#over current relay

[materia-girl88]

Coarse Treatment

18+, minors dni

Bucky is very protective of his girlfriend, so much so he even holds back during intimate moments. But communication is key and honesty goes a long way. Basically, reader wants to get fucked and after an emotional discussion, Bucky delivers.

The title of this fic and one small part later is inspired by one of my favorite scenes in the 2022 version of "Lady Chatterly's Lover" with Emma Corrin and Jack O'Connell. IYKYK ;)

Even before your relationship, Bucky was protective of you. He couldn't figure out why he was so drawn to you. You were head of the research team Valentina hired for the New Avengers and though you may not be out in the missions themselves, your skill for research and your vast knowledge made you vulnerable. Especially seeing as you often traveled with the team, setting up base wherever they went to so you could relay information.

Bucky had watched your back since the beginning. When you first met him, it kind of annoyed you. You were a grown ass adult with your own combat training.

Now? The both of you knew it was because he cared. He fell first, drawn to your wit and charm, and you couldn't help but let your heart open to him.

The protectiveness continued but now you welcomed it.

He would walk on the outside of sidewalks. At any social gatherings, his arm was resting on the small of your back to keep you by him, and if you did have to leave him, his eyes would scan the room every little while to catch sight of you and make sure all was well.

But with Bucky's protectiveness, there was just one small issue.

He was too afraid of hurting you if he got rough in bed. You loved having sex with Bucky. He was an attentive partner and always left you more than satisfied.

But dammit, sometimes you really just wanted him to rail you into the mattress or maybe hold you down over the arm of the couch.

He rarely touched you with his vibranium arm, worried he would somehow unintentionally cause harm, but you couldn't help but he drawn to it and the possibilities.

So you hatched a plan.

You and Bucky had your own wing of the New Avengers Watchtower and you were currently waiting for him to get back from a meeting with Valentina and the other team members.

You wore one of his black t-shirts, nothing but your red lace panties underneath, your hair thrown up in a messy bun.

You had just put a roast in the oven when you heard your door open.

"You here, doll?" Bucky called out and you smiled, just the sound of his voice enough to make you giddy.

"In the kitchen!" you called, moving to the counter to clean up a bit where you had prepped some sides to make with dinner.

You heard his heavy footfalls coming your way and it wasn't long before strong arms wrapped around your waist, one warm and the other cold.

It had taken a while to get used to the drastic difference in temperature, but now you craved to feel both arms around you always.

Bucky's head came down to nuzzle into the space where your neck and shoulder met.

"Smells good," he said softly, lips pressing to the skin exposed where his shirt was too large.

"I just put the roast in. It'll have to bake for a while but I think it'll be good," you told him, leaning your head back to his shoulder.

You felt a grin come onto his face, "I wasn't talking about dinner, doll."

You flushed, wiping your hands on a towel before turning to face your boyfriend.

Your hands rested on his chest as you peered up at him through your lashes.

His eyes were dark as they roamed your body, dipping down between you to gaze at your bare legs.

"You look good in my shirt, baby." he told you, hands crumpling the fabric as they slid to rest on your hips

"Well, maybe if you're good, I can be dessert," you said in a soft, teasing voice, leaning up on your toes to press your lips to his.

The kiss started out innocently enough, just a press of your lips together, but when Bucky's tongue came into play you couldn't help but grant him entrance.

He tasted of mint and whiskey and you figured he'd probably had a drink at the meeting. He was intoxicating and you couldn't help but press your body flush to his as you slid your arms up to wrap around his neck.

A soft groan was released against your lips as he felt that you weren't wearing a bra beneath the shirt, your hardened nipples pressing into his chest.

Bucky pulled back to trail kisses down to your neck, sucking a mark before asking, "What are the chances of having my dessert first?"

You laughed, head leaning back as he continued to suck at all the spots of your neck where he knew you were most sensitive.

Your laugh turned into a whimper though when Bucky bit down at the edge of your collarbone.

His hands on your hips tightened their hold so he could pull you over to the large sectional couch.

He pushed you down to lay against the soft cushions, his breathing heavy as he observed your pliant body.

The shirt had ridden up just above your bellybutton exposing your panties and shapely hips.

You gave him a dirty grin as you let your legs spread, showing a damp spot on the red fabric.

"Eat up then, Buck." you said coyly, and he wasted no time.

He dove between your thighs, pulling them to rest on his shoulders as he turned his head and placed a kiss to the inside of your right leg.

"Do you know why I enjoy eating you out so much, baby?" he asked, blue eyes gazing up at you.

"W-Why-OH," you cut yourself off as he bit your thigh. You leaned up on your arms to watch him work, slowly making his way up, up, up to where you needed him.

"Because, you taste so fucking sweet. Better than any dessert I've ever tasted before," he told you, before finally pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt.

You couldn't help the thrill that ran through you at the admission, your cheeks flushing as you watched him bring his hands to the waistband of your panties.

He pulled them off and threw them over his shoulder, not worried in the least about where they landed.

His only concern was the pretty, wet pussy in front of him and the whimpers that left you as he leaned in, his tongue pressing to your slit and running it's way up.

Your fingers came to tangle in his hair and you held him close as he worked you.

"Bucky, god you feel so good, baby," you told him, brows scrunched.

He moaned as you pulled at his locks, and you could feel his hips grinding into the couch.

You knew his cock was probably hard in his jeans, tip red as the vein that ran up the side throbbed.

You loved his cock, loved it in your mouth, your hands, your pussy.

You couldn't help but squirm, your hips shifting as he feasted on you.

But then, he let go, giving your hips free will when all you wanted was to be held down.

You whined, but not in a good way. Your hands grabbed his where they now rested on either side of your hips, bringing them back to your naked flesh.

"Hold me down," you begged him, but could feel him hesitate, pulling away.

You sighed as he backed up, sitting up and glancing at him. His lips were red and spit shiny and his chin was damp with your arousal.

"Doll, I can't," he said and you nodded, just wanting to move on.

"It's fine, Buck. Don't worry about it," you said softly, beginning to stand so you could wash up and check on dinner.

You didn't get the chance to pass him as he caught your wrist gently but firmly.

"Can we talk about it?" he asked and you waited a moment before nodding, sitting down on what your deemed to be your corner of the couch when you first got it, it being your place of comfort.

You brought your knees up, resting your chin on them as you can waited for him to speak.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby. Please?" he asked, tucking a stray wisp of hair that had escaped your bun back behind your ear.

You felt yourself flush again for another reason, tears of embarrassment welling within your eyes.

Bucky's eyes widened and before you knew it, you were pulled into his lap.

"Okay, I need you to tell me, doll. I can't fix it if you don't tell me," he said, hand rubbing against your back to comfort you.

You wiped your eyes before meeting his.

"I-I feel so stupid for being upset but it's been m-months since we got together and it's like you still w-walk on eggshells around me," you rambled, trying to stay composed, "I just feel like you're c-constantly scared to touch me properly and so our sex life isn't satisfying e-enough for you. So I-I had a whole plan that I-I would make your favorite dinner and dress in your c-clothes and try and make it better."

Bucky was shocked, you could tell by his facial expression. His wide eyes and slack jaw would've honestly been a bit funny if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Baby, no," Bucky said softly, pulling you into his warm chest, and that's when you couldn't help but let a few small sobs out.

He kissed your head, and the next words that left him shocked you even more.

"I hesitate because I love you, doll. I love you and I'm worried of hurting you. What if I grabbed you too hard? Or pushed you too roughly? I would never forgive myself."

You froze at his confession. Not over his fear of harming you, as you knew about that, but at his declaration of love.

"You love me?" you asked, pulling back long enough to meet his eyes.

He smiled softly, his hands coming up to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"More than my own life," he said.

You couldn't hold yourself back as you leaned in to kiss him once more, lips melding with his.

You pulled back moments later, your hand coming up to brush his hair back out of his eyes.

"Bucky Barnes, I am so incredibly in love with you that it consumes me completely," you replied.

His pupils expanded a bit at that, and he stood, pulling you with him to the kitchen.

He grabbed a fish towel and pulled the roast from the oven, tossing it on top of the stove and turning the appliance off.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" you asked, wondering why he was ruining the dinner.

He turned to you, walking to you and gripped your jaw in his flesh hand.

"Not letting the kitchen catch on fire while I fuck you the way you deserve," he said, voice deep in a way you hadn't heard before, "Go to the bedroom. Take this shirt off. Sit on the edge of the bed."

You gulped, eyes wide.

"W-What?"

His hand released your jaw only to tangle in the bun your hair was in, pulling your head back so your eyes couldn't leave his.

"Did I stutter? Get your ass to the bedroom."

You were gone as if someone had lit a match under your ass, heading to the bedroom as Bucky calmly followed behind.

He leaned against the doorway of your shared bedroom as you stopped at the end of the bed and turned to him.

He raised an eyebrow as he waited for you to follow instruction.

Your hands shakily came down to the hem of your (his) shirt, and you pulled it over your head, quickly tossing it aside.

You were fully bare now, your panties still somewhere in the living room.

"Do what I said and sit," Bucky reminded you and you obeyed immediately, your thighs pressing together as you did so.

He slowly made his way to you, lifting his own shirt over his head and tossing it away as he did so.

"Undo my jeans and take my cock out," he said.

You were on it, doing as told. You tugged his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs and he removed them, kicking them aside.

His vibranium hand came to grab your bun once more, tilting your head back just a bit while his flesh hand wrapped around himself, stroking slowly.

"You're gonna suck my cock. And maybe if you're good you'll get rewarded."

"Buc-" you cut off with a gasp as he slapped his dick against your cheek.

"You wanted this, you've got it." he said. "If you need to stop, pinch my leg. Otherwise, get to it, doll."

You wasted no time in taking him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing around his as you sunk down.

Your eyes remained on his as you went, noticing Bucky's chest rising with pants, obviously affected by the sight of you taking him in.

You hummed at the taste, letting his fist in your hair guide you.

The room was silent save for the sounds of the air conditioner and the slurping of your saliva on Bucky's thick cock.

"That's it, doll. Being so good for me," he huffed, abdominal muscles clenching at the feeling of you pleasuring him.

Your eyes closed as you savored him, moaning around him as you felt the arousal pooling in your pussy once more.

Before long, you could tell Bucky was becoming overwhelmed with the feelings you were giving him, and he pulled you back just before he came, the salty tang of his pre-cum still on your tongue.

"Was that okay?" you asked softly, voice a bit hoarse.

He cupped your cheek, thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"More than okay, baby. You're such a good girl for me. I almost came down that pretty throat," he said.

His thumb slipped into your mouth and you took a moment to close your lips around it, sucking gently.

He pulled away a momemt later, leaning down to kiss you quickly.

"Middle of the bed, hands and knees." he commanded.

You scrambled to obey, back facing him as you positioned yourself as ordered.

You felt your boyfriend kneel onto the bed behind you and you flinched as you felt his flesh hand start between your shoulder blades and trace a line down the column of your spine to the slope of your ass that faced him.

You yelped when he landed a firm smack to one of your asscheeks.

"That's for thinking that I don't absolutely worship the ground you walk on. As if I could ever be disappointed by you," he said.

He leaned down, body coming to cover you, chest to back as he positioned his hard cock at your weeping entrance.

He kissed you shoulder and whispered, "I love you."

Then he slammed deep within you.

"Ah!" you cried, catching yourself as the force of his thrust jolted you forward.

He wasted no time in setting a rough pace, his hips smacking against your ass.

He leaned back onto his knees after he whispered to you, wanting to watch as he wrecked you.

The flesh of your ass jiggled with each thrust.

"That's it, baby. That's good," he growled, barely heard above your cries of pleasure.

He held your hips, controlling your movements as he pushed and pulled you on his cock, using you for himself as well as your pleasure.

"Bucky, you feel so good. Please," you whined, fingers clenched into the sheets until your knuckles were white.

Your breasts were bouncing with your movement and you couldn't help the yelps and cries you made as he fucked you senseless.

"Your pussy is so tight around me. I can feel her clamping down. Close already?" he teased.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off your hands until only your knees supported you, your back to his chest once more.

"Don't you dare come until I say so. This pussy is mine, your orgasm is mine," he said, thrusts speeding up.

He changed the angle of his hips slightly and soon he was pummeling the soft spot inside you, your cries now more of one constant wail.

His free hand came to grab one of your breasts, kneading at it before rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching before sliding up, wrapping around your throat.

