house again, Stiles making his way to the room without hesitation. He pushed the door open, his ears prickling at the shrill squeak of the hinges.  His hand lowered from his gun when he saw your writhing on the bed, tears streaming down your face, another scream escaping your perfect lips. His eyes widened at the sight, almost tripping over his own feet when he stumbled forward.

“Y/N? He asked, crawling onto the bed with you, holding you flat to the mattress to keep from fighting at him. “Hey, wake up! Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake. Up!” He tried to get across, but your eyes stayed glued shut. He frowned at the sight of you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. You were cold and unwilling to let him get close to you, but it still hurt him to see you hurting. He hated admitting openly that you intrigued him and he liked being around you. He felt drawn to you and he didn’t know why. “Shit, shit. What do I do?” He asked himself, running a hand through his hair.

He watched your mouth part, muttering to yourself. “No, don’t hurt them. Please. Ryan, stop.” Stiles’ brow furrowed, biting at his lip. Were you reliving something from your past? “Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!”

Stiles was shocked when you fought against his hold more, his arms straining to keep you down. He licked at his lips, scanning your form. “Please don’t hate me,” he whispered before he leant down, placing his lips on yours. Your body stilled almost instantly, a stream of electricity flowing through both your bodies. His lips moved against yours softly till your eyes finally opened, staring up at him with blurry, tearful eyes.

“Stiles?” You asked when he backed away, panting slightly. He smiled slightly, though it disappeared when you placed a fierce slap to his cheek, succeeding in knocking him from the bed. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Ow! God, did you have to smack me that hard?” he grumbled, sitting up on the hard floor, rubbing his cheek. “Fuck, that hurt. Why do girls always slap me?”

“Well, when you are kissing them in their sleep, what do you expect?!”

“I wasn’t-“ he started, groaning to himself. “I just got back with dinner and you were having a nightmare! You wouldn’t wake up!”

“So, you kissed me?” You asked, feeling your face heating up.

“It calmed you down. You kept muttering about Ryan doing something. About him hurting someone…” he trailed off, his pupils dilating to focus on your downcast gaze, your eye wide with shock. “What did he do?”

“I can’t…”

“Y/N, I’m not going to judge you and I swear this will not affect our deal. No strings attached. I made a deal that you would help with no strings attached. I am not looking to fix you for whatever shit he pulled on you. But if you know something about him, maybe what he did in your past is why they are being targeted now,” he said, crawling to the edge of the bed, cautiously staring at you. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“You know, I thought about that actually. I’ve thought that for a while actually. Since you showed me the symbol that the killer leaves on all their bodies,” You told him, keeping your eyes on your hands in your lap. “It’s probably related.”

“So, you’ll share what you know?” he asked quietly.

“On one condition,” you mumbled, Stiles perking up at the noise. “We eat that Chinese you brought while I tell you about him. I’m famished.” Stiles grinned, jumping from the floor and holding his hand out to you. You cracked the slightest smile at the gesture, letting him help you from the bed and towards the living room where the food sat. You couldn’t shake one simple thought from your head with each step you took though.

The kiss he gave you made you feel alive.

Stiles sat himself on the couch, instantly digging into the cheap, white take-out carton of chow mien. You giggled to yourself, sitting cross-legged next to him and grabbing a carton of orange chicken, chewing on it slowly. You saw him glance at you occasionally, not wanting to pressure you into speaking.

“You were right you know,” you said, biting into the tasty breaded meat. He cocked his head to the side, question your statement. “I’m a lynx. Well, werelynx. Naturally, the lynx is solitary. But we are human as well. We don’t like to interact with people, but naturally, we desire some interaction outside of our tiny families. That’s when I met Ryan. He was… he was my everything.”

“You dated,” he uttered, slurping on his noodles. “Am I right?”

“It’s not really a surprise that you are an FBI agent, Stilinski,” you laughed, Stiles’ heart swelling at the sound. “We did date. For like, four or five years. My parents weren’t keen on our relationship, seeing as he was a werewolf. And his family didn’t have the cleanest record. They didn’t hurt anyone here but they migrated I guess you could say…”

“They left and hunted outside of your home?” He asked.

“Essentially, yes. They didn’t want to hurt anyone where so whenever they felt that they weren’t going to be able to control themselves on full moons, they left and attacked other small towns in neighboring states. I know it’s not the greatest still, but they didn’t want to harm their home. They wanted to protect everyone here.”

“But they attacked a town and someone found out and came after them?” He deducted, picking up carton of sweet and sour chicken. Your leg reached out, kicking him in the side. He let out a grunt, slightly choking on the chicken he was biting.

“Stop being a smarty, you stupid government agent person. I might have to kick your ass,” you whined at him. “Because yes, that’s what happened. A man named Seth had lost his family to them. Apparently, he had seen Ryan and his family completely tearing them to shreds from his tool shed. How the pack didn’t sniff him out, I don’t know. But Seth followed them back and decided he wanted revenge.”

“So, what happened?” Stiles asked, completely and deadly serious for once. It kind of scared you how serious he was about this.

“Seth killed my family instead,” you said shortly, Stiles frowning sadly at your words. “He found Ryan, cornered him with a shotgun to the head. Ryan pleaded apparently, apologizing and saying they would never do it again.” You paused, playing with the orange chicken in the cheap box in your hand. “And offered up my family as collateral. As retribution for what had happened. Ryan took me out that day and Seth killed my parents and little brother. When I returned home and found them, I went to Ryan because he had insisted on taking me out and I knew why. He didn’t want me hurt but he didn’t care about them. I haven’t talked to him since I broke his jaw.”

“Y/N…” Stiles tried to say, putting his food on the table.

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. That’s what everyone always says.” You stopped talking, wiping the tears on the long-sleeved shirt you were wearing. “That’s when I decided no more…”

“You decided you didn’t want to be close to anyone again,” Stiles finished for you. “You were hurt because you lost your family. You were hurt because you were betrayed. You didn’t want to feel that again, right?” You nodded, placing the carton down. Stiles turned his body to face yours, mimicking your position. His hands held yours gently, rubbing soft circles on the tops of them. “I won’t say I’m sorry. I know how it feels to lose family. To lose friends even. I know the pain. But you shouldn’t shut everyone out.”

“It’s just easier that way,” you mumbled.

Stiles smiled sadly, scooting closer on the couch so he could wrap his arms around you in a hug, letting the tears spill onto his partially unbuttoned shirt. His fingers rubbed your back soothingly, no words coming from his mouth. The silence was comforting though, not awkward by any means. For once in a long time, you didn’t feel alone. And you liked that feeling.

Stiles placed a kiss to your hairline, letting his face nuzzle into your hair. “It’ll be alright. If Seth is back, we will stop him. There must be a reason he is here. And if it’s not him, we will figure out why that guy is here.” He kissed your forehead against, hugging you close. The spot his lips were burned into your skin, a smile gracing your lips at the comforting feeling and the warmth he gave off.

“Right,” you told him, looking up at him. His eyes locked on yours, a glisten of hope and desire passing through his honey orbs. You leaned up, pecking him on the lips softly, your lips close to his when you pulled away. “Thank you, Stilinski. You’re not so bad you know.”

He licked at his lips slightly, his tongue swiping at yours as he did. He wanted to lean in for more, his body craved more. But he hesitated, unsure how you would react. You didn’t want this relationship with him and no matter how much he himself desired it and was willing to fight for it, he pulled away. He hated to say it but he was afraid of the reject he was sure he would get. He recalled the rejection from Malia when they broke up and the rejection from Lydia when she had decided to date Parrish over him, even after she helped rescue him from the Ghost Riders and they shared such an intimate moment in the locker room.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Now, shall we finish eating and get back to work? The sooner we stop this guy, the sooner I’m out of your hair, right?” Stiles missed the sad look pass over your face when he turned back to the food. You grabbed another box at random, opening it to the steamed rice.

“Right…”

You laid on your couch, deep in thought a few days later. It hurt to admit you were falling for this crazy human known as Stiles Stilinski. You felt like you were betraying yourself and the feelings you had fought to lock away. You feared being hurt again. It hurt enough when the man you thought and claimed to love so much betrayed you and killed off your family. It hurt even more when he left you standing there, his lame apology replaying in your head.

“I had to protect my family, Y/N!” He had screamed in your face, no sign of remorse evident anywhere. “They are my pack and they mean more to me than you do. You were nothing to me but a good in with the only other supernatural family in this spick of a town.”

“But Ryan. I love you so much,” you had tried to tell him, but his face remained stoic.

“Well, I don’t love you. So, do me a favor and leave us alone before something else happens. I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. But I don’t want you around us anymore. Nothing good will come from it.”

You told yourself that he was protecting you and would come back. But he never did. If you passed him in town on food runs, he turned the other way, not even acknowledging your attempting to apologize for the disaster your life had become. You had given him everything only for him to betray your trust.  

Now, Stiles waltzed into your life and you were feeling complete once again. And you were scared. You didn’t want to get attached, especially knowing that he was only here because of this case he was working on. The moment they find the killer, he would be gone, leaving you all alone again. You didn’t want to get close, but at the same time, you wanted to.

Part of you regretted the bits of time you had spent with him since telling him about Ryan that night over his lame Chinese take-out. You often found yourselves sitting closer than normal on the couch or in your bed when it decided to rain outside and there was a chill in the air. You both shared details of your lives that you hadn’t shared with anyone, even Ryan when you were with him. He never judged you for anything he was told and he never pried when you didn’t want to go into details on some things. But he was always willing to listen, just as you listened to him. You loved hearing about the things he had been through and the wacky town of Beacon Hills he called home.

Every word that came out of his mouth made you fall for the chocolate-haired male more and more.

You were snapped from your thoughts when the door was kicked open and Stiles rolled on, literally. You sat up, watching him groan on your floor. “You tripped, didn’t you?”

“I swear I was passed this clumsy stage of my life. Otherwise they would not let me walk around with a loaded gun,” he grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up. He rounded the side of the couch, perching himself on the edge and staring deep into your eyes. “So, I think I have a plan on how to catch this guy. But I need to know something.”

