#so sorry for flooding the tags but I can’t not share it there

[itwasrealtome]

THIN ICE

Olivia Benson x fem! reader

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

ANGST | Olivia Benson x fem! detective reader | Masterlist

Summary : Detective Y/N Y/L/N, part of Olivia Benson’s Special Victims Unit, faces a life-threatening situation during a suspect’s arrest, chasing this one into an ultimate falls to his death. Injured but alive, Y/N finds herself in an hospital room, receiving stern words from Olivia about her reckless actions.

Content Warning : Mention of stimulants to stay awake | Mention of a breakup | Mention of police work | Mention of jumping off a building | Some police man being a jerk | Usual SVU talk : Abuse, murder, violence, weapon and kidnapping | Y/N getting into a fight | People falling from a building | Injuries | Death | Hospital | OLIVIA BEING MAD | HEARTBREAK

A/N : Hello my loves. I'm finally sharing this first Olivia X reader with you. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. There are a few people I can't identify in the taglist, I'm sorry.

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•••

This afternoon, the streets seemed even more crowded than usual. The vehicles flooded the roads, coming from every corner and blocking the main way out.

Behind a queue of about ten of them, a police car came to a sudden halt. The alarm was on, and the blue and red flashing lights blinded anyone who looked in that direction.

But no one moved.

Not even the sound of a horn persuaded the citizens of New York to get out of the path.

Amanda’s grip on the wheel only tightened. She had never been able to understand the reason behind people’s insensitivity to this kind of thing. It was such an easy thing to understand. Besides, someone’s life often depended on it. Yet, there she was, turning furiously midway, her partner gasping in surprise, her shirt now stained with hot coffee.

— Dude, can’t you just warn before doing that kind of thing?

The blonde gave a brief glance to her passenger. She expected to find her glued to the door, her fingers clenched around the top handle, but she didn’t.

Y/N was desperately trying to absorb the contents of her cup on her worktop. The wipers provided with her order, finally finding their use.

While most people would have been annoyed about staining a piece of clothing, the young detective was not. She seemed much more upset about losing a few drops of her beverage. The former could still be replaced, but the latter was definitely needed.

— Sorry about your shirt.

— Yeah, well you owe me a coffee.

The driver’s smile only widened when she heard her partner muttering complaints. She knew her well enough to say that it had nothing to do with that slight accident. It was cute. Of course, it was. But Amanda could see through it. She knew it had nothing to do with the coffee. Sure, the days were long and their job involved finding stimulants to stay awake, but Y/N was never acting like that. Something was different. And who better to notice than someone who practically lived with her?

— Sure you’re okay?

— Rollins, it’s just a shirt. I think I can get over it.

Amanda gave her a knowing glance. She expected this kind of answer from the young officer. Everyone knew what kind of person she was.

Committed, she was always the first to arrive at the precinct and the last to leave. She was practically married to the job by now. And though Kat had trouble following orders, Y/N did not. She was the perfect partner. Amanda couldn’t remember a time when Y/N had lost control. But these days, everything seemed to fall apart.

It began with a couple of small comments, here and there, a bit too harsh coming from Y/N’s mouth. Next up, her silence during the team talk was a concerning factor for Amanda. If anyone always had something to add to the investigation, it was her. This ranged from a simple detail no one had noticed, to scientific or sociological facts. It was often complicated to keep the detective quiet, so her lack of involvement was bound to catch the eye. That and the fact the blonde had seen her leave the bunks two mornings in a row at the exact same time.

Sure, it was just the addition of minor details. But the older woman’s gut was not wrong, not about this. Something was wrong with her partner. And it had nothing to do with a simple lack of caffeine.

— Oh, don’t give me that kind of look.

— But you’re not telling me the truth, Y/N/N!

Y/N huffed quietly. At times in her life, she hated being around people whose job was to investigate. She cursed them all equally. She just couldn’t help herself the last few days. Her anger was aimed at a specific and unique person, but that person being in law enforcement themselves, it was almost overwhelming to go to work every day. Time seemed to run too slowly there. The only moments she enjoyed were those outside the building. The cold New York weather allowed her to clear her mind and take a deep breath. And she always had something to do, after all the city never slept.

—Like you don’t keep anything to yourself, huh?

Amanda faintly spluttered. Everyone knew she had had difficult times, but she wasn't the only one. And now that she was honest with herself, she knew she had made mistakes. One thing’s for sure, she did not want her partner to replicate these.

— I made some mistakes, most of them I don’t want you to repeat.

— I seriously doubt you did this one.

That was all she could get out of the young detective. Amanda knew it as she watched her turn toward the window. The mere reflection of her face gave her a glimpse of what she was really feeling inside, a sweet mixture of anger and bitterness. Whatever the problem was, it wasn't something they could fix with a drink. And this worried the blonde even more.

— Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.

These words captured the passenger's interest again. She arched an eyebrow at her partner, a smile forming at the corner of her lips. Knowing their duo’s dynamics, she had dozens of retorts on the tip of her tongue, all of them a little more mischievous than the last. Instead, she just shook her head gently. Amanda didn't have to know how upset she was about the whole thing. She didn’t deserve to worry so much. And Y/N certainly had no right to be such a burden to her partner.

— Like what? Jumping off a building? y/n chuckled at the blonde’s glare. Relax. I won’t do anything of that kind, I promise.

At that very moment, the young detective genuinely meant it. She had not gotten up with such an idea in mind. If jumping off a building was regarded as a very stupid gesture, she considered her routine more so.

It was in the way the precinct’s bunks were beginning to feel like home. And how she spent every second of her days with the badge on her waist. She had no idea when she had last stepped into her apartment for more than a shower. Her desk was overflowing with paperwork and books in which she always found a way to bury herself. It was much more than a way to distract herself. At all costs, she avoided raising her head, out of fear of meeting the gaze that froze her every time. The path she was on was, for that matter, significantly more dangerous than whatever stupid thing Amanda was thinking about.

But she could not say that to her.

To anyone, actually.

— Weren't we just called to make sure that this jerk wasn't prowling around the residence?

In any other context, Y/N would have felt like a fool. Her back nearly arched as she tried to make out what was going on in a street they weren't even close to yet. She may have lacked sleep and insight into her personal life, but her cop intuition never failed her.

— You'd be sure of that if you'd listened to a single word the captain said.

— Something’s wrong.

Amanda brought them to the next intersection before momentarily stopping the car. The sight over her partner’s shoulder sent a chill down her spine. Despite years of experience, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline every time. The crowd of cops down the street certainly wasn’t helping. They were everywhere. Mostly hidden behind their vehicles. But their vests did not go unnoticed and neither did their weapons pointed at a specific target.

— Crap, I hate when you’re right about this stuff.

— Hum…what was that you were saying about our captain again? y/n faced her friend with a teasing smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself. Always listen to what sh–

The sudden acceleration of the vehicle silenced Y/N. She felt grateful once again that her belt was keeping her safe. No day went by without her being in some kind of danger, but she never thought she’d have to worry about dying while Amanda was behind the wheel.

— Would you please stop doing that? cried the younger detective, her hands still clutching the top handle. And since when do you drive so badly? Damn it.

— Guess now you’ll stop driving like a maniac if I let you get behind the wheel.

The door swung shut before she could react. She stepped out of the car herself and walked over to Amanda. A vest was tossed in her face before she could even think about opening her mouth. But anyone who thought she would have given up so easily was wrong.

— I do not drive like a maniac.

Her friend gave her a knowing look as she closed the trunk. Now was definitely not the time to have this kind of conversation, but Amanda was glad her partner hadn’t lost everything that made her the person she was.

She was relentless, both in her work and in her personal life. To be defeated by a suspect in an interrogation room was a rare occurrence. Within the profession, many officers wondered about her career choice. They could imagine her leaving the field to terrify judges in a courtroom. Perhaps because they were themselves scared to death to face her. Seeking victory in a debate with a woman like Y/N was a waste of time. She knew when she was wrong, and would always acknowledge it. Nevertheless, she also knew when she was right. And in those moments, Amanda was the first to grab a bag of popcorn.

— That you do.

The detective’s hands found the velcro on the vest from memory as she was too busy glowering at her friend. The protection weighed on her shoulders. It was almost enough to give her a reason to fall apart. That, and the weight of life that was beginning to take its toll on her.

Slightly defeated, she stomped over to Amanda to catch up with her. She knew the other detective was right. Her anger was evident in the way she drove. Since then, she was assigned the role of co-pilot. It was okay. But she loathed being deprived of her usual distraction. It was starting to loop in her mind. She needed a way out.

— Detective Rollins and Y/L/N, Special Victims Unit.

Amanda shoved her badge in the man’s direction, half-expecting him to tell her to piss off. He dominated the scene with his large stature and a rank evident to all. The rookies were following his orders and keeping their mouths shut. Something that obviously wouldn't work with Olivia Benson-trained agents. He didn't seem to mind, guiding the two detectives as close as possible to the scene. But then, the mere idea of having to send men into the building made him raise his chin in an authoritative, disapproving manner.

— Our only witness is trapped in this building, Rollins began the fight, finger pointing accusingly. I don't care how, I want that man in custody.

If one of them had looked up for even half a second, instead of fighting over who had the biggest –which was obviously Y/N in this situation– they might have been able to stop the young detective in her tracks. Amanda had had enough of listening to the man's whining as he waved his rank in her face. And her colleague, the one she was supposed to look after, was tired of simply waiting.

As discreet as a mouse in the middle of the city, Y/N circled the building and quickly found a fire escape. It wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when the impulse to walk into the building first came to her, but she couldn't really say she'd given it much thought. With a bit of imagination, and a little help from a trash container, she managed to pull herself up to the top. Now, maybe that was the beginning of a crazy idea. She could already imagine her partner and captain scolding her - if, and only if, she managed to get out of there alive and intact.

At the top of the stairs leading to the third floor, the detective stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of their suspect's agitated voice.

Thomas Patterson, 45, suspected of having violently abused his wife before killing her, and of abusing his stepdaughter - Johanne Morales. The man's profile was clear: a respectful-looking husband and father-in-law, loved by all, carefree, but once the door was closed he turned into a control freak with urges he simply couldn't escape. He clearly hadn't planned to kill his wife. The autopsy had revealed signs of haste and mistakes that a man like Patterson would never have made if he had prepared properly. But he had made mistakes. His blows had been too violent, Johanne had interrupted him, and he'd had to finish the job quickly - too quickly, in order to hide his crime.

Y/N had studied his profile carefully. That's what she did best, that and avoiding her captain. She knew he was restless, nervous, ready to do anything to cover up his actions. The final piece of the puzzle was to eliminate the only witness, the one who would go all the way to court to see him take the fall. She had an advantage over him. She was there, so close to the goal, and he was unaware of her presence. At least, that was until Amanda's voice came through the radio.

— Y/L/N, you've got two seconds to get your butt over here.

The young detective could have banged her own head against the wall. Boy, had she been stupid on that one. She clenched her jaw, the urge to bite her fist growing cumbersome as she prayed Thomas hadn't heard. But he definitely did.

A front door opened slowly, the creaking hinges betraying the building’s condition. The man was probably armed, the sound of the guard echoing in the empty corridor. Each of his steps shook the wooden floor and sent a current of adrenalin through Y/N's veins. He was getting closer. She could smell him and his perfume. Him and her fear.

As soon as he was close enough to round the corner of the stairwell, the young detective took this as her cue. She charged at the man, her hands reaching for the 9mm held firmly in his rough, bleeding hands. In a split second, the magazine slid out and collapsed on the floor. She sent it tumbling down a few steps with her boot, before landing a knee into the suspect’s parts. This only confused him for the briefest moment. He was on her again before she could even flinch. Her body hit the wall with a heavy thud, the vest shielding her body from the heavy impact. However, the man’s hands found her neck and tightened their grip, pulling her head violently forward and then pushing it back, slamming it against the concrete wall.

He repeated the motion twice more, the detective’s pleas of pain provoking a feeling he himself could not begin to describe. Y/N wasn’t done with him yet. He clearly wanted to lash out at a woman and had a nasty habit of underestimating them all. Only, today wasn’t his lucky day. He was forced into the apartment where he had deliberately tied up the young Johanne. It was his turn to bang into something. The dresser barely tilted behind him, but the vase crashed hard against the top of his skull. He felt the water run down his face, the smell of freshly bought flowers wafting through the air.

Back in a corner, Johanne tried desperately to struggle out of her bonds, her words puffed out by the duct tape over her mouth. She could only witness the struggle between her back-up and her assailant. Watching as Y/N unloaded all her pent-up anger on the man who had dared to cause so much harm. In one smooth motion, Thomas grabbed the detective’s gun, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Hope was soon lost, his chances of getting out of there alive and free close to zero. His opponent was relentless and had no intention of letting him slip away. His only option, he realized, a flash of light reflecting off the window, was to drag the detective with him in his fall.

Outside, Amanda was still arguing with the man in charge of operations. He hadn’t given up and neither had she. Only when, as the argument continued to escalate, gunshots were heard, followed by the shattering of a window pane, did they come to an agreement. The plan didn’t even have time to take shape before two bodies flew out of the building.

First, the blonde saw the man she recognized as their suspect crash hard to the ground, the collision knocking him down instantly. Then came a tremendous thump and the shrill sound of a car alarm. Straight ahead of her, on one of the patrol cars, had landed Y/N. The height of the fall meant that the roof of the vehicle had been crushed and some of the windows smashed. That wasn't what Amanda was most worried about. Her partner, the one who'd promised her she wouldn't do anything stupid – like jumping off the third floor of a building, was sprawled motionless on the broken glass, blood on the back of her skull.

— Oh my God, Y/N, in one stride, she was as close as she could get to her friend. Call an ambulance. Now!

For once, the man made himself useful, radio in hand, as he asked for help. He now stood with one, maybe two, even three victims to deal with if the detective didn't make it. He could already imagine the damage it would do to his career. Besides, he knew Captain Benson very well and had no desire to mess with her.

Needless was his worry. The more Amanda studied her friend, the more she realized how lucky she’s been. Y/N was simply stunned, staring at the New York sky with an uncharacteristic intensity. She began to laugh, full-throated, heartily. It was probably the adrenaline pumping again. Tears joined the party, leaving funny marks on her bloody cheeks. Suddenly, she remembered.

— Johanne. She's alive. Up there. Y/N looked up at Amanda expectantly. She needs help.

***

Captain Olivia Benson had seen enough in her career not to let anxiety get the better of her. She had been beaten, kidnapped, almost died and dragged through the mud in front of an entire courtroom. She had reached a point where facing certain types of suspects no longer made her lose her footing.

But someone was bound to make her lose it.

Briskly, almost to the point of knocking herself off her feet, she made her way through the corridors of a hospital she knew all too well. The distinctive clatter of her heels against the floor blended perfectly with the incessant beeping and distant hubbub of such a place. She wasn't there to see a victim, as she often was. Her hasty and agitated demeanor only aroused the suspicions of the medical staff who had crossed paths with her so many times. It wasn't just a professional matter.