Your hands came to grasp at his forearm. He wasn't choking you, just holding onto you and you needed to hold him.

"Please, Bucky. I need to come, please," you sobbed, hips struggling to keep up, but you'd be damned if you didn't try.

"Yeah? You need it?" he teased, his vibranium hand now moving down to where your clit was throbbing.

He brought his thumb to flick at it, causing you to jolt.

"Yes! Yes, p-please. I-I need it so bad,"

you begged, trembling with the force of holding back.

"Then come," he growled, and pinched your clit.

You were done for, your wail hoarse as your orgasm slammed into you. You couldn't help the clenching of your pussy around him, and you savored his sounds.

"That's a good girl. Fuck, your pussy is so greedy. She doesn't wanna let me go," he huffed.

You let out a breath when you were done, collapsing against him.

He continued to move, to chase his own orgasm. You were oversensitive and exhausted but you craved feeling him let go.

"Come in me, Bucky, please. I wanna feel it. I want you to fill me up," you said, voice slurring.

At that, he let out his own shout of pleasure, his hips stuttering as you felt his warmth unleash within you.

He continued to thrust, hips slowing down until he was finally done.

You collapsed onto the bed and he followed not long after.

It took a few minutes for you both to catch your breath, your gazes locked onto each other.

You held up a hand in a high five and Bucky snorted, palm smacking against yours before tangling your fingers.

"I love you, you dork," he said, and you giggled, leaning in to kiss him.

"I love you too," you said, and silence fell over you two for a moment longer before you spoke.

"Wanna order pizza?"

"You read my mind, baby."

[mattsundaes]

♡ DATE EVERYTHING! — EDDIE ♡

18+ — f!reader, thigh riding, fingering

(part one)

your date is awful.

and you dream about dexterous hands when you collapse in bed that night.

hands that make quick work of the bra beneath your top, and a mouth that’s absent of its biting, sardonic remarks for once as lips close over the sheer, lacy fabric that remains between it and your tits.

eddie groans as he mouths at your peaked nipples, hands curled almost possessively around your waist as he backs you into the wall of the closet. you gasp at the sensation of it, of the way the soaked fabric rubs against your sensitive, pert buds while he sucks.

you dream about a hand that splays flat against your spine when you arch into him, an amused chuckle that settles in your chest like warm, dripping honey.

it’s like every part of your body runs on a single current as eddie kicks your feet apart; the sensation vibrates all the way to the back of your throat as your mouth waters in anticipation.

you dream about a muscled thigh slotted firmly between your legs, skirt rucked up around your waist.

eddie’s lips trace a treacherous path from your collarbone to the hinge of your jaw, one that only serves to exacerbate the growing dampness in your panties.

he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the tender place just behind your earlobe, and you exhale a quiet, needy sound. the tip of his thumb brushes along your bottom lip just as he nudges his thigh even more firmly against your slick mound.

you gasp.

he chuckles.

eddie’s touch is a relay, one that guides the arousal flaring in your veins to its center point—the place where your cunt now throbs with need as he presses into you.

you dream of a low, gravelly voice, one that leaves your weak knees pliant as he murmurs, “bad date?”

“what makes you think that?”

eddie drags his nose along your cheek, one hand cupping your hip beneath your skirt. he slides it over just enough to feather a thumb over your clothed slit.

“well, you’re awful wet right now for someone who came home satisfied, princess.”

he presses into your sensitive, swollen bundle of nerves, and you gasp, a feeling akin to being softly electrocuted flooding your abdomen with liquid heat.

you dream of strong hands on your hips, of white-hot arousal dripping down your throat and spilling all over your insides as eddie rocks you on his thigh.

his name is a desperate plea on your lips as he mouths at the curve between your shoulder and neck, as his hands serve only as a guide once you begin to desperately hump his thigh in earnest.

“that’s it,” he breathes out, mouth skirting over yours in a slick, hot ghost of a kiss. “good girl.”

completely soaked with arousal, your panties cling to the sticky, dripping mess of your pussy as you rock your hips and moan, chasing the charged wire of pleasure that eddie’s carefully threaded inside of you.

you dream of two fingers that tug your panties aside, that plunge inside of your cunt to the last knuckle and leave you seeing stars.

eddie kisses you then, filthy and spit-soaked and all-consuming as he groans into your mouth while you leak sticky arousal all over his hand. while you moan and whine his name, fingers clawing at his back until he finger fucks you over the edge.

you dream of an orgasm that leaves you gushing and screaming, trembling and shaking and nearly sobbing—

your heart’s still racing when you wake up suddenly, disoriented by the feeling of your pillows and sheets.

and you swear you see the dull glow of the nightlight in the hallway flicker for just a moment as you become aware of the sticky, soaked mess between your legs.

[thewulf]

When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

 “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ryswritingrecord @lostinwonderland314 @xxrougefangxx @greantii @tallrock35 @hyunjinvoid @ahoeforfandomsblog

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 3

Synopsis: A cancelled live performance and a wave of demonic energy, pushes our girl to her breaking point. All the while her new acquaintance wishes to hear that voice sing once again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: Medicated Drug, Panic/Anxiety Attack

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Quite literally thank you guys enough for your support for reading this fic. Also this is just my interpretation of the Saja Boys bc they're basically just their stereotypes in the movie. The interpretations are based off on how other fics write them.

————————————————————

A couple days have passed since (Y/N)‘s encounter with Jinu, she’s had plenty of work to fill her time. Too much in her opinion. The busy schedules and organising interviews and shows for the girls to appear in, not to mention preparing for the live performance coming. Golden featured more of her singing which is a problem for her at the moment.

Her hands won’t stop shaking. The bags under her eyes were deeper than before. Faint red pink lines were forming on her neck and arms from her constant scratching nails. Her eyes twitched whenever she’s met with a bright screen.

She’s at her breaking point.

Tonight is the first live performance and she’s been working nonstop. Bobby was nothing like her current state, though he’s been doing this longer than her. He’s much more relaxed and significantly less stressed than her. But he’s not the one who also does the live backing vocals.

Ever since meeting Jinu, she felt her nerves like usual when talking, but she was happy in the moment for an unknown reason. Maybe it’s because someone acknowledged her singing outside of her space. Perhaps it was a chance of meeting someone new who isn’t familiar as her being a manager for HUNTR/X.

Who knows.

(Y/N) just knows that she wants outside of her bubble.

Interrupting her thoughts was Bobby who came to her side, with a water bottle in hand. “You don’t seem to be going well (Y/N). Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Bobby worriedly questions.

Time was moving way too fast. It was already rehearsing time for the show.

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine Bobby! Thanks for the water, I’ll tell the girls their on in five!” Quickly grabbing them water and speed walking away as fast as she can.

Pulling along her collared shirt trying to free up more air in her lungs. All the air she was breathing escaped way too quickly. Her chest was hurting like she was hit by a truck.

‘It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine! Just one performance.’

(Y/N) knows they’re eager to turn the honmoon gold, but the world isn't ending anytime soon. A break should be reasonable enough as it is! For gods sake they JUST finished a tour literally a couple DAYS ago.

Take. A. Break.

‘Please….for me I beg…’

Reaching their changing rooms she gently knocks on the door. Hearing a small noise coming and the rattles of the handle, she’s met with the wondering familiar eyes of Zoey and Mira.

“(Y/N)! What’s up!” Zoey greets her as she lunges herself at her body. Encasing her in a tight hug. Thrusted to wake up with her being crushed by the ever sweet hunter. “Zoey! You’re crushing her!” Mira thankfully ushers Zoey to let go. Taking deep breathes to regain her lost oxygen, she glared at the sweet girl, only to be unseen by her.

"*Huff* You're on in five *huff.* Can you relay that to Rumi? *huff* I need to prepare myself."

"Okay. But are you alright? You haven't spoken to us in a while. Since the tour ended. We've been thinking that we should go to dinner sometime, if you're up for it." Mira questions, picking up on the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"We're just worried about you. You kinda avoiding us. W-We just want you to be okay! We can watch some turtle videos if you'd like? Something for us to unwind to. You don't have to worry about singing for a while once this is over."

"Yeah sure sure. Yeah. I'm fine. Just, get ready for the show. Don't worry about me. My voice is fine."

Staggering out immediately after, their worried comments falling on deaf ears.

Hurriedly speed walking towards one of the sound guys and taking a microphone for herself. Digging into one of her pockets and pulling out a container with small individual capsules. Popping one open and picking out a pill inside before throwing it in her mouth. Snapping the water open and chugging half of the bottle to push down the medication.

Her breathing began to calm and her mind felt clearer. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking. A strange mix of calm and nerves waring in her mind and body. Pushing through those feelings and thoughts, her ears pick up the instrumental beginning to play, she puts the mic near her lips.

"I was a ghost, I was alone (Hah)"

"Eoduwojin (Hah) abgilsog-e (Ah)"

"Given the throne I didn't know (Hah) how to believe (Hah)"

"I was the queen that I'm meant to be (Ah)"

Rumi's voice unnerving and only building up to more for later. (Y/N) breathily adding to her words and adlibbing along.

"I lived two lives, tried to play both sides"

"But I couldn't find my own place"

"Called a problem child 'cause I got too wild"

"But now that's how I'm getting paid, kkeut-eobs-psi on stage"

Layering her voice to harmonise with the girls like usual. Holding back until later.

"I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be"

"We're dreamin' hard, we came so far"

"Now I believe"

Dragging her voice along for the build up, but it more vocal in volume than usual.

"We're goin' up, up, up"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna bе golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaеjil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

Echoing the words of Rumi and her voice. She continues to push.

"Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be~"

"Oh, our time, no fear, no lies"

"That's who we're born to be~!"

Raising her voice high to match Rumi but ends up subtly going higher than her. Quickly realising her mistake and at the same speed pushing down her loaded hurls of self-deprecation.

"Waited so long to break these walls down"

"To wake up and feel like me"

"Put these patterns all in the past now"

"And finally live like the girl they all see"

Her silence in the verse made her vulnerable to her deprecating voices in her head. Just enough for a burning sensation to tingle at the sides of her mouth and neck.

Whispering a stream of pleas to quiet her mind.

"No more hiding, I'll be shining"

"Like I'm born to be"

"'Cause we are hunters, voices strong"

"And I know I believe~"

Collecting herself again with continuously shaking hands.

"We're goin' up, up, up!"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaejil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

'When does this end....'

"Oh, I'm done hidin', now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to be~!"

"Oh, our time, no fears, no lies"

"That's who we're born to b-"

'Huh?'

The music suddenly stops as she abruptly ends her note to avoid being heard. Collapsing to her knees and clawing at her neck as the burning turned into an itching sensation.

She can hear Bobby and Mira worrying about Rumi, while she dismisses and tells them to restart the part.

Scrambling up to her feet and halts her scratching with the mic at her lips again.

"I'm done hiding"

"Now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to b- (cough)"

Stopping her voice and falling to her knees again. A whirling nauseating pain flows through her head. Gripping her temples and clawing down her face to the added pressure.

Just picking up that Rumi wanted to take five, her heart raced even faster.

She couldn't hear anything around her. A white ringing noise filling her ears. Clawing at her ears with her breathing hastening in speed.

"Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! Shut up be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Go away. Go away... (hick)"

A waterfall of tears pour down her face as she quietly sobs, while hyperventilating through her tight chest. Her clawing actions stop at her neck, feeling the sweat sticking to her skin like slime.

The space was unnaturally empty for a busy stage trying to ready for a live performance.

Nobody to see the jagged patterns clawing at her neck. Reaching its way over her mouth.

Scratching and scratching at the patterns while her tears begin to extinguish the burning feeling every time it drips down her chin.

But she suddenly stops.

A silencing sensation abruptly halts her breakdown.

Something demonic was sent through the honmoon.

————————————————————

Her prays were finally met when she heard that Bobby cancelled the performance that night. Visualising her appearance was enough for her to text Bobby about leaving early. She felt horrible to leave everything for Bobby to handle.

But she was in absolutely no condition to help.

Making her own way back to the HUNTR/X tower, she sped her way towards her bathroom. Finally taking a look at herself in the mirror.

'Its still you. At least...'

Chuckling to herself and tracing her lips and along the lightning like patterns. Her usually shaggy short (f/c) hair being an absolute mess with baby hairs sticking to her face around her eyes and cheeks. Peaking through her bangs, staring back at her was a prominent gold and (f/c) tired gaze. The red veins on her sclera being bright and obvious to her crying fit earlier. The faint purple patterns reaching down to her neck, wrapping around the area were her vocal cords are.