“Anything,” you found yourself saying, biting your lip when you realized you had. Stiles grinned a toothy grin, opening the messenger bag that he brought over. He dug out a manila envelope, handing it to you. You looked at him confused, his head just nodding at the folder. You found inside a collage of photos and a list of names. “I don’t get it, Stiles.”

“This is a list of everyone we have found that has been killed by this guy. What I’m thinking is… well, is there anyone left in Ryan’s pack that we can use to lure this guy out?” He asked. You scanned the list of names, biting at your lip.

“Unless they added new members since I last spoke to them, no,” you told him sadly. Stiles frowned, sighing. You glanced over the photos, staring at the circles carved into the backs of every dead wolf. “Hey Stiles. The symbol that the killer carved into their backs. Do you know what it means?”

He looked at you, taking the picture of your hand. “I guess so. I texted a picture of the symbol to Deaton but he said it’s not Celtic.”

“That’s the druid emissary, right?” You questioned, watching him nod. “Well, why use this particular symbol? It’s a moon glyph.”

“A what?”

“Moon glyph. It’s something my mom used to research. The same goes for the pack tattoo they used. It’s a moon glyph for the full moon. She suggested they use it. Let me…” you jumped off the couch, skimming over the spines of the books on the shelf in the corner. You pulled off an old, dusty blue book, flipping through the fragile papers. “Aha. I knew I had seen it before.” You curled up next to him on the floor, Stiles fighting the blush that threatened to arise. You pointed at the symbol in the book, looking at him. “See. It’s a sign of death.”

“So, they wanted someone to know they were here to kill them all?” He asked.

“Death to the pack? Or…” You swallowed thickly, closing the book. “Death to the supernatural?”

Stiles rubbed his chin, his brow knit together in thought. “Maybe it has to deal with Monroe…” You remember him telling you about the war with some high school counselor named Monroe while he was beginning his internship. She was building an army to fight the supernatural and his friend, Scott, had yet to find her and stop her after all this time. “Maybe she got to Seth and he wanted to end what he started?”

“Who knows…” You said aloud. You both sat in silence thereafter, trying to think of what to do. “Would you kill me if I said maybe I could be bait?”

“No. Absolutely not,” he replied quickly, standing from his seated position. “I am not risking your life to catch this guy. And we don’t even know if he is after you. For all we know, he was here for that pack and that was it. He could be long gone by now.”

“What other options do we have, Stiles? I know where they lived, you don’t. At least let me go and see what I can find there. Maybe if he sees me around there, he will think he needs to kill me too. Then you and your team can catch him.” Stiles stayed silent, his eyes glued on the wall. “What other option do we have?”

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “But I can’t lose you…”

“Stiles, remember. We had a deal-“

“Yeah, well fuck the deal!” He screamed suddenly, turning back to you. “Excuse me for developing feelings for you over this week and a half. Excuse me for not wanting to see you get hurt. Excuse me for caring about you when you don’t want to be cared for!” He took a deep breath, tugging at his hair. “I promised you that I would keep this professional and it’s so damn hard right now. Because I want to see you happy. I want to rebuild your broken heart because you don’t deserve to be unhappy. I want to love you because you deserve to be loved.”

“Stiles,” you started, swallowing thickly, “why?”

“I don’t know.”

“We had a deal, Stiles. We agreed that there would be no strings attached on this.”

“I know.”

“We agreed that you would not develop feelings. That I would not develop feelings. That we would not get close to each other.”

“I know.”

“We agreed that I wanted nothing in return for my help. No money, no relationship, no you trying to mend my forever broken soul!”

“I know, Y/N!”

“Then tell me why!” You cried at him. You didn’t realize with each statement, you had stepped towards him until you were slapping him across the face. He didn’t move an inch, his face hard. “What happened to the no strings attached concept? What changed? Why did you decide that I was worth your time? What happened to our deal, huh?!”

“That was before I started falling in love with you, ok?!” He yelled back. You were taken aback by his outburst, shrinking a bit under his gaze. “I didn’t mean to, ok? I tried. I tried so hard because I didn’t want you to run away. I needed the help on this case. But the more time I spent with you, the more I wanted to know who you were and why you were so closed off. Then you had the nightmare and I kissed you to calm you down… I felt the fireworks from that kiss. I don’t know if you did too, but it was the most magical thing in the world. And I’ve kissed like… four other girls, ok? I’ve never felt that before. Then you started to finally pen up and… God, you are just so amazing. And I don’t feel bad for the things you’ve been through. I feel bad that you had no one to care for you when it happened. You don’t deserve to be alone. You don’t need to be alone.”

The tears leaked freely down your cheeks hearing his words. You pounded weakly on his chest, his arms wrapping around you no matter how much you fought against him. “Why did you make me care about you?” You asked weakly.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” you cried, cuddling into his chest. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Why did you make me love you?”

“I know-“ he stopped short, looking down at you. “Wait. Back up. What? You love me?”

“You’re clumsy and a fool. But you’re smart and caring. You stayed when no one else stayed. You want to be with me, but why? Because you are loving and you want to help. You didn’t feel sorry for me. You just… you were there for me when I needed you. No matter how hard I pushed you away, you came back stronger, fiercer. You didn’t run away because I was a bitch.”

“Because I want to be here for you,” he said calmly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.  

“Fine. Be here for me. Kiss me and show me you are fucking worth it,” you challenged, Stiles smiling.

“Oh baby, with pleasure.”

He didn’t hesitate, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You felt the jolt of electricity like last time, his lips molding against yours perfectly. His lips were hot against yours, but he definitely knew how to kiss a girl. His mouth generally overtook yours in time, his hands holding your cheeks, his tongue passing over your lips as if he were asking for entrance. Your nails dug into his back, hugging him closer. Your lips parted, Stiles smiling into the kiss, his tongue slipping between your cheeks to massage yours.

The kiss was blissful, Stiles pulling away occasionally to breath before delving in for another kiss, his tongue finding its way back inside your mouth easily. The sound of your kisses filled the silent room, your bodies meshed together without remorse. Your body was on fire and you did not regret it at all. For the first time in forever, you felt you were in the right place.

You pulled away, pecking his lips. He grinned in return, peppering every inch of your face in kisses. Together you stood in each other’s embrace, just enjoying the time together. Until you broke the silence. “We need to stop him, Stiles. You need to let me help.”

“I can’t lose you,” he mumbled into your neck.

“You won’t. I will give you the directions to their pack house. You bring your squad. And we will stop this son of a bitch.” You placed your hand on his cheek, looking up at him. “Please. Do you trust me?”

He bit at his lip, nodding slowly. “With my life.”

“Alright.”

You stood in front of the all too familiar house, glancing around at the surroundings. Nothing had changed. You looked up at the house again, taking a deep breath. “I can do this.” The leaves crunched under your boots as you made your ways to the stairs, taking one creaky step at a time. You knocked on the door, feigning like you were looking for them.

When you received no response, for obvious reasons to you, you twisted the handle and stepped inside. “Ryan? Josh? Elizabeth?” you called through the house, ignoring the sickening creaks under your steps. “Is anyone home? I caught the scent of blood and was worried. I wanted to make sure you all were ok. Is anyone home?”

“No one is home,” a voice called from the living room, your eyes narrowing at the sound. It was soft, but he knew you would hear it. You made your way to the room, spotting the man sitting in the lounger in the corner, polishing the shotgun on his lap. A bloodied axe was leaning against the wall next to him. The man’s dark eyes glanced up to meet yours. He was balding slightly, wrinkles all over his face. He wore a black polo and dark jeans, though they did nothing to hide the blood strains everywhere on his clothing. “I don’t remember seeing you with the rest of them. Who are you?”

“Who are you?” You retorted, obvious sass in your tone. “Why are you here?”

“Finishing what I set out to do originally,” he grumbled in a low tone.

“So, I was right. Your name is Seth Cheney, am I right?” His eyes narrowed on your form, his hand no longer polishing his shotgun. “You killed my family the first time around you know. Ryan pleaded to spare his family in exchange for mine.”

“Then how did you escape me, pretty girl?” He asked, giving you a disgusting grin.

“Pity from the source I guess. Ryan didn’t want me hurt when he sent you to slaughter my family and send my world crashing down.” You shuffled on your feet, glancing around the room nonchalantly. “Why come back anyway? Was it someone named Monroe that set you up to this?”

“She wants all the supernatural creatures gone. You are unnatural creatures and you will end the human race as we know it. Nothing good comes from your kind.”

“You know nothing about us,” you growled, your eyes flashing red at him. “We aren’t murderers you know. We are human too!”

“There is nothing human about you!” He shouted, standing from his seat and cocking the shotgun. “You all deserve to die. Like your pitiful family. Like the pitiful “pack” that couldn’t last against me. They cost me my family. What good comes from your kind?!”

“We aren’t all bad, jackass! We just want a normal life you know!”

“You deserve no such thing,” he huffed, pointing the gun in your direction. A shot rang out, your ear drums shaking from the sound.

In that instance, before the bullet could hit you, you took off running, bolting for the front door. You heard the faint roar of anger from the man behind you and the thundering sound of his boot as he chased after you. You spared a glance at him, seeing he had forgone the shotgun for the bloodied axe. And even with your supernatural speed, he was gaining on you. You had to dodge a few of his swipes, kicking him back until you got to the front door. He tackled you from behind, your bodies collapsing out the door and down the steps, landing in a heap in the dead leaves. His hands locked around your neck, his eyes flaring with anger.

“This’ll end you and your kind. Just like you deserve! You can join the rest of those pitiful creatures that I hacked up!” He raged, his grip tightening. You gasped for air, praying to a miracle. For a second, you regretted your decision, regretting your trust in the man you grew to love. Maybe it had all been a sick joke to him and he never meant any of it.

“Freeze!” Stiles’ voice broke the crisp air. Seth’s head shot up to look at him, Seeing the gun Stiles was pointing at him, his fellow FBI agents behind him and all wearing their FBI vests. “Seth Cheney, you are under arrest for the murders of over twenty people and the attempted murder of Y/N L/N. Turn yourself in and no one has to get hurt.”

Seth sneered, standing from the ground, still holding your throat in his hands. “She deserves to die. You all should be supporting Monroe and her efforts to create peace! These creatures will only bring us destruction!”