It hadn't been for a long time.

When Olivia reached room 212, she didn't spare a moment's hesitation. One of her youngest detectives and latest recruit was sitting wisely on the edge of the bed, her legs wriggling in the air like a child's. A nurse was visibly busy behind her, dropping more and more glass flakes into her tray as she went. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded tightly against her chest, eyes focused on the sight that made her stomach hurt in spite of herself.

She watched as Y/N's chest, covered in dried blood, continued to pulsate with every breath, as hematomas were already starting to spread across her face and torso, and as her plain face twisted in pain as soon as the nurse reached for another piece of glass. Just a few days ago, her first instinct would have been to rush to her protégé’s side and calm the agony she knew to be growing in her heart. But she'd vowed to keep her distance and stay in her current position: Captain Benson, unit chief.

All too quickly for the young detective's liking, the nurse finished her treatment and left the two law enforcement agents behind. Olivia had had the decency to wait until the door was closed before lashing out at her, which didn't stop Y/N from rolling her eyes. She'd already imagined this conversation - or rather, monologue - and knew she wouldn't come out of it unscathed. She'd probably lose her badge. No matter, she'd already lost her heart.

— Have you completely lost your mind? You could’ve been killed.

This was the cue for a lengthy sermon that she couldn't escape. The words left Olivia's mouth at a speed that seemed unbearable. She paced back and forth, her arms stretching out in waves of frustration and indignation, her cheeks rosy with emotion. She'd done some stupid things herself when she was just a rookie, but throwing herself off the third floor of a building had never been on the list.

— Are you done? y/n arched an eyebrow as Olivia finally paused. I saved a life today. While Amanda and that jerk were fighting over who had the biggest, which apparently I did.

— No, you refused to follow orders. Not only did you put yourself in danger, you put everyone's lives in danger. Heaven help us again that you were wearing your vest, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.

— I don't know why you care so much, you're just my boss!

Although these words were intended to hurt Olivia, it was Y/N who took the brunt of the blow. It was one thing to know that their relationship had been reduced to this, but it was quite another to admit it in person. The brunette was no longer entitled to worry so much, to ask her to watch out and send her a text as soon as she got home. Whatever had been was no more.

— Right, Olivia broke into an almost scoffing snort. Let me tell you, as your captain, that you won't be leaving the precinct for a long time.

— You’re benching me? Liv, you can’t do this!

— What you did was completely irresponsible. You don't want to follow orders, fine. But you're not leaving this desk without my permission.

The young detective had been holding her breath for a long time– far too long. She'd spent days avoiding conflict, lamenting in her corner, mourning the end of a story she'd thought would last forever. It wasn't just about what had just happened, it was something else, something more personal. She felt as if Olivia had no idea how to express her concern, as if her only option was to play the role of the big bad boss. But she was tired of hiding, of running away, of avoiding confrontation.

— Breaking my heart wasn't enough for you, uh? She rose from the bed, hastily putting on her jacket. If you want me to leave the squad, just say so.

For the first time, she faced her head-on. Head held high, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, ready to stand on tiptoe if that would help reach the brunette's height. She faced those brown pearls with all the courage she had left, her own eyes misty with tears she'd never let flow. This was it, so close yet so far, two souls who knew each other becoming strangers once again.

Olivia reached out with a last ounce of regret, brushing away a tear that had escaped down the young detective's cheek with the tip of her thumb. Her heart urged her to do more, to embrace this bruised woman, to bring her all the comfort she needed. She wanted to take Y/N home, wrap her in one of her shirts, tell her how much she loved her. In another life, where they were just two soul mates, where Olivia didn't have to worry about repercussions, whatever they might be. This was where she could find comfort.

— Go home. Take a few days. Get some rest. We'll talk about it when you get back.

The New Yorker had rarely seen a face shattered in a matter of seconds. Her words had urged Y/N to free herself from her hold, her head heavy and spinning from all the hassle and concussion she'd picked up from the blows. Her shoulder nudged her superior's as she walked by, a gesture of no little importance. She did not look back once to meet her former lover's gaze again.

Maybe she should have.

Maybe she would have seen the same love, the same tears, that Olivia saw in her eyes.

Maybe the ice wasn't so thin after all.

•••

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[sicc-nasti]

By @stangeranfanficion

No context only Courierfield

[luvsupa]

tags: gojo x fem!reader, ex relationship, fluff, angst, takes place after battle w sukuna (he wins), sad ending, mentions of blood, gojo’s lowkey depressed w.c: 1k

a/n: sorry this just came out of nowhere </3

“satoru?” you call out, squinting through the bustling sidewalks of downtown tokyo, trying to confirm if it’s really him. he turns at the sound of your voice, removing one of his earbuds, his heart flipping as he sees you—this isn’t a dream. you’re really here.

it’s been a little over a year since you two broke up. despite the deep love you shared, the relationship was suffocating. you couldn’t stand watching him come home exhausted and scarred, sometimes with blood on his clothes from the dangerous missions. it hurt too much to see him treated like a weapon instead of the person he is. you begged him to leave jujutsu tech, pleading with him day and night to escape the pain that you couldn’t bear to witness.

but the final straw was that night—when he came home, slashes across his body, his clothes torn and bloodied. watching him limp from your shared apartment to the bathroom made your heart shatter. “i’m okay,” he reassured you, but you knew he was on the verge of passing out, desperately hiding his pain from you. he couldn’t let you, his sweet sweet baby, see him in this state.

“‘toru, it’s either you leave that company or i’m leaving,” you cried, your heart clenching at the thought. his identity was tied to saving non-cursed users, but without that, who was he? he stared at you in silence, and you already knew his answer. you packed your things, his tear-filled eyes followed you from the bathroom, silently apologizing for the pain he couldn’t escape.

seeing him now, you can’t help but smile, even as the memories flood back. he looks healthier, but the scars on his face are constant reminders of his battles. “i—how are you?” he stutters, still in shock.

“g-good. how’ve you been?” you reply, your heart sinking at how tired he looks.

“pretty good too,” he says, scratching the back of his head, revealing the scars on his hands. “wanna grab some coffee? there’s a shop down the street.” your eyes widen, and you nod, a mix of excitement and dread swirling inside you.

as you walk side by side, the energy between you feels familiar yet fragile. you chat about the beauty of the night, pointing out flashy sports cars.

inside the café, you sit across from each other, getting a good view of the outside. he returns with two coffees, and you thank him for paying, though you’d always insist on paying- he declined, he never let you pay for anything when you were together.

“have you left yet?” you ask, your voice trembling as you prepare for the inevitable conversation.

“heh, does it look like I’ve left?” he jokes, gesturing to his tired eyes. you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling the warmth seep into your cold fingers. silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“i miss yo—”

“i have a girlfriend.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. a girlfriend? your heart drops as your expression falters. why does it hurt so much?

“y-yeah, i’m seeing someone too,” you blurt out, hating yourself for the lie. the laughter that follows feels hollow, and he can see right through you.

“baby, you’re such a bad liar—” he catches himself, the pet name easily slipping past his lips. both of you stare at each other widened eyes as he mistakenly slipped up by calling you baby. he really didn’t mean to! suddenly, the air is thick with tension. you both giggle awkwardly, but inside, it tears at you—how much you miss hearing him call you that.

“if i were your girlfriend, i’d kill you for catching up with your ex and calling her baby,” you joke, but his expression remains serious. not a smile nor a chuckle, making your heart race. have you upset him?

“i mean, you were my girl,” he says, and your mind spins. my girl. you can’t help but pout, taking a sip of your coffee, your gaze drifting outside to the busy streets.

just then, his phone buzzes loudly, drawing your attention. you catch a glimpse of “A♡” on the screen. gojo’s expression shifts as he reads the message, a sadness settling over him. he has to cut your time short. you silently whine as the two of you rise from your chairs, cleaning up any mess as you both head out to leave in opposite directions.

but he stops you. his warm hands enveloping yours. “w-when can i see you again?” he stutters, his voice laced with desperation. your heart races, wanting to cry, to leap into his arms and confess your love, but that’s not an option.

“i’ll see you around, ‘toru,” you say, forcing a warm smile. rising on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his cheek as he blushed hard. he tenses, the longing evident in his eyes as he fights the urge to pull you close, hugging you and kissing you as if you were his again.

“and treat your girlfriend nice,” you add, turning to walk away. each step feels heavier as a lump forms in your throat, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

“will do,” he calls after you, trying to sound upbeat. but as he walks away, his eyes glisten, filled with unfallen tears. oh, how he misses you.

[novaursa]

I've been LOVING your cregan work and wanted to see if you were doing requests. I was thinking something like the reader (velaryon) was previously married to aemond had a kid with him and something happened to the kid, reader escapes aemond and is with cregan but is still morning the life she previously had and feels bad about it. Maybe she's just given up on everything and cregan just wants to help. I'm so sorry if this makes zero sense 😭

Winter's Solace

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Specters of the past came back today once more to hunt you, but Cregan holds them back.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is bonded with a dragon Grey Ghost.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The cold wind howls through the ancient halls of Winterfell, but inside your chambers, the fire crackles softly. The warmth from the hearth does little to pierce the chill that’s wrapped around your heart. The North was supposed to be your sanctuary, the place where you could forget. But the past clings to you like a cloak you cannot shed.

For days now, you’ve sought solitude, slipping from the bed you share with Cregan before the dawn, curling yourself into the furs by the window, watching the sky but not really seeing it. You barely eat. Every mouthful seems to turn to ash on your tongue. The memories—the life you had before, the life taken from you—haunt your every waking moment.

The son you lost, taken by blood and treachery.

Your breath trembles as you draw it in, eyes falling to the grey stones below. You told yourself you would never cry again after that night, but the tears threaten to spill all the same.

A quiet knock at the door stirs you, though you do not answer. You know who it is, and part of you wants to tell him to leave. To let you sit here in silence, to let the grief eat at you until there is nothing left. But he’s stubborn, like the North itself. He enters without waiting for your permission, the familiar sound of his heavy boots crossing the threshold.

"Cregan…" Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse from lack of use. But you don’t turn to face him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He knows better than to rush you. Instead, he stands in the doorway for a moment, his presence filling the room with a quiet strength. Then, slowly, he crosses to where you sit, his broad figure casting a shadow over you.

"You haven’t eaten," he says gently, kneeling beside you, his eyes dark with concern. His hand finds yours, rough and warm against your cold skin. He squeezes it, hoping to ground you, to pull you back from the abyss you’re teetering over.

You pull your hand away, though it’s not from any anger toward him. It’s because you’re ashamed. Ashamed of the broken thing you’ve become, ashamed that even now, after all this time, the past still holds you so tightly in its grip. You think of Aemond, of the life you once shared with him—however brief and painful—and the child you lost. You think of the vengeance that Daemon and Rhaenyra sought in your name, a vengeance that tore at what little remained of your soul.

"I can’t…" Your voice breaks, and for a moment, you press your lips together to stop the flood of words that want to spill out. "I can’t pretend anymore, Cregan."

Cregan’s eyes, soft yet strong, search your face. He understands. He’s always understood, more than anyone else ever could. When you fled to the North on the back of Grey Ghost, seeking an end to the torment, it was Cregan who saved you. He didn’t ask for explanations, didn’t demand that you be strong. He simply gave you space, gave you time. But now, the time has come to face the wounds that refuse to heal.

He moves closer, sitting beside you, pulling you gently into his arms. At first, you resist, stiff in his embrace, but the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, begins to melt the ice that’s hardened around your soul.

"I don’t need you to pretend, Y/N," he says, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Not with me."

You close your eyes, leaning into him, allowing yourself the comfort he offers. His hand strokes your hair, gentle and slow, as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal.

"I left them to die," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Aemond… our son. I should have stayed, should have fought harder—"

"You were never meant to stay with him," Cregan interrupts, his tone firmer now, as though he’s reminding you of something you’ve long forgotten. "The life you had with him was built on lies and violence. It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. None of it."

"But it was my mother…" Your voice breaks again, the bitterness of it burning your throat. "It was Rhaenyra. She sent them—Daemon sent them—to kill him. To take my son."

Cregan holds you tighter, his breath warm against your hair. "You’ve carried that guilt too long, my love. What your mother did… that’s on her. Not on you. You didn’t ask for their blood to be spilled."

The tears come then, hot and heavy, spilling down your cheeks as you sob into Cregan’s chest. You hate yourself for it—hate how weak you feel. But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t pull away or flinch from your pain.

"I loved him once," you confess, voice barely audible. "Aemond… I loved him before all the bitterness and rage. Before the war tore us apart."

"I know," Cregan says softly. "And you loved your son. That’s why you grieve. But you can’t let it destroy you. You can’t let the ghosts of the past steal the life you have now."

You’re silent for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His words are true, but they don’t erase the pain. Nothing ever will.

"I don’t know how to move forward," you admit.

"One step at a time," Cregan says, pulling back slightly so he can look into your eyes. His gaze is steady, filled with a determination that gives you something to hold onto. "I can’t take the pain away, Y/N. But I’ll be here, every step, until you find your way."

You look into his face, seeing the man who saved you when you thought there was nothing left to save. The man who offers you not just comfort, but a future, if only you can let yourself reach for it.

"I don’t deserve you," you whisper, guilt still gnawing at the edges of your heart.

"Deserve me?" He smiles, a soft, crooked smile that warms you in a way the fire never could. "I think it’s the other way around. You’re a Targaryen, a Velaryon, bonded with a dragon. And yet, here you are in the North, sharing your life with me. If anyone is undeserving, it’s me."

You shake your head, tears still glistening in your eyes. "No… you saved me."

"And I’ll keep saving you," Cregan says, his thumb brushing away the tear on your cheek. "For as long as you need me to."

For the first time in days, something like hope flickers in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there. You lean into him again, closing your eyes, letting his warmth and strength anchor you. The grief will always be there, lurking in the shadows. But with Cregan by your side, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can face it.

Tomorrow, you’ll eat. Tomorrow, you’ll take another step forward. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to simply be held. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.

[charliehoennam]

belong to no one else.

a/n: tagging @gyllenflower by request. sorry if i forgot anyone! i can't believe i'm writing for this man but at least i can torture him a lil.

summary: rusty can't stay away from his mistress and convinces her to continue their affair.

pairing: rusty sabich x f! reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, ball busting, oral sex (m vs f, both ways), rusty is pathetic, language, cheating (should be obvious, i mean, it's rusty?)

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

"Are you stalking me now?" you question keep your voice low but firm. 

"I'm not stalking you. You won't return my calls. You ignore my texts-"

"So you decide to follow me?" 

"I just wanna talk."

Looking at Rusty's pleading eyes, you can almost taste the bitterness that builds when you realize you can't say no to him. 