Unbuttoning her top and disrobing her wrinkled clothes, discarding them in on the floor. Ruffling her hair and switching on her shower. Dowsing her body with cold water and washing away her tear stained cheeks.

Her first moment of silence since her time at the park.

'I wonder how Jinu is doing...'

(Y/N) has been thinking of the demon, why he was on the surface in the first place. If she considered demons nature, it wouldn't be anything good.

But she had a feeling that's not the only reason being here.

Granted she has no explanation for her reason. And additionally, she knows nothing about Jinu. He just awkwardly complimented her voice and she's the one who left early and brushed off his want for conversation.

'Damn it all! Stupid anxiety!'

Mentally cursing herself aside, she turns off her shower and steps out to wrap her body in a towel.

*Ping!*

She heard her phone alert go off. Drying off her body and stepping into her bedroom, she checked her messages and wasn't sure what to really do.

Zoey: Hey (Y/N)! We're going out for dinner since Rumi came back :D We'll save you a seat don't worry! Zoey: XXX-XXX-XXXX

(Y/N) felt no energy to go out with the girls. But she'll admit, she is worried for Rumi.

Her voice cracking pretty recently is probably making her even more stressed. Perhaps the honmoon turning gold is more important to her than she thought.

But she isn't sure if she's fit to go comfort Rumi.

Her body just feels drained.

"(sigh) What I do for these girls."

Rummaging through her cupboard and lazily throwing on a hoodie and pants. Roughly brushing her hair to to seem less messy and throwing on a pair of sneakers. Grabbing nothing else but her phone.

Entering the streets of Seoul and ignoring the slide comments of some about the cancelled show.

She felt reallllly bad for Bobby.

She's supposed to be one of the managers, but here she is wandering through the night streets and making her way to the girls. Not even bothering throwing her hoodie on because she was just tired.

Not able to pay attention to her surroundings.

*Bump!*

“Oof!” Staggering on her feet she turns around to meet the eyes of the other.

But a gentle smile meets her tiresome face, belonging to the familiar demon and his dreamy brown eyes.

”Jinu.”

”(Y/N)…”

Said demon felt relief to see her again. Her voice has been living in his mind rent free. It made him feel like a person again. Like he wasn’t a being that feeds of the souls and the shame he too feels from his previous actions.

He wants to hear her sing again.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions tiredly rubbing her temples. “I wanted to see you again.“ Jinu answers without a doubt. Though he can’t exactly be honest with her. He doesn’t even know if she’s a hunter, or whether once she knows his plan, if she’ll just slice him without hesitation.

But whether she’s a hunter or not, he still wants to see her.

”That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? W-We just met a couple days ago.” (Y/N) blankly states. Even though she wanted to see him again, it was still weird in her head. Jinu on the other hand sweat dropped at her statement.

”One can say that, but I don’t see it that way.” His response wasn’t what she imagined. But to be fair, she wasn’t sure what to think of him. “Ever since I heard you sing, I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. It’s made me…. want to see you again…” Jinu tried to describe how he felt, but even he couldn’t explain it using words.

He just felt comforted yet haunted by her tone and song.

It made him forget.

And it made him curiously want more.

”Hmm…if that’s how you feel.” (Y/N) shrugs her shoulders while muttering to herself. It feels weird to hear someone compliment her, or at least try to.

“But to be fair myself, I liked our little chat before. Even if it wasn’t much.” Her anxiety was subsiding unnaturally. She really did like being in Jinu’s presence.

That little statement was enough for Jinu to look at her like an excited puppy. "Perhaps.....maybe...we could talk more?" The words felt foreign from her mouth, her anxiety still present that just makes her second guess what to say. Nervously scratching the back of her neck.

Jinu gleams at her. "Then, why don't we go now?"

(Y/N) whips her head at him again with a widened expression.

Now? She can't. The girls are waiting for her, she has to know what happened. Something spread a demonic energy through the honmoon. And last she checked, demons don't do that. A tare feels different than what that was.

Whether she likes it or not...

She's considered a hunter.

"Sorry Jinu, I actually have som-"

"Jinu! Buddy, where have you been?"

Cutting her off was the sound of a deeper voice coming from behind Jinu.

Glancing up she catches four figures gathering behind the dreamboat. Two of them had pink hair but in different cuts and hairstyles, while the another had bright cyan underneath a yellow hat and the last having long silver grey with bangs that covered his eyes.

Their faces were alluring. Sculpted by the gods with unfair favouritism. Going all the way down to their bodies and from the sound of it, their voices too. Though even for (Y/N), they seemed way too perfect to be human.

'A group of demons? This can't be for a good reason...'

In the back of her mind, (Y/N) didn't want to fully trust Jinu. His random purpose on the surface is enough to justify her lingering doubts. But she pushed them aside just because she genuinely enjoyed the short time they had talking. Even if it was mainly him trying to talk to her.

The group of boys seemed to rag on Jinu about something like 'dancing' and 'practice.' Which only brought one answer to her mind.

"Are you guys dance training for something?"

Her voice bringing on five sets of eyes on herself. The one with the longer pink hair smirked upon meeting her questioning gaze, unnoting her own flinching back into herself.

"Why yes, are you curious?" He approached closer into her space, shivering at his invasion and taking a small step back to create distance. Jinu notices her uncomfortable expression, coming up to the pink headed demon to prevent going forward.

"Romance, you're making her uncomfortable." Halting his friends actions made the now named 'Romance' stare at him with a bit of surprise. Before Jinu turns his attention back on (Y/N) with a confident smile.

"We are actually practicing. We're debuting as a new boy group tomorrow." His answer brought more surprise to (Y/N)'s face.

"A boy band? I mean....you have the looks for it, can't say anything about everything else." She was just muttering to herself at this point. But Jinu heard what she was saying, taking it as a good sign for him.

"How about you come watch us perform tomorrow."

"Hmm? You sure?"

"Of course, we'll save a special spot just for you."

Well....considering that the girls are probably gonna have the day off tomorrow because of the cancelled show, it'll be good to keep an eye on these demon boys.

As long as they aren't hurting people, she has no reason to send them back.

But another reason popped into her head.

Sighing to herself she just hums and nods her head. "Sure. Why not?"

Jinu's eyes lighted up like fireworks at her response, internally pumping his fist in succession.

"Great! Here's a flyer for tomorrow." Handing her a pretty pastel flyer with the name 'Saja Boys' on the front with a logo of a lion plastered on the centre.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then." Gently smiling at them before waving a hand and continuing her walk.

Unbeknownst to her, the Saja Boys had differentiating reactions and thoughts.

They were quite intrigued by her. Jinu hasn't been fully present since his meeting with this girl, which got the others curious. He said he couldn't describe the feelings that ignited inside when he heard the girl sing.

Baby and Mystery mainly brushed it off and paid no mind to it. While Abby and Romance were slightly interested but never thought about it further.

That is until they did meet.

And my oh my...

They kinda understood?

(Y/N) from a first glance appeared quite pretty if Romance said so himself. Her baggy attire making her more relaxed and casual than the dolled up girls that he saw around before. But even that extenuated her natural beauty. But her speaking voice seemed to make Romance understand Jinu's fixation just a little bit more. Something melodic about her undertone drew his mind to a strange white noise. It wasn't anything mind numbing or dreadfully empty, it was calming.

Mystery isn't one for speaking but his heart skipped a beat hearing her casually talk. That haunting tone in her voice peaked his interest out of curiosity. But what caught him most was her eyes. A (f/c) gaze with a rim of gold around her iris. How come Jinu didn't mention that?

Abby was curious for sure about this (Y/N) chick. Wondering what the deal is with her said voice. But he was quite intrigued upon meeting the quietly shy girl. How can such a beautifully described voice come out of her?

Baby wasn't listening majority of the time Jinu was yapping about this girl. What was so important that it took that much brain space in that head of his, to the point that it looked like he was in a trance. But even meeting the girl herself, he'd rather see how things play out now that he himself has caught a glimpse of what is so intriguing.

Oh what will happen indeed...

————————————————————

Edit: Fun fact, the whole panic attack part is based of one that happened to me. My whole anxiety back when I was in school basically inspired this idea in the first place. Also I have no idea why I gave Romance more time than the others, it just happened |(￣3￣)|

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd

[lily-bisque]

ᯓ✦ WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE

synopsis: this pretty boy has got a thing for you threatening his life.

contents: explicit smut, canon universe (curses), piv, doggystyle, cowgirl, death threats, knife play, semi-public sex, spitting, degradation, stuffing panties in mouth, cum play, nicknames (ex. baby, darling, pretty), and really pathetic gojo.

wc: 1.4k

“Satoru, you are out of your fucking mind. She had a blade against your throat.”

“Well, she also saved my life. So I say it cancels out.”

“It does not, you imp.”

Gojo rolled his eyes lazily, fiddling with the bandage wrapped around his head with a single digit, legs sprawled onto a staff desk as Geto gave him hell. He was drowning him out, though—running his tongue over his lower lip as he recalled the events of the last twenty four hours, and the three hours he didn’t include in the report he’d given to the wiry and ancient higher-ups and only now relayed to his counterpart.

You were a sorcerer gone AWOL, thus the Japanese Jujutsu Sorcerers Association finding out you’ve been turned into a curse user, placing a bounty over your head, dead or alive for all they cared.

No one dared to go out of their way to battle you, an individual with a finicky technique but nothing short of powerful. And Gojo liked to keep an eye on you from time to time, checking in on your worldly domination progression. 

It was happening. Incredibly slowly and laughably as Gojo stated, but still happening.

So when he’d seen you attempt to practice sparring with some first grade curse and lose miserably, he decided to step in.

You’d caught wind of his oppressive cursed energy, unsheathing your dagger and pressing it against the wavering infinity around his jugular.

He chuckled, as easy as the day, before brushing you off with a smug comment of how he’s “here to save the day.”

Though, he was wholly unprepared for when the curse had sprayed something akin to bear spray in his six eyes while he was admiring you.

The curse wrapped a tendril around his ankle, dragging his lanky form across the floor, before you scowled and stepped in to quickly exorcise the distracted curse.

“That was a close one, huh?” He chuckled weakly in some gas station rest stop as you helped him flush his eyes out.

“You almost got yourself killed.”

He shut the faucet off, peering over at you with red-rimmed eyes, massive hand brushing against your waist, donning his signature shit-eating grin. “Baby, you know I can’t die.”

And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Gojo had an effect on you that you had no abilities to repel.

He’d pushed you up against the door, flipping the lock from VACANT to OCCUPIED in a flash, lips crashing against yours with no remorse. 

You jumped, legs encircling his muscly waist and groaning. Your fingers found themselves threading into his milky tresses, applying just the slightest bit of pressure and tugging backwards, earning a whine from him.

You broke the kiss with a wet pop!, sending Gojo a flushed but confused expression. “Are you like… a masochist?” You breathed out with a chuckle, chest caving with your heavy gasps for air.

His sapphire eyes flashed with something akin to hunger that you hadn’t expected, the shitty restroom lights flickering before returning to their steady glow, only sending more confusion wiring through your muddled brain. “Yeah. Turns me on when you wanna kill me.”

Your jaw fell slack at the sound of his sudden admission, but he gave you no time to think it through when his lips reclaimed yours with a feverous need, mouths moving in tandem as you swapped saliva and bumped teeth.

Someone yelled something about taking too long just past the door you were currently pinned to, but Gojo just snapped his fingers and the sound went silent. There’s no way he killed that dude right…? Definitely. He just lowered a veil. Yup.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he whined as he bowed into you, pressing the hardened tent in his uniform slacks against your clothed and damp core.

You nuzzled your face against his neck, drinking in his scent, rocking your hips slowly as your sexual frustration only grew. “J-just shut up and fuck me.”

You had no idea how long he’d been waiting to get his hands on you, so he wasted no time now that he had you in his grasp.

He moved quicker than the blink of an eye—one second you were straddling him mid-air, the next your face was pressed against the door with your panties between your teeth. Gojo leaned over, and you could feel the ridges of his shaft rub against your drooling folds. “Stay quiet for me, darling, hm?”

That was certainly not an easy feat. Not when Gojo was pushing into you like he was on his death bed and you were the last lick of divination he could get a taste of.

He hadn’t gotten you prepped, but you were already slick and dripping as his cock impaled you to the hilt. He bottomed out with a groan as you squirmed, fingers twitching and grasping at nothing as you futilely attempted to ground yourself in reality.