Stiles shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he stated calmly. “They aren’t our destruction. They did nothing wrong. Why should they be punished for something they didn’t choose?” Your heart fluttered slightly, remembering when you told him the same thing the day you met him. “Now, I ask you one more time. Turn yourself in.”

Seth growled, throwing you aside and grabbing the bloodied axe from the ground, rushing at Stiles. You weren’t sure if it was suicide or an actual attempt to attack an FBI agent, but he was attacking a ranged agent with an axe. It was no surprise when Stiles fired at him. Two simple shorts, one in the arm to make him drop the weapon in his hand and one in the leg, causing the older man to collapse in pain, blood spilling from his leg. A few of the agents behind Stiles ran forward, handcuffing the crazed maniac and dragged him away to a car.

Stiles put his gun away, rushing to your side. He helped you up, rubbing your arm with one hand and tracing the hand prints on your neck. “You ok?”

“Never better,” you said, hugging him. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Anything for you,” he laughed, kissing your forehead. He led you back towards the cars, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “I told you we would get him.”

“Excuse me? I gave you the plan, asshole,” you laughed. He grinned, shaking his head. “Also, who knew you were actually a really good shot? Like, damn, babe.”

“I told you they wouldn’t give me a loaded gun in my clumsy stage,” he joked. “Maybe being around you just brings out that clumsiness again. What am I going to do around you?”

His words broke you. He was leaving soon, wasn’t he? How was he supposed to be around you? You frowned at the realization and stopped walking, making Stiles look at you confused. “Your case is done now, Stiles…”

“Yeah. Your point?”

“You’re going to have to leave now,” you mumbled. This was exactly your fear and why you didn’t want to get close. He wormed his way into your heart and now he would leave and never return. You would be alone again.”

“I was going to talk to you about that,” he muttered, taking your hand and entwining his fingers with yours. “Will you come back to the hotel in town with me so I can call Scott to tell him about Monroe and we can discuss this? I don’t leave until tomorrow anyway. We have time. I’m not ready to leave you.”

You hesitated, gnawing on your bottom lip. Part of you wanted to run and leave him now, afraid that if you returned to his hotel, you would wake up alone and broken because he left you forever. You could leave him now and regret less than tomorrow. But the other part never wanted to leave him, not ready to feel the broken heart again. You wanted to be in his arms as much as possible.

You chose the latter.

“Alright,” you told him, letting him drag you to the SUV he had driven. “Let’s go.”

The drive was silent, the hotel room even worse. You listened to Stiles on the phone with Scott, watching him stripping from his FBI vest and black button up, leaving him in a black undershirt and his jeans. Your body grew warmer watching him, your legs rubbing together unconsciously to relieve the pressure between them. Stiles paid little attention to your actions, tossing his stuff that was scattered around the room into his suitcase, talking heatedly with Scott on the phone.

He finally groaned loudly, hanging up and dropping the phone on the nightstand. “Bad phone call?” You asked.

“Scott being Scott. I will have to let him know more when I can get more information from Seth. Hopefully we can get some good information on Monroe’s whereabouts,” he told you, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off, leaving him in his shirt and boxers. Your face flushed a bright red, covering it with your hands.

“Stiles!”

“What?” he asked, glancing from your face to his lower half. He obviously hadn’t thought about you being in the room when he stripped. “Shit. I’m so sorry. Let me find my sweats.”

You peaked through your fingers, spotting the small tent in his boxers as he rushed to find his sweatpants. The sight caused your body to heat up even more, making you completely aware of the ache in your core. You made the call to put yourself on the line, crawling forward on the bed and grabbing at the back of his shirt. He looked down at you, his lips parting in surprise.

“If this is our last night together, let’s make it count,” you told him. His eyes evidently widened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words for you.

“Y/N, who said this is our last night together?” He asked.

“You’re returning home tomorrow, Stiles. It’s obvious. So, please,” you pleaded.

“Babe, we haven’t talked-“ he was cut off, your body leaning up to place a kiss to his lips. He let out a surprised noise, a mixture of shock and a moan. But he returned the kiss with an equal amount of vigor. His lips quickly overtook yours, his tongue passing through the small crevice of your lips to invade your mouth, tracing every spot with the tip. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, pulling him onto the bed until you were resting against the pillows, Stiles hovering over you with his lips attached to yours. You weren’t bothered by the amount of open-mouth kisses he placed to your lips, or the fact that your mind went blank as his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You were enjoying every second of him against you.

His fingers played with the bottom of your shirt, tugging at it occasionally. You giggled into his kiss, pushing him away so you could sit up, allowing him to tug the intrusive material over your head, leaving it forgotten on the floor by the bed. His shirt follow suit, the black fabric finding its way to the carpet in a similar manner as yours had. Your fingers traced his torso, your eyes wandering his physique. His toned pecs, the dark patch of hair that was splayed across them. The biceps and forearms, veins protruding along them, the muscles flexing with every move he made. He was faint lines of a six pack, though they were hidden under the happy trail of hair that disappeared into his boxers. He had broad, muscular shoulders, his collar bone looking deliciously kissable.

“You’re so handsome, Stiles,” you whispered.

“And you’re beautiful,” he replied, glancing down at you. He took in the look of your plump breasts hidden under the lacy blue bra, noting the way your nipples poked through the material. But he also admired your face, falling more in love with your eyes and smile and the way your cheeks flushed as he complimented you. “You’re so perfect to me.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back down to the bed, your lips on his. He smiled, reaching under you to undo the hook on your bra, your back arching enough to allow him to complete the task. The straps slipped down your arms naturally when it unhooked, Stiles using one hand to toss it behind him, not paying attention to where it landed. His lips trailed down your chest to your breast, lacing a kiss to one of your nipples. Your moan hit his ears, encouraging him to continue.

His lips kissed at your nipple continuously, taking the bud between his lips every time and tugging at it when he pulled away from it. His tongue would dart out to lap at the hardened peak, listening to your squeals and mewls happily. He sucked dark red marks along the sides of your breasts and between them when he swapped to the other, untended one, repeating the same process.

Your hands fiddled with the elastic on his boxers as he sucked at your breasts, his own hands popping the button on your jeans and inching them down your legs. Your struggled under his weight to help kick them off, his feet kicking them off the bed once they were off your ankles. His lips broke from your chest with a distinct pop, trailing down your stomach to your matching blue panties. Your fingers shot to his hair, digging through his locks when you felt the silky material slide down your legs, not paying attention to what he did with them.

His hands pushed your legs apart, his hot breath fanning over your wet pussy. You moaned his name, your back arching off the bed the second his tongue ran over your folds. The tip prodded at your entrance, dipping into your pussy after a few passes. You moaned louder at the feeling, the heat flowing through your body. His tongue delved in deep, swirling in circles, tapping at your sensitive spots and along your walls. His own moan against your skin vibrated through your entire core and up your spine, tightening the knot that was forming inside you.

His tongue left your aching pussy dry, figuratively, as it slid up to your clit, flicking the swollen bud teasingly. You weren’t vacant for long, two of his fingers slithering their way inside to replace his absent tongue. You squirmed under his touch, his fingers thrusting into you at a quick but steady pace. The ends curled into your g-spot, brushing it every time his fingers disappeared inside you.

“Stiles,” you mewled loudly, his lips curling into a smile against your clit. His lips wrapped around it in response, nibbling at it, letting his fingers speed up. The tips tapped harder at your sweet spot, the feeling of him rubbing at your walls sending you into an abyss of ecstasy. “Please, I need you,” you uttered barely loud enough for him to hear.

He pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you with an empty void inside, the deep desire to be filled again. He licked his fingers clean, your eyes focused on the way his tongue passed over the digits. Your teeth tugged your lip between them, gnawing at it as you watched him. When he was finally done, he moved up to kiss you, his lips tasting faintly of your juices.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked quietly. You felt his lips move against your as he spoke and you could barely process the words he actually said. You were filled with an overwhelming need for him, a deep desire to feel whole.

“Yes,” you mumbled, leaning up to kiss him more. He smiled, rolling off you before he could get fully invested in the kiss. He dropped his boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor, as he grabbed his jeans and fishing out his wallet. He pulled a condom from a pocket in his wallet, tearing the packet open as he waddled back to the bed. His hand wrapped around his erect cock, pumping it a few times to make sure he was ready. Your eyes were glued to the hard shaft he sported, your mouth falling open. “Holy shit.”

“What?” he asked stupidly, not understanding what you were gawking at. “Is it that bad?”

“Bad? Bad?? BAD??? Stiles! Have you seen yourself?!” You yelled at him. His face was even more confused as he looked down at himself in his hand, the condom between the fingers in his other hand.

“Well, yeah? I masturbate like… three times a day? But I don’t get what that has to do with anything right now.”

“Seriously, Stiles?” you deadpanned, motioning him closer with a curl of the finger. He followed your instruction, taking a couple hastened steps forward until he was directly in front of you. You were sat up on the bed by the time he got there, you hand reaching out to take his cock between your fingers in place of his. You stroked him a couple times, Stiles dragging out a moan at the intense feeling. “Look at you, babe.”

“I… have a dick?” He asked, legitimately confused.

“Are you really that stupid, Stilinski?” You glared up at him, pumping him a few more times. “You’re hung, boy. You’re well-endowed. You’re extra-large. You’re huge!” He blinked a few times. “Oh my god. You have a huge cock, dumbass!”

“Oh. OH. That’s what you meant?” He questioned, looking down at his cock in your hands. “I don’t know, is it really that much bigger than others? I always thought I was average…”

“Seriously? Really, Stiles?” You sassed him. “You are so far from average. You are not even above average. You’re like… god-tier. I had sex with Ryan and he never was close to this size.” You looked at his cock, stroking it a few times. “How is this going to fit inside me anyway?”

“Well, guess we will have to find out,” he mumbled huskily, rubbing at his chin. His cock twitched in your hands, surprising you with the sudden action, bits of precum leaking out of the tip. You hummed at his response, albeit you never expected an answer in the first place, leaning forward to swipe your tongue over his slit, tasting his salty sweet juice on your taste buds. “Oh, holy shit.”