The subway rattles at its usual speed, gently swaying you both side to side as you stand near the door with your back to the wall. 

Rusty stands just in front of you holding onto the metal bars that help keep his towering frame upright.

"There is nothing to talk about, Rusty. And you know why," you say glancing at the band on his ring finger on the hand that clings to the metal. 

He follows your eyes just as he opens his mouth, about to speak, but he doesn't. He just sighs, breathe fanning lightly against your face as you watch his knuckles turn white, gripping as if the ring were making him uncomfortable. 

He doesn't have any excuse. There is no promise he can offer. He's stuck in a complicated marriage that he isn't sure he wants to end. But there is one thing he's sure of. 

"I miss you." 

His voice is low enough for you to hear over the metallic rumbling of the train. The closeness of his stance makes it impossible to avoid the pathetic gaze he casts down at you. 

His fingers graze against yours, testing your boundaries. 

"I know you miss me too."

"Oh, you do huh? How do you know that?"

"Because you haven't slapped me across the face."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?"

The corner of his mouth twitches as recollections of your intimate moments flash in his head. 

"I mean it though... I really do miss you. I don't wanna end this. Just, please. Just be with me. I want you. I need you." 

You turn your head, trying to resist his pleasing blue eyes. He takes advantage of the moment to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His finger trails down your jawline, tracing it's way until his fingers rest at your chin. 

Turning your head, he stares at your lips and grazes the pad of his thumb over them. He's still holding himself back from mauling them in a kiss because of the people around you. 

"Do you miss me too?"

The touch on your lips makes you think back to the first time he slid his thumb into your mouth. It became a natural instinct after that first time to suck his thumb into your mouth, licking and twirling your tongue around the tip. A glimpse into what you would do to his cock. 

You're not emotionally attached to him as he is to you, but God do you miss fucking him. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't the best fuck you've ever had. 

Lightly rocking back and forth, your lips part to welcome his touch. 

"I'll take that as a yes" he smirks. 

"Don't get cocky" you scoff half smirking back as you push his hand away when the train slows at your stop. 

The door open, cold air flooding into the trains. You step off, but notice Rusty doesn't follow you. 

"Are you coming out or what?" 

Like a lost puppy, he smiles to himself and exits the train following you all the way back to your high-rise apartment building.

With clacking heels, you walk side by side under the rumbling clouds. You weave through the crowd of people rushing to get to their destination before the start of the rain that has been rolling in and threatening to fall for the past hour. 

In contrast to the others, you and Rusty walk alongside one another with quiet smiles as your fingers twitching with anticipation and playfully grazing at your sides.

Rusty can’t help the wide grin when your fingers nestle themselves in the spaces between his, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces. The smirk and the cocked eyebrow on your face when you glance at him warn him to not ruin the moment with his emotional attachment.

Walking hand in hand, you reach your apartment building and Rusty holds the door open for you to past through first. Every step towards the elevator, your hearts race.

The undeniable tension builds with every red number above the metal doors as the elevator slowly makes its way down, counting down the seconds to the anxiously awaited private refuge from the world to do what you do best in the shadows.

Finally stepping onto the elevators, adrenaline surges through Rusty’s veins. As the doors begin to close, you smirk at him as he quickly crashes his lips against yours pinning you to the mirrored wall.

You moan welcoming his dominating tongue into your mouth, dropping your bag to let your arms wrap around his neck.

Rusty’s impatience holds your knee to his hip to greedily explore the treasured tender flesh he’s ached for that leads from your thigh to your ass.

His large hand kneads your cheek under your pleated skirt, anxiously tugging at your laced panties to prod at the growing wetness of your pussy from behind.

Rubbing your back up and down to force you close to him, you tug at his blue suit aching to tear the elegant suit right off his body. As the ravaging kiss continues with labored breaths and hungry moans, you pull the dark blue tie out of its neat confines of his waistcoat, forcing his tall frame to tower over you.

Your hand, with a mind of its own, slithers down to his hardened and clothed cock while the other tightens its grip on the tie. The silk fabric constricts around his neck as you grin darkly at him, taking in the beautiful disheveled effect his addiction of you has on his perfectly neat and sharp appearance.

Pulling his neatly tucked in shirt out of his pants, you replace it with a hand, palming his hard cock as you squeeze his balls just tight enough to remind him you're the only one that knows how to toy with them just the way he likes it. 

"You missed having me play with these, huh?" 

He nods as he groans at the welcomed pain, jaw clenching from the constricted blood pressure caused by the tie which has his dick poking at your abdomen.

"Use your words, Rusty." 

"Y-yes. Yes, I fucking missed it so much" he grunts out staring at your swollen lips.

With a satisfied grin, you let his tie go just as the elevator conveniently dings to announce the arrival to your floor. You place a gentle kiss to his panting lips and push him off to grab the dropped leather bag and strut towards your door.

The dull afternoon drizzle patters against the panoramic glassed walls of your living room. It’s all just as he remembers. So familiar like he knows every nook and cranny just as well as he knows your body, like a map to the ultimate high he can never stop chasing.

Holding himself from pouncing on you like an animal in heat, he shifts his weight from one foot to another as you calmly set your bag and keys on the console by the door. You make him wait as you both shed the heavy coats from your bodies and hang them on the wall.

Rusty makes a point to stand right behind you as your hands meet on the coat hangers nailed to the wall. You can feel his cock pressing into your ass as his other hand pulls your hips to push your ass against him, desperate for friction.

Turning your head, you let his lips find their way to yours. Your hand, resting over his hand, guides his palm to your breast. He instinctively kneads at it with both hands.

You moan threading your faces into his neatly styled hair to make a mess of it as you grip and pull at it, forcing him off of you in your cruel dance of catch and release.

With a snickering smirk, he moves to kiss and nibble the sensitive spot on your neck he knows weakens not only your knees but your defenses as well.

Your head lulls back against his shoulder, inviting him closer as his hands don’t bother to undo the buttons of your blouse. He tears it open to reveal the beautiful sight of your round breasts perfectly hugged by your lacy black bra.

His eyes trail down your chest and narrows at your breasts as he quickly slides the blouse to the floor.  With his teeth scraping at your shoulder, eager to taste your sweet flesh, he haphazardly pushes the skirt down your thighs so you wiggle your legs to let it pool around your ankles.

Keeping your pumps on, you take him by his tie and lead him down the hallway towards your living room. He watches your hips sway left and right, ass bouncing with every step.

You smirk up at him as you sit and cross your legs on the luxurious velvet couch that cost you hundreds and a couple extra to get it up to your high-rise apartment.

He’s always admired that about you. The powerful position at work, the financial independence, the freedom to dominate and possess whatever you wish like a goddess beckoning only the best.

“Undress for me.”

Cocking his head up with a sly grin, his cheeks blush a little as his eyes stay locked on you. The dull light of the cloudy sky behind you pour over him like a spotlight to your own private show.

He starts with his tie, undoing the knot that holds it around his neck. His eyes shift to your legs as they uncross.

As Rusty’s tie slips from one hand to the ground, the other begins to unbutton the dark blue waistcoat that fits him so perfectly.

His gaze follows your hands, watching them as you slide your lacy panties and bra off. You lean back against the cushions as your legs part, provoking him like dangling a juicy raw steak before a wolf.

His smile drops along with his waistcoat as he stares hungrily at your pussy, watching your hand slither between your thighs to stroke your fingers up and down the plushy folds he can’t wait to kiss.

Rusty tenses with desire and lust and takes a step towards you, but your high-heel foot stops him with its sole to his abdomen, leaving a dirty print against the light button-up shirt.

“I want it all off. Slowly. Don’t wanna ruin such a nice shirt, do you?” you smile evilly.

He sighs impatiently with flaring nostrils, lips pressed into a straight line. He can’t simply not obey you; he can’t break the spell you have over him no matter how desperately he craves you.

His long fingers work each button open, parting the shirt and tossing it aside to God knows where.

You giggle at how his hair stands when his undershirt slides over his head, making him blush as he shakes his head in playful disbelief while he unbuckles his pants.

Eyes quickly shooting to the outline in his briefs, you lick your lips as you continue circling your clit.

“Fucking…” he groans licking his lips as he watches your lips being tenderly pulled at by your fingers.

“You want this, hm?”

“So fucking badly,” he answers as he bends over to slide the blacks briefs off his feet.

As his cock springs free, his hand quickly wraps around to give a couple of necessary tugs.

“No touching. That’s my job.”

You smirk gesturing him to come closer with your finger in a come-hither motion. He smiles taking a step closer as you kneel before him.

Placing sweet kisses, you pepper them up each of his muscular thighs. Your soft hands take the time to stroke them up and down, altering between rubs and gently squeezes. Rusty melts at your gentle care and lets his head fall back when you finally lick a slow line up the underside of his cock.

Reaching the tip, he hangs his head forward to watch your tongue swirl around his domed head, spit dribbling past your plump lips to mingle his leaking pre-cum.

He groans and praises you as his hands gently gather your hair to hold it back for you while your head bobbles on his dick, taking him so easily down your throat.

“Make it disappear huh?” he smiles impressed. Your blowjob skills never cease to surprise him.

You wink up at him and hum, the vibrations of your throat providing a delicious but small touch to heighten his senses.

Rusty watches as you release him with a pop, admiring your smirk as you move lower to take his left ball in your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue licks circles on the sensitive skin.

You chuckle watching him struggle to contain himself as you release him to tease the other side of his sac.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me” he mumbles struggling to stand.

Your mouth alters from side to side while your hand firmly strokes his heavy cock. Taking one ball back in to your mouth, your lips press into him applying more and more pressure until he’s a withering mess, politely and excessively begging to fuck your mouth.

You’re nice enough to let him have some relief from the pleasure-inducing pain by sucking his dick again, this time, with a quicker pace.

You smirk as you pull your head off sooner than he wants just to torture him. Your mouth lowers again and you take other side of his balls into your mouth to repeat the torture by squeezing your lips around him, slowly adding more and more pressure until he’s trembling like a left and whimpering.

“Good boy. You took that well. Want a treat?”

“God, y-yes. Please!” he answers with a shaky voice, releasing your hair.

Standing on your feet, you order him to kneel. He obeys stroking his cock as he stands on his knees, gazing at you like a hopeless puppy waiting for further instructions.

With your hand under his jaw, you let him kiss you hungrily as he tastes his saltiness on your lips whispering how good he is for you.

He nods and smiles pathetically proud of receiving your praise.

“You like my Louboutins? They’re brand new.”

His drop to your perfectly arched feet.

“They’re so beautiful, baby. Just like you. Make you look so sexy.”

“I think so too… Kiss them” you smile darkly.

Rusty wastes no time in questioning your command. He lowers himself on his hands and knees to pepper sweet little kisses over the shiny black material of your high heels.

“So good for me, aren’t you? So obedient. So pathetic” you affirm as you sit down on the edge of the couch.

“Higher now…” he trails his kisses toward your calf anxiously grazing his teeth against your skin as he glances at the goal that sits wet between your legs.

“The other one now” you order and he obeys. He always obeys.

“Higher” you smirk allowing him to reach your thighs.

His strokes become faster as your pussy meets him at eye level, so you demand that he stops touching himself.

When he finally reaches your pussy, he groans eagerly burying his face into the soaked lips. He laps hungrily at them like he hasn’t been fed in months. His warm breath fans over your mound as his nose roughly pokes and rubs at your clit.

Your back arches in response as your hands tug at his hair. Your legs spread in the air and bend when his hands push on the back of your knees to hold you parted and exposed, making more room for himself.

The Louboutins slip off your feet as your toes curl in them and drop to the floor with a thud. Slurping and moaning, he sucks at your clit and licks his tongue around your entrance, delving into your hole to lap at the delicious sweet and salty juice that drips from inside, like licking nectar from a fruit.  

He takes his fingers to glide them up to your clit and roughly rubs them side to side over the delicate nub. You gasp and pant for air, balling your fists into the couch as you repeat his name like you’re speaking in tongues.

Gathering your slick, he slides his index and middle finger into your pussy and strokes at your spongy walls. He pushes them in and out of you slowly at first, tongue working your clit to keep your engine revving.

His fingers bury themselves to the knuckles as he strokes that one little spot that has you coming undone.

“Right there! Don’t stop!”

Obeying your command, he doesn’t stop until you finally cum on his mouth and hand, grinding against him to ease yourself down from your high.

Finally satisfied, you smirk as you pull at his hair to lift his head and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his mouth. His wet fingers press against your cheek as he holds your chin in his large hand, hungrily devouring you.

Standing in front of him, his cheek presses against your abdomen with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as your bare foot rubs against his hard cock. He knows what’s coming and he’s bracing himself for it, unable to contain his excitement as he holds his cock against his abs. He moans as the dorsal of your foot caresses his balls, tapping against them repeatedly.

“You ready for it?” he nods excitedly looking up at you as your fingers comb through his hair.

With a shift kick to his balls, he groans and hisses from the pain cursing at how good it feels. His broad shoulders twitch and wither as he curls over and regains himself, while your foot rubs gently against his cock to soothe his pain.

“Such a cute boy for me. You took it so good, baby. Think you handle another, hm? Just a couple more and I’ll let you fuck me. Three, and I’ll let you cum in me too.” 

You smirk evilly as you wind your foot back for another kick. His groans echo throughout your apartment. The pain from your kick has his chest heaving madly like he's just run ten miles. His hands squeeze the back of your thighs as he curls over, resisting the urge to cum on your floor. 

With his nose nudging at your mound, taking in your sweet addictive scent, he places kisses over gratitude on your pussy, thanking you for making him feel so good. You chuckle at his pathetic whimpers, hugging his head against your crotch. 

The third kick lands again and he yelps through gritted teeth as he violently strokes his cock. 

"Don't cum just yet. Just one more and you can do it inside me. Don't you want that?"

"God, baby, I want it so fucking bad. Can't wait to get my cock in ya" he whimpers. 

Panting and trembling, he braces for the last kick. slightly stronger than the others, he keels over with a hand on the floor as he snivels, eyes brimming with tears of the pleasure that burns through him. 

You bend down to rub his back and ask if he's ok and if he wants to stop. 

"Fuck, no" he mumbles lifting his head to capture you in a fervent kiss. 

Letting him dominate you to have his way, since he's earned it. he pushes you back onto your living room rug. Rusty aligns his aching cock with your holes and pushes it inside you, filling and stretching you with that deep burn that you've missed so dearly. 

His thrusts are hard but slow at first, craving to feel every ridge of your welcoming walls.

With his hand on the back of your head, he blankets you with his large silhouette and fucks you slowly.

He's missed this so much. The hug of your drenched pussy, the arousing soreness on his balls, the teeth bumping kisses, the echoing wet slaps and the vulnerability you can only share with each other.

He wishes he could stay with you. He wishes he could make every second last forever as if your pussy could make time stop.  