“Thats it. Bigggg stretch f’me,” he huffed, eyebrows drawn in as he peered down the bridge of his nose, watching where he disappeared into you as he moved in a slow cadence, allowing you to adjust.

Your teeth grinded against the lacy fabric itching the inside of your cheeks, drool dribbling from the seams of your lips as your eyes glossed over in lust.

Gojo was not moving fast enough for your liking.

But you had an idea that would get him moving. 

Spitting your panties out, you bent over to slip a dagger from your boots, placing the hilt between your teeth, before throwing your arms around Gojo’s head to skim your fingers through as he rutted slowly and sloppily into you.

And the strongest sorcerer of the modern world was nothing short of distracted, dizzy with the ripples of your ass with each thrust.

You grabbed the hilt with one hand and placed it against his throat, just like you had earlier, fisting his hair with your other hand, the sharp edge  of the blade lain just above his pale skin. He gasped, infinity flickering on for a moment, before he turned it off.

“Hm? What’s this, pretty?” He eyed it, and you could feel the twitch of his length inside of you, veins dragging against your syrupy walls.

“Fuck. Me. Faster,” you gritted out.

You don’t think he meant to whimper just then, nodding as he headily sighed your name, before curling his fingers around your waist and snapping his pelvis into you in a cadence that had you shivering, coaxing your orgasm from you within moments.

“F-Fuck!” You faltered, hand falling slack at your side as his swelling cockhead bruised your cervix, metal hitting the floor as you lost your grip on your weapon.

“Nuh uh,” Gojo grunted out, and in a swift movement, the dagger was in your hand again, nudging his neck so close that any more pressure may break skin. “You gonna threaten me? Do it properly,” he spat out, pupils blown wide, dilated with a fierce and primal lust.

You’d expected it to just end as a quickie, Gojo going about his way to ignore you and your nefarious plans like you were an inconsequential mosquito instead of interrupting your larks of sparring curses.

But, no. After he’d finished across the canvas of your back, he’d warped the two of you to his staff apartment, you straddling him as your hips rocked a cant that left Gojo nearly crying.

You watched his stomach cave as you pressed that same blade against his throat, panting as you tossed your head back and gripped his bulky bicep for any sense of stability.

Your thighs were trembling, your joints ached, perspiration clung to you like a second skin—but seeing Gojo plead for you in such a degenerate sense had something blossoming in your core like a nightflower come undone.

The man was starved, eyeing every inch of you he could drink in, the woman who he’d allow to take anything from him including his sanity and breath.

You leaned down, eyes blown wide with a dominance he’s never seen. Your breath fanned against his lips as the razor pressed the slightest bit deeper, making him wince.

Gojo closed his eyes, expecting a saccharine kiss from your plump lips, but all he’d gotten was a swat of spit spat in his face.

“God, you’re fucking pathetic,” you crooned, licking a languid stripe across his lips before clenching your cunt around his cock tight enough to have his toes curling and eyes going saucer-wide.

And Gojo would be stupid not to be aware of the high that you got off of this power, this control—something you’d craved for ages in your own flimsy life.

He’d give it to you, on a silver platter at that. For as long as you wanted.

Even if you threatened to gut him like a fish at every turn, or fuck him within an inch of his life.

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4

[fanfictionlibrary01]

AO3 works being stolen and posted on rivd.net

What is happening, and what you can do. Check for edits with additions at the end of the post!

We've posted these infos in our Discord server, but want to make them accessible for more of you AO3 and fanfic folks out there. What is happening? A user called "Fanfic Books" on the site https://rivd.net is posting over a million of fanfics since May 18th (account creation time of that user), all of which seem to be stolen from AO3 users. You can check if your works were stolen by searching your AO3 username on that site. Reporting this on the site is tedious, and contains so much requested data and personal (sensitive) information about you that is just seems sketchy and like they want to grab your data to sell it off again. (See this for more on that.) That a virus called "rivd" apparently also exists does not help their case. Since the person posting the works is also listed as Moderator of the website, chances of successful reports are, by our estimation, very small to non-existant. (As you can look up here.) Creating an account on that site is also tedious - after trying it, the feedback was that a moderator needs to approve of my account creation request. How long that is supposed to take is not known. What can you do? We deduced - through admittedly rushed, because we felt like time was of the essence, and and sparce, checks - that people who have their works locked on AO3 have not been affected. (At all/as much is not to say, it's our best hope and theory rn.) We advised our server members to lock their AO3 works for the time being, as that currently seems like the only prevention method available. A great tutorial for how to lock all your AO3 works at once has been posted here. Kudos to this X/Twitter post that seemed to have started the spread of information, and others relaying the infos (like e.g. r/AO3 on Reddit). Edit (0,5h after initial post):

With permission of the author on AO3, here are screenshots from when I checked if their works (unlocked on AO3) were stolen. Searching for works of the FFL Discord server's admin, who has them locked on AO3, resulted no matches on the rivd site - hence the theory/recommendation that locking your AO3 works helps.

Edit 2 (4h after initial post):

There also seems to be a new occurrence that the fanfiction tab has been emptied/does not contain (publically displayed) fanfics anymore. What this means and if the fanfics are really taken down is unclear, but given that the anime fanfic category that once existed is seemingly completely gone, something is being done. Rumor is that a mass report of DMCA at Cloudflare caused this - it feels like a win either way!

Edit 3 (23h after initial post):

It seems like rivd.net is now completely down/inaccessible. See last attached screenshot in this post! No infos on what this means or what caused this are available atm, but like before, it feels like a small win!

[loveinhawkins]

Hawkins High is currently in a weird sort of limbo. Snow’s starting to fall thick and fast, but the Snow Day hasn’t officially been declared yet, so the handful of those who’ve already made it in, teachers and students alike, are just waiting for it expectantly. Most haven’t even bothered to take their coats off.

Steve is killing time by walking aimlessly outside of his homeroom, now that no-one cares about the formality of giving out hall passes. The quiet is nice, like the snow is blanketing the sounds from inside the school, too. Peaceful.

The hushed effect makes it feel even earlier than it actually is; when Eddie Munson appears in the doorway of an open classroom, stomping his feet to keep warm—the radiator must be broken in there—it almost seems like it’s dawn.

“Hey, Harrington, have you heard anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, man. Just that they’re still waiting for Higgins to make an announcement.”

As Eddie sighs dramatically, he notes with amusement that it’s almost like they’re not at school at all—more comrades-in-arms or spies relaying crucial information in enemy territory.

“This is what I get for being responsible,” Eddie’s saying under his breath. When Steve gives a slight laugh in response, he gets louder, like he’d momentarily forgotten his audience. “The one time I make it in!”

This isn’t strictly true; Eddie’s known for being late, sure, but there are others more frequently known for ditching entirely. Still, Steve allows him the illusion, and whatever either of them was going to say next is interrupted by Higgins’s voice over the intercom, dully announcing the obvious.

“Jesus, took him long enough,” Eddie says.

The hallway starts to get busier again: more doors opening, the renewed excitement of people eager to leave the building.

And yet, somehow, the quiet the snow had brought doesn’t disappear completely. Steve and Eddie head outside in tandem, and the surrounding chatter, no matter how loud it gets in reality, never really seems to reach them; and Steve thinks it’s sort of like that thought he had in the hallway when it was just the two of them, except it’s not really a joke this time: that they’re no longer just kids from the same school, that they’re existing someplace outside it, and…

The only way Steve can articulate it is that he wishes the walk was longer.

Eddie’s step falters for just a moment. Maybe he’s thinking something similar, maybe he isn’t.

Steve thinks that everything since ‘83 has left him permanently floating away from normal people, and the insanity of last month just made it worse. There’s only those who know and those who don’t, and sometimes even the space in between those who know seems insurmountable.

Snow lands on Eddie’s hair, his eyelashes. He blinks to clear the worst of it and says lightly, “Freedom is ours, Harrington. Better go home before it gets worse.”

“Yeah,” Steve says and swallows words back reflexively. He doesn’t know, honestly, what he would’ve said. Better safe than sorry. “See you around, Munson.”

[fandomscombine]

Sorry, Bossman

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

BG: When a Sunday morning in with your secret boyfriend turned into a sudden work meeting. Will the early morning grogginess cause a slip up? Especially since the except profilers have noticed your recent lateness?

A/N: Wanted to be secretive on who the reader’s pairing would be but I has to properly tag the fic - so just pretend you didn’t know the reader’s S.O. is Aaron Hotchner in the first few paragraphs okay? Lol

Anyway, it’s my second ever Aaron Hotchner fic. Still coming around to perfection his tone and essence.I hope you enjoy this sweet fluffy fic!

WC: 1034

>>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<<

>>>CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST<<<

It’s Sunday morning and you can feel the rays of sunshine seeping through your bedroom curtain. The team has just gotten back from a week-long grueling case Friday night and you’ve missed the feeling of being in your own bed. Saturday was spent lounging around being a homebody as your mind and body recharges - your plans for today? To linger in this bliss and let the real world slip away.

You roll over, back now towards your window. With eyes still closed, you lazily extend your arm until you find a warm presence. A soft chuckle fills the room as you snuggle closer to your partner. “Hmm morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, my love” You reply. Voice muffled as you place a kiss on his chest. Your head finds solace as a steady heartbeat enters your ear. Wanting nothing more, than to stay in this moment longer. 

But in true universe fashion, it decides that a one day break is more than enough. 

The bed dips and you feel a cold breeze brush through your body as the blanket is moved. You keep your eyes closed, silently pleading this is just a part of a dream and that when you wake up you get to have Sunday home.

“Yes, I’ll have my team notified and in the office within the hour.” 

The words flow muffled into your ears - the pillow doing little to discard the reality of it all. 

A hand comes up your arm, he knows you’re not a morning person but work can’t wait. “Come on sweetheart, we’ve got a case”

You groan, there’s no way you can say no to him - especially when you’re in the receiving end of his soft eyes.  But that doesn’t mean you can tease him to get a few more moments in bed. “Sorry, bossman hasn’t called me yet.” 

He gives you his signature pointed stare and gives into your play. Your ringtone fills the room, the caller ID “Agent Hotchner” illuminates the screen officially calling you in for the case.

“Alright, alright.” Accepting surrender as you mute your phone. 

“Thanks.” Aaron reaches out his hand to help you off the bed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Something quick, a sandwich maybe? I still have to get home and repack my go bag.”

Aaron stares a bit confused.

“Cause we went straight here after the case? And I’ve been wearing your clothes” Gesturing to what you currently have on - Aaron’s beloved brown half zip sweater and his boxers. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.” There’s just something completely domestic about wearing Aaron’s clothes. Not worrying about looking perfect and being wrapped in Aaron’s home life. You can’t help but smile at the normality of it all.

“Right, it got me thinking” Aaron steps closer, grabbing your waist. “Maybe we should get you a drawer, you know since you practically live here half the time.”

He is about a head taller than you, so you wrap your arms around his neck as stability. Biting your lips to stop your heart from racing and the premature grin that’s threatening to take over, you ask. “Aaron Hotchner, are you saying that you wanna take this to the next level?” You ask, 

“Yes I do.” He says with all gentle seriousness. This close, you can clearly see his dilated pupils under the dim lights.

“Then that sounds like a plan.” Pulling him closer, relaying all the joy and love that’s oozing out of your heart into a searing kiss.

~

“Sorry I’m late.” You announce to the room. It’s current 8:23am and the team is already 3 pages into the case debrief. 

“Take your seat agent.” Hotch replies, not looking at you as he focuses on turning the next slide. To most, Hotch’s reaction is normal that of a boss’ slight annoyance at his employee’s tardiness. 

But you ofcourse know his tell, an involuntary, subconscious sign that indidicates their hiding something. Which in this case, if Aaron scratching the back of his neck - an act you’ve became familiar with ever since you started dating. It was Aaron’s way of hiding his blush, though you have assured him that he looks absolutely adorable when he reddens. 

There’s just this power of his dimples that takes a hold on you and leaves you mesmorised. 

“Yes, sir.”  You settle as quickly as you can right next to Morgan. He hands you a spare set of case files when something catches his eye.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Morgan asks, the shift in tone notable.

“Lucky guy?” Furrowing your brow. Derek Morgan is known to be a tease and you often join in on the fun - although you’re not liking it when the spotlight is on you.

“Yea..” Joins in Emily - this is the type of tea that would get her energy up this early in the morning. “You aren’t normally late but these past couple of cases you are~” 

“What?” With the team slowing teaming up against you couple with the morning brain fog - your defensiveness is apparent.

