#Rated: T

[cable-knit-sweater]

Before The First Light

Rating: T Word count: 884 words Tags: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, nightmares, minor injuries, Steve Rogers needs a hug, (light?) angst

Written for @catws-anniversary || March 26 prompts: on your left, PTSD, endurance

He’s running. 

Steve’s running so fast that even with the serum coursing through his veins, his lungs are starting to burn with the strain of exertion. He barely pays any attention to the bullets whistling past him, dodging and weaving to avoid them, almost just on instinct. It is on instinct. There isn’t much time to think about anything but getting out.

The place is a fucking maze though, so it’s taking longer than he’d planned.  So much for that damn song, he thinks, almost laughing at the irony. So much for being the man with a plan.

He presses on, through endless corridors twisting and turning, Hydra soldiers hot on his heels. Steve thinks that maybe they’ve finally figured it out, judging from the screaming and cursing. That he’s just a diversion so the other Howlies could go to work. 

By now, they’ve definitely set the place to blow.  By now, Steve should’ve made his way out. 

A bullet grazes his shoulder, but he tries to ignore the searing pain as he pushes himself harder, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Suddenly, he’s outside, the building exploding behind him. He’s hit with a blast of air, pressure, heat, but it just propels him forward faster. There’s still no time to think. 

There’s more cursing and shouting. This time it’s not in German though.

 It’s in a heavy Brooklyn accent, his favorite in all the fucking world. 

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Are you tryin’ to get blown to pieces? For fuck’s sake Rogers!!”

“Just brushing up on my German,” he yells back as he gets closer and closer to the source of the cursing and shouting. “You know, they’d call you an Arsch-”

“Don’t you even think ab- fuck, Stevie, watch out! Three at your 9 o’clock!” 

Steve twists and turns to the right, still running towards the treeline that Bucky is shouting at him from.  He doesn’t slow down or turn back - he’s made that mistake before and gotten an earful - as Bucky takes out the Hydra goons with his rifle.

He doesn’t slow down or turn back until he gets to Bucky’s position. That’s where he draws the line. Steve’s not ever going anywhere without him. 

By the time he comes to a stop, Bucky has taken care of the last stragglers, and Steve collapses against a tree. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Bucky grumbles as he drops down from a tree branch. “What the fuck?”

They start running again, side by side, Bucky on his left like always. There’s no benefit in sticking around. There might be more Hydra soldiers out there, and the other Howlies will definitely give them shit if they take much longer catching up to the group. 

“Hmm.”

“I was this close to coming in and dragging your ass out. Did we not have a plan?” 

“I was fine. I am fine, stop bitching, Buck.”

Bucky pushes his shoulder against Steve’s, and he winces. Of course, Bucky notices. “Fine, huh? I’m thinkin I should just tie myself to you so you don’t go runnin’ off making stupid ass decisions.”

“What makes you think I won’t do that with you tied to me?”

“Good point,” Bucky huffs. “You’d probably enjoy it, and then you’d just drag me int-”

The rest of his sentence gets cut off by a blood curdling scream. Steve’s heart stops. It’s Bucky. 

****

Steve jolts awake. 

He’s drenched in sweat, his senses still reeling. A little disoriented, he scans his dimly lit room, heart hammering against his ribcage, the image of Bucky lying motionless on the ground, blood staining the fabric of his uniform, still seared freshly into his mind.

It’s hard to ground himself. It seemed so real for a moment, like it was yesterday. But he’s not waking up in a tent in the French countryside, or on his cot back at SSR headquarters in London. He’s not waking up with-

He wakes up alone, in his DC apartment, and it’s never felt more suffocatingly small.  

With a heavy sigh, Steve swings his legs over the edge of his bed.  His muscles are protesting with the weight of exhaustion that still clings to him, but there’s no point in staying in bed. It’s not like he’s gonna get much more sleep now. He knows what images he’ll see if he closes his eyes.