[hazbinshusk]

Your tags now have me thinking about Reader walking in on Husk masturbating, VERY obviously to them, maybe he's moaning their name or maybe he's huffing a piece of their clothing... gross old man~

Can he stop himself, or is he too close to climax to give up now, despite knowing his crush is staring right at him...?

I've finally finished this piece born of my obsessing over this piece by @irkimatsu, so please show it some love too. I definitely didn't do it justice, but hey, here's some husk love anyway :)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you reach the door to Husk’s room, and you open a text from Angel. He’s responding to a question you swore you’d sent him less than thirty seconds ago – you swear, that man has had his phone surgically grafted to his hand.

tf would I have ur pillow for?

You roll your eyes at the little laughing emoji he’s punctuated the message with. You’d left one of your pillows in the newly built hotel’s media room during Charlie’s last movie night. The event had been painfully heavy on insipid musical numbers and pastel unicorns, but thanks to the drinks you’d shared with Husk and the spider you’d managed to last through the entire event. Your number one suspect for the missing pillow had been Niffty on a cleaning spree, but when that had come up as a negative, you’d decided to widen the search.

You were still looking at your phone when you opened the door in front of you and stepped into the room. “Hey, Husk, have you seen my—”

You come to a standstill as your eyes lift from your phone, heat flooding through your entire body.

Husk is on all fours on his bed, fur mussed more than you’ve ever seen and his wings quivering so much that a few feathers fall free even as you stand there. One of his suspenders are falling from his shoulder to hang pointlessly against his arm and his eyes… his eyes are half-lidded and glazed over even as they register his surprise at your sudden appearance.

But what males you freeze in place is the way his hips are rocking forward needily into the pillow squeezed between his thighs.

Your pillow.

“Husk…”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes the words out, his voice rough and hoarse and broken. His face is flushing a deep red under his fur, his ears tucked back against his skull even as you watch his hips still snap forwards against the soft cotton. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue and he groans, his head falling forward.

Husk’s pants are unfastened, the one suspender still in place the only thing stopping them from slipping down off of his hips to bunch around his thighs. Even still, you can see the firm, thick base of his cock each time his hips pull back before he buries it in the pillow again, and even as he apologizes again you can see his claws tighten in the sheets so hard that the threads pop. His breath leaves him a shuddering exhale, his eyes rising to watch you from under his brows, his vision glazed and almost… hungry.

The heat inside you flares in your face and in your gut, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him any more than he can look away from you. Husk’s eyes are glued to your face, his lips parted as every other breath leaves him what could be moan, a desperate murmur of your name.

“Fuck,” he groans the word, the rhythm of his hips quickening helplessly. His breathing is labored, his mouth hanging open in an almost punch-drunk grimace as he whines, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the way you’re pressing your thighs together, the way your hands squeeze at your sides against the urges you can’t even acknowledge right now because Husk is desperate and you realize suddenly what he needs.

“It’s okay, Husk.” you tell him, your voice shaking ever so slightly on his name. “You can cum for me.”

He curses again, his whole body rutting forward before he shudders, his body quaking as his orgasm finally peaks. He moans what you think is a ‘thank you’ as he does, his forehead pressing into the mattress as his shoulders shake with the sensations rolling through him.

He’s beautiful.

[dontcallpanic]

Gorgeous @gege-wondering-around tagged me to do the Several Sentence Sunday again becuase you are both incredibly kind and clearly a glutton for punishment (I hope it's okay for you, thank you SO MUCH for taking interest in this daft drabble!) And so, because it's wednesday and days have no meaning in tumblrverse, lets do this!

_______________

Silence falls so suddenly Stiles can hear it ringing.

The reply is too low for him to make out but it sounds more animal than human.

Stiles can’t take it any more. Skin crawling with the flood of adrenalin, he leaps forwards, curls his fingers around the door, and yanks it open.

He stumbles into the lobby, newspaper raised threateningly, in time to see a tall shadow disappearing up the stairs. Above him, the central lobby light flickers fitfully. He spins to see Laura staring furiously after the figure, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

Her… red… eyes?

Holy fucking shit.

Stiles blinks rapidly, physically stepping back. His heart kicks up a frenzied tap-dance in his chest but when he looks again, Laura’s eyes are a lovely, deep chestnut. A trick of the light…

Just a trick of the flickering light.

Fuck. Last night must have affected him more than he thought.

“Stiles?” Laura is staring at him. Her eyes are still shining, overbright and wide with surprise and suppressed tears, but completely, definitely brown.

“I er…” He’s lost for words. His brain struggling to process. He can almost feel it grinding in an effort to get back up and running again. “Sorry – I heard shouting,” he says lamely, waiving the newspaper for emphasis.

He watches closely, still shaken, as Laura visibly pulls herself together, striking a dismissive hand across her eyes and nodding towards his weapon of choice.

“So you thought you’d come to my rescue with… a newspaper?” There’s no heat in her words, if anything she sounds defeated.

Stiles clears his throat. “Well you know… paper beats rock… deeds and words and… yeah. Look, is everything alright?”

Laura shakes her head dismissively, managing a tight, forced smile. “You know, it’s sweet of you to ask. But yes, thank you. Everything is fine.”

Which, of course, means nothing is fine. But he can’t exactly ask her about it. He hardly knows her. He’s met her once, prevented a homicide and now he’s overheard her having a domestic about… burying people?

Stiles nods awkwardly. Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool…

The space stretches between them, taut with awkwardness. What the hell do you even say to that? Who was going to get themselves killed? Why? What for? When? Laura buried someone… implied multiple someones?

Oh god! She’s still looking at him.

This is unbearable.

Say something!

Say… Anything!

“- Did you know ketchup was originally medicine?

_________

So many people have been tagged already but if you've got something you want to share, please, please, please share it! If you've got it, I'd love to read it!

(And to anyone actually reading this - Thanks so much <3 I hope nice things come your way!)

[55sturn]

✮ BEEN AWAY

pairing: chris sturniolo × female!reader

synopsis: in which y/n grows tired of chris constantly being whisked away on business trips and taken to fancy parties every weekend, she knows it’s part of the job but it’s taking a heavy toll on their relationship and she can’t take anymore.

warnings: swearing, chris is stressed and kind of a dick, mentions of parties, implied sex, i lowkey shit on laura in this sorry not sorry, angst angst angst, oh and more angst!

important notes pt 2: purple text blocks are the lyrics that each part are based off of. during the text section, orange text is chris, and pink text is the reader!

THIRD PERSON POV

“I KNOW I BEEN AWAY, I’M JUST TRYNA GET MY PAPER STRAIGHT GIRL.”

chris sighed as his phone pinged with another text from his girlfriend, with every imessage ping, his heart clenched tighter in his chest.

his trips, more so the business trips that laura and the rest of the triplets’ networking and public relations team were taking them on had begun to cause a massive strain on his relationship with y/n.

he would bring her along when he could but laura, his manager was adamant that these trips were meant for the triplets to build their network, so that their brands, the collective one all three shared and their own personal brands could grow and flourish. laura felt that the triplets’ personal relationships had no place in their professional lives and often made a point to exclude their significant others and relationships when planning their trips and events.

so when a trip or event was labelled as something to do with networking, it meant that y/n couldn’t tag along. and most of the time, at these events, the triplets were meant to paint their faces with effortlessly charming smiles and flirt with anyone they could, to gain a good rep.

and while y/n know what those networking trips and events entailed, her knowledge didn’t ease the loneliness and heartache she felt when she’d open up her phone to see backstage footage of the events. her heart would drop as girls would attach themselves to chris, flirting and hanging onto his every word, watching as he’d give the same flirty smile back to them.

y/n sighed tapping cautiously through private snap stories of some influencer party that was taking place, all of the most popular influencers making an appearance and posting about it, per their managers’ requests. as she paused in the middle of larray’s story, she saw chris in the corner, clear as day, talking to some pretty little blonde thing whose hand was on his bicep. rolling her eyes, she opened her texts with her boyfriend.

START OF TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

Y/N: when are you coming home? i’m tired and i can’t sleep without you

Y/N: chris???

CHRIS: i know i’ve been gone a while ma

CHRIS: i’ll be home soon, just gotta make a couple more rounds and reach out to ppl and offer to collab

Y/N: you say that every time chris

Y/N: and then you don’t come home until 3 or 4

Y/N: i’m sick of it chris i’m done

CHRIS: come on ma you don’t mean that

Y/N: whatever just be quiet when you get home i’m sleeping on the couch

CHRIS: ma come on, i’ll be home soon

*read 12:31 AM*

END OF TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

“THEY JUST WANNA FUCK WITH YOU, CAUSE THEY KNOW I FUCK WITH YOU.”

chris sighed as countless articles flood his screen, random female influencers claiming to be in some sort of lowkey relationship with him, random male influencers trying to get at his girl.

he knew it was only because he had finally announced that he and y/n were together. she had her own fanbase prior to be connected to the triplets and it only grew, but the growth came with overly possessive and protective supporters. and it became like that for chris as well. in theory the over and slightly intense protectiveness was endearing, to an extent.

but the fans created these rumours and let them swirl as a way to try and debunk the announcement of chris and y/n’s relationship, almost as if their respective fans were gatekeeping the two.

“do we say something? should we say something?” y/n mumbled, her face tucked into chris’ chest as they talked about the things metaphorically floating around online.

“no.”

“why not?” y/n piped up, her tone almost defensive and accusatory as she pulled away from his chest, her eyes boring into his.

“they’re only doing it because it’s confirmed that we’re fucking with each other. they wanna mess with us, get under our skin, and cause a rift so that we break up so they can try and swoop in. it’s better to pay those rumours no mind.” chris spoke, his hand rubbing up and down her thigh, squeezing lovingly as his hand reached her hip, letting her know that it was okay.

y/n sat up for a moment, letting his words sink in before nodding and laying back down in her previous position, knowing that she had to trust chris.

“IF I PUT MY TRUST IN YOU, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? WOULD YOU JUST STEP OUT? WOULD YOU THUG IT OUT?”

“i need you to trust me y/n! can you do that? can you please just trust me or do you want out of this relationship?” chris yelled, pacing his room as yet another fight broke out between the couple, rumours of chris cheating had been rampant for the last few weeks and it was getting harder for y/n to decipher what was true and what was false.

“i don’t know chris! every day it’s something new about you and some other chick and it’s getting to me! it’s hard to see what’s fake and what’s real right now when the whole online world is against us being together!”

“why are you paying attention to what’s being said online when i am right here telling you myself what’s true and what’s fake?” he yelled back, running his hands through his hair as she cried on his bed.

“chris you literally have to flirt with girls at those parties, what’s stopping it from becoming something real?”

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that i’m with you and not them?”

“chris we met just like that, at some stupid fucking social media party!” she spat, climbing off his bed and grabbing her jacket as he scoffed.

“so you think that just because you and i met that way, it means that i’ll throw away a relationship that means the world to me?” he seethed, laughing dryly as she rolled her eyes.

“no i think that you’ll throw it away because it doesn’t actually mean the world to you.”

“the fuck does that mean, y/n?”

“actions speak louder than words, chris, and you haven’t done a whole lot to show me what i mean to you.” she whispered, grabbing the rest of her things that had been scattered around his room as he shook his head.

“where are you going?”

“i need some space to think chris, we’re not over, but i need to spend a couple nights alone at my place, to calm down and collect myself. you should do the same.” she spoke, her voice small and uneven as she quickly made her exit, leaving chris to think to himself as he flopped down against his mattress.

“DON’T GIVE MY SHIT AWAY, I’M JUST TRYNA GET MY PAPER STRAIGHT, GIRL.”

“c’mon y/n, can’t you just store it somewhere?” chris groaned, trying to focus on the email he was typing up while on facetime with his now ex-girlfriend, y/n who sat on the floor in her apartment, going through a pile of chris’ clothes and other shit that she had rounded up.

“chris i don’t want your shit in my apartment, it hurts to look at it.”

“well whose fault is that?”

“i couldn’t handle it chris, you know that.”

“i know ma, i’m sorry, i’m just stressed and trying to get this email to some fuckin’ company out and i-i can’t do it while you’re sitting on call trying to hide your tears while you’re going through my shit because i prioritized my job over our relationship.” chris whispered, his voice cracked slightly as he looked back at her, watching as she wiped her tears.

“it just hurts so much chris, we should’ve been able to make it through. our love should’ve been strong enough.”

“it’ll be strong enough one day, i just gotta-“

“get through this part of your job, i know chris.”

“so please don’t give away my shit. just store it somewhere until you and i can make it through, okay?”

“okay.”

“THIS PENTHOUSE VIEW AIN’T AS BEAUTIFUL AS YOU. DON’T EVER HAVE TIME, BUT I CAN MAKE TIME FOR YOU.”

chris anxiously bounced his leg as he waited for y/n to arrive, he had flown her out to the city he was in for work, and as timid as she was about showing up, she pushed herself to go. she missed him, his smell, his smile, his touch. god missed his hands in hers as they tangled themselves up in the sheets. so instead of being stubborn, she boarded that plane and made her way to chicago.

she stood outside the penthouse hotel room that chris and matt had booked, she felt her stomach turn, she was going to see him again, and god she needed this. with a raised but shaky fist, she rapped her knuckles against the door.

chris and y/n had spent a few hours exploring the city, visiting all the touristy spots that she had been dreaming of seeing for years. once they got back, they both took a hot, steamy shower, and spent their time reminding each other how much they loved one another.

“the view is gorgeous.” y/n whispered, her hair and face tucked into one of chris’ hoodies over a pair of lace panties that left little to the imagination as chris’ arms were wrapped around her waist with his chin tucked into the space between her jaw and shoulder.

“so i talked to laura, told her that i’ll be booking my own networking appointments and trips from now on, i’ll run them by her of course but i told her i’m making my schedule now. and that you’ll be my plus one to every single event, on every trip. you’ll be a part of everything.”

“chris, what?”

“i don’t have much time myself but i made a promise to you and to myself while you were in the flight here, that i will be making time for you. you come before my job from now on.”

“is that why you flew me out here?”

“yeah. you’re my girl and you deserve my time and attention. i’m so sorry i ever made you feel like you didn’t. i love you, ma. you’re more important than flashy trips and parties.”

“i love you chris.” y/n cried, as she turned in his arms and pressing affirm but loving kiss to his lips.

“i got my paper straight ma, it’s our time now.”

taglist: @dylsdunbar @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @verosivy

© 55STURN 2023 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[nexysworld]

Hello!

I hope it’s ok for me to request this (and sorry if my English is not well)😭👉👈

Can I request for Leon and his girlfriend/wife being on a mission together (maybe during re4r, vendetta or re6) and during the mission reader finds out she’s pregnant with Leon’s kid. She’s maybe reluctant on telling him because it might jeopardize the mission or put more weight on Leon’s shoulders, but eventually tells him.