“Reid, back me up!”

“Just from this past month alone, y/n has been late 3 times.” Chimed in the young doctor. “Most notably after our long cases or on Mondays.”  

The audacity of Reid smiling after stating the fact nonchalantly. You picture your glare burning holes through the smart brain of his. However, before you can succeed in doing so, Derek drops the fatal shots.

“And next time don’t forget the badly covered hickeys at the under your ear.”

You’re dumbfounded, instantly grabbing your phone and checking your ear with the selfie camera. Lo and behold the unmistakable purple mark just below your ear lobe. Wincing slightly as your finger touches the tender spot.

Eyeing the team before landing on Aaron. Arching a brow as if to say ‘Why did you have to bite so hard?’

“Wait, Hotch? No way!” Morgan exclaimed, head moving left and right as he connects the dots. 

The silence that follows is death-defying, never have you seen a room full of expert profilers stuned and frozen in place.

You’re caught. Sorry, Bossman

It’s Aaron who breaks the spell. “Looks like the secret is out, sweetheart.” He says, sporting an uncharacteristic smirk.

[divinit3a]

oneshot: out of character -> ao3 link reader x mer animatronic!moon 🌊 word count: 3,403

Working at a Fazbear animatronic theme park hadn't really been your dream, but it is your current reality.

At first, you were starry-eyed. Clocking in each day at a place that brings out the magic of imagination. Revamped from its first attempt that mysteriously burnt down after a rigorous police investigation, inexplicably refurbished into a half VR game center, half water-park. You’d bet the money that fuels such an over-the-top offshoot for the franchise pumps in from the Pizzaplex the next city over.

The ambition of the two owners who picked up the business manifested into a massive aquarium at the center, home to mechanized sea life. Animatronics of all shapes and sizes, perfect replicas of their real life counterparts. Plus or minus a more vivid, appealing, toy-selling color palette. 

The multi-level aquarium showcases beautiful spectacles of engineering that allow all creatures of the deep to intermingle without the limitations of reality. You’ve stood in the tunnels that wind throughout the first floor on the slow moving tracks before, looking around with awe and wonder at the flittering sharks and jumping dolphins. A whale would float by now and then, casting a great shadow across the tunnels as everyone hurried to snap a photo.

Ferry rides are offered at an exuberant price to float atop the largest of the decorative tanks, where a stationary mermaid animatronic waves with a pleasant smile. You stopped going to the ferry rides after they replaced the human staff with the admittedly rather creepy, blank-staring bots and their pre-recorded voice lines. 

Despite all the splendor surrounding you, the position of 'general maintenance' tends to become lackluster after cleaning up one too many barf piles near the food courts. Or being tasked with fishing cellphones out of the tops of tanks, enduring the hellish fury of whichever parent you had the misfortune of relaying the lost or damaged items policy to. Rattling off of a lengthy speech of ‘we wont pay for this,’ in corporate, smiley, customer-service-y terms. 

You sigh, pushing a heavy mop forward as music thrums through your ear buds. You take a moment to rest your head against your curled up hands at the top of the handle, listening to the last few seconds of the track, before popping the ear buds out one by one and shoving them into your jacket pockets. 

The slow drip of a faucet welcomes you back to cold, harsh reality. The last hour or more of your life was spent sopping up the ick that countless shoes tracked in and out the restroom facility throughout the day. 

By now, the sun is setting over the horizon line. You always pick up the latest shifts in the day. The overnight security staff are your regular acquaintances. You’ve bribed the main desk guy into being your ride-or-die with sugary, outdated donuts.  

There's a ding on your pager. You lean the broom handle on the brick wall, which is plastered with Chica and Roxanne themed posters that encourage handwashing. As you rest the mop, you falter to catch it from falling over, as the damn thing could never just stay put. Once you’ve prevented the disaster of the mop tipping over, you check the pager again, missing the glitching and rearranging of the letters on screen. 

Honestly, the technology is considerably retro compared to what's out on the market; looking more like a terminal you’d see in a sci-fi movie, or perhaps a calculator that would be chucked at a classmate in second grade. 

What greets you is an open-ended service ticket for the Haunted Shipwreck. You quirk an eyebrow. The exhibit was usually cleaned diligently by daytime staff in preparation for opening in the evening. Spruced up by the folks who worked at the bar, and the poor teenage saps who had to stand in the queue lines scanning tickets. The ‘ride’ was part of the finale of the virtual reality storyline that guests could pay a premium price to experience, connecting all the dots of the theme park’s attractions together. 

Plus, it was the only place that served alcohol after five pm. The specialty drinks are so neon and vivid that the sugar content has to be astronomical. 

Parents flock there like it is truly an oasis in a kiddy-park desert. 

Scratching at your head, you walk in a circle as you read the details, or lack thereof. The ticket reads, 'Exhibition needs spot cleaning.' Spot cleaning? A whole exhibit? Your thumb hovers over the button to accept the task. It beats mopping bathroom tiles any day.

You wring out the mop into its bucket, and begin the tedious task of ferrying cleaning supplies from one area to the next. On your way out, you sling the heft of a tool bag over your shoulder. 

_____________________________________

The scent of lemony freshness follows you in hot pursuit. You shove open the doors to the exhibit with a “Hello?”, expecting another person or two from the maintenance crew to have accepted the job. Cleaning a whole attraction on your lonesome did not bode well for the ‘no overtime’ policy. 

The response you get is absolute silence.

You feel along the wall for a light switch, and then remember that this is an amusement park, not a hotel. The controls for the area’s lights are all in the breaker room out back. Locked away with a key that is not in your possession. With a sigh, you fish out a flashlight from your tool bag and continue to wheel your cart in.

Without music blaring through the hidden speakers, or patrons milling through the bar onto the dance floor, the main atrium of the ride feels as haunted as its namesake. Grumbling, you pull out your pager and look down. The screen is blank, as if the task had never existed at all. 

Before you can question the disappearing act, spotlights turn on. A deafening click causes you to jolt and nearly drop the device.  

You look up, and are face to face with the animatronic who prowls the exhibit. Your lungs temporary pause all function as your heart works in overdrive. 

Above you is an elaborate trick of puppetry. A skeletal siren with a face as white as bone is frozen in place, with its arms outstretched as if it had been reaching towards you in the darkness to swipe you up. Thin, transparent plastic that shimmers like true fish scales acts as webbing between its sharp claws.

A billowing tail snakes like a serpent atop most of the area’s ceiling, weaving around the lighting system. The tip of its tailfin is curled around the rafters, as if supporting its weight. But that couldn’t be true; as a large cord connects into its back. Following the tubing leads to the pulley system which keeps it on predictable tracks. 

One eye is cyan. The other eye is entirely a deep crimson, casting an eerie glow across your face. The eye with the cyan pupil trembles. 

“Jeez, you scared me!” You say, too shocked to catch yourself before talking with an inanimate puppet.

The robotic siren, Moon, stares at you, not budging from its post. The lack of movement makes it feel more and more like a statue. You feel silly for speaking to it directly. 

But you remember: there's a person whose entire job is to spend the day operating these guys. To keep them lifelike, same as the free-roam 'animatronics' that are actually just staff in sweaty old mascot suits. Learning the truth as an employee had dimmed the magic of the theme park, but you still admit that it is an impressive work of robotics, especially considering the aquarium. 

“Are you still on for the night? Ride’s shut down,” You ask, pushing through the lingering fear you felt from the brief scare. During off-season the park closes earlier and is open about half the days, meaning that Haunted Shipwreck is mostly operational Friday and Saturday. Today is a Wednesday. You didn’t expect the elusive staff who controls the two mermaid animatronics to be on duty. 

In response, the animatronic's massive tail slaps against the faux rocky terrain that decorates its elaborate enclosure. Moon lands back on the main stage it perches on during performances. Without the constant spray of dry ice to create the illusion of fog, and the bright red lighting, the siren lacks the intimidating flare you expect.

“Well, I'm here to clean. That's all.” You rest your hands at your sides, settling your thumbs into the belt loops. 

Moon peers at you. Then it rolls over onto its back. The wires controlling its electronics flatten against the surface as it settles into place. You blink as you stare at a 'belly-up' fish. Its hands rest into a t-rex, claw-like position at its sides, as if it wasn’t used to laying down, either, and instantly felt awkward. 

“Oh,” You exclaim, wrapping your head around the vague task you accepted. At last, you understand who – or what, needs cleaning: the animatronic itself. There’s gum stuck to its sculpted fins and a few pieces of paper wedged into the joints that segment its torso from its abdomen, limiting its range of motion. 

A cruel prank, regardless of the recipient’s ability to feel discomfort. 

You set your tool bag down on the floor and stumble up the plastic molded rocks, right past the ‘DO NOT CLIMB’ sign. All things considered, the ‘spot cleaning’ looks like an easy project to finish off your shift. 

You sit on your knees next to the animatronic. 

You start by pulling the paper jammed into its torso hinge out. You brace a palm against its side, and carefully tug. Hearing the papers tear makes you curse softly under your breath. 

The animatronic watches, and then bends its torso hinge away, giving you easier access to pull the shredded bits out. 

You begin to notice that all the papers jammed inside the robot are actually posters and pamphlets that you can pick up for free at the photo kiosk a room over. Strange. 

Taking a second to indulge your curiosity, you inspect one of the postcards. 

The front of the card is split into two; the daytime half, Sun, spritely and bright on the left. And his cursed form that haunts the seas at night, Moon, in an ominous dark silhouette on the right. A few of these are even lenticular prints that you can shift back and forth, but those have to be bought at the complimentary gift shop at the end of the ride.  

The depicted dark, jagged silhouette of Moon is a sharp contrast to the docile animatronic beside you. Existing to be ‘vanquished’ time and time again, by brave patrons, in order to free Sun from the shackles of an evil witch’s hex. 

The witch character is set to debut at long last in a few months.

You find yourself smiling at the memories of watching the performance for the first time; the smoke and mirrors of the robots being switched out on stage to masquerade as one feat of engineering. The silly story never fails to be engaging, with how much production was poured into making Sun’s character so lifelike and memorable.

Now that you think about it, you wonder why Moon never got the same treatment. You look up to see that the ‘cursed siren’ on your mind is staring right at you, almost expectantly. Beneath its chassis where your palms rest is a soft, insistent hum of machinery, fans set to medium gear. It points to a piece of paper you missed under its arm socket. You lean closer to dig in, their gaze burning into the back of your head. 

The silence as you work on the clean-up becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Even more so when you consider that whoever is tasked with puppeting Moon is still up in the server room, no doubt working past their shift’s end to make your job easier by maneuvering the siren this way and that. 

Though, you wonder why the puppeteer didn't just meet you at Haunted Shipwreck themself to talk it through. Must be some kind of NDA, or lack of a remote control.

By the time you are scraping gum off glittering scales, you decisively break the ice with, “Y'know, Im surprised. I thought you'd be home by now,” beginning the idle, one-sided chatter. Just because you are here on business, doesn’t mean the exchange had to be so clinical. Your quiet companion shows that its listening by flicking the long fin that adorns its head. Bright cyan tracks your every movement with what feels like intense curiosity.

While you work, you take out the pager to check on your tasks for the night. In an instant, Moon swipes it, moving faster than you can comprehend. They slither away from you with shocking speed, cable attached to its back whirring to keep up with the momentum. 

“Hey! Give that back!” You reach up, fingertips brushing off the smooth scales upon its long, imposing tail. Up above, the animatronic fiddles with the pager. Frustration ripples off it as its hands clunkily tap away at the tiny, human-sized keyboard. 

“Don't break it, c'mon, it'll come out of my paycheck!” You swat at the robot whose mid-air. You gasp at the audacity it has to curl its tail inward and away from you. An unfair game of keep-away. 

Moon turns the screen of the pager back to you. 'Thank you,' is typed out in simplistic, boxy letters. You blink, staring at the screen as the pager is gingerly placed back in your hands, claws ghosting across your arms. The siren pulls back quickly. Moon fidgets with the hem of its costuming, a subtle act of nerves that trips you up even worse.

“You—you're welcome.” You stumble on your words, not quite sure why the sentiment is so shocking. But it feels like it came from the robot itself—whoever ran these guys was committed to staying in character. Even to other staff. You admire the dedication.