Instead, he forces himself out of bed, switches out of his sweat-drenched clothes and into his running gear, and makes his way out of the apartment as quickly as he can. 

Running - ironically, given tonight’s dream - will help. Just to have a moment, an hour (or two) to not have to think, that’s all he needs. It doesn’t matter that it’s barely light out. He’ll be at it for a while. 

Maybe he'll try a different route today. Make his way south towards the Potomac, run a couple laps around the Mall before it’s run over with tourists.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. The sunrise over the Mall will make a pretty sight. Not enough to dislodge the dream still haunting him, but he doesn’t think anything ever will be. 

He doesn’t take much time to warm up, even if he knows he should. Soon enough, he’s running full speed.

He’s running. 

Steve’s running fast, but his lungs don’t burn. His heart, though. His heart aches.

#catws10 #steve rogers #stucky #fanfiction #rated: t #maya tries to write #this isn’t my favorite thing I’ve written lol not even close #but I wanted to contribute so here we are after a long work day 😂😭 #march 26 prompts #ficlet

[swsapphics-ao3feed]

by Dogsdogwoman

Shin just can't seem to get close enough to Sabine.

Words: 2986, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Shin Hati, Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Huyang (Star Wars)

Relationships: Shin Hati/Sabine Wren

Additional Tags: First Kiss, Making Out, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Shin Hati Needs A Hug

#shin hati/sabine wren #WolfWren #shin hati #sabine wren #genre: fluff #Rated: T #word count: 1k - 3k #ao3feed #dogsdogwoman

[castleficpromoter]

#castle fanfiction #update #fic in progress #do-it-for-the-fandom #Rated: T

[tomionefinds]

There's a fanfic where Hermione comes in and out of Tom's diary and in one scene she pops up out of his bag during class.

"a girl seems to have grown out of my bag," is the quote but I can't find the story or remember the author/title.

Please help!

Hey @etherealpixiesworld,

Thanks for the ask. You are looking for Restricted! -JD

Restricted by Flaignhan T | Complete | 35k What harm ever came from reading a book? TRHG

#tomione #multichapter #complete #time turner/time travel #met: at hogwarts #met: as teens #friends to lovers #tom:redeemed #rated: t

[mp100ficrec]

Emergency Contact by skeilig

Fic can be read HERE.

Future Fic, One Shot, Hurt/Comfort. Completed. Rated: T. Word Count: 2103

Pairings: Kageyama ‘Mob’ Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Background Reigen Arataka/Serizawa Katsuya

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol

““I… I had some drinks… at—at the party.” Mob is still breathing heavily, his voice is still squeaky, but he’s getting words out.

“Alcohol?” Reigen asks. And of course the kid means alcohol, but Reigen can’t picture Mob getting drunk. It dawns on him that he might be talking to drunk Mob right now.

~ Mob loses control of his powers while at a college party, and naturally he calls Reigen.”

#Mob Psycho 100 #mp100 fic recs #emergency contact #skeilig #kageyama mob shigeo & reigen arataka #future fic #one shot #hurt/comfort #completed #rated: t #word count: 2 to 5k

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Clocked In

Words are hard.

But knowledge doesn't always need words. Otasune Week Day 2: During the Mission

#otasuneweek23 #otasuneweek #fanfic #mgs #otasune #nate does writing #rated: t

[frost-iron]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies) Relationship: Loki/Tony Stark Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Misty Knight Additional Tags: Beach Holidays, Beach House, Walks On The Beach, Bonfires, Found Family, Avengers Family, Vacation, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Banter, Tony Stark Feels, Loki Feels (Marvel), Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor Clint Barton/Thor, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor Misty Knight/Sam Wilson, First Kiss, Holding Hands, Tony Stark spoils his loved ones, Good Loki (Marvel), Avenger Loki (Marvel) Language: English Published: 2024-03-16 Words: 2,948 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Tony whisks his Avengers family off to Malibu for a week or so of (hopefully) uninterrupted R&R fun. Everyone else is paired up except for Tony and Loki, on whom Tony's had a growing crush. Will an evening under the stars change their solitary fate?