Leon is truly over the moon with the news but at the same time worried since they’re on the mission and was about to call Hunnigan to get her to safety. but girlfriend/wife refuses to abort the mission and leave Leon.

the angst and overprotective and soon to be father leon >u< pls

Thanks so much for the request! The plot for this one actually got away from me more than expected so it's not quite as angsty as I had planned. I had most of it written already so I didn't want to scrap it tho. I hope you like it anyway - I might just redo this one in the future because I like the prompt so much and think I could do it more justice - especially expanding more on Leon's internal feelings. ~ Expectations to Keep Going ~ Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Masterlist Pairing: Fem!Reader x Vendetta!Leon Tags: Fluff, Angst, Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy Word Count: 2.2k

You paced back and forth in the living room of your once-shared apartment. 60 seconds felt like 60 minutes as you watched the timer slowing ticking down, heart racing. With a shaky hand you picked up the stick and to your dismay saw the little + indicating it was positive. “For fuck’s sake, this can’t be happening right now.” Ever have one of those moments where you say ‘at least it can’t get worse.’ Well, this was the universe’s way of reminding you that things can always get worse. 

Leon had walked out on you. He didn’t explicitly say the relationship was over, but he didn’t really need to. He’d shown up drunk, shoving everything he owned into a suitcase, and disappeared on what he called his ‘vacation.’ Except that vacation had lasted weeks now, with not so much as a phone call home. When you attempted to contact him, same thing, radio silence.

You tried remaining calm, knowing what had happened on his most recent mission. You just told yourself he needed time, but with each passing week the feeling that things were over kept washing over you. 

You weren’t one to wallow, freak out, or really deal with your feelings in general. So you did the only thing you knew to cope, you threw yourself into work. Mission after mission, clearing them as fast as you could – that was until weird stuff began happening. Fatigue was the first thing you noticed. You were always tired no matter how much sleep you got. Then came the nausea. Your skin had even begun to break out, your breasts were sore. It was like PMS cranked up to the max – except no period. That in of itself hadn’t been alarming since you didn’t really get one on birth control, the other symptoms though? They had freaked you out, leading you to this moment right now, standing alone in your apartment, positive pregnancy test in hand. 

“I can’t deal with this.” You said to yourself, slumping back onto the couch. Luckily for you, your phone rang. “Redfield? Yeah…yeah…No, I don’t know where he is…yeah, I can help.” 

A mission. Relief flooded through you. Was it a good idea to accept it considering your current condition? Probably not. But a mission would make a great distraction right about now. Besides, with enough willpower, you were sure you could overcome any symptoms for at least a few days, especially if the fate of the world was at stake, right?

That’s the plan. Save the world again and afterward, you’d figure out what to do. 

Your heart stopped when you saw him at the table chugging down another glass of alcohol. He didn’t look great, and he didn’t look happy to see you or the two companions who’d followed. His normally clean-shaven face was now scruffy, the bags under his eyes intensifying the steely blue even more - his hair was dark and greasy. This wasn’t your Leon. You would’ve been happier to not have seen him like this, but Chris and Rebecca insisted on locating him. “Cancel that!” Chris shouted when Leon attempted to order another glass. Leon instantly pulled out a flask from his back pocket with a smirk – of course, he had a backup. It honestly would’ve been funny and so very Leon if the context of the situation didn’t have you feeling so awful. Leon hadn’t acknowledged you once, and you hadn’t tried to speak. What could you possibly say? Now wasn’t the time to talk about your broken relationship or the other elephant in the room - he looked so broken down. “I never plan that far ahead anymore.” He slurred to Chris. “There’s no point. There’s always some new bad guy to fight. My life is just a vicious loop. So what’s the point in thinking about the future?”

Ouch .

Those words definitely stung, adding to the growing barrier between the two of you. Now a new worry bubbled in you that if you did tell him, it would be too much. That would be the thing that sent him spiraling over the edge he was already teetering - you couldn’t do that. Not to him, not to yourself. No. This was something you would need to deal with alone . 

This was a mission. You were a professional. That’s all that mattered right now – let everything else go. Following through on that was hard. Much harder than expected, especially now that you’d found yourself alone with Leon, separated from Chris, and Rebecca abducted.

Nausea had come back in full force, this was the third time you found yourself making him stop his bike so you could lurch behind a dumpster to spill stomach acid and spit. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine.” You assured standing up. You knew he wasn’t buying it, even a half-sober Leon still remained a great agent, sharp as ever. Moodier than usual - even if you hardly spoke. Slower than usual - almost getting mowed down by the Gatling gun in the hotel. You almost never got sick - now you’d spilled your guts several times. Something was definitely up, and he didn’t need to accuse you for you to see the suspicion on his face. Not to mention how he’d been hovering over you like an overprotective guard dog ever since the attack at the hotel.

Guilt. Guilt is what you felt when he looked at you. He was worried about you and you had the truth of what was wrong kept caged behind closed lips. You took in a few deep breaths to help ease your sour stomach - it doesn’t work and you’re in tears now as more gagged coughs are ripped from your throat. A comforting hand rubs your back as a bottle of water is placed in front of you, not bothering to question where he’d gotten it. Greedily you downed the entire thing, using the last sip to swish the terrible flavor from your mouth. “Were you bitten?” 

You shot him a glance of horror. “No! Of course not.” “Then tell me what’s really going on.” “I’m fine.” “You’re obviously not fine.” “Well of course I’m not fine. I’m stuck alone on a mission with the guy who walked out on me after 10 years together. Now can we go?” You don’t know why you said that, your mood just kept ping-ponging through different emotions. You guessed this time it just landed on anger. When his hand was on your back you wanted to cry from the comforting touch, but now that you had to stand and look at his face you were annoyed. This wasn’t the time or place. You knew that, you’d reminded yourself of it several times, and yet emotions were getting the better of you. Damn these stupid hormones. His brows came together in thought and confusion, you really weren’t acting like yourself. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” He finally responded. “I know. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have – “ “No, I deserved that. I’m surprised you didn’t come into the hotel swinging, honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed you. It was shitty how I left.” It wasn’t an apology, but the acknowledgment definitely helped a little. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a while. Leon had radioed Chris for a status report, his team had breached the building and were on a steady path of clearing out the enemy. It bought you and Leon a little more time to continue your awkward stand-off. He brought his gaze to meet yours again. “Look, I know I don’t deserve to know what’s going on with you. I get it. But at least for the sake of the mission, tell me what’s wrong physically. If we need a medic–” “I’m pregnant.” You didn’t know what possessed you to say it after you’d spent the entire time telling yourself that you couldn’t - no - shouldn’t. It was probably the fact you couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you anymore. But there it was, the truth slipped right out.

“What.” “I’m pregnant.” “I don’t understand.” You’d never seen such a stupefied look on him before. It was like you had just spoken in tongues, for some reason that irritated you. You finally confess your big secret in the middle of a super important mission, and that’s all he had to say? “What don’t you understand? I’m pregnant and it’s yours. You got me pregnant. I am pregnant with your baby. You put your –” You were cut off by your own crying, feeling every emotion simultaneously, the tears continued to spill against your will. Damn. Damn. DAMN these stupid hormones. 

“Ok. Ok. I get it, calm down.” He put his hands out defensively as he walked towards you, caging you against the wall. “I can’t!” You shouted. Leon pressed your foreheads together, snaking his arms behind you into a hug. He didn’t say anything, just held you tightly for a few moments letting you sob it out. Once the waterfall of tears was reduced to some hiccups and sniffling, he began to rub soothing circles into your lower back. You dared to glance up at him through wet lashes, there was an unmistakable smile plastered to his face. “It would be just like you to distract yourself from huge news with work. But you shouldn’t be here if you’re pregnant. Let me call Hunnigan, we can have a ‘copter sent in to pick you up.” “No!” You brought your hands up to push him away from you, shaking your head. “No, I am not abandoning this mission. Chris needed my help to unlock the building’s computer systems so they can collect the virus’ information. I’m not going anywhere - wait - why are you smiling like that?” His gleeful look didn’t waver. “Sweetheart…you’re asking me why I’m smiling? Obviously, because I’m happy.” “What?” “I’m happy? You told me I’m going to be a father. There’s going to be a little ankle-biting Kennedy running around. I’m happy! Not quite as happy you knew and came here anyway. I guess that’s my own fault though.” “I don’t understand. You left me. You literally said there was no point in planning for a future.” It was your turn to look absolutely stunned, it was so far from the reaction you had expected it almost gave you whiplash. He reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it assuringly. “Yeah, I was wallowing in some deep self-pity. But seeing you almost get killed in the hotel was a sobering reminder of what I can’t afford to lose. Hearing that I’m going to be a father? That doubles it for me. I realized I was looking at things the wrong way. I know I’ll always be running headfirst into danger, but maybe having a future to look forward to is the motivation I need to stay alive while I do it. Wait are you seriously –oh, come on Honey don’t start crying again.” He sighed pulling you close. “I’m calling Hunnigan and getting you out of here.” “No! I have to complete the mission. Just give me a minute.” Your words lacked the bite you intended. “Look, I think I’d already flop at this whole fatherhood thing if I let the mother of my baby get hurt or killed on day 1.” Leon pressed a few soft kisses on your forehead and wet cheeks before finally connecting your lips together. He tasted like alcohol masked with mint and the short hairs on his face scratched you, but it was still comforting. “Let’s negotiate then.” You offered. “This isn’t the time for that. You’re jeopardizing the mission and you could get killed, it’s not safe.” His tone was caring, but stern now. “Look. I know it was stupid of me to take this on while pregnant. You’re right it was a distraction and I thought I could handle it better. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only one who can get into those systems.” You managed to finally get the tears to stop, rubbing your eyes dry and raw. You could see he still wasn’t fully convinced. “Leon, there isn’t going to be a future for our baby if we can’t stop this. Please.” “Fine. But only if you promise to stay on the defensive and avoid action as much as possible. Do as I tell you to and let me handle any enemies that his team may have missed.” “Come on Leon, I can handle–” “No. We do things my way or I’m calling Hunnigan and you’re leaving.” You were annoyed despite knowing he was right. You would’ve argued further but the look of worry on his face shut you up instantly. “Alright. Alright. I’ll follow your lead, promise.” 

“Good, and Baby?” “Yeah?” “No more missions for a while. Got it?” “Deal.” You shook his hand as if it were a business meeting, rewarding you with a laugh on his part. He captured you in one more quick kiss before leading you over to his bike, both steeling yourselves back into your professional personas. You hopped onto the back, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he took off in the direction of the building to get the remainder of the mission over with. 

[slutteok]

HUNGER (Choi San)

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

pairing ✭ subby!human!san x gn!vampire!reader

summary ✭ n/a

content ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 618

warnings ✭ smut, blood sucking, implied unprotected sex

tags ✭ established relationship, vampire reader x human san, unprotected sex, orgasms from blood being sucked (?),

authors note ✭ this was a comm for a friend. pls enjoy. sorry i don't have much else to add to this! <3

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

Hunger. It always struck you at the worst moments. Having to hold yourself back from your boyfriend's neck which was only centimeters away. As you bury your face into his neck, his grip around your waist tightens. You try to ignore the pain in your stomach, and the sound of his heart pumping blood through his body only fueling your desires further. You tried to focus on the pleasure, the pleasure of him stretching you, and filling you so full, you could usually forget the pangs of hunger you feel in these moments. But not this time.

You can hear his blood pumping, the rush of blood rushing through his body only heightening your senses. Your teeth ached, your body started to tremble, you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching and mixing with your hunger. You promised you wouldn’t ever feed on him, although once he told you that he wouldn’t have minded. Choi San was just kind like that. So thoughtful, he always wanted to give you everything- even if that meant his blood.

You can’t hold it back any longer. The harder San thrusted up into you, the worse it got. The familiar heat pooling in your belly, mixing with your hunger pains and the soreness of your mouth. Your mouth runs dry, it’s hard for any noises to come out. As your orgasm reaches it’s peak, your fangs sink into his flesh. The metallic taste and smell flood your senses, a low moan coming from your throat, against his skin.

San’s eyes widen and he yelps as the sharp ice cold pain rockets through his body. He grabs your head in an attempt to pull you away, but his body melts into your touch. The ice cold feeling ran through his veins as you drank his blood. Savoring every drop you could. His body twitched under yours, his head lulling to the side, his eyes fluttering closed.

“y/n,” he moans, his hips starting to buck up into you, sloppy and uncoordinated. His pulse quickens, emptying more and more blood into your mouth as you eagerly and greedily drink the liquid. San leans into you, as his body begins to grow numb, his hips bucking up into you harder as unbearable pleasure courses through him. His name spilling out of your mouths in pathetic whimpers as he chases his release.

The feeling of his blood coursing through both of your bodies bringing you to new pleasurable heights. Your body begins to tremble again, and your hips start to roll against san’s, making more pathetic whimpers escape his body.

Right as you start to pull away, satisfied with your fill, San’s hand makes its home on the back of your head, keeping you firmly planted. You don’t protest, your eyes closing as you continue to lap at the blood that fills your mouth. His grip on you tightens, and as you do one final drink, he comes undone. You moan against him at the feeling of him releasing inside of you, your second orgasm following shortly after as you ride your high out together.

As you pull away, San gently strokes your hair, looking at you. You always worried if he’d see you differently, but it was evident in the way he still held so much love for you in his eyes that nothing had changed. His thumb passes your bottom lip, cleaning off the remaining blood for your lips before pressing a soft and tender kiss to them. You can’t help but smile as you kiss him back, cherishing the love you two share.

[http-tokki]

You're safe with me

~ levi ackerman x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: domestic levi, anxiety,nightmares, levi being a supportive bf ~ wc: 630 ~ "Sweetheart, I'm right here"

You wake with a gasp, hands clutching the sheets and eyes flying open as you are startled awake by the twisting in your gut. Levi stirs next to you, the light sleeper that he is as you jolt upright and start to pant as the anxiety starts to take hold of you.

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t move, cant breathe as you desperately try to suck more air into your body as you feel the impending doom of the world falling on your shoulders. The hand you have twisted in the sheets slides to Levi, gripping onto whatever you can find first to anchor yourself to your current reality so you don’t slip into the next.

Levi feels the sharp sting of your nails in his skin, his brain taking a second to realise what was happening before launching into action. He has seen this all before. The panic that wakes you from sleep, the dreams of him dead and gone, the ice cold fear that floods your veins as you try to reclaim your brain. He too suffers from the nightmares so he is well aware of the toll they take on your body, on your mind. Levi sits up to join you, hands sliding up to your face as he pushes the hair away from your eyes and starts to speak to you.