You smiled against him, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it and rubbing it along the sensitive underside. Your hand pumped him quickly, your grip firm but not uncomfortable. Your free hand reached up to fondle his balls, all while Stiles let out loud moans, your name dripping from his tongue like it was the only thing he knew. Your hollow cheeks, even around just his head, made the feeling tighter, Stiles’ mind going blank at the feeling. He only came back to reality when he felt your mouth vanish around him, your tongue tracing along the pulsing vein along his length.

“Baby,” he whined, his free hand tangling in your hair and pulling you from his cock. “I need to be inside you. I can’t wait anymore. I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I want to cum inside you,” he paused, looking at the condom between his fingers. “Well, inside the condom, but while I’m inside you.”

“I understand what you meant, Stilinski,” you joked, taking the condom from him. You slid the lubricated rubbed down his length, laying back on the bed with your legs spread, your fingers playing with your wet entrance. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Stiles’ eyes darkened, the lust evident behind them. He was between your legs in the blink of an eye, his cock rubbing between your folds without any assistance. You mewled, your arms winding around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss. He eagerly returned it, the kiss distracting you both as he slid inside you in one swift motion. Your moan was drowned out, disappearing inside his throat, his groan mirroring the same. He didn’t give you long to adjust or accustom to his large size. He was thrusting into you slowly from the get go, flooding your senses with overwhelming amounts of arousal.

He broke the kiss, his eyes locking with yours and never moving from them, his thrusts speeding up steadily. You moaned loudly at him, taking in the size of him and how he filled you to the brim. You had never felt that full and that good and his thrusts seemed to complete the package. His girth spread you wide, pressing into your walls every time he slid back inside you. His length allowed him to reach your depths, tapping your cervix without intention and hitting with g-spot easily with every quick thrust forward. His movements were fast and fluid, rubbing your sensitive spots continuously.

His breath came out in pants, your nails raking down his back when he sped up even more. Your back was pressed into mattress, his hips bucking into yours relentlessly. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other filled the room, only drowned out by the growing volume of your moans and pants. He pounded into you restlessly, his cock sliding in and out of you without remorse. And you loved every second of it. The knot inside you was tightening with no control over it and you felt ready to burst any second.

Stiles stilled inside you, your eyes snapping open to look at him. You weren’t even sure when they had closed to be honest. He smiled down at you, pecking your lips. “I love you,” he mumbled, watching the smile on your face form. “Wrap your arms around my neck tight and don’t let go. I want to try something.”

You nodded at him, doing as he said. Your body was lifted from the mattress, finding your bare chest pressed to his instead. He leaned back on the bed, his legs adjusting until they were straight out under you, his knees bent slightly. Your legs were on either side of him, knees pressed to the bed, your arms tightening around his neck. Your chests heaved simultaneously with each other.

Stiles smiled, pecking your lips. “Yeah, just like that,” he mumbled, his hands finding their way to your waist and holding it tight. “Now, move with me, baby. Show me your moves.”

You hummed, grinning against his lips. “I can do that,” you told him, locking your lips with his. With your lips meshed together, your fingers tangling in the hairs along the back of his neck and his fingers digging into your waist, bound to leave bruises that would heal by morning, your hips moved together in harmony. His hips thrust up into you and yours moved down onto him, clashing in a steady rhythm. Any noises you tried to release were lost, the only sound being heard anywhere in the room being your slapping of your bodies.

You broke the kiss to breath, your eyes screwing shut and your head burying in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Baby,” you mewled, nibbling at his skin. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he whispered into your ear, leaning back on one hand for better leverage. His thrusts upwards sped up, your body jolting with the impact. He vigorously pounded into you, finding your most sensitive sweet spot every time he did. You mewled happily at him, feeling the covered tip hitting your core, your walls clenching around him more and more as he did. He panted loudly, his head falling back slightly at the tight feeling around him. The more he thrust, the tighter it got. The more he moved, the more your body shook against him. The more his stomach tightened and his leg muscles clenched, the more your own knot was twisting in various directions and your arms tightened around his neck, pushing you closer to him.

It snapped in a single second. He was thrusting wildly, his movements growing sloppier by the second. Your eyesight spotted in your pleasure, one final moan from your mouth spilling out the same time your fluids spilled out around his cock. Your walls contracted around him, hugging the length of his shaft close to you, never wanting to let go. The feeling of your pussy clinging to him sent his senses over the edge, his hips jerking unevenly as he spilled inside you. His cock twitched, sputtering as streams of his hot, white cum spilled into the condom, filling the gap at the tip. His thrusts eased, careful not to rip the condom he wore as he released every drop he had inside him. You leaned up, kissing his lips as he rode you through your highs, his lips eagerly returning the kiss.

His forehead rested on your when he pulled away, listening to your uneven breaths. He smiled to himself, pecking your swollen lips softly and lifting you off of him, rolling off the bed to clean himself off and discard the used condom. You watched his every move, cuddling a pillow as you waited for his return. He smiled at the sight when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, practically ripping the pillow from your grasp and replacing it with his body. The blanket was tugged over your bodies, his arm under your body, moving you so you were resting on his chest. His heart was beating unevenly and wildly, but it calmed you regardless.

You laid in silence, Stiles’ fingers running through your hair. But your mind stayed on the thought of him leaving, your heart breaking the more you thought of it. You sighed, burying your head in his chest, Stiles sending you a look you didn’t see. “Babe?”

“I love you too, you know,” you mumbled against his skin. “I’m going to miss you, Stiles,” you finally whispered after a few minutes, surprised that Stiles even heard you.

“Well, we haven’t talked about that. You kind of jumped my bones before we could,” he chuckled dryly, though you were obviously unimpressed with his attempt at humor. “Let’s discuss that now then.”

“What’s there to talk about. You’re leaving me.”

“Well, you know,” he started, tilting your chin up so you could look into his sparkling honey eyes. “In Quantico, I have this big ole apartment all to myself. I could really use someone to share it with. Someone say… my girlfriend?” he questioned. You blinked at him, trying to process his words.

“Wait… what?” You asked. Stiles laughed at your confusion, telling himself how adorable it was.

“I want you to come back with me. Come live with me.” He paused, licking at his lips. “Come back and be my girlfriend.”

“Stiles,” you started, tears forming in your eyes.

“I told you before. I’m sorry I broke our deal. But, I loved spending time with you. I know we said nothing beyond this. No strings attached. And I would be ripping you from your home for you to come back to Virginia with me. But I’m not ready to leave you. I want to show you that you are loved. I want to show you that you don’t need to be alone. I want to fix your broken heart. Not because I feel bad, but because I care about you and want to see you happy. You deserve everything and I want to give that to you.”

“Are you really willing to date a supernatural creature such as myself?”

“You wouldn’t be the first supernatural girl in my life. But hopefully, you will be the last. My one and only,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you passionately. You smiled against his lips, pulling away just enough to talk.

“Then to hell with the no strings attached concept. I’m glad you broke our deal. Now, you aren’t getting rid of me.” You pecked his lips again, rolling over to straddle his hips. “Now, round two?”

“Fuck,” he grumbled, his cock hardening under your wet core. “Who needed to sleep tonight, right? We can sleep on the plane back to Virginia tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” you grinned, kissing him fully. He grinned, reaching over to the lamp by the bed and switching the light off, leaving only the sounds of your moans to fill the room the rest of the night.

Tags: @ellie-bee242

[lowercasing-blog]

such a tender trap (mc/julian, R)

so, this is the first real thing i write for this fandom - the first thing i’ve written and finished in a while, actually! - and it’s blatant porn without plot.  AS YOU DO.  i guess thirst for tall, masochistic plague doctors is my ultimate Writing Motivation™?????

anyway, have 1.5k-ish of entirely self-indulgent first-time mc/julian to christen this new writing blog!  i wrote this thinking of the apprentice being a trans man, but it’s vague enough that i guess you can make your own decision based on your preferences as far as that’s concerned :’)

i had laid such a tender trap hoping you might fall into it but love hit me like a sudden slap one kiss, and then i knew it. - MASSIVE ATTACK, “THE HUNTER GETS CAPTURED BY THE GAME”

julian devorak is, by all accounts, an imposing figure. tall, broad-shouldered, signature dramatic coat and plague mask cutting a sinister silhouette, even without his reputation among the people of vesuvia as a cold-blooded murderer.

well. if they saw him now, you have a hard time believing they'd call the man beneath you imposing or fearsome. not with his coat long since discarded on the floor, shirt open and barely hanging on his shoulders; not with the flush across his face or the desperate way he looks into your eyes when you take both his wrists and pin them above his head.

you look down at him, trying to seem cooler, more detached, than you are, trying to hide the hunger in your own eyes that you see in his as well. keeping his hands in place with one of yours - both of you know he could easily break free, and the fact that he doesn't sends a little thrill through you - you let your other hand wander, down over his neck, his collarbone, his chest.

"hold still for me."

he nods, one side of his mouth twitching upwards. good. that's all you need to see. your other hand leaves his wrists, sliding down to cup the side of his face, stroking his cheek. this is a good look for him, this whole totally at your mercy thing. not that he - unfortunately - has any bad looks, just one of the many frustrating things about him.

you feel a shiver run through his body when the hand on his chest travels further, gently thumbing over one nipple, and then a soft exhale as you roll it between your thumb and forefinger. encouraged, you lean down, tongue running over the other before taking it between your teeth - and you feel his hips buck against your thigh.

instantly, you're sitting back up, hands at your sides again. "what did i say, doctor?"

the disappointment is evident on his face, but he still grins. "that you've been waiting to do this since i first broke into your master's shop?"

you raise your hand and then - a sharp crack as your hand hits his cheek, your palm stinging. he gasps, and you can all but see him struggle not to moan. it's, for lack of a better word, adorable; it makes you want to simultaneously kiss his face better and hit him again. "before that, you ass."

he swallows. "'hold still.'"

you nod, brushing his hair out of his face. "that's better," you tell him, leaning back down to press a kiss to his collarbone, following the line of it with your tongue until you reach his throat. his heartbeat thuds under your lips in a rhythm that, you decide, is just a bit too slow for your liking, and you sink your teeth into the flesh just below his adam's apple.

he twitches under you, and god, it's cute. you can feel him hard against your leg and tell just from the tension in his body that it's taking everything he has not to grind against you as you trail bite marks down his chest; you don't even need to look back up at him to know he's got his bottom lip between his teeth again trying to hold back his noises of pain and pleasure. you stop when you reach his hips, hooking your thumbs over the waist of his trousers, looking up with what you're sure must resemble a predator's smile.