The robot leers down at you. Pupils burning, an unsettling lack of expression except for a wide-eyed stare that never relents the pressure it exerts. A hand extends out, and it takes a moment for you to realize that its asking for the pager back. Dumbstruck, you comply without a second thought. The robot taps away at the keyboard, dwarfed by its palms. You hear the click-click-click of the backspace button as it shakes its faceplate.

The pager returns to you. After all its effort, only one word is on the screen: 'Again.'

“Again?” You repeat aloud, looking up at Moon with confusion. The robot continues to fidget, before nodding so quickly in confirmation, that you are worried you'll need to send in a ticket to fix its neck hinge. That sort of job goes to the on-sight mechanics who the company contracts, not a regular maintenance guy like you. “You'd... like me to stop by, again?” You guess, and Moon's nerves boil over. The tracks in the ceiling creak as the creature 'swims' all around you, showcasing flashes of glittering fins and the faintest glint of sharp fangs beneath its flowing collar. With the blur of violet, magenta, and crimson swirling around you, its like being in the middle of a shark swarm— without any of the fear. 

Because you take the boundless enthusiasm to mean, 'yes.'

”Okay, okay. I will,“ You laugh at the strange antics, charmed by how earnest the supposedly wicked siren can be. You don’t know much about Moon's character here at the park; he was intentionally left mysterious to add to the villainous flare. Or perhaps, to excuse the lack of forethought into an antagonist designed for a theme park. So, to see him instead doing several aerial laps around the perimeter of the shipwreck, you can't help but find them endearing.

Your pager dings, reminding you that there is twenty minutes before your shift ends, and one bathroom facility left half-mopped in your haste. 

“It was nice meeting you,” You hesitate—you have no idea who this person is. You stare into the lens of the animatronic’s eyes, pondering who was watching you back on the camera feed. 

Maybe the two of you could get lunch sometime off the clock, away from the prying of corporate eyes. Perhaps they are nervous to break character. You glance to the security camera in the corner, and back, ”...Moon,” you decide to call them by the character they play, for the time being. 

The siren lurches toward you. 

You reel back, almost slipping on the plastic rocks.

Spindly limbs wrap around you, catching you from your fall, and—Oh.

You blink, struggling to keep up. The wretched siren of the coast is giving you a hug. The fabric of its costume sleeves is silky and smooth, and almost bundles you up like a tarp.   

”O-okay, then.” You pat at the back of the animatronic. Its staring at you so seriously with massive, leering eyes, that you are struggling not to buckle under the stress. The pressure Moon exerts is light, but spikes your heart rate regardless. Your feet are almost off the ground, balancing on the heels of your work boots as you tilt back. You aren’t looking to go for a swim, or to be put on medical leave from a concussion. 

“That’s, um, very sweet, thank you, Moon.” You tap its arms next to indicate you’re ready to be let go of. You find your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, wondering if the animatronic’s puppeteer thinks its amusing to scare you with this level of whiplash. Maybe it is funny to them, to make the theme park's aloof villain act all cuddly for one-on-one exchanges. 

“There we go—nice and easy,” you find yourself narrating, as the siren deliberately sets you back down on the floor. Not back onto the rocks; no, it cranes you over to main floor, where you run a much smaller risk of falling on uneven terrain. 

Walking over to collect your belongings, you shrug your tool bag over your shoulder, and place a hand on the handle of your cleaning cart.

The animatronic waves you off, watching with interest as you shove your way out the door. A glimpse of the outside world, the low lights of the shut-down park and the infinite expanse of the night sky.

You stop in the doorway, prolonging the moment, “Have a good night, Moon.” The animatronic stays perfectly still, playing its role. Poised with elegance and a threatening aura. The sight leaves you with chills, although you hardly had reason to fear the animatronic, or its friendly puppeteer.

The door closes.

A pause. 

Moon stays put until they can no longer hear the roll of your cart. Then it springs up. Pacing back and forth, tail moving as smoothly as kelp in the current, weaving through decorative pillars that sell the illusion of being underwater, trapped in a shipwreck. The sliding of the wire on its tracks plays a symphony as it maneuvers around. Feeling–feeling, like it did something right, by doing something terribly wrong. The sensation was so complex that it keeps cataloguing every second.

Moon couldn't believe that tampering with a maintenance ticket actually worked. A small, small chance that anyone would pick up the task he made up— jamming postcards into its segments in a fury to make the objective believable, once someone had actually said 'yes.'

The cord above squeals, and Moon realizes it needs to relax, less it break its ability to move within its small, small world. 

Settling back down, the siren sits on its lonely perch with a glimmer of hope–that you'll be back again the next night, and the next, and the next. After all, you spoke to them with such ease. Most everyone pretends he’s nothing more than a glorified stage prop. Doomed with an underutilized, elaborate AI on the same caliber as all the others in the park, who roam freely. Who get to interact, learn, and grow daily; who get to make friends and play so many games.  

Until next time, they'll work on their communication. Study the humans who walk through its exhibit closer and closer. Experiment with how to evoke emotions beyond fear.

Their tail thumps, eager to continue daydreaming throughout the rest of its cycle spent awake.

[obito-in-disguise]

| What are we? |

In a situationship with the Hashira men

Featuring: Shinazugawa Sanemi, Uzui Tengen, Tomioka Giyuu, Iguro Obanai, Kyojuro Rengoku and Gyomei Himejima.

Uzui Tengen

His hands were all over you, moving from your hips to your waist, squeezing softly before moving to the back of your neck and tangling themselves in your hair. You tried to get words out but his hungry kisses against your lips wouldn't let you.

Where were you? you ask? well you were currently trapped between Uzui Tengen and the wall, locked in one of your numerous make-out sessions that week.

For the past three months, you’d been tasked with delivering sensitive information from one of the previous Sound Hashiras who was your mentor, to Uzui.

At first, you were both very cordial. You’d relay the information to him, sometimes delivering documents alongside them, his fingers brushing against yours as you handed them over, sending electricity up your spine. A certain tension always lingering in the air.

Then he started asking for your opinion on certain matters, listening thoughtfully as you spoke, a small casual friendship blossoming between you two.

He started offering to show you a few moves too, stating he could train you better than your current mentor ever could "Everyone knows no one does sound breathing like I do!" he'd announce proudly, busting out all sorts of flashy moves, smirking when you clap in awe.

Alas, your current mentor was very dear to you, and you couldn’t dream of abandoning him. So, you took up Uzui’s offer part-time and trained with him whenever you did your routine deliveries.

The real tension really started building once you began training under him. He’d ‘fix’ your stance often, his hands grabbing your hips and repositioning you.

His large hands moved from your shoulders to clasp around yours, showing you how to swing your sword better, oh, so slowly.

As much as he loved to tease, he took your training seriously, often sending you home with bruises and always chastising your strength.

"Remind me how you became a demon slayer again" he'd grin before sweeping his foot, knocking you off your feet for the nth time. You winced, shutting your eyes as you landed roughly on your back.

You were ready to bite back at him�� until you opened your eyes and found yourself face-to-face with him. You quickly realized you couldn't move your arms, he had them held down on either side of your head, his large frame pinning the rest of your body down as if knocking you down wasn't enough.

Your chest heaved as you stared up at him, eyes flickering occasionally to his lips that were painted with that ever-present annoying smirk. That was all the incentive Uzui needed to crash his lips against yours, pressing his body more into yours

And ever since then, you two have been having hot makeout sessions the instant you stepped into his compound to do your deliveries. "Ahem... Welcome back Y/N, shall we continue our training..."

So here you were now, pinned against the wall as Uzui’s lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw and finally settled on your neck, determined to mark you up.

He was definitely startled when, one moment, he was worshipping you with his lips, and the next, you were asking him, “What are we?” in that sweet, quiet voice that he loved so much.

He lifts his head flashing you a dazzling grin, leaning in close. “Didn't you know? I've made the preparations for you to be my wife, my flashy delivery girl!”

At least now you had an excuse when your mentor berates you for coming back late from your deliveries once again. "I was with my fiance" you shrug casually.

"what?!"

Shinazugawa Sanemi

"What did you just say to me?" he glowers, staring you down. You scoff, squaring your shoulders, not backing down.

He didn't scare you, you knew his bravado was just to keep up with his image, or at least it was around you. "You heard me Shinazugawa or did you suddenly lose your hearing?"

He stares at you in disbelief, wandering where you grew the liver to talk to him like this. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and wrangle your neck but who was he kidding? he'd never actually lay a finger on you or harm a hair on your pretty head. You were really testing his patience right now though.

"You're just going to stand there?" you scoff again, your heart shattering into little pieces despite your outward haughtiness.

When he still doesn't respond you feel your heart sink. You didn't want to believe it, but apparently this little situationship of yours, was one sided.

"Just forget it Shinazugawa, have a nice life." you turn around hastily, not wanting him to see the angry tears about to run down your cheeks but before you can even take a step, he grabs your hand tightly not letting you leave.

You whirl around, ready to tell him to fuck off, but the words catch in your throat when you see the look in his eyes.

His eyes are pleading, filled with a certain desperation. If they could speak they would be telling you, don't go. But as soon as it comes, its gone, replaced by his usual scowl.

“What kind of dumb question is that? 'What are we?'” He mocks your voice, his hand tightening around your wrist before yanking you into him, silencing your yelp with a kiss that conveyed his feelings perfectly.

It’s rough, passionate, and says everything he can’t. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you firmly in place as if afraid you’ll slip away.

He pulls back, looking into your eyes with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “…I don’t know how to put it into words, alright? But you’re mine. If you don’t know that by now, then maybe you are as stupid as you look.”

aaand just like that he's back to being Sanemi, the gentleness gone as he releases your hand, crossing his arms and turning away from you.

You can't stop the giddiness you feel at his proclamation that you're his. You leap up, wrapping your arms around his neck in a fit of giggles. He scowls trying to hide his smile as he stumbles a little but recovers wrapping his arms around you and lifting up.

"Happy?" he asks, tilting his head, his nose brushing against yours.

"Very much so yes"

Tomioka Giyuu

It was a little after seven pm. The sun was completely down by now, the brightest stars starting to speckle the cool blue darkening sky, the colour of which reminded you of Giyuu's eyes.

You were seated beside giyuu on the porch, your arms wrapped around one of his and your head resting on his shoulder.

Giyuu was preoccupied with practicing his calligraphy, his only other bobby aside from meditating.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but marvel at how far your 'relationship' had come. A while back you wouldn't even dream of sitting within six feet of Giyuu Tomioka, not to talk of wrapping yourself around him and enjoying the evening breeze with him.

The more you thought about it the more uncomfortable it made you.

Sure you and Giyuu were close now but...what exactly were you. In the evening he let you cling to him, occasionally brushing his hand against your cheek while he listened to you blab about whatever, and in the morning he introduced you to people as his colleague. It was driving you crazy.

You didn't realize the restlessness in your thoughts had transferred to your actions until Giyuu's deep voice startled you out of your thoughts, feeling you shift for the umpteenth time.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks not looking up from his work. You knew you shouldn't tell him, this relationship or whatever it was barely even defined. If you started to probe him about it, you may just make him withdraw.

But alas, you couldn't stop yourself. "What are we?..." you could already see the slight grimace forming on his lips, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

He looks up, staring at you for a good minute, the rustling of the trees in the wind the only sound, before going back to his calligraphy. The tip of his brush hovers above the parchment as he mulls over your question.

Carefully, he sets the brush down and folds his hands in his lap, his gaze fixed on the faint strokes of ink as if they held the answer.

"Isn't it obvious..."

"If it was I wouldn't ask Tomioka"

He halfheartedly glares in irritation at your snark before letting out another sigh. He knew he'd have to give you reassurance sooner or later or he'd risk pushing you away, and that was something he didn't want.

"I think about you more than I probably should. When you’re not here, I wonder what you’re doing. When you are here, I feel… calm.” his voice is low and gentle, his gaze fixed on his calligraphy.

He picks up the brush again, the soft scratch of it against paper filling the silence. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “That’s what you are to me. Calm.”

He turns to face you then, a rare soft smile on his face. You smile too, placing your head back down on his shoulder, reassured for another day.

Iguro Obanai

Obanai was a shower, not a teller. Words felt clumsy to him, unnecessary when his actions could speak louder.

Why bother spinning elaborate phrases when he could show his devotion in ways that mattered?

He assumed you had the same stance on the issue as well. So when you asked him, “What are we?” one evening, he froze, staring at you as if you’d just said something incomprehensible.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. The chirping of cicadas and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the gap as your stomach twisted with guilt.