“Hey, you’re safe. You’re with me and I’m alive and you’re safe” his voice is thick with sleep but he needs to reassure you. “Sweetheart, I’m right here”

Tears fall from your eyes as you continue to gasp. Big heaving breaths shake your body as you start to tremble, skin cool with a layer of sweat. Levi’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him and back down the the warm sheets. His arms and legs wrap around your body, enveloping you in him as the sobs start. Short and shallow with hot tears and a running nose you cry into his chest, fingers gripping onto his sides as you wake from the dream. You don’t know if the tears are happy or pained, a mix of emotions floods through and sits heavy in your gut.

“You’re safe. Im right here.” Levi coos as his hands start to slide over your back.

“I’m sorry” you start babbling, apologises falling from your lips before you can register that you’re talking.

You don’t know what you’re apologising for. Maybe you did something in your dream and your brain was just catching up, but you needed to say those words; for him to hear them.

Levi shushes you with a gentle shh and kisses your forehead. “It’s okay baby, I’m safe and so are you. We’re both here and safe” his fingers start to card through your hair. “Nothing is wrong and everyone is okay.”

You nod at his comfort, burying further into him as you continue to cry. Moments like this were far and few between since the months of you moving in with the captain, his presence alone soothing that part of your soul that ached to know about his safety and whereabouts, but when they did happen Levi was always there. Always ready to comfort you in anyway needed. One time going as far as humming a comforting lullaby you had shared with him, but he knew the pain that came with dreams of being alone. Of having his entire world crashing down in flames and how he could do nothing but watch the fire burn into ash.

“I’m here and I love you” he whispers and kisses your sweaty forehead. “We’re alive and safe”

Levi feels you nod against his chest, tears slipping over his skin but your sobs have lessened and breathing was returning to normal.

“You’re safe with me”

A/n: I’ve been having insane anxiety when I wake up so much so that I’ve been waking up gasping and it happened again this morning so this lil idea was born. NOT PROOFREAD

[heaven4lostgirls]

reconciliation (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader, billy russo x reader implied

warnings: angst, jealousy, kind of toxic?

summary: your conversation with steve has left him reeling to try and get you back, and you've just dropped the biggest blow to his chances of trying to win you back.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i'm really sorry this took so long to get out, uni has swamped me with work but here i am ig! maybe another update will get out during the weekend? dont hold me to that tho lmao

tags: @blackhawkfanatic , @buckys-wintersoldier , @witchychanel , @nicoline1998enilocin

part 1, part 2, part 3

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after your conversation with Steve if you could even call it that. It had been a couple of weeks and surely but surely you had started warming up to him again, it started with small nods in his direction as a greeting but that soon moved into small conversations. It had been a slow and torturous process for Steve, but he knew just as well as you did that, he was nowhere near even being able to exercise the ability to complain about his situation after what he had put you through.

The real heartbreak hit him when he realised, you’d been looking for apartments and job hunting, for some reason he had assumed that although you no longer joined the avengers for meeting briefings and were off the last few missions, you were just taking a break. Evidently, he was quite wrong, you had been spending your time responding to ‘work-related’ emails regarding a company called Anvil run by Billy Russo.

Now, Steve hardly kept up with any news that was not regarding his position as Captain America and very loosely he kept up with the NFL, so he knew next to nothing about Billy Russo until he was listening to your conversation with Tony in the kitchen.

You had walked in to make your breakfast and just as Steve and you had good morning to one another, Tony strolled through the open door on the phone with Pepper, adamantly in an argument with something to do with Tony’s public appearance at some gala.

“Pep-honey-, yes I understand but-“ Tony rolls his eyes and what Pepper says next and as you make your way to give him some privacy, he holds up his hands to make you wait and as your quirk an eyebrow, you lean against the kitchen counter waiting for the conversation to end. “Fine! Whatever you want! Just please don’t seat me next to that mayor” he pauses “yes! That one! He always smells like cheese” Tony shivers and you and Steve share a quick smile of amusement before you look away with flaming cheeks.

Tony hangs up the call and looks at you with a sly smile.

“Anvil huh?” he asks as he makes his way around you and Steve to the coffee machine, with a quick good morning to Steve, he looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, come off it Stark, I put in my two week notice ages ago, knowing Friday, he probably already told you when I applied” you reply with a joking eyeroll.

An automated voice floods through the system and you nearly jump out of your skin” I would never Miss Y/L/N” you’ve still got to get used to that. 

“Anvil?” Steve questions tersely with pursed lips, you can’t tell if it’s out of anger or worry.

“Yeah! It’s a private military firm and since I used to be in the Navy, Billy reached out to me and offered me a position as his personal assistant!” you reply enthusiastically and through your excitement, you fail to notice how Steve’s face falls and Tony’s eyes light up with humour.

“Billy huh?” Steve’s strained smile makes you pause for a second before Tony snorts into his coffee and as you turn to glare at him, he shrugs innocently.

“Yes. Billy. He asked me to call him that because we’ll be working together” you reply curtly and fight the urge to lash out at Steve and let him know he has no right to be jealous because he no longer has anything remotely more than friendship connecting the both of you.

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking either” Tony remarks and yelps as you swiftly throw one of the knives near you towards the cupboards right next to his head.

You shake your head and move to leave the kitchen before you turn around to the both of them and remark “I shall now be going to set up a meeting time with my boss if that’s okay with you two idiots?” you smile sarcastically, and Tony just waves you off.

Steve frowns as he watches you leave with an ugly feeling of jealousy bubbling underneath his skin, he glares at the counter in front of him before his anger is interrupted by Tony’s voice floating through the silent room.

“You know, you were her boss once” he remarks, after he had comforted you as you sobbed in his arms, he had been particularly harsh and unwelcoming to Steve even though you had spoken to him about Steve trying to work whatever your relationship with him was.

“I’m aware” Steve responds as he grits his teeth whilst fighting the urge to break the granite counter under his fingertips. He scoots his chair out as he makes his way to ask Bucky to train with him, he’s got some anger to work out and Bucky is realistically the only person that could handle his full super soldier strength pummeling at them.

You had successfully set a meeting time to go over your contract with Billy with his current personal assistant since she’d be taking her maternity leave in the next couple of weeks.  Your mind had kept wondering to Steve’s reaction to you getting a new job, you understood his jealousy all too well since that wasn’t even the beginning of your deep-rooted jealousy and insecurities that affected you by Steve’s relationship with Sharon.

Still, you knew that it was no longer your responsibility to worry about his own emotions and how he coped with them. You no longer felt complied to comfort him whenever you saw his sorrowful longing gaze towards you whenever you walked into a room, or when hurt and pain flashes through his gaze whenever you referred to him as ‘Rogers’ in front of the others.

Meanwhile in the training room, instead of focusing on the hand-to-hand combat Steve had asked Bucky to help him with, he was basically interrogating his friend.

“What do you know about some guy called Billy Russo?” Steve panted as he tried to dodge Bucky’s jabs as he moves swiftly and quickly around the mat.

“Not much mate, just that he’s stinking rich for his age- hey! stop fucking jumping around like a goddamn bunny punk” Bucky huffs out at Steves insistent buoyancy.

“I’m just light on my feet!” Steve defends.

“Yeah, if you were on a fucking bouncy castle” Bucky rolls his eyes and winces as he doesn’t dodge Steve’s punch in time.

“Is he good looking?” Steve asks and Bucky has to pause to look at his friend with a weird expression. Steve just stands there with a serious expression and widens his eyes as if to say go on.

“Sure pal, the dude’s good looking, he was in that fuckin Forbes magazine for Millionaires under 30” Bucky says and watches as Steve loses focus, Bucky aims for his weak spot on his right shoulder and watches as his best friend collapses onto the mat, out of breath.

“What’s with all the questions punk?” Bucky frowns as he holds his hand out for Steve to take and as he pulls him up, he watches as his friend’s winces at the question.

“Y/N is going to work for him” Steve says and Bucky nods with a pitying smile on his face that Steve hates. He doesn’t want pity, he wants to fix this, except he doesn’t know how.

You’ve never looked better the past couple of weeks after yours and Steve’s separation, it’s almost as Steve was constantly sucking the life out of you and now you looked just as good as the first day, he met you.

He hates the idea of you going out into public and working under someone else just for someone to see what he once saw in you, now that he knew that you were unattainable for him at the current time but attainable for people like Billy fuckin Russo made him feel closer to possessive and feral than he’s ever felt.

“Then we’ve got work to do mate” Bucky slaps a hand on his shoulder as he maneuvers him out of, the room, chatting away about a plan to win y/n back. Steve is hardly listening and is planning to kill Billy Russo in 300 different ways before he’s even able to think about having a chance with you.

[ghostxrose]

Nicotine | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Summary ~ When you started dating Shota, you knew what you were signing up for. What you didn’t expect to happen was for everything between you both to come crumbling down, leaving you pinned beneath the rubble and Shota not even realizing it.

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW content, Inspired by Nicotine by Panic at the Disco, hurt no comfort, angst, failed relationship, past relationship neglect, cursing, break up, sad ending, use of Y/N

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, I wrote this one night when I was craving some angst, lol. I did include some of the lyrics from Nicotine, sorry if it's cringe. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the read? It is very angst forward so.. I don't know.. trigger warning..? Love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

You had shown up to his apartment not long after he called..

Again.

As soon as you were through the door, the two of you had dove right into sloppily making out and pawing off each other’s clothing..

Again.

You two had taken your heaving chests, kiss bitten lips, panted moans, and lust heated bodies straight to his bedroom without having a proper conversation beforehand..

Again!

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm taking over your mind, as Shota gives one last thrust and groans into your mouth in one last open-mouthed sloppy kiss as he cums. He stays on top of you for a moment, lazily making out with you, before he slowly pulls out and flops onto his back next to you.

As you both lay there panting and coming down from your highs you close your eyes. Shota slowly gets up, tying off the condom and heading to the bathroom to throw it away and clean himself up.

The post-orgasm clarity hits you and the feeling of disappointment fills you as you sit up. You let out a heavy sigh as you rub your hands over your still flushed face and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes scan the floor for your clothes, more negative and heavy emotions stacking themselves on top of the disappointment. Collecting your clothes from off of the floor, you start to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” Shota asks from the doorway of the bathroom, startling you a bit.

You don’t turn around to face him because you know that his face is either it’s usual tired disinterest or it’s occasional tired confusion.

“I’m getting dressed.” You state, attempting to make your tone blank and void of emotion.

“That much was obvious, (Y/N). Why are you getting dressed?” He says, his tone slightly more irritated than normal.

“This was a mistake, Shota.” You bite out, already feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

You feel the bed dip behind you and hear Shota let out an exasperated breath as he sits down heavily.

“You said that the last three times we.. did this. I don’t understand what the problem i-”

“The problem is that we are stuck in this horrible on and off situation, Shota. I.. I can’t do it anymore..” You say, cutting him off and trying so desperately to keep your tone controlled and even.

“The only reason we’re ‘on and off’ is because you thought that being with a Pro Hero who also teaches full-time would be a walk in the fucking park, (Y/N).” Shota angrily spits, both of you still sitting with your backs facing each other.

A bitter rage floods your body and you lose the will to hold back any longer, “I never thought that, Shota! I knew it would be difficult but I was ready to put in the effort required to make it fucking work! I poured so much effort int-”

“I did, t-” Shota’s raised voice cut you off but you only let him get those couple of words out before doing the same.

“In the beginning you did, yes! But where did it go, Shota?!” You yell, turning around to face him.

“(Y/N)..” He growls out but you don’t let him get any further, once again, as everything that you’ve been trying to bury bubbles out of you.

“It’s been a year since our last date! A fucking year! All we do anymore is sleep, fuck, and go to work! I can barely remember the last meal we shared together! I fucking understood what it was that I had signed up for but it got to a point where I didn’t even feel like we were in a relationship anymore!” You continue yelling, your whole body heated from anger and tears streaming down your face.

“Y- you’re.. You’re worse than nicotine, Shota! I keep telling myself ‘one more hit and then we’re through’ but I can’t fucking stay away from you! It’s like I can constantly taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you! Every single day, whether I’m with or without you, fucking hurts!” Your yells crumble into choked sobs and you bury your face into your hands.

Shota is standing across from you, the bed between you both, just staring at you in silence. His eyes are the slightest bit shiny, his face is scrunched up as if he is in pain, and it’s the most emotion that you’ve seen on his face in a year. His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out. You compose yourself enough to look up at him with a heated glare.

“Did you even love me back the same way I loved you, Shota?” You ask bitterly. You’re met with more silence and nod your head with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“We’re done for real this time, Aizawa. Don’t fucking call me again.” You spit out as you gather the rest of your stuff and make your way out of his apartment.

You sit in your car for a few minutes screaming and choking on hard sobs over the pain of your heart shattering. “This was the last fucking time!! I fucking swear it!!”  You scream at your steering wheel, praying to any and every higher power that may be out there to give you the strength to resist getting one more fucking hit.

Note ~ Someone please tell me that I am not the only one who will actively seek out angst, sometimes.. Is it healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to look for or write angst? Yes. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love! My amazing Lovelies, I love and appreciate all of you! <3

[bullet-prooflove]

The first time Jack Dayton comes without pain

Tagging: @soultrysworld @kmc1989 @livingonthehems @tess-love @mandy426

Companion piece to:

The First Time (NSFW) - Jack reveals his secret during your first time together.

The Professor (NSFW) - Jack and you share an intimate moment in your office.

Cartier - Jack tries to build some healthier habits to vent his stress.

Bali - A vacation in Bali leads Jack to make some life changes.

Jack loves the feel of your lips on his skin, the way you’re fingertips ghost over his scars as you kiss each and every one of them. He has never felt as revered for as he does in this moment with your mouth exploring every inch of him. Your tongue laps over his cock and he exhales at the sensation before his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

“I can’t come like that.” He says apologetically, his cheeks flushing at the admission.

“You don’t like it?” You ask him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

“No I do, I just…”

You understand then. Jack can’t come without pain, without the sensation of nails biting into his skin or teeth biting down on flesh. You’re the first person he’s ever revealed that secret to, the only one. You can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to have a woman on her knees, trying to race to a finish line he’s never going to get to.

“I’m defective.” He had told you after the first night you’d spent together. The two of you had been sitting in his kitchen sipping bottles of water, you were wrapped up in his robe and he was still wearing his shirt. “That’s something wrong with me, that’s why I need…”

“You’re not defective. There’s nothing wrong with needing something different.” You had said as you took up residence in his lap, your fingertips chasing along his jaw, guiding his gaze up to meet yours. “And we both know how much I like different.”

Jack thinks he falls a little bit more in love with you in that moment.  

“Let’s forget about the end game.” You tell him in the present, pumping him lightly with your hand. “Just focus on the sensation, how good it feels to have my mouth on you…”

He groans then because your lips wrap around the tip of his dick and he’s plunged straight into heaven. It’s different knowing there’s no pressure, he can actually get out of his own head, enjoy the act. His palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck as he begins to move with you, thrusting into that sweet velvet cavern.