"is this okay?"

julian doesn't even take a half-second to think it over. "yes."

another flash of your teeth. "good."

he makes a noise almost like he's choking when you run your tongue over his erection through his clothing, which just makes you laugh.

"you don't have to be so quiet. i want to hear you."

that gets a full-blown moan out of him, and you're not sure if it's by your request or because of what you've said, not that you really matter, because he sounds pretty and eager and you can actually feel him getting harder at your words and it's, basically, the best feeling you can imagine.

"good boy." you kiss him again, just above his hipbone, and straighten up to look directly at him.  “tell me what you want.”

“i’ll do whatever you want.”  his voice rasps, low with desire, breath hitching in his throat as you trace a finger down the obvious tent in his trousers.  “please.”

“that’s not what i asked.  i want to know what you want.”

“i want…” his eyes fall closed, and he turns his head to the side, away from you, ashamed.  “i want to fuck you.”

you answer by pressing your thigh harder against him, not bothering with a reprimand as he rolls his hips into you; instead, you lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth, softly.

“there.  was that so hard?”

he laughs shakily in response, then more warmly as your hands fumble with the closure of his pants and pull them roughly out of the way; at least he has the common sense not to continue laughing when you nearly tip off the side of the bed in your haste to remove your own.  seemingly unconsciously, his tongue darts over his bottom lip as you slide your underthings off and toss them unceremoniously on the ground.  truthfully, you’re a little embarrassed by the hungry way his eyes take you in; it’s not that nobody’s ever seen you mostly naked before, but no one’s ever looked at you this way, not quite this ravenously.  encouraged, you straddle him, not taking him inside you yet but running your nails down his chest, and he shudders.

“has anyone ever told you that you’re an - mm - that you’re an awful tease?”

“you’re the first, actually,” you reply with a grin.  “must be something about you that makes me want to tease you.”

his breath catches in his throat as you press against him and you know he can feel how wet you are, how much it’s killing you to make him wait, too.  “i seem to have that effect on people.”

“hmm. how terrible that must be for you.”  you roll your hips against him, experimentally, nails digging harder into his skin at the shock of pleasure.

“ah - it’s a tragedy, fuck-” his hands, still held dutifully above his head, clench and twitch as you rub up against the head of his cock, grinding yourself against it, and your own hands grab at his hips to steady yourself, because your knees suddenly feel very weak.

“still alright?”

“stop asking me that,” he says through clenched teeth as you slide over his length again, “because you already know the answer.”

“i’m being polite.  wouldn’t want to overwhelm you,” and when you say overwhelm, you reach down and guide him just inside you, and he flat-out whimpers.

“i’d far prefer it to you torturing me like this.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that.  “something tells me that’s not true.  you’d love for me to torture you.”

“that’s not- oh-” a sudden intake of breath cuts his retort short as you drag your nails over his hipbones, hard enough to raise pink welts almost immediately.  “that’s not fair.”

you smile, sinking down torturously slow to take him further into you, savoring the way his breathing quickens.  “this wouldn’t be very much fun if i played fair.”

“fair enough,” he mutters, eyes closing again, and you take that as enough encouragement to continue, setting a lazily slow but steady rhythm, holding him down so he doesn’t try to speed it up.  there will - hopefully, you try not to think too hard about a future where you won’t have the opportunity - be enough time for rough, demanding encounters further on, later days for him to be aching and exhausted and covered in black and blue; tonight, you can take things slow and terribly gentle.  a different kind of torture.

the whole time, you watch him, catalogue every breathy little moan, every movement that makes him shiver and tremor, everything that makes him twitch inside you, and it’s debatable which is better: when you finally come, clenching around him, your head dropping to rest against his chest because your arms are too busy shaking to hold you up; or his groan as he comes inside you moments later, disregarding - or just forgetting entirely - your orders not to move and tangling his hands in your hair.

you lie together, both sweaty and spent, neither of you willing - and, at least in your own case, not entirely able - to move.  you press a kiss to julian’s chest, just below the space between his collarbones, and he brushes away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to your forehead.

“‘wouldn’t want to overwhelm me.’  tch.  sure,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you.

as much as you can manage, you shrug.  “you seem more ‘adequately whelmed’ to me.”

“i don’t believe that’s a word,” julian replies seriously.

you punch him lightly in the shoulder without looking up.  “stop nitpicking my vocabulary and just hold me, you pompous idiot.”

a glance at his face isn’t necessary; you can hear his rakish smile in his voice.  “gladly, my dear.”

he does, and you wonder if fate will be kind enough to let you spend the rest of your days in his arms.

[thekastlediaries]

Tender Spots - CH3 - Matt/Jessica

Shit goes south when Stick dispassionately tells them that Danny is the key. Jessica doesn’t want any part of it. Danny looks like a cornered animal, rage and desperation painted across his face. He’s struggling to summon whatever it is that gives him his powers. It feels wrong. He’s one of them, someone who’s trying to be a good guy. She knows if she stepped in the conversation would be over immediately. Danny’s glowing fist and his struggle to manifest it wouldn’t stand a chance against being thrown into the wall. It isn’t fair, so she backs off.

Ten seconds later and she wishes she had ended it before it started. It’s funny. Richie Rich is not the person she thought she would be using her newly found punching skills on. The knuckles on her right hand connect with his skull straight on, the line of her wrist perfectly straight so that her had doesn’t snap back painfully with the force. She controls the strength, not wanting the murder the moron. Although, it’s difficult. Every cell in her body is full of kinetic energy and there’s nothing her muscles want more than to unleash it all. Rage had coursed through her when she’d seen him aim the glowing fist bullshit at Luke.

On the surface she looks calm and collected. Her posture is relaxed, shoulders slouched, stance sloppy, but her heart is beating in her chest so hard she thinks maybe her shirt is vibrating from the force of it. Surreptitiously, she glances down at the thin cotton. It doesn’t matter how many times she sends people sailing through the air with her punches, the feeling is surreal. Her adrenaline still spikes. It's not human and her brain struggles to reconcile reality with what should be. Danny is splayed in front of her on the floor, unconscious. His face would almost look peaceful if the ghost of righteous indignation wasn’t pulling down at the corners of his mouth.

She looks back over her shoulder at Luke. “You okay?”

He nods in response, picking himself up off the floor and brushing away the dust from his hoodie. She can tell he’s already forgiven Danny, and that he probably even feels sorry for the unconscious idiot, or maybe it’s just because he knows what it’s like to be put down by the infamous Jessica Jones. That’s how Luke is, forgiving of people who don’t necessarily deserve it. The thought makes her throat constrict, an unexpected longing for something she can no longer have hits her like a ton of bricks.

Again, the feeling doesn’t show on her face, not a muscle twitches. Instead it’s her lungs that feel too small, like her heart is too big pushing against them. Memories swirl inside of her, and not for the first time since this bullshit started, she wishes she could just go home and curl up with a bottle of booze and drink until there’s nothing left inside of her. The idea of letting the city fall down around her doesn’t seem so bad.

She starts to back away from the scene. The others have already taken over, lifting Danny up and tying him to a chair. She can feel it, the ache in the back of her throat, the need for the burning to slip down into her stomach, the curl of it slowly making its way through her limbs. Just a little bit… to make this less sharp, less real…

The warehouse smells like dust, mildewed leather, and freshly spilled blood. She can see particulate in the air where the sun streams through the skylights, and still somehow it is dark. The large space suddenly feels small, like the walls are moving toward her and the lights are getting dimmer. Her breaths are shorter than normal. She needs to get the fuck out of here.

The feeling of someone’s hand on her elbow stops her. Her head snaps up to connect with the unseeing eyes of Matt’s devil mask. She hates that thing. It’s stupid looking with it’s ostentatious devil horns, and the facsimile eyes molded from polymer. She’d like to have a word with whoever designed it. Mostly she hates it because it makes her realize she’d much rather be able to see Matt’s soft brown eyes, even behind the lenses of his glasses. “What’d I tell you about grabbing me, Beelzebub?”

He’s frowning… maybe… It’s hard to tell. So much of his expression is in the upper half of his face, the way he knits his brow when he’s impatient or frustrated with her, the way his eyebrows shoot up when he’s surprised or impressed, the way the apples of his cheeks make his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

His mouth is a straight line, pressed together like he’s debating whether or not to speak. The line begins to quirk up on one side. “Hmm… I like to think that was an idle threat, since you’ve decked me more than once since then and I’m still as blind as ever.”

He lets go anyway. The two of them have situated themselves into a corner away from the rest. It’s strangely private, and Matt leans close to whisper at her. “Seriously though… are you alright?”

He’s asking her that? The man who’s surrogate father just unflinchingly beheaded someone? The man who’s in love with a zombie is asking her if she’s alright? Her nostrils flare, snorting out an annoyed breath. “I told you to stop doing that x-ray hearing shit on me.”

He has the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, it’s second nature.” He reaches for her again, this time pausing to give her time to move out of reach if she wants. His hand curls around her wrist and brings her fingers up to his neck. Gently he presses her fingertips against his pulse. “I’m keyed-up too, okay. I just... “ He sighs. “You seem like you’re about to make a run for it again, and I kind of need that to not happen.”

She frowns. His pulse is rapid and his skin feels a touch warmer than it should, slick with sweat. She pulls her hand away roughly, glancing back at the rest of the group. “What’s the plan now? None of us have slept in days, and we don’t even know what the hell is going on at Midland Circle or what we’re supposed to do about it. If your buddy Stick is right about Danny being some sort of doomsday key…”

She trails off, hoping Matt will understand what she leaves unspoken. If Danny is the key, wouldn’t it be easiest just to get rid of him? The thought makes her feel more heartless than usual, but hell, she’s so fucking tired of everything, and this week has felt like a million years in the desert without water. She’s thirsty, god damn it.