From the Dirty Whispers Writing Prompts.

Prompt: "your hands are so warm"

#submission #fic #iron man #loki #tony stark #frostiron #Rated: T #genre: fluff #status: complete #status: one shot

[likegrandmausedtomake]

To Serve the Queen of Costa Luna

by Alsike (@nike-ravus)

Princess Protection Program (2009) [Rosalinda Fiore/Carter Mason, T, 7006]

Lieutenant Carter Mason wakes up after an incident in a warzone in Costa Luna and knows one thing: she doesn't deserve to be there. Sometimes, it's not about what you deserve.

Future fic

#IT'S WHAT THEY DESERVE #sorry graphic design remains my passion #femslash #princess protection program #rosie x carter #rated: T #author: alsike #words: 7000

[lindtluirae]

Futile Devices | rated T

People rarely talked about the strong bonds that frizzled out. About the people they thought would remain with them forever, and how distance and time built a chasm between them until they could no longer reach out.

They didn’t talk about the grooves worn into their hearts, shaped just for these persons, sitting there collecting dust as they waited and waited and waited to be whole again.

If asked, no, Sakusa Kiyoomi did not talk about Miya Atsumu; his name was reserved for the shadows, muffled in Kiyoomi’s pillows at night, only murmured in desperation.

If asked, Miya Atsumu was his closest friend, someone he left tucked back home in the arms of the familiar cities he loved while Kiyoomi spread his wings to see the world.

They weren’t lovers. They were a what-if, a some-day, a maybe.

Atsumu hadn’t tried to stop him from accepting the contract to France, and Kiyoomi hadn’t implied that he could be convinced.

There has always been an unspoken rule between them: volleyball first, everything else second.

That was his first mistake, Kiyoomi supposed.

“Bonjour,” his teammates chorused as they entered the locker room to change.

Kiyoomi returned their greeting quietly, bending over to lace his shoes. His phone sat on the bench beside him, unlocked, the home screen a selfie of him and Atsumu after a victorious game.

Atsumu’s phone had died midway through their journey to the pub, so he’d stolen Kiyoomi’s and pulled him into a grudging photo.

Atsumu was grinning, made of warmth and sparkles, while Kiyoomi was caught mid-pout.

Even through a screen, Atsumu encapsulated the sun in a smile.

Kiyoomi missed him.

He missed him so much.

The last time he’d seen Atsumu, the blond had slept on his couch, murmuring drunken promises into the night that they’d call and text all the time.

How naïve they’d been.

He didn’t realise he was zoned out staring at his half-lit screen until one of his teammates paused next to him and let out a wistful sigh. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?”

He looked up, startled, to find Peter—the only English speaking person on his current team—watching his screen.

“Boyfriend?” Peter wondered with a casual smile.

Kiyoomi flushed, hastily locking his phone and shoving it in his bag. “Friend.”

𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, he didn’t say.

“Cute,” Peter remarked and crouched to retrieve his shoes from beneath the bench. “Do you see him much?”

“Not really,” Kiyoomi said, looking away and hoping his eyes didn’t betray him. He stood up, and casually smoothed the wrinkles in his shorts. “I’ll see you in the gym.”

“Chao,” Peter said cheerfully.

Later, with a towel still draped over his neck and his hair dripping wet, Kiyoomi would scroll through his messages; down, down, down to a thread that hadn’t been updated in months.

𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴, Atsumu’s last text had said. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘖𝘮𝘪-𝘰𝘮𝘪.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted in their longing to type something completely inexcusable.

𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮.

𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘈𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺?

He typed and erased each message with frustration, feeling bereft.

It was all his own fault.

He’d left and Atsumu had set him free, and with each passing day Kiyoomi’s heart was wrenched as he wished Atsumu had been selfish enough to cage him in his arms.

He shut his phone and cast it aside.

What he wouldn’t give to go back in time, Kiyoomi thought as he used his towel to scrub his hair dry, and ached down to the fragments of his soul.