Euphoria starts to flood his senses, it crashes through his body like a wave as you take him deeper into the confines of your mouth. It feels like he’s drowning, like every time his head breaks the surface, he’s forced under again, dragged back down into the ecstasy. It’s intense, overwhelming and entirely unexpected because Jack he’s never gotten this far before without pain, he’s never felt this damn good.

“Amélie.” He whispers and your hand seeks out his, fingers entwining and that intimacy, it anchors him. It reminds him that it’s safe to let go, there’s no expectations, now judgment, there’s just you, only you.

“Amélie.” He says again and it comes out like a choked sob because already he’s climaxing, his release spilling down your throat as every single one of this nerve endings light up like the Fourth of July.

It’s too much, far too much. It consumes Jack entirely, leaving tears smeared across his cheeks as you kiss your way back up his body.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying” He says as your fingertips chase the salt from his features.

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable.” You whisper as you cradle him close and he melts into your embrace because this is what he needs in the moment, this sense of connection. He’s never had that before you, there’s never been anyone so attuned to his psyche, his needs. “I know you’re used to being this impenetrable man but you don’t have to be like that with me. You can just be Jack.”

Just Jack, he thinks as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. He hasn’t been just Jack in a very long time.

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[prettyiwa]

Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: MLB!Miyuki Kazuya, Interpreter!Reader, Coworkers to Friends to ???, Pining, Previous alcohol consumption, Mild flirting, First kiss, Almost confessions, Slight panic, guilt, & frustration, Adult Kazuya is still awkward, Reader is a little older than Kazuya, Reader takes her job very seriously, Mixed signals at the end. Summary: When Kazuya asked his team with the NPB to be posted, he didn't think he'd end up meeting you again. When time came to choose an interpreter, he chose you without hesitation. Neither of you truly anticipated that feelings would bloom, even with the near constant proximity. Your birthday rolls around and he isn't thinking about his silly little crush until he can't stop thinking about it. Word Count: 4,590

A/N: I wanted to include the entire story for his birthday but NaNoWriMo came along and took up my attention. So I'm sharing an excerpt instead!

And thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta @tyga-lily. I'd still be floundering if not for you ♡

As soon as he steps out into the night, Kazuya’s met with a wall of humid air, thick and warm thanks to the lingering heat from the day. His clothes are already starting to stick to him as he steps further from the house and it won’t be much longer until he starts to feel beads of sweat building at the nape of his neck. When he turns to find you, his movements feel a little loose and everything seems hazy at the edges and he realizes he’s not as sober as he thought he was.

Still, he’s gotta be soberer than you, what, with the drinking games you were dragged into by your college best friend. He’s honestly lost count of how many shots he took from you throughout the night (and however many more he ended up tossing into the plant him when they became too much).

The music inside dies down a bit—probably the work of your brother, the acting adult of the evening—and he tries to listen for you, only to come up empty. No sounds of your footsteps, neither in the street nor along the staircase leading to the beach, leaving him alone with the increasingly loud beating of his heart.

It’s only been a couple of minutes. How far could you have gone? It’s not like you could’ve made it down to the shore in that time. That doesn’t stop his mind from conjuring scenarios in which you fall into the water, unable to get back up. Moving forward, he ends up tripping over that same rock he’s tripped over three times today, feeling that familiar pain shoot from his toe up his leg.

“Dammit!”

“Miyuki?”

The sound of your voice floods him with relief and he turns his head in your direction. The motion makes him dizzy for half a second. “There you are.”

You pop around the corner, confusion almost as palpable as the humidity before it makes way for your wide grin. “Are you okay? Did the rock attack you again?”

He feels a flash of minor annoyance, but he can’t ignore the way your smile pulls at his own lips. “Shut it.”

“It’s been picking on you all day.” You chuckle, coming closer, letting him see the way you bite your tongue and hold it between your teeth to keep yourself from saying much more. “Aha, sorry. I don’t get to tease you like this often.”

“Yeah, sure.” He closes the distance, grip tightening around the jacket he brought for you in case it got cool. “What are you doing around here? I thought you came outside to get some fresh air.”

“I did, but then I remembered that I left you with them and that didn’t seem like a good idea.” You both glance toward the door, lips quirking at the raucous laughter that comes from inside, almost as if to prove your point. “At the very least, you should have someone to…”

You suck air through your teeth, trying to find the words, so he tries supplying them for you.

“Should I have someone to protect me from them?” He likes the sound of your laugh, the way it bounces between you two before settling on his skin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘you should at least have someone to interpret what they’re saying,’ but sure. Protect works too.” Even when drunk, you’re thinking of him and how to include him. Even when you’re drunk, you’re thinking about working.

“You don’t need to do that. It’s your birthday celebration. You should have fun.”

“I am having fun. You’re lots of fun.”

How do you do that so easily? Heat spreads across his cheeks, settling on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck and his mouth goes dry before he runs his fingers through his hair, thinking of what to say.

“You know, you switch to English a lot when you’re drunk.”

Yep. Awesome. Awesome response, Kazuya.

He watches as the realization hits you—the way you tilt your head to the left as you’re trying to remember, the slow opening of your mouth and raising of your brows before your hand covers your mouth in surprise. “No! What? Have I really?”

A laugh escapes him at your reaction and he feels a little bad when you bury your face in your hands. It’s not often he sees you this unguarded and animated. He’s still laughing when he starts pulling at your fingers, gently prying them away from your face as you eke out an apology. He won’t admit it to you, but he enjoys witnessing these tiny mistakes from you, little hints of proof that there’s more to you than he’s yet to learn.

You once told him you’re an open book, but he’s surprised by how deep the book actually is.

“Seriously. I hardly ever hear you speak so much English unless we’re doing interviews for the media.”

“Yes, almost like that’s entirely by design or something!” Your groan turns into a laugh before you turn away from him, leaving his hand to fall away from yours. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a swim until I hit land again.”

Three steps away and his hand is wrapping around your wrist, remembering why he came out here in the first place. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you smile, pulling your arm (and him) forward. “You’re not gonna try to stop me, are you?”

“With how much you’ve had to drink tonight? You definitely need a chaperone.” You wriggle your wrist free, though you slide your hand into his, filling the spaces between his fingers with yours.

“And you wanna be my chaperone? Miyuki. Listen. You’re an absolute baseball genius but I have seen you on the sand today. I’m much better suited to be your chaperone instead.”

“Oi! It was you who assumed I was any good at soccer in the first place.” Snickering beside him, you pull toward the stairs that lead to the sand, stumbling on the first step. His left arm comes out to stabilize you and the grip of his right tightens around your fingers and all it does is make you laugh more. “Who’s tripping over their own feet now, huh?”

Your fingers squeeze his and, when he glances over, you’re sporting a wide, carefree smile, one he’s only recently started seeing more of. Warmth blossoms from where you two touch, quickly spreading from his tingling fingers up his arm, gathering in the center of his chest. It’s impossible to be around you right now.

Looking out at the beach, he finds the minuscule moonlight barely bouncing off the waves in the distance, otherwise leaving everything in the dark. Despite how clear the skies were during the day, clouds have since taken hold in the sky, making everything feel closer than it is. Despite the darkness ahead that threatens to consume everything, it’s like you provide your own source of light, just for the two of you.

All giggles and energy beside him, nearly bounding from the last step once you reach it, only stopping because you’re tethered to him. His grip on your hand loosens and he refuses to acknowledge the fuzzy feeling in his chest when you ignore his offer to let you go, keeping your hand in his. Still, you pull at him, urging him forward at your pace on the uneven terrain.

“You’re such a child,” he says.

“I’m a child? I’m older than you. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a victim of circumstance.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pull your hand from his grasp, he thinks he said something wrong, but there’s a smile on your lips as you bend down. “You? A victim? You, Miyuki Kazuya, are a great many things, but ‘victim’ isn’t one of them.”

It takes a moment too long before he registers that you’re fiddling with the fastening of your shoes.

“Oi, oi. Don’t take those off.” Looking up at him, you stick out your tongue, not ceasing your efforts to free yourself from your shoes. “You’re gonna complain about your feet being sandy when we reach those steps again.”

“Oh, boo. Let me have some fun.”

He catches himself halfway through running his fingers through his hair, smoothing the rest of it over to stop the nervous tic. “Are you gonna blame me when your feet hurt later?”

You’re silent for a bit, biting your tongue as you think before coming to a decision. “I’ll try not to.” It’s only a second or two more before you’ve successfully freed yourself from your shoes. Looking up at him, you give him a smile that means nothing good, though you wait before stepping away from your shoes. “Miyuki? You’ll let me have fun tonight, right? I hardly ever get to do stuff like this.”

Kazuya’s not sure what it is, but something about the way you ask has his heart kicking up a gear. “Agh, fine.” A false concession, but it keeps a smile on your face. “Just for tonight.”

“Good. I’ll hold my complaints till tomorrow, then!”

And you’re off, jumping up and away from your shoes with little regard for the sand you’ve inadvertently kicked everywhere. The skirt of your dress swishes as you move, catching his eye as it does. He looks away when you carelessly bend over, grabbing your shoes before starting to skip toward the shore.

“Hey! That’s not the agreement.”

“It is now,” you call, the sound of the ocean drowning out your laugh. Only once you’ve reached where the sand grows wet do you pause, looking his way. There’s still a wide smile plastered across your face and his chest grows tight as you step closer to the water.

He picks up his pace, anxiety creeping up on him at the thought of you nearing this massive, black body of water, only spiking when he hears your sharp shriek as the cold water laps at your toes. Despite the chill, you step deeper still until your feet are consistently covered.

Kicking off his shoes, he can’t keep his eyes off of you—the way your dress barely moves with the briefest breeze and the way you subtly shift your weight from one foot to the next as you try to grow accustomed to the cold that contrasts with what little warmth remains. The clouds pass, revealing more of you to him and he’s a little surprised at how much energy you still seem to have.

The sand is cool against his feet, meaning the water is that much colder, but he doesn’t particularly care about that right now. The closer he steps toward you, the less worry he feels for your safety and the more anxiety he feels for something entirely different. You shiver and he remembers the jacket in his hand, taking a moment to place it on your shoulders.

You start, almost as if you had forgotten him, but your smile suggests otherwise. He takes his place beside you, wondering how the hell you’re staying so quiet when the water is fucking freezing.

There’s a light out on the horizon, something that goes in and out with the waves, something to stare at when he becomes too aware of your presence next to him. Clouds pass over the moon again, making everything ahead go pitch black, leaving him with naught but the beating of his heart, the light in the distance, and the burning of his fingertips.

“I like it out here, you know?” Your voice is low enough that it’s almost lost among the lapping of the sea on the shore. The clouds continue to move and the moonlight comes back, letting him look at you while you continue to look ahead.

He’s struck by the memory of you two when you two first properly met. The rain that poured, driving everyone inside while you remained outside, under the cover provided by the building. The way you watched him with a curious look on your face as he tried to make himself as presentable as possible for the start of contract negotiations. The quiet ‘good morning’ and the comment about the weather just before he remembered where he knew you from.

“You like the rain, too.”

As you turn to look at him, he wonders whether you remember it, too. Despite you working with Wynd Academy for the Tokyo Senbatsu reunion, despite you again working with Tetsu during his negotiations, despite all of the little almosts that could have swayed him… He wonders whether you remember the first words you two actually exchanged with one another. The smile that shapes your lips is softer, one that, again, reminds him of when you two stood out in the rain together.

“Yeah, I do.”

The ocean captures your attention again and he enjoys the silence that falls.

“Hey, Miyuki?”

“Hn?”

“What made you choose me?”

“What?”

“When we came back from Japan. What made you stick with me as your interpreter?”

There’s a draw, an invisible pull that makes him want to look at you. When he does, you’re already watching him, head tilted, unsure of what you’re asking. Or perhaps unsure of the answer he’ll give?

“You could have chosen anyone else from the firm, but you stuck with me. I saw you looking through the portfolios.”

“Why are you asking? It’s in the past, isn’t it?”

Your gaze shifts away from him, but he has a feeling you’re not watching the waves. “I dunno. It’s something I’ve always wondered about and… never mind. It’s fine.”

He hates when you do that. “And?”

The breeze mixes with the waves as it passes, almost taking your reluctant sigh with it. “I thought I pissed you off with how demanding I was at first. I remember you looked so annoyed and I wanted to crawl into a hole.”

He snickers, trying to apply what you’ve just told him to the woman he met in Japan two years before. From the start, you needed him to be open and to communicate in a way that he couldn’t even muster in his previous relationship. More than once you reminded him of Mei and Kuramochi with how easily you caught onto his lies, even those by omission. Imagining you intimidated by him is laughable.

“Is that funny?”

“Yeah, a little.” He laughs properly when you roll your eyes and frown. “You hardly knew me but you had no problem putting me in my place. It’s funny to think that you wanted to crawl into a hole because of it.”

“Sure, sure. So? If my first impression didn’t ruin you, what made you want to keep me around?”

“That wasn’t my first impression of you.”

“Wasn’t it?” There’s this nervous edge to your voice, accompanied by the tell-tale playing with your nails.

“Did you forget? You were one of the interpreters for the Tokyo Senbatsu. You worked with the kids more, but I remember seeing you around.” You certainly got along with Mei back then. “And then you were who the Giants sent to interpret for Tetsu during his negotiations.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there for that.”

“I was there at the airport, and Tetsu told us that he wanted to hire you then, too. Why didn’t you take him up?”

Blowing air, you take to chewing the inside of your cheek and turning your face away from him.

“It wasn’t the right timing. I wasn’t going to be able to interpret for him and finish my program if he was going to San Francisco.”

“So if he went to the Dodgers like I did, would you have accepted?”

“No.” You still don’t face him, but your admission sparks a wave of fluttering in him, only heightened by the cold water at his feet.

“What made you choose me, then?”

At this, you turn, challenging him with a smirk. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His smile grows, knowing full well that you’re avoiding answering his question. “You made it very easy for me to trust you.”

Whatever you thought you were going to hear, it’s clear that wasn’t it. That challenge in your eyes fades, your smile losing its edge as it’s colored by disbelief.

“Why do you ask?”

He watches as you take that disbelief and pocket it away with something more tender, something you’re not ready to be seen just yet. When you meet his eyes again, it’s with the ghost of a smile playing at your lips. “I’ve always been curious.”

“Is that all?”

You pause, eyes flickering across his face before settling on his again. “Yep.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“At least you know when I’m not being honest,” you try, starting to step away from him with a borderline mischievous grin. “Very hard for me to lie to you.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering him, you turn forward, allowing a silence to build between you both until he can feel the nervous energy that buzzes around you. Unable to stand it, he closes that distance again, nudging your shoulder as he settles. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah, your turn. You turned down Tetsu, so what made you say yes to me?” Was it because the Dodgers are closer or because they’re the team you and your dad have followed or was it timing or…?