“We need to find out what the architect was planning, and how he was going to do it.”

She pushes herself away from the wall, stomping past Matt. Any excuse to get out of this dank warehouse is a good one. “Well then, let’s get a move on.”

-

For any other person, this would be a scene straight out of their most romantic fantasies. Walking along the streets of New York in the fall, chilly breeze whipping up against their skin as a handsome devil (ha) clinging to their arm, smiling mischievously at their quick wittedness.

It makes Jessica feel strange. She wonders if Matt knows how attractive he is. Surely… he’s stupidly charming whenever they have to talk to strangers, that smile, that body. He has to know the way women melt when he turns their attention toward them. Of course, she’s noticed. It’s shocking, actually, that no one else has figured out Matt is Daredevil. How many overworked defense attorneys have arms like that?

“Is it close?”

“I think so.”

“You think?”

She knows exactly where Mrs. Raymond lives, recalls the stunted maple tree out on the sidewalk in front of the brownstone. The last time she’d walked up the steps there had been a half gallon of whiskey coursing through her veins, and the image of a man’s brains exploding on her wall running in and out of her head.

She pushes the memory away. “Yeah, I mean… don’t all these brownstones look the same?”

He chuckles. She can feel the sound against her. Is that how it is for him? Is every sound like a touch. She shivers at the thought. She mumbles an apology, and presses forward. The maple tree is almost the same, missing a few more leaves than the last time. She practically drags Matt up the stoop.

Jessica curses softly under her breath. The brownstone is empty. One glance through the ground level windows tells her everything she needs to know. They left in a hurry, newspapers from packing litter the floor. The glass of a broken vase is scattered across the hardwood. Leave it, we don’t have time. She can almost hear how frantic they must have been.

Matt is close behind her, one hand still curled around her bicep. “What is it?”

“They’re gone.”

He nods. Of course he nods. He was probably just about to tell her no one was home. “From the tone of your voice, I assume they probably won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

“They were afraid.” She kicks herself. She shouldn’t have come back around the first time. The daughter thought her father was some kind of selfish prick, but the wife had known something shady was going on. Jessica fights the urge to put her fist through the door in a fit of anger. Instead she spins on her heel, leaving Matt in the dust. “Come on. I’d be a pretty shitty private detective if I couldn’t track people down.”

The thought of bringing him to her apartment isn’t a pleasant one. She’s never been ashamed of the way she lives, but for some reason the thought of letting him walk pass the threshold makes her feel naked, like she’s exposing the pale blue veins on her body to someone with a sharp knife. Matt doesn’t seem like the type of person to start cutting her to pieces, but neither had Luke. Sometimes people aren’t in control of what they do.

Even if you don’t feel like reblogging or whatever, please feel free to leave comments and such on ao3. It really stokes my motivation to write. :D

[wantingtobekorra]

Burn, Baby Burn - Part 6 (Final)

Summary: Every year you end up getting badly sunburnt and the team mercilessly teases you and this year is no exception. The only problem is, is that Bucky Barnes is now a part of the team, your best friend, and you ended up falling for his stupidly gorgeous face. Normally you can handle the team ragging on you with only a few grimaces but now, the last thing you want is Bucky seeing you made to seem like an idiot by the team. You decide to try and hide the fact that your entire back feels like a campfire is being built on it as you go through your daily life with the team to avoid them finding out but sometimes you just can’t hide things from your favourite soldier.

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Word Count: 2.7K (Big finale!)

A/N: This last chapter was so much fun to write! I had a blast writing this miniseries and you guys have been so supportive and generous in your comments, I couldn’t possibly ask for better followers. While I was writing this I also reached 100 followers so I will be posting a Bucky x Reader fanfic soon! Stay tuned for upcoming oneshots as that’s all I have planned but maybe when inspiration hits me, I’ll write another series! Thanks again you guys, this was amazing!

Staring at Bucky, you could feel the blood drain from your face as he took in your bare back. Spinning around, you grabbed a shirt from your bed and threw it on, hiding your back from Bucky’s view.

“Buck! What the hell are you doing?!” you yelled, looking behind him at your once working, and attached door. “And what the fuck did you do to my door?!” You shifted your eyes back to Bucky’s face, your emotions and thoughts all over the place. First off, why was he in your room? Why did he break down your door? Secondly, how much had he seen of your back? He had seen something, you were sure of that but you were hoping you could smooth over anything he might have seen. Bucky was still frozen by your door. Ignoring the pain that flared up your back, you straightened your shoulders and stalked over to Bucky, getting in his personal space. Pointing past his head, you stared at your busted down door, not trusting yourself to look into his eyes while being this close.

“You’d better have a goddamn good reason for fucking busting down my door and barging in here Barnes!” you screamed. When you didn’t get a response you continued on, refusing to turn your head and look up into Bucky’s face which was only a couple inches away from yours. You gestured again with your outstretched hand, “Well?”. Bucky remained silent in front of you. Risking a glance up at him, you regretted it almost immediately. His eyes were fixated on your face, glancing between your eyes, pain and fear clouding the normally clear blue. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw as Bucky’s hand came up as if to rest on your shoulder but you moved out from under his reach, taking a step back, “Buck, you need to leave. I’ll clean up this mess” you said, gesturing again to the broken down door before turning away from Bucky’s staring eyes. Expecting Bucky to be gone after you dismissed him, you bent down to pick up the blankets on your floor and winced, letting out a whimper. Suddenly, hands gripped your arms and spun you around, the blanket dropping from your hands and tangling in your feet as you stared up at Bucky.

“What are you –?”

“What the hell is wrong with you doll?” Bucky asked, his grip tightening around your arms before you pulled away. Staring up at him, it felt as if your brain short-circuited. His normally gentle blue eyes were hard as ice and rimmed red as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Hmm?” Bucky continued, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped forward, moving into your personal space. “Something’s going on with you doll and you’re not telling me!” he yelled. You could only stare as your mind tried to keep up with what Bucky was saying.

“First you start skipping out on our workouts and just generally hanging out in general. Not just with me but with everyone on the team. Then you freak out on anyone who even gets close to you, let alone touches you! And then you lie about it! To me!” he practically screamed, throwing his hands up while pacing away from you. When he turned back, his voice was pitched lower, cracking in some places.

“I thought we trusted each other Y/N,” he paused, running his hand through his hair and looking down at his feet, “I thought that you and I….that we…that we had something. That we could tell each other anything. I trust you with everything I have, and I thought you did too, but something is going on with you and it’s not healthy.” You could only stare as Bucky poured everything out that you were sure he had been bottling up inside for the last week. You had no idea he had cared this much; that he was hurting this bad because of something you were dealing with. Overwhelmed by the love and care that Bucky was displaying in front of you, you could only stare as tears blurred your vision, threatening to spill over. Pacing back towards you he lifted his hands to cup your face, his eyes imploring you to tell him what was wrong.

“Doll, if you can’t tell me, if you don’t want to tell me, that fine.” You shook your head but he talked over you, stroking your cheeks with his hands, “No. Y/N, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s on me, that’s my problem. I know I’m a hard person to trust so I don’t blame you. But please, for me, talk to somebody, anybody, about what’s been going on with you. The way you’re pulling away from the team…it’s scaring me!” Tears spilled over your cheeks as Bucky gently wiped them with the pads of his thumbs, his eyes never leaving your face. Reaching up you held onto his wrists and slowly stroked back and forth. The love you held for this man, this man who was caring, and gentle, and unjudging of your stupidity. He didn’t deserve you hiding the truth from him anymore. Looking up, you could see the heartbreak in Bucky’s eyes as you slowly pulled away. Quickly reaching up, you cupped Bucky’s face in your hand, smoothing your hand over his stubble as his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into your touch.

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered quietly, drawing your hand away. Confusion filled Bucky’s face as his eyes snapped open at the loss of contact. Slowly you turned around and gripped the hem of your shirt lifting it slightly before wincing. Turning your head to the side, you looked over your shoulder at Bucky. His eyes were glued to where your hands were holding the hem of shirt but he glanced up when you winced.

“Can you help me please?”, his eyes widened at your words, “It’s hurts to do it by myself” you explained. His frowned at your words but silently nodded, reaching for the back of your shirt. With Bucky’s help, you slowly lifted your shirt over your head. You knew the exact moment when your sunburned back came into view. Bucky’s hands stilled on your shirt and he sucked in a breath as if someone had punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Facing forward you could only listen as Bucky took in the hot mess that was your back, his breaths coming unevenly. You waited for what felt like ages, waiting for Bucky to say something, anything. It was so quiet that if Bucky wasn’t holding your shirt up, you would have though he had left. You jumped when you felt a cool finger brush your back,

“Sorry,” the quiet reply came, the hand drawing back.

“No. No. It’s okay. Just caught me by surprise is all,” you murmured, not wanting to break the quiet mood that seemed to have settled over both of you. Bucky’s metal hand reached forward again and traced the lines of your sunburn. The cool metal was so soothing to your swollen back that you unconsciously leaned back into his touch, sighing softly as you closed your eyes. Bucky gently lifted your shirt higher until he pulled it fully over your head leaving you only in your sports bra, turning you around to face him in the process. You could feel Bucky in front of you, his presence both calming and making your stomach do flips at the same time. You felt a puff of air on your face and opened your eyes, Y/E/C meeting blue. Bucky’s face was inches from your own as his hand came up and brushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes. The action was so gentle and familiar that it almost brought tears to your eyes again.

“What happened doll? Who did this to you?” You could only stare at Bucky before shaking your head, a small smile creeping onto your face. Reaching up, you smoothed your hands over Bucky’s chest, breaking eye contact as you watched your hands.

“No one did it to me Bucky. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true,” you muttered, glancing up at his worried face, still so close to yours. “I did it by accident”. Bucky pulled back and bent down to look you in the eye,

“You burned yourself by accident? Doll, why would you hurt yourself like that? I’ve read about people self-harm–”

You grabbed the front of his shirt with your hands, creasing the fabric as your eyes widened, “No! Oh god no, Bucky. It was nothing like that.”

“What then doll?” Bucky asked softly, his hands still smoothing over your face. Leaning forward and burying your head in his chest, you groaned, embarrassed by what you were about to tell him.