You hoped he didn’t think you were questioning his feelings for you. You just wanted clarity. And yet, when you thought about it, there was no shortage of proof.

Every week, without fail, he wrote you letters, silly letters about random things that were short and to the point but filled with a depth of care that only Iguro could convey.

He brought you flowers he found pretty while on his mission and claimed it was Kaburamaru who wanted to give them to you, it wasn't.

He even let you do his hair, sitting still for far longer than he had patience for, the joy on your face as you carefully braided the strands was worth the ache in his joints and the tenderness in his scalp.

Lost in your self-reproach, you didn’t realize he’d turned and walked out until the door shut softly behind him.

Your heart sank. You couldn’t believe you’d driven him away with your stupid question. What were you going to do now? Chasing after him felt like the wrong move, he didn’t take anything important with him. Surely, he’d come back… right?

Not even fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and there he was, holding the most beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers you’d ever seen. His knuckles were slightly scraped, and the faintest flush dusted his cheeks as he approached you.

“These are from me,” he said gruffly, holding the flowers, unable to make eye contact. “Not Kaburamaru.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed. As your fingers brushed his, taking the bouquet, he glanced at you, his mismatched gaze both vulnerable and steady. "The letters, the flowers, letting you fuss with my hair, it’s not random. I wouldn’t do any of that if you didn’t matter to me."

He tilts his head, his fluffy hair following suit. You could see the faint lines of a smile underneath his bandages “Does that answer your question?”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice washing away every shred of doubt. You smiled, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “It does. More than enough.”

Obanai let out a small huff, almost like a laugh, though his lips barely moved. “Good,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he brushes his fingers over your knuckles.

“Because I’m not saying it again.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

Did you really just sit here and think that Kyojuro would ever be in a situationship with you? This man does not play about you like that.

From the moment he met you, he knew he wanted you to be his. He wasted no time in proclaiming that he wanted to court you, and treat you like the beautiful flower you are, with love and care.

He did so very loudly, with his signature bright smile on his face causing the people passing by to glance at the two of you curiously.

You were very embarrassed but said yes nonetheless, you too were smitten with him, loud nature and all. "Thank you my flame! You have filled my day with joy!"

If you thought he was crazy about you when you first met, wait till you meet fiance Kyojuro. This man is that annoying coworker that manages to bring their spouse into every conversation no matter how unrelated it may be.

"There were demons spotted in Sagiri?...isn't that up north? Y/N would love it there during the summer!" cue the collective sighs of anger and frustration.

So no, you don't ask Kyojuro 'what are we' because he never gives you room to doubt his love and commitment to you for a second.

If the ring on your finger wasn't enough assurance for you, he makes sure he tells you just how much you mean to him everyday.

"Did I tell you how divine you look today my flame? you beauty is as radiant as the power of a thousand stars put together and amplified! I am lucky to call you mine!"

Gyomei Himejima

Same as Kyojuro, our glorious 8 foot 2 gentle giant king would never subject you to the ridicule of a situationship.

If it does happen, though, it’s only because he’s afraid to push you into something you’re not ready for or make you uncomfortable.

"Gyo...what are we"

Gyomei pauses his meditation, the beads in his hand slipping slightly. He had heard you come in several minutes ago but wondered why you sat in silence. Usually, you’d walk over and run your hands through his hair or greet him with your usual warmth. But this time, nothing.

This led him to believe you were troubled, and your question only confirmed it.

"What do you mean my dear?" his deep voice rings out, calm but concerned. The furrow of his brows follows suit, the worry etched into his face making your heart ache.

You fight the urge to reach out and kiss it away, sitting still in your spot instead.

"You never asked me to be your girlfriend...I mean...are we just friends?" Your voice is hesitant, the words spilling out in a fumble as you fidget in embarrassment.

Your relationship with Gyomei felt bigger and more mature than the girlfriend-boyfriend label, but you just needed to know.

Gyomei’s shoulders relax, the tension in his muscles melting away. He is relieved. It was just this, and not something far worse. He holds his arm out, waiting for you to crawl into it.

When you do he wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. His large hands nearly envelope your back, patting it gently as he speaks.

“We are two souls that have found each other amidst chaos,” he says, his voice calm and serene.

“If you need reassurance, then let me tell you, I cherish you deeply. I did not ask you because I do not wish to frighten you or jump the gun but, I would be honored to have you as my partner, flower.”

His words are earnest, each one sinking into your heart and easing every ounce of doubt. Overwhelmed with emotion, you embrace him tighter, grateful for such a loving partner. "Oh Gyo...I would be honoured too"

After that terrible misunderstanding was cleared up, Gyomei immediately wifes you up. Making sure that there was no way you could ever question his commitment to you ever again, showering you with a love as steady and enduring as his strength.

In all seriousness, If you ever find yourself in a relationship with a man who doesn't want to put a label on it, runnnnnnn. The devil couldn't reach you and sent him instead. Get yourself a Kyojuro or Gyomei who won't play about you mkay? good.

Feel free to check out my other Demon Slayer fics and more stories!

[rcmclachlan]

8x15 spec fic (like, how does tommy get involved with the big emergency? but also i just want tommy to have people, too.)

+

Once Buckley starts begging for help—"please, please, if there's a-anyone out there, if anyone's listening, I'm... please, they're my family"—over an open channel through deep, heaving sobs that sounded like they're being dragged out of his belly and drawing blood on their way out, Dana figures Kinard's probably already in the air and halfway to where they're holding the rogue scientist at Fort MacArthur. But to her surprise, he's still on the ground, standing apart from everyone currently clustered around Captain Melton's desk. He's aging fifteen years before her very eyes, looking like someone's stuck a pitchfork in his gut and is starting to turn it.

Kinard values privacy more than anything and would be mortified if anyone saw feel a single emotion that wasn't humor, so she looks away.

The entire crew has been glued to the radio for the last twenty minutes as though Orson Welles is the one delivering the dramatic relaying of the 118's impending doom and how it's the only thing keeping them from being charged with domestic terrorism. For the life of her, Dana will never understand how it's always them getting into these situations. There are 106 fire stations in Los Angeles; 105 of them somehow manage to avoid getting caught up in Armageddon on the regular. She's dying to know what their insurance premiums look like.

Movement out of the corner of her eye startles her into looking up again just in time to see a large, tall flash of blue storm out of the hangar and onto the tarmac.

She has to give Kinard credit. He lasted much longer than she'd expected: almost a full minute.

Dana is at least a head shorter than everyone else on the team, so it's easy for her to slip away without being noticed. Although Lucy does, of course, and Dana gently taps her fingers against the small of Lucy's back as she goes, tilting her head a little at Nico, who's standing to Lucy's left.

Lucy has always operated on Dana's wavelength, which makes working with her a genuine pleasure, because Dana never has to waste time with talking, with explaining her reasoning for anything. Lucy just seems to know what Dana needs from her. Nico's convinced they're able to speak telepathically, and sometimes Dana can't argue against the possibility.

Even now, Lucy just inclines her head slightly and disguises it by acting like she's leaning in to hear the radio better. Before Dana leaves the office, she sees Lucy nudge Nico. 

They've been grounded ever since Captain Nash disobeyed the order, and the silence that has befallen the hangar fills Dana with dread as she walks out onto the tarmac, because a quiet base means trouble. A quiet base is death.

By the time she reaches the Bell 505 that Kinard's apparently chosen for whatever he's planning, he's strapped in and about to shut the door, but she slides into the doorway before he can.

Kinard opens his mouth, most likely to tell her that she can't stop him from what he's about to do, which is patently untrue, but she beats him to the punch.

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean? Of course I'm—"

"I mean are you sure."

She puts a little firmness into her voice, which is hard. She's not soft-spoken by choice. Her vocal cords were already weaker than normal before she joined the LAFD and fighting fires has certainly not helped. 

"It's—" Kinard swallows. "It's him. I have to."

She thinks of the Tommy Kinard from last October, who walked in every shift with a literal bounce in his step and smiled for no reason when he thought no one was watching, and how a different Tommy Kinard started coming to work mid-November. It took him weeks to start eating normally again, to lose the look in his eyes that reminded her of dead trees in standing water, to trust himself enough that he was comfortable being back in the air. 

He'd finally been on the upswing, and everyone on the A-shift had breathed a collective sigh of relief, and then last month it all seemed to come crashing down again. He'd gone home one day smiling and making jokes, and then he was back in Melton's office at the start of his next shift asking to be grounded again. 

"You'll know they'll take your wings for this," Dana says, and he nods. "Is Buckley really worth losing the sky over?" 

Dana had never been a fan of Evan Buckley's even before he took up with Kinard. He was so desperate to be liked by everyone at every scene that it made him impulsive and, quite frankly, annoying. She'd worked with him on two calls and it was like trying to wrangle a very competent puppy. 

When Kinard finally admitted he was seeing the 118's very own walking, talking billboard for Murphy's Law, Dana had been the only one at Harbor who didn't slap him on the back or offer their congratulations. She'd known exactly how it would go, and she didn't relish being right. 

Early on in the new year, she saw Buckley in Vons. He'd been loading an enormous bag of flour into his cart, and although she's certain she didn't make any kind of noise, Buckley had looked up and spotted her. After a moment that felt like a decade of staring, he lifted a hand and attempted a smile that looked painful even from where she'd been standing. She thought about returning the gesture, if only to be the polite lady her mother had desperately tried to raise her to be. Then she thought of how Kinard hadn't so much as glanced at the sky in weeks, and she turned her cart around and walked away. 

Evan Buckley has fought against his own house, the LAFD at large, and seemingly the world for everything he's wanted. The fact he didn't bother fighting for Kinard tells her everything she needs to know. She's certain about Evan Buckley.

"He is." Unfortunately, Kinard is more certain. "I'm sure."

"You will be charged with something none of us will be able to get you out of."

At that, he turns a bewildered smile on her. "Dane, why would you—I'd never expect any of you to try."

Apparently working and defying death together, not to mention countless trivia nights and dinners out, don't make a friendship. It hurts to hear.

"I know you're very attached to your whole lone wolf thing, but you do have people in your corner, Kinard." She holds his gaze and refuses to drop it. He's not going to happily walk into a federal jail cell without hearing what she'd thought was obvious all this time. "You have people who will go to bat for you."

He swallows and jerks his eyes down to his lap, then huffs a wet laugh. "Dane—"

"Which is why Nico's starting a fire in the locker room." 

That gets him to look up. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed. "He's what?"

"Or setting off the sticks of dynamite he keeps in his glove compartment. Whatever he comes up with. Aiding and abetting domestic terrorism necessitates a distraction." She lets a reassuring smile sneak out. "You've got one."

Kinard's lip trembles a little as he stares at her with something like awe, like he's been given a gift he never once expected, but she watches him visibly bite it all back in favor of reaching for the skills and fearlessness that have helped make a name for him at AirOps. She steps out of the doorway and backs up as he turns on the Bell. The explosion of air tries to ruin her hair, but the snood she put her hair into this morning holds firm. 

Through the tint in the windshield, she can see him lift a hand at her. She doesn't hesitate to lift one right back. 

When he's at least 500 feet in the air, she goes to the other Bell and gets on the radio, tuning it for the right frequency. When she lands on the same channel the call had originally come from, she patches in. 

"Firefighter Buckley, please be advised: help is on the way. Keep an eye on the skies." She thumbs off the speaker and watches as Captain Melton comes storming out of his office. As he gets closer, she clicks back in. "And let me be clear, Buckley: if you fuck things up with him again, your very talented medics at the 118 won't be able to fix what I'll do to you."

Satisfied, she places the radio back into its charging port and slides out of the Bell, then heads in the direction of the hangar. It's been quite some time since she's been in the kind of trouble that ends with being put on leave, which she most certainly will be once her voice is identified.

As Captain Melton approaches, she thinks of all the shows clogging up her Hulu queue that she'll finally be able to get to, and smiles.