If asked, Kiyoomi would say that Miya Atsumu was considerate.

In Kiyoomi’s drawer laid a handkerchief Atsumu had taken to carrying around for his sake.

When Kiyoomi left, he’d asked Atsumu if he could have it.

And Atsumu, with a look so unbearably sad, had handed it over silently.

𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, Kiyoomi thought even now, a year later. 𝘈𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘈𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺?

But thoughts—and words—were futile devices.

He burrowed into his bed and rolled on his side, bringing his duvet up to cover him.

Absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder, Kiyoomi thought bitterly and clutched his handkerchief, it rended it in two.

And Kiyoomi was tired of the hole in his chest leaking his heart all over the pavement for everything to trample over it.

Atsumu uploaded a new video to his instagram that was circulating the internet like a wild fire.

After some deliberation, Kiyoomi opened the reel with a nervous breath, willing himself to be normal about it.

Seeing Atsumu’s face always punched a hole in his gut, even when he looked a little scruffy and tired.

Contrary to his typical videos, there was no intro to this one. No jaunty 𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴! or 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨… as a prelude to a rant.

He was in his jackals shorts, missing his shirt.

The wild mess of his hair was tamed with a snapback, and from his neck dangled a necklace Kiyoomi recognised far too well.

He swallowed tightly at the realisation that Atsumu kept his birthday gift next to his heart.

It was a crescent-moon to which Kiyoomi owned the other half—the twin sun that represented Atsumu that he kept tucked in his gym bag.

Atsumu, who was sitting on a hotel bed with a guitar in his hold and an empty beer on the nightstand. He began strumming, the notes wrapped in sentimentality and ache.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, Atsumu sang softly, eyes cast down to watch his fingers strum.

Caught in a spell, Kiyoomi watched him like his soul was tethered to his phone, waiting to unravel.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦

Atsumu peered into the camera with his soft, honey eyes and Kiyoomi’s breath caught, struck to his core by the vision of him.

His sight was blurring the longer he listened.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥

𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

Kiyoomi didn’t realise he was tearing up until a stray tear caught on the corner of his lips and he tasted salt and heartache on his tongue.

There were days Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu and couldn’t believe he was ever close enough to touch him.

He sniffled, the tears coming harder now as he yearned to take Atsumu’s face in his hands and rest their weary heads together. To simply close his eyes and bask in that closeness he’d taken for granted.

To apologise for robbing them of each other’s comfort.

Once, they’d snuck into a hotel’s kitchen after midnight to fry omelettes because Kiyoomi had missed dinner and his stomach was grumbling too hard to go back to sleep.

Atsumu made him sit on the counter as he cooked for them, all while they traded snarks and witty banter. How easy it had been then to indulge in what was theirs, every moment shaped just for the spaces between them.

Atsumu with his gentle hands had fed Kiyoomi a bite, smiling cheekily as he offered it to him. “Open up, Omi-kun.”

He swore the warmth of it still sat in his gut even now, like everything Atsumu was bound to engrave into his body and find a home there.

Sobbing now, Kiyoomi clutched his phone and tried not to shake apart as the reel looped again, and Atsumu’s soft croon restarted to saturate the room with melancholy.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰…

𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘐 𝘥𝘰…

𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Kiyoomi had no way of knowing for certain whether that song was addressed to him. It could be his wishful thinking playing tricks on him, or his tired heart recognising something intangible in Atsumu’s gaze.

But fear shackled him. He felt paralysed with it every time he opened their chat to type out a new message.

It was a tragic story in three acts. Pull up the thread. Squeeze and shred his heart into words, then hover his thumb over the send button, only to find the backspace instead and watch it vengefully purge his feelings to the void.

So Kiyoomi did the next best thing.

He posted a picture only Atsumu could understand.

It was Kiyoomi with his necklace caught in the folds of a familiar red handkerchief and splayed on his coffee table.

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦.