“I fell asleep outside and got sunburned”, you mumbled into his chest while wrapping your hands around his waist, drawing yourself closer. God you had missed this, had missed him. Bucky’s arms instinctively went around you but there was a tenseness in them that had you worried. Keeping your head pressed against his chest you waited for Bucky to respond, determined not to say anymore until you had some idea of how he was going to react. Bucky’s hands slowly circled your back, constantly mindful of the tenderness of your burnt skin.

“So, you did all this…. Because you accidently gave yourself a sunburn?” You could hear the disbelief and maybe a touch of amusement colouring his voice as his chest rumbled against your cheek. Sighing you pulled away from Bucky’s chest, ignoring the flutter in your stomach when he made a noise of protest but you grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him towards your bed. Keeping his hand intertwined with yours, you sat on the bed and waited until he had settled beside you, his knee touching yours.

For the next hour you told Bucky everything, from your history of getting sunburns and the teasing of the team to why you had avoided Bucky for the last week. By the time you had stopped talking, you and Bucky had ended up lying side by side on your bed, your hands intertwined between you. Throughout your entire explanation, Bucky had remained quiet, the only movement coming from his thumb drawing patterns on your joined hands. Silence stretched between the two of you once you had stopped talking for what seemed like hours. Eventually Bucky’s rough voice spoke up hesitantly with what sounded like hope tinging the edges, though you couldn’t understand why,

“So the reason you were avoiding me, not wanting to touch me was because you were in pain? And not… not because… because of me? The Winter Soldier?” he asked, keeping his eyes trained on your glow in the dark stars that hung above your bed. Your eyes blew wide at Bucky’s question. Was that what he had been thinking this entire week? That you were afraid of him? Keeping his hand entwined with yours you propped yourself up on your elbows and leaned over Bucky, searching his face for any sign of truth to his fears. He stared back you, his blue eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t place your finger on.

“You really thought that? That I was avoiding you because of who you were forced to be by those buttfuckers?” you asked him. Underneath you, Bucky laughed quietly as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair back into your half-hazard bun. “Bucky….” You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, “I could never, not in a million years, be afraid of you.” You thought about how much you loved this man in front of you, what made you fall for him in the first place. “You are kind and selfless and brave. You were able to survive torture, mind control, and general shitty conditions and come back and fight for the other side. Not to mention being displaced by about 70 years. You were able to build a life, be a good human being after all of that. How could I possibly be afraid of you? With you, the only thing I could possibly be afraid of….” You had been staring down at your joined hands while you had been talking, knowing that the moment you looked into Bucky’s eyes you would lose your nerve or say something stupid. When you paused though, you felt Bucky’s hand cup your face, the tips of his fingers just reaching the back of your neck, tipping it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. Eyes that could either be cold as ice or be so warm and emotional that you could easily lose yourself in them.

“…be afraid of what doll?” he whispered softly as his gaze danced around your features, never settling on just one for long. You swallowed thickly, trying to settle the butterflies in your stomach.

“With you…with you, the only thing I could be possibly afraid of is losing you”, you barely whispered, your eyes keeping steady with his before you glanced down. In for a penny in for a pound, right? “I know that you may not–” you were cut off by Bucky’s lips sealing over yours. Your eyes closed automatically, instantly making everything you were feeling magnify tenfold. His hand that had been gently touching your face was now cupping your head towards his own, fingers playing with the hair at the back of your neck. Against your chin, you could feel his stubble rub slowly against you. Bringing your hand up, you hesitantly stroked his cheek, feeling the muscles in his jaw work as he deepened the kiss. Pulling his hand out of yours, he wound it around your waist, pulling you fully on top of him as he continued to kiss you, hand splayed over your back, pressing you further into him while being mindful of your back. The pure love and gentleness of the action brought tears to your eyes, making you pull away to catch your breath but you pressed your forehead against Bucky’s, not wanting any space between the two of you. Opening your eyes, you were met with the darkest blue you had ever seen, the pupils almost fully drowning out the ring of colour surrounding them.

“Does this mean that you…?” you left the question hanging, not daring to jinx what you thought might be happening. Bucky smiled at your nervousness,

“Yeah doll,” his voice was rough, catching on emotion halfway through his sentence, “I love you.” His smile was almost serene as he looked at you, his eyes getting glassy as you were sure your own were at his confession. Staring down at him, you felt a smile slowly spread over your face until you felt as if your face would almost split in two. Rolling off of Bucky and onto your back you threw your hands above your head and kicked your legs up, starfishing on the bed.

“Yesss!!! You yelled, kicking your legs back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh at the giddy feeling that was coursing through you, making you actually giggle. You looked over at Bucky when you heard his deep laugh echo yours. His eyes were clear and had crinkles around them, the ones that only came out when he was at his absolute happiest; something that you were now determined to make happen at least once every day. Still laughing, Bucky rolled over so he was hovering over you, his forearms trapping you between them, not that you really minded. You reached up and brushed his long strands of hair behind his ears so you could better see his face.

“I love you too, James”, you whispered. You could only catch the end of Bucky’s blinding smile before his lips were on your again. Hopefully, one of many times to come in the future.

TAGS: If i forgot to add you then I’m so sorry!

@nikolanna @ficletsforfans  @sebstanwassup @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @chaoticlogics @caitlinr03  @buckybaby255  @soldierplum @glitterintheairblog @cinema212 @gloriavox @bubblegumbutt27

[anakins-27th-lightsaber]

With Or Without You, Pt. II

For my Jegulus Marathon

Warnings: swearing, angst, really bad puns

Read Part I first

‘Hey Reggie. Can we talk? Second to last compartment, 3pm? It would be cool if you came, I’ll wait, but if you don’t show up, I’ll know what’s up and I swear I won’t bother you again. It would be nice if you hear me out, though. Please.

P.S. Owl’s not mine. Just let her fly, she’ll find her owner.’

He huffed and shook his head incredulously. “What’s up?”, Marianne demanded. He shrugged. “Could’ve told him no before he even wrote this”, he muttered bitterly. “Who?” “No one”, he spat. “Just some - complete arse -” “Your brother?” “Pfft. Good one. As if he cared about me nearly enough to even waste a word from his golden tongue, let alone enough of his precious time to write to me -” He snorted bitterly, kicking his trunk, which he immediately regretted due to the stinging pain that arose in his little toe. “You in love?”, Marianne smirked. Regulus rolled his eyes dramatically at her. “Why does my one friend I have have to be so nosy?” He couldn’t help but blush, though, and when he noticed, his heart sank. He had been trying so hard to forget. But maybe, just maybe, some things weren’t meant to be forgotten. Marianne giggled. “So you are in love. I knew it. Known it for ages. Don’t think your best friend in the world wouldn’t notice, aye?” “Aye”, he agreed monotonously, having unconsciously picked up the habit of naturally using that word ages ago. “You meetin’ up?” Regulus bit his lip, then nodded slowly. “I think so.” He opened the window, letting the barn owl fly back outside, and sank into his seat. His heart wanted to burst out of his rib cage, but he was certainly not going to let it. He sighed.

*

A dark, ink-coloured eye appeared, peering suspiciously out of the compartment, and the door was opened just enough for James to get in, then immediately slammed shut, and the lock clicked. The light was dim, but even so, Regulus’s skeptical little face was looking handsome and perfect as ever, and James swallowed, preparing to spill out everything his mind had prepared to say in the past two hours, but before he could speak, the Slytherin cut him off. “You’ve got five minutes. I didn’t want to come, but curiosity overwhelmed me. So? What do you want?” “You”, James blurted. “I want you. Need you. Reggie, I -” “Are you drunk?”, Regulus sighed. “I just had some beer a few hours ago - I’m almost sober - but I wouldn’t be telling you anything else either way -” He sank down onto a seat, exhaling shakily. “Just listen -” “Cut it, then”, Regulus hissed. “I don’t need any more of your lectures about - how to live my life. I’m old enough -” “I was worried! Alright, I fucking care about you, you goddamn idiot, I still do, but if trying to save your stinking, stubborn arse from getting yourself killed means I can’t be near you, I’ll quit complaining. I won’t say a word, not even when I’m pissed - I’ll never bring it up unless you want me to, hell, I’ll support you, I’ll do anything to help you, I’ll be there and I won’t judge you -” He trailed off at the sight of Regulus’s irritated frown. “You know what, James”, the latter pressed out, as though it was taking him a lot of will power, “you were right, okay? You - you were right about all of it.” He was trembling as he spoke, “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s irreversible. And I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want your - pity, or your understanding or your support when I know you’re secretly loathing me - but my life isn’t that easy, alright?” Tears were gathering in his eyes now, and his voice became thick and brittle. “I was constantly - trying to be someone, and I didn’t want to end up like Sirius, even though I envy him - don’t tell him that - and I was all alone and now I need to stay alive - there’s no way out once you’re in, did you -” “I’d die for you”, James interrupted him firmly and abruply stood up. “And I don’t pity you. And I don’t know what I did to make you have that impression, but I certainly do not loathe you. And I - sort of - understand you. In some way. Even though it makes no sense -” “No, it plainly doesn’t”, the other boy spat, half suppressed sobs shaking him. “You don’t - you have no idea what it’s like to -” “Then help me understand. Enlighten me.” “I tried”, Regulus whimpered, sacking down onto a seat. James knelt before him, taking both of his hands in his and pleading, “Please. Tell me what to do. Just say the word. Or tell me to do nothing. Tell me to stay out of your life forever if that’s what you want -” “You don’t get it, do you? I’m the one who’s going to die for you. You - he’s dangerous, and I - if you’re ever in peril, all I can do is go down with you and I -” “If you’re ever in peril, I’ll do anything to protect the two of us, and we’ll be together, and if I fail - Reggie, hear me out. I know you’re tired of me telling you this, but I’ll dedicate my whole existence to you if that’s helping you.” James was now struggling to compose himself - seeing Regulus suffer felt like a cold fist pressing his stomach together and squeezing every bit of joy out of his heart. He brought a trembling finger up to the Slytherin’s cheek, wiping away a tear, even though the gesture had little to no effect, as his entire face was now wet and steaming hot. “Can we just - live our own lives but - occasionally snog?”, Regulus proposed between sobs, his delicate body shaking uncontrollably. “And - if I die - tell Sirius - I hate him - alright?” James snorted, got up, and pulled Regulus into a tender embrace. “We all do”, he whispered. “Perhaps - perhaps I’ll feel - safer when you’re around.” James smiled. “I’ll make you safe”, he breathed. “Whenever you need me to. No objections. Because this was the second time I realised how much I’m actually dependent of your company. It’s like you’re a drug or something -” Regulus muttered something into James’s shoulder. “Huh?” “As if”, he repeated more loudly. “Or, even better, stylistically speaking, as though. It’s as though I’m a drug -” “A very grammatically correct drug, I’d say”, James smiled wearily. “Promise something to me”, Regulus, who had stopped crying, although his voice was still sounding hoarse and husky, “if you find yourself in grave peril, in any sort of life threatening situation that I might manoeuvre you out of, even if it required measures that you find to be morally reprehensible -” “I love how you get really posh when you’re being serious”, James chuckled. “Ironic, actually -” “That one was extremely bad, James. - Anyway, promise you’ll let me save you, too. If necessary. Because I’d do whatever it takes to keep you with me as well. And staying alive has nothing to do with whether you agree with the measures. You’ll be able to worry about these things later.” James straightened his back to look properly at Regulus. “Do you?” “What?” “Agree with all that stuff?” Regulus huffed. “No”, he said. “I have morals, you see.” “But you’re also scared.” “Aren’t you?” “Sure”, James admitted. “But I have people who’d be there for me if I needed them. That’s why I want you to know I’m there for you.” “And that’s why I told you I’m there for you. Even if I’m not a flawless, brave Gryffindor. I’m just me.” “And that’s a lot”, James said. “It’s not.” “It’s my whole world.” “Oh, you giant sap. I’m already considering to split up with you again.” “So we’re a thing?” “Just so”, Regulus smirked. “And you’re on trial.” “Is that so?” “Aye. Just snogging. No trying to make me a saint.” “You, a saint? I’m not that blue eyed, Regulus.” The Slytherin’s smirk grew even wider. “Right, because they’re hazel.” “Oh, shut it”, James laughed. And suddenly, he found the pair of lips that he least expected to return there on his mouth, his heart was leaping with joy and love and relief, and soon, Regulus had pinned him down on the floor, straddling him, and kissing him as though his life depended on it. Which, to be fair, was quite likely to be the truth. And he was not going to give up on it.