[pheastinyworld]

current boyfriend ❀•°•───────•

request: the current boyfriend trend with Gabe would be so cute

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none?

author's note: got the other request out for you ceci, hope you like it!!! also, just want to say to everyone, a big big thank you for sending so much love and so many compliments about my work recently, it means the world!!!

| phe's main masterlist |

something you absolutely loved doing was messing with your boyfriend. you loved getting reactions out of him; seeing his eyes dart around in confusion, cute little pout on your lips.

you didn’t even post the small stunts you played on him. sure, maybe you would send them to your friends, maybe one of his siblings just to tease him, but you never really posted them. you still loved doing them nonetheless. 

it was actually liliane who had sent you the tiktok, texting you ‘yo do this to my brother, he’ll die’. once she sent you the video, your 'for you page' was suddenly filled with the ‘current boyfriend’ trend, every two scrolls, you were met with it. 

you seriously didn’t know how gabe was going to react. you thought he’d either get pouty and annoyed or let it go right over his head. 

that just made you more eager to try it. so, you decided to try it after you had both finished class for the day. you were propped up on the cushions you’d arranged at the top of his bed, gabe resting his head on your lap as you both scrolled on your phone. 

it wasn't until one of your friends facetimed you, that you thought of doing it. 

“lucy’s calling by the way.” you quickly warned gabe, who just hummed back at you absentmindedly as he continued to text his three person group chat that consisted of will, ryan and him. 

you answered with a warm smile. lucy had been your friend since the start of college, often facetiming briefly in the evenings when one of you needed help after missing a lecture. 

“hey where were you during class today? you left me all alone.” you complained lightheartedly, watching as lucy moved around the papers on her desk, phone propped up against some books you assumed. 

“ugh, i had the absolute worst hangover. i was throwing up like crazy this morning.” she replied. looking at her, she didn’t seem her full self, and you nodded empathetically while running your fingers through gabe’s hair. “anyway, what are you up to right now?”

this was when you’d try play your little prank on gabe. you smirked, knowing he couldn’t see you and in return, lucy furrowed her eyebrows questioningly, “nothing much, just relaxing. oh my current boyfriend’s here too. gabe say hi.”

a knowing smile grew on lucy's face; you had actually joked around with her a few days ago, saying you were going to try do this somehow. 

gabe stayed quiet and you thought he just hadn’t heard you, too engrossed in his conversation with his best friends. oh, but gabe very much had. confusion washed over him and he stopped typing suddenly, locking his phone. 

“hi gabe.” lucy said politely over the phone. gabe shifted his body, pulling away from you and sitting up again, eyebrows pulled together, eyes squinting at you. 

“hey lucy.” gabe mumbled back, but he seriously couldn’t care less about your friend on the phone. 

you smiled at him sweetly as if you hadn’t done anything. gabe blinked a few times as you continued your conversation, relaying what lucy had missed in your class today.

current? what the hell did you even mean by that? surely, it was a mistake, a slip of your words. gabe’s brain tripped over the word a few times, watching as you so casually chatted with your friend like what you said was the most normal thing.

more than anything, he was just confused, utterly lost at what you were playing at. you watched him spiral just a little - he wasn’t upset at all, just very confused - his eyes flicking between yours and the floor, then back, lips parting like he was about to ask something. but, being the very polite person he was, he didn’t interrupt your call. 

that was, until he was getting impatient, because he wanted to know desperately what you meant by it. he wasn’t going to be able to do anything else. he wanted to know now. 

you paused as he got up from the bed suddenly, retrieving a hoodie from his closet and pulling it over his head as if he was about to leave. 

“hold on luce, i gotta go, i think my current boyfriend is leaving for some reason.” you said as gabe turned around and gave you a look of disbelief at your words, before opening the door and stepping outside. 

“okay bye, have fun.” lucy laughed before hanging up, and you placed your phone on the bed and sat up.

gabe walked back inside and shut the door behind him, mouth pulled into a thin line but not quite enough to be frowning.

“what was that about?” you questioned. now you were confused. 

“what, me going outside?” gabe asked, gesturing behind him and you nodded, “oh, i was just making sure the lineup of your next boyfriends were still there.”

you scoffed, shaking your head at him as his face scrunched up. “i mean, seeing as i’m only temporary, had to check if they were ready.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you rolled your eyes, leaning back into the cushions as gabe went to sit in the middle of the bed, not close enough to be touching you. you didn't think he’d get this petty. 

“what did you even mean by current?” he leaned back a bit, arms crossed, trying so hard to look unimpressed and annoyed at you, but that’s just not the person he was. he couldn’t really be annoyed at you. ever. instead, a pout was tugging at the ends of his lips and it made you feel a little bad.

“i mean current. you’re my boyfriend right now, are you not?” you shrugged, sitting back up to try shuffle your way over to him but you were swiftly stopped by a rather sassy hand coming up to tell you ‘don’t come any further.’

“okay, so i’m going to need you to roll that back.” gabe eyes narrowed, not in annoyance, but in that you-did-not-just-say-that kind of way. “current?” he asked again just to make sure.

“yes?” you replied like it was obvious, trying so hard not to break or let your face give him any signs that you were joking, but you could tell he knew something was up.

gabe huffed in return, eyeing you suspiciously before speaking. “so, when are you planning the break up? cause i’d really appreciate it if it wasn't on a thursday or friday by the way so it doesn't clash with practice.” 

you can’t hold your laughter in anymore, shuffling closer to him so you could scootch on top of his lap, grinning at him. gabe sighed, knowing it was impossible to not smile back at you even if he was still a little confused. 

“never planning on it. it’s a trend on tiktok.” gabe rolled his eyes, a grin forming as he placed his hands on either side of your hips.

“ugh, seriously?” gabe laughed, shaking his head at you.

“promise, i was only joking. i've definitely not got a lineup of boyfriends waiting outside.”

“better be. want you to be mine forever.” gabe stated, and you felt your face go hot, a shade of pink tickling at the apples of your cheeks, head dropping to his shoulder and arms going around to bring him closer to you.

gabe chuckled at you being all flustered, hands sliding up your shirt and rubbing circles on your back. “how many more of these silly little pranks have you got left?”

you smiled, pulling away to look at your boyfriend, all cozy looking; the loving gaze he had on you making you want to melt on the spot. 

“probably more. tell your sister to stop sending them to me and giving me ideas if you don’t like them.” gabe groaned, rolling his eyes.

“of course she's still managing to mess with me from far away.”

[danelloevee]

@ma7moudgaza2 has been displaced several times for the past 9+ months and currently lives in a tent with his parents and siblings. All he asks is for help in rebuilding his home so they have a more secure place to stay. I will relay a message he asked me to share:

We are a family of 5 suffering for over 9 months from a brutal war that spares neither humans nor stones.

My mother lost all of her family in this war, starting with my uncle Amer, his wife, and his children, who rose in the belt of fire over the city of Tal al-Hawa, then my other uncle and my other aunt died!! I don't know how my mother's heart can be patient with this affliction, but I ask God to give her patience and strength

My father also made many sacrifices when he lost his home and his job as a teacher, and his nephew was martyred at the beginning of the war. He is also strong and patient 🙏🏼

My brother Muhammad, who remained in northern Gaza, struggling with hunger, killing and destruction, also lost his place of work and many, many of his friends died

As for my spoiled sister, she lived the war while carrying the entire house on her shoulders. She lived the war from displacement to displacement and from tent to tent

As for me, Mahmoud, I also lost my studies after the occupation destroyed my university. I created this campaign to compensate us for a little of the damage we experienced. What we experienced is priceless at any price, but today I am asking you for a small donation of $10 that may contribute to saving us and our family from disappointment and the hell of war. We lived to build a new home for ourselves and the beginning of a new and beautiful life

This fundraiser has been verified and vetted and can be found on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi 's list here

The link on the list is his previous campaign to evacuate, but the progress was slow so he is currently focusing on rebuilding their house instead

[pellucid-constellations]

All Over Again

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part

a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books. 

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s. 

“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!” 

The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor. 

This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.

“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!” 

The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation. 

“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend. 

But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar. 

Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands. 

You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent. 

“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear. 

It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back. 

“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?” 

Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend. 

“Y/n—” Azriel began. 

“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down. 

Azriel blinked. 

He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders. 

When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare. 

“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words. 

You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?” 

“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?” 

A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend. 

“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers. 

“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.” 

This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?” 

“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.” 

You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?” 

Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him? 

Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.” 

Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.” 

Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs. 

Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye. 

“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?” 

“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s. 

It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared. 

Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own. 

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking. 

You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women. 

His married woman, but that was beside the point. 

A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth. 

“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.” 

His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing. 

“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.” 

“You said th—” 

You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face. 

“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.” 

Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips. 

And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.” 

The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms. 

Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home. 

[tateszn]

I would love to request something with Clark Kent.The reader gets hurt(has a broken leg) and Clark becomes super clingy making sure she is being taken care of.

hospitable

a/n: thanks so much anon for requesting this! sorry if this deviated from the original ask, i think i lost the plot. double feature! i couldn't decide between clarks. 904 words.

all of my fics are black!reader

smallville!clark 

clark is insanely determined to help you any way he could, he feels as though it’s his job for the weeks you’re temporarily disabled. 

while you're out of school, clark makes sure you don’t fall behind. he listens even harder in class so he can relay the information to you after school. he also brings you any homework or assignments you have to complete. he hardly even wants to go to school. he’d rather stay with you all day to make sure you’re alright, but he knows his parents wouldn’t let him. you’re really grateful for him, it’s sweet he keeps you as much company as he does. 

when you’re staying home, he’s bringing you lots of stuff. he knows you’re cared for when you’re home all day, but he feels better knowing he’s got something to do about it.

clark is currently in your room, endlessly pulling things out of his bookbag. everything that he’s pulling out answered your question as to why it looked so stuffed when you first let him in your home.

“these are from my mom, and these are from lana,” he sets down two tupperware boxes of cookies on your bedroom floor, “they both send their get well soon messages. this is everything we did in class today. oh and this,” he holds up a stuffed cat, “this is from me. i saw it in the store when i was walking home and it reminded me of you.” his statement is punctuated with a sweet smile. your heart swells.

“it’s one of those stuffed animals that doubles as a heating pad. i figured you could put it on your leg if it starts to hurt after it heals. it smells like lavender too!” he informs. you wonder what you could have done to deserve him.

“oh clark, you’re so good to me.” you say, holding the get well soon gifts in your hands. 

“no problem. anything to know that my girl is taken care of.” he smiles at you. 

up until he has to go home, he lays with you in bed. he helps you with school, talks about his day, and routinely checks in on you and asks if you need anything. he doesn’t want to leave your side. he’d stay with you the whole eight weeks if he could. but it’s getting around the time where you say, “clark, it’s getting late, you should go. i don’t want you to stay too late.”

“i don’t want to leave you yet. i could stay the night, my parents would understand.” he says, pressing himself closer into one of your pillows.

“i’ll be fine, clark. plus, what if they don’t understand and then you’re not allowed to come over anymore.” he knew you were right, he really wishes you weren’t.

“alright,” clark kisses your cheek, “i’ll be back tomorrow.” if he had the choice to never leave you alone, he wouldn’t.

man of steel!clark

it had been a long five weeks, with your doctor saying it would be eight weeks to heal your leg. the cause of injury had been stupid, really, and completely avoidable. the healing process would’ve been hell, if it weren't for clark.

clark just would not leave you alone. he waited for you hand and foot, and didn’t let you do anything around your shared home. to suggest that you get up to grab a snack, insane! clark would do it. you want to get up to wash a dish you’ve just used? clark’s got it. it’s time to take a painkiller? clark is there with the pill in one hand, and a cup of water in the other.you want to grab a blanket from the next room? clark’s already brought it to you before you could even think about it. he’d feel terrible if he didn’t do these things. why wouldn’t he help out his beautiful lover that is constantly so sweet and kind to him?

you were currently laid up on the couch watching a movie, with clark holding you tight. it was approaching dinner time, clark begs the question, “what do you want to eat tonight?”

“i can cook something tonight, i’m sure we’ve got ingredients for something.” you replied. wow! what a simple answer, right? wrong. clark thought you were insane for even suggesting this! he thought you had no other responsibility right now. the only thing you had to do was lay down and relax.

“you don’t need to do a thing, sweetheart. just let me know what you want and i’ll treat you.” 

“c’mon now, i’m not paralyzed, clark. i can whip something up real quick.” you were only half serious. you did love how clark acted as your own personal servant, but geez, you were really missing being productive.

“i know you can, baby. i just don’t want you to right now. the only thing i want for you to do is relax.” oh, the ever charming clark kent. you just couldn’t find it in yourself to argue with him.

“okay fine, i won’t cook. but i don’t want you to cook either. i’d feel guilty.” you really would feel guilty. he’s been doing everything for you for a month, seemingly taking no breaks.

“deal. we can order takeout.” he said as he grabbed his phone to find a menu. of course he ordered from your favorite place. anything to keep you happy.

thanks @anitalenia for the divider <3