Kiyoomi went to sleep that night curled around a jacket he’d stolen in his selfishness to keep Atsumu with him.

His phone woke him up at 2 in the morning.

Blearily, Kiyoomi reached for it.

It was a Japanese phone number so he picked it up only half-attentively, wondering if someone was hurt.

“Hello?” He rasped.

“Omi.”

Kiyoomi sat up with a lurch, heart ricocheting against his ribcage. “Atsumu?”

“Hey,” his voice crackled faintly. “Sorry—I know it’s late—I just…”

“No, no, no,” Kiyoomi said, swallowing hard. “No. It’s okay.”

“How are ya, Omi?” Atsumu asked, his voice catching.

“I’m…” 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶? “Hanging in there. How are you?”

Atsumu made a humorous noise. “Me? I’m same old, Omi. Just the way ya left me.”

Kiyoomi’s throat was closing up. “Yeah?”

“Still a loudmouth, still an idiot,” Atsumu reassured, breaths catching strangely. “Still… still the same guy ya used ta let sleep on yer couch.”

Kiyoomi shut his eyes against the burn. It was unbearable.

He hadn’t heard his voice in so long.

“I miss you,” Kiyoomi whispered eventually, the words scraping painfully against his throat. “Hey, Atsumu? I really miss you.”

“𝘖𝘩𝘩,” he heard Atsumu choke out and that was when Kiyoomi realised he was crying.

Something rustled against the receiver as it was muffled.

Kiyoomi sat there and felt himself shattering to pieces as he heard Atsumu’s muted weeping.

“Atsumu,” he tried, agonised. “Hey…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Atsumu gasped out. “I’m sorry, I’m fine. I just had a rough night. I should let you go back to sleep.”

“Wait—“ Kiyoomi pleaded, clenching his fingers in his sheets. “Wait. Please stay. Can you stay?”

Atsumu didn’t say anything but the line didn’t disconnect.

“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi tried, leaning back against his pillow and feeling winded. “I think I fucked up really badly, Atsumu.”

Still, Atsumu didn’t say anything.

“I should’ve never left,” Kiyoomi admitted through a throat scraped raw with the honesty of his words.

His vision swam. Kiyoomi palmed his eyes, inhaling painfully. “I should’ve never left,” he repeated, each breath now burning on its way down. “Why did you let me leave—how could you let me leave—?”

He buried his face in his knees and bit at the fabric of his sweats to muffle the way he was choking on his tears.

“How could I not?” Atsumu eventually said, sounding calmer now. He sighed shakily. “Have ya never heard, Omi? When ya love something, ya set it free.”

Shaking, Kiyoomi dug his nails painfully in his leg to swallow the sob clawing up his chest.

When you 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 something.

He was an entire year too late to the most profound realisation that as he burned for Atsumu, Atsumu was burning for him.

“Fuck, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.” He cursed, dismayed, appalled and absolutely loathing himself. “Why didn’t you 𝘴𝘢𝘺? Don’t you know how stupid I am, Atsumu? I’m the stupidest guy in the world—why didn’t you—𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱 me with it—I wish you would’ve—“

Atsumu’s tremulous sigh was crumbling tearfully towards the end. “Well, now y’know, Omi.”

“You’re on the other side of the 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥,” Kiyoomi said hysterically. He couldn’t reach him, he couldn’t hold him, he couldn’t wipe his tears off.

“It’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt,” Atsumu told him, his voice thick. “It’s been a year, Omi. I think yer here to stay forever.”

“Here where, Atsumu? I’m across the world—”

“My heart,” Atsumu interjected, sniffing even as he laughed wetly. Even as Kiyoomi’s breath punched out of him. “I wrote that song on yer couch where y’used to let me sleep. I meant every word, Omi.”

“I hate you.” Kiyoomi fisted a hand in his hair and pulled hard, trying to anchor himself. “I 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 you—I—”

“I’m sorry, Omi,” Atsumu’s voice wobbled. “I wanted nothin’ more than ta lock ya in Japan and never let ya out of my sight.”