[theskyexists]

series 10 finale

can i just say- that thing, that they do in series ten, that thing where

the universe rhymes and if you really listen, you can hear its music?

that’s some good shit

‘what does he call you? companions? pets? SH-nacks?’ god michelle gomez is just! so! good!

‘time lords are friends with each other dear, everything else is cradle-snatching’ pfftjlkdjsfkalkds she’s got perhaps...a point? (not really, but)

‘these are my disposables, exposition and comic relief’ FULJSDFJSDFJ MOFFAT YOU he really went there. HE REALLY WENT THERE HALJSDKD

‘we’re not functions’ ‘darling those are genders’

ok????? hahahahahaha

wow, doctor who meta dslafldk and then a dab

‘is this the emotion that you humans call...spanking?’

‘are you human’ ‘oh don’t be a bitch’ ljsdldsajlfjlkdf (moffat got so surprisingly woke that he knows exactly what he can have her say, damn. and michelle’s delivery what the hell so good hahaha)

oh no. no no no no. this is the moment she gets shot huh? what. no i. why do the Doctor’s companions in moffat’s era always die of being bravely stupid? (well..clara) like, not stupidly brave, but bravely stupid? i don’t like that narrative

why did Bill say that???? like i don’t get it.

jump in front of her??????? why. does he not stand in front of the damn gun?? why does he walk past it? why? dude?? now i understand why Thirteen keeps saying ‘STAY BEHIND ME, BEHIND ME’ always catching bombs to the face and shit.

those were some great flashbacks peppered in. ‘she scares me’ yeah well the Doctor was the one who fucked up here. he wasn’t fast enough. he didn’t reach hard enough for the right card in the pack.....but there was another time lord there - maybe she reached harder.

‘assumption!’ ‘deduction!’ ‘hope!’ ‘faith!’ ‘idiot!’ ‘always!’

this is the thing. like, the Doctor just lets her get shot and lets her get taken away - it’s barely believable.

yeah the crew went down, time dilation, they procreated, somehow they grew some shitty cybermen. (why does human society keep producing them?). YUP i called it.

365000 days, a hundred thousand years. yoikes. but if they have such fast lifts why is it a problem? and why go up to get the humans (yeah cybermen always wanna make more) i think knowing moffat we won’t really get an answer to these essential plot-driving questions

ohhh that’s chilling huh. makes you think they got some more anaesthetic but they’re still pressing the button - it just doesn’t make any noise any more.

but it’s hard to hear such pain.

and SUDDENLY, the theatre broadens - it seemed like just a part of the ship - narrow - but then we see the whole colony ship populated and a dystopia, this hospital just a building in a landscape. very cool.

How does the Doctor not realise that he hasn’t got TIME for explanations??? Bill is either dead or DYING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE’S WASTING TIME.

i do love this concept always have and it is executed well here - but look. the Doctor is written as very dumb to make it so.

‘how many more years’ YEARS????? oh my god. why does she close the window? interesting

fuckin bullshit. they never returned because time went slow for them. he KNOWS this, so why does he think it’s because the people were ‘weak’? he knows she came from command, that it’s possible to go up, because they took her! the conversion is only controlling her. so does she buy it? (I do like this guy, but he’s probably evil)

how has Bill remained SANE? years of this. years of this??? what an exceptionally resilient person.

yeah we’re not getting an explanation for why these people uh managed to go up and take her down huh? except ‘evil villain lied to everybody’ i think. oh well that can be satisfactory

wait. is he the master? is he the MASTER??? i mean i was considering it but.

he spent like 10 years living with Bill and it didn’t make a dent in his psychopathy hmmm. so the explanation is that the Master has taken over and wanted to fuck over the Doctor just for laughs. lol

why scarecrow them??? xD sometimes these aesthetics make zero sense in real life. do love how they went back to : look how these settlers went up to the solar farm! living a lovely life except they’re being attacked by cybermen.

so what im learning from moffat’s writing is - push your concept first thing you can - something incongruous - and something familiar to those familiar with the work.

woah that gloating wasn’t quite long enough for teh Doctor to have a win. i thought the Masters were having him on. (fascinating though, that he attributes the emergence of cybermen not to the Master’s presence but simply to the humans - and the Master’s responses prove him right. do feel like he messed with it all though...)

‘there’s only ever been one way to stop that many cybermen. me’ hmmmm hmmm, i always dislike the Doctor boasting like this. just pride. though i would welcome it for thirteen, just a couple of times.

‘i’m in two minds - fortunately the other one’s unconscious.’ hah

we gotta cut away from this because we don’t know how this unwieldy Bill cyberman got the Doctor into the ship.

The Master constantly veers between almost killing the Doctor and then kinda deciding not to because they’re having so much fun or caring about their complex relationship a bit too stupidly much. lotta storytelling packed into this ep, bit unwieldy.

great switch, making Bill look human again as we switch to her pov

where the FUCK did the Doctor get jelly babies

this is a beautiful scene, but also, goddamn, they made her into a cyberman and now she can’t be angry any more?? i mean that’s not very woke

they didn’t allow bill the opportunity to hit the Master?? AGAIN?? Bill should have been able to hit the Doctor AND the Master this season for the cruelty they showed her!!

I do think the Master is THE character for Moffat because all of the plot bullshit can be explained as: the Master is just that dramatic. like, why wait with Bill’s conversion until the pain part was developed and the Doctor would be coming down? could have converted her right there. and he only kept her around to rub it in the Doctor’s face. like all of that - somehow explained by what a particular person they are.

redirection, the cryptic, it’s one of the Doctor’s main tools for hope. the beyond, the in-between, that which we cannot yet know, may never know - that’s flux babey, that’s hope.

but ya can’t un-call the lifts? what. they won’t have ‘thousands’ of years if you run straight at the TARDIS.

so im not sure why they had time to build a weapon’s grade cyberman but not uh time to send lots and lots of them up?

AND NOW THEY’RE JUST GOING TO BURST THROUGH??? THE FUCKIN SHIP? xD ahahahaha why???

i do love how you SEE the Master use make-up while male. fuck gender roles! I do love the Masters’ dynamics hahaha

the Doctor always makes time for fuckin - explanations. the cybermen are coming up but WHATEVER!

that Master on Master kill was honestly hella tender and i loved it.

‘can’t find the words’

Bill was glad that her space granddad knew she was a lesbian- ha. somehow that....how did Moffat write that? seems uniquely gay but maybe he’s just drawing on - yeah gotta make sure that this time it is NOT read as romance.

NOOOOOO!!!!!! NO!!!!! MISSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so...are they just not evacuating teh adults? like was it so hard to get them adult actors in the shot a few times too??? like wtf these kids aren’t like: MY PARENTS!!! before they blow it up? before the blow up a WHOLE countryside?

he didn’t get blown to pieces? fuckin bullshit lol

but BILL survived? enough to walk. I KNOW it’s for drama but it’s just lol

ok but Heather is SO CUTE HOLY FUCKIN SHIT. i don;t understand how this freak of sentient oil puddle got to create an immortal ethereal being - but WHAT EVS. (I can pilot anything, even you.  what a come on lol)

where there’s tears, there’s hope, yes but you also gave him a tear huh, as a puddle-being, so you can track him hmmm

all the flashbacks to modern companions!!! i loved that!

i actually think the christmas special kind of ruins this real good finale!

i am gonna miss Missy, Michell Gomez did something truly incredible there. but i also liked the return of Simm!Master, and i loved their chemistry.

anyway i genuinely think this was a good finale. very complex, and very moffat. but mostly his strong writing, very little of his shitty tics.

GOOD STUFF!!

meanwhile cybermen are still coming up the colony ship converting people on every deck though, so that’s unfortunate.