“I don’t know. Maybe because you would be close and the timing was right or—”

“You already admitted that proximity wouldn’t have made you say yes to Tetsu. Was it because it was me?”

“Are you kidding? If I knew it was you, I probably would’ve quit working with the league and gotten a position with the university.” Your laugh is a little self-depreciating and he doesn’t know why. “All I know is that we got the call that the Dodgers needed a Japanese interpreter and I jumped at the opportunity because it was something else to put on my portfolio. I didn’t learn they were courting you until I was already on the plane.”

“You seemed just fine when you greeted me that morning.”

“Aha, yeah. I was so nervous, it kinda just slipped out.”

“Were you really that nervous? I honestly never would have guessed.”

“Good to know. I never expected—” Catching yourself, you look at him, clearly hoping he didn’t hear that. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, you can’t just start that and then pretend like you didn’t say anything.”

“I can and I will.”

“No, for real, you can’t pretend like I didn’t hear that. Finish your thought.”

He watches as you try to edge yourself away, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from getting more than two feet away.

“Ooh, no you don’t.”

Squirming in his hold does nothing but make him pull you closer, trapping you against his chest. When he tries to get you to look at him, you hide your face in your palms again, failing this time because you’re still holding your shoes. The more you squirm, the closer he pulls you to him until you’re effectively trapped back to chest, laughing to yourself as he brings his lips level to your ear.

“What didn’t you expect?”

You shiver and he hears a muffled, “You aren’t making this any easier.”

“Why would I do that when you’re trying to hide something from me?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“Oh, yeah? Then you can tell me, right?”

“Kazuya, please—”

“Kazuya?” You freeze in his arms and his heart stutters in his chest—full-on stalling out, struggling to make it to the next gear, demanding more power to keep going. He hears the apology tumble out of your mouth in a rush, so he tells you, “I like it when you call me that.”

You stiffen for a moment before leaning into him, letting his words sink in, still feeling his warm breath against the exposed skin of your neck. “You— you are very good at making me do stupid things.”

“You mean to say that I bring out an entirely different level of stupid?”

“Shut up.” You push against his arms with no real effort to get away, but he doesn’t want to cross a boundary, so he loosens his grip. Despite the room to move, you lean into him more, staying where you are.

Is this a stupid thing?

“So? What’s this thing you never expected?”

Shuffling where you stand, he expects you to step away. Opening his arms fully, you surprise him, turning around and pressing your forehead against him.

“I never expected your stupid sense of humor or your stupid laugh or your stupid pretty face or that you would be the exact combination of stupid that would make me stupid.” Your voice is soft, lost somewhere between the night and the fabric of his shirt, but he hears you nonetheless.

“I’d be offended right now if you didn’t just say you find me pretty.” He’d be offended right now if you didn’t just suggest what he thinks you’re suggesting.

“You are pretty. It makes me mad.”

“Me being pretty makes you mad?”

“Very mad.” You move to look at him and he’s expecting a pout, not the serious look in your eyes. Your brows furrow and—yup, there it is—your lips turn into a pout as you continue staring before your gaze shifts to his lips. He thinks it’s just gonna be a moment, just a glance, but it’s not.

Shit.

Your lips part, just a little bit, just enough that he’s slowly inching forward and so are you. Just enough so he feels the shaky little exhale before you close the distance, pressing your lips to his.

You’re—soft. Really soft. Soft in the way you’re pressing against him. Soft in the way you feel when his arms close around you, holding you to him. Soft in the way you move your arms so they’re draped over his shoulders, so your shoes tap against his back, so your fingers brush against the hairs at the nape of his neck. Soft in the way your lips move against his, making him dizzy, making him feel, as you so eloquently put it, stupid.

Then there’s that sound you make, something else that’s soft, something between a whimper and a whine before you flick your tongue against his bottom lip.

Shit.

Another sound when he tries to hold you closer, when his palms spread out across your back, when all he can think and feel and breathe is you. Your fingers tangle in his hair before pulling, giving you a whine in turn and he feels you smile before pulling away for air.

Resting his forehead against yours, his senses slowly come back to him, though they’re still primarily focused on you. The feel of the bunching of the fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips, the racing of his heart in his chest, the cool of the water against his feet. The smell of the salty ocean air and that odd combination of sunscreen and your body wash. The lingering taste of you against his lips, and the little craving to taste more. The sounds of the waves, seemingly in the distance when compared to the beating of his heart and your shaky breathing. The sight of you, of your tongue smoothing over your bottom lip before they close, of your eyelashes touching your cheeks in the lighting provided by the waxing moon, of the slow opening of your eyes and the emotions that follow.

He’s never been good at reading people, especially not their emotional state, and he can’t trust himself to get it right at this moment. He wants there to be hope. He wants there to be acceptance. He wants to see the reciprocated feeling of “fucking finally” because that’s what he’s feeling. He wants it so bad that he can’t trust himself to read you right now.

But he does know he’s not imagining it the moment it hits you.

You release his hair before your hand slides back down his chest, coming to rest on your lips.

That surprise. That fear. That—

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I’m your interpreter! I shouldn’t—shit. That was so stupid. Please forgive me.”

All the warmth that built up in his chest leaves with the slow sinking of his heart. Of course. Everything comes back to your job.

“I’m not here as your client.”

Oof, that came off a lot harsher than he meant it to be. He hopes that your little flinch is because of the sudden breeze and not because of him. “You’re not my interpreter right now. You’re my friend.”

But that guilt written all over your face doesn’t go away. “I’m—”

“It’s your birthday, right? Happy birthday.”

You turn your gaze down before you turn your head away slightly. His grip around you loosens and this time you take the smallest step back. Dammit.

“Thank you. I—” You won’t even look at him. “Please forgive me.”

He sighs through his nose and he can feel the crease between his eyebrows as it forms. Turning back toward the shore, he slips his hand in yours.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” It definitely comes out as a bite, though (again) he doesn’t mean it as such. That doesn’t deter you from squeezing his fingers.

You trail behind him for only a minute more before quickening your pace and taking your space beside him. As you grow closer to the stairs heading back to the street, you turn, looking toward the solitary tables near the public bathroom.

“You don’t—”

“Let’s sit,” he interrupts, making it known he’s still with you, even if a large part of you seems intent on trying to move past something he’s wanted for the last year and a half now.

When you look at him, it’s with relief, with that stress and second-guessing slowly melting away. “Thank you.”

Maybe he should take the seat opposite you instead of right beside you, but he’s going to be selfish for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m not ready to go back inside just yet.” You wait for a response and Kazuya decides it’s better if he doesn’t. “Do you mind… you don’t have to, but I’d like to sit out here for a while longer.”

Instead of offering a verbal response, he relaxes, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you. I think… I think I might still be a little buzzed.”

Yeah, you really can’t lie to him.

“I don’t want to go in there when she’s still awake. I might say something stupid.”

That’s more like it, though he wonders if that “something stupid” will end with your friend giving you a lecture or giving one to him. Lecture or not, he’d prefer to keep your attention for himself.

You chatter on for another ten or so minutes, mostly compelled by your wish to move on from what happened, but eventually, you give in to the silence. It’s another couple of minutes before you rest your head on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence with the soft promise to leave whenever you’re ready.

The sun slowly rises and he still finds himself on the beach with his hand still interlinked with yours, still hoping that this sea salt flavored kiss won't be the only one you two share.

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

[ilovecupcakesandtea]

Chapter two My master list

Title: Chapter one

Word Count: 1356

Archive Warnings: Smut in future chapters. Slight angst. Alcohol misuse.

Rating: E

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Character(s): Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham, Benny, Uncle Wayne & The Party

Tags: Smut. Angst. Steddie. Buckingham. Steve Harrington. Eddie Munson. Robin Buckley. Chrissy Cunningham. Band AU. TW Alcohol use.

Summary (optional): Two different styles of music, two boys that really don't like each other. What could possibly go wrong?

Beta Reader: Thank you so much to my beautiful beta readers @slippy-slip @ladydarklord & @dontwasteyourchances

Art link and credit: Art is by the wonderfully talented @pink-luna-moth (as is the banner)

Fic link and credit: Ao3 Link

AN: First off thank you to Alex for the art and being just amazing to work alongside. Thank you to Slip for dragging me back from the edge so many times over this. I really am so excited to have this out here!!

I wrote this for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang event and had a lot of fun doing so!!

Divider links: reblog and music notes

The scent of gardenia flooding her senses was the first indication that someone was sitting next to her. If she had been more awake she would have realised it was a scent familiar to her – not in a creepy way, as she has to point out to Steve on a regular basis. The smell of gardenia and other floral scents was something that Robin associated with one person, and one person only. Chrissy Cunningham. Robin's long-term crush, the first person she ever really noticed she had a crush on, Chrissy Cunningham, who was actually talking to Robin, who was probably just sitting staring at her.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t catch anything you said” Robin apologised, holding up her headphones to show why.

“I just asked if I could sit here” Chrissy giggled, pointing at the seat next to Robin. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I mean I’m not saving it for anyone obviously, and I can’t stop you from sitting where you want, so yeah the seat’s yours if you want to sit there” Robin rambled, ending with an audible snap of her teeth as she stopped herself from rambling any further. 

“Thanks, I’m a good seat mate, I have snacks” Chrissy grinned, pulling some pretzels and some red vines out of her bag. 

“What are you listening to?” Chrissy asked, nodding towards Robin's headphones. 

“Oh errmm, it's The Clash” Robin smiled sheepishly. 

“I love them! Stumbled across them ages ago and really enjoyed them” Chrissy declared. 

“No way!” Robin exclaimed in reply.

This couldn't be happening. Robin didn't need any more reason to have a crush on this girl. Now she had good taste in music too! 

“Yeah! Not the normal kind of thing I listen to, but there's something about them” Chrissy giggled. 

“Want to listen with me?” Robin asked, offering an earbud towards the other girl. 

All kinds of things ran through her head. Was Chrissy this chatty with everyone? Was she staring at the cheerleader? Did everyone else think it was weird them being sat together? 

“So what else do you listen to?” Chrissy questioned, breaking Robin out of her spiralling thoughts. 

“Oh, I listen to a lot of Ramones, Misfits, The Damned, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Agnostic Front, The Vandals, Pennywise. Punk mostly, I mean you could probably tell that from the bands” she blushed. “What about you?” 

“A lot of Metallica, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, some Ozzy, Children of Bodom, System of a Down, and Evanescence. Metal mostly, if you couldn't tell” Chrissy winked and then giggled. 

The rest of the journey to the game consisted of eating the pretzels and red vines, Chrissy insisting if Robin didn't eat them with her then she would be sick as she was cheering, and sharing music suggestions via 2 iPods and a shared set of headphones. 

The game was in full swing and Robin knew she should be paying a lot more attention than she was but she couldn't. She was certain Chrissy kept looking back at her, every time Robin caught her eye she got a shy smile back and then Chrissy would look away. 

On the way back home Chrissy sat next to Robin without asking and the girls fell back into their previous conversation regarding music and different genres and any overlaps they have in them. 

“I had fun, we should do it again sometime” Chrissy blushed as they both stepped off the bus back at Hawkins High. 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Definitely, like I definitely had fun and we should definitely do it again” Robin rambled. 

“Maybe at the movies after school on Monday?” Chrissy asked, clearly nervous. 

“Yes. Absolutely” Robin squeaked. 

“Come along Buckley, I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be!” The sound of Steve Harrington, her best friend and ride home, came from across the parking lot. 

“I'd better go,” Robin laughed. “Bye,” she waved, walking backward before turning round and heading towards Steve, luckily without falling on her ass.

“We don't have to discuss it tonight but I 100% just saved you from a Robin ramble. Everything ok?” Steve asked as soon as Robin was in the car. 

“Yeah, it's ok, thanks for saving me,” Robin smiled.

The next morning, after a long night overthinking everything that Chrissy and Robin herself had said, Robin spoke up.

“So I sat next to Chrissy Cunningham on the way to the game yesterday and we talked about music all the way there. Then she actually chose to sit next to me on the way back and we talked all the way back as well. And then when we got off the bus she said we should do it again sometime. What does that even mean Steve?! Did she have a good time talking to me and so really wants to do it again or was it more of a being polite thing? Plus I think she kept looking at me during the game so yeah, what does it mean?! Oh yeah, and I may have agreed to go to the movies with her after school tomorrow” Robin rambled at a mile a minute to Steve who just stood there with his coffee to his lips waiting for her to finish. 

Taking a sip Steve contemplated his next words. He couldn't give Robin false hope but he had heard rumours about Chrissy and a couple of girls from the cheer squad so maybe Chrissy did want to take Robin on a date. 

“So, Chrissy Cunningham, who's a well-known metalhead, listened to your punk, asked you to the movies and you still don't know if she wants to take you on a date or not,” Steve asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Maybe she was just being nice!” Robin exclaimed, throwing her hands up. 

“I’ll talk to her at school tomorrow, ok?” Steve ushered Robin out of the kitchen and they both got ready for the day they had planned.

It wasn’t until between 3rd and 4th period the following day that Steve managed to speak to Chrissy. He caught her pretending to put things in her locker and trying to take sneaky glances at Robin.

“She’s really pretty isn't she?” Steve whispered, sliding up beside Chrissy and pretending to check his bag for something. 

“Yeah, she is” Chrissy replied softly before blushing and looking at Steve wide-eyed, “I didn't mean it like that, just that she’s objectively pretty, nothing else.”  

“Secrets safe with a fellow friend Cunningham” Steve chuckles “Have fun at the movies later,” he said before winking and walking away. 

“I’m telling you now, it's a date. She wants to date you. Sit in those back seats and ignore the movie” Steve laughed as he dodged a soggy chip thrown at him by Robin, as he told her about the interaction he’d had with Chrissy earlier in the day. 

“You know it’s not that simple Stevie, it’s not safe. As far as we know she’s straight and as far as she thinks I’m straight too. I can’t just tell her I'm not. What if it gets out? My parents don’t even know Steve.” Robin sighed. 

“Birdie she was literally looking at you and agreed when I said you’re pretty. I’ve heard the stories about her and the cheer squad as well. Either way, she’s a safe person to tell, I’m certain of it.” Steve reassured, squeezing her arm lovingly. 

“Maybe” Robin responded, smiling at him sadly. 

Steve knew it wasn't as easy as he made out to her. He was destined to explore his sexuality in dark corners and dingy bathrooms, maybe a cheap hotel if he was lucky. But the chances are he would settle down with a wife and a kid or two, maybe he'd tell his wife he too liked men or maybe he wouldn't. But he was certain he would do anything to help his soulmate find her girl. 

“Anyway, what's this about the cheer squad?” Robin asked suddenly, as though her brain had finally caught up to what he'd said. 

“Oh Robin, see if Chrissy will tell you” He smirked back at her before he continued to eat his salad.