And yet, here they were.

“Why’d you stop texting?” He murmured vulnerably.

“I dunno about ya Omi,” Atsumu said, sighing long and weary. “But it got too painful in the end.”

Kiyoomi knew far too well.

It got too painful in the end.

So Kiyoomi took the first plane back home, leaving behind a furious coach, and a confused team.

He had a contract to fulfil, so he knew he couldn’t stay for long. But despite that, all it took for his resolve to almost crumble was one look at Atsumu’s unearthed expression when Kiyoomi showed up on his doorstep.

“I—Omi—𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

And Kiyoomi crowded him against the wall, pulled his mask beneath his jaw and gave into every impulse and fantasy to hold Atsumu’s face in his hands.

“If it’s yours it’ll come back to you,” Kiyoomi breathed, watching him with wonder.

“What?” Atsumu said dazedly.

“You said when you love something you should set it free.” Kiyoomi leaned close, until their breaths intermingled. “I’m coming back to you.”

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 went unsaid.

He dipped his face to kiss the surprised shape of Atsumu’s mouth, to meet their lips together and try to make up for all the time they wasted.

Atsumu’s hands immediately fisted in his shirt, reeling him close like a man starving.

Kiyoomi clutched him back like he couldn’t believe this was real. He kissed him again and again, hands in his hair, on his face, around his back, until there was no breath left in his lungs and only a fire simmering in his heart threatening to rage into something wild and unrestrained.

“I love you,” he said gaspingly as they parted for air.

He caged Atsumu between his arms, eyes roaming his face frantically. “I love you, Atsumu.”

Atsumu yanked him in again.

Their teeth knocked together.

Atsumu threw his arms around him and held onto him with enough strength to nearly buckle Kiyoomi’s knees.

Kiyoomi pushed back with fervour. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

He had crevices in his body where missing Atsumu had corroded him away to nothing, places he ached to fill with the other man until he was whole again.

Nothing was fixed yet, and everything ached, but his arms shaped around Atsumu like this might as well have been the only right thing in the world.

Kiyoomi allowed himself to be blindly guided into the house, and when he fell, it was right into Atsumu’s arms.

If Kiyoomi was bound to shatter, he wanted it to happen here, under those hands, for nobody else ever again.

.

.

.

Based on this song.

[Ko-Fi]

#SakuAtsu #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #LindtLuirae writes #Haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #one-shot #rated: T

[swsapphics-ao3feed]

by Vedi

Words: 1939, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Shin Hati, Sabine Wren

Relationships: Shin Hati/Sabine Wren

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Suspense, Pining, Horror, Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension

#Vedi #shin hati/sabine wren #shin hati #sabine wren #WolfWren #Ahsoka #genre: horror #Rated: T #word count: 1k - 3k #ao3feed

[castleficpromoter]

#castle fanfiction #new fic #fic rec #fic in progress #Clavia #Rated: T

[bellefanfics]

For Kyoru Week 2023, this fic is for the first-day prompt. "Anything for you"

@kyoruweekofficial

#fruits basket 2019 #fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket fanfic #kyoru week 2023 #kyoru fanfic #kyoru fanfiction #kyoru #kyo x tohru #kyo sohma #tohru honda #rated: t

[rexsoka-monthly]

Heya, I've tried a couple of different ways to post this link to tumblr but seem to be messing up somehow? Obvo its's already up on AO3. Hope you like it 😉

#submission #rexsoka #rexsoka monthly #may 2023: you should tell him/her #fic #rated: t #Click Click Thunk #platonic

[youcantseeus-fan]

Fic: In the Elevator (Finnick, Haymitch)

Summary: A young Finnick encounters Haymitch on the elevator. 

Written for the April 2023 daily prompts challenge on reddit: Genres of Fan Fiction. Prompt - Don’t look at me (Angst 5). 

Series on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3441499

Warnings: Implied/Referenced sex trafficking, including of a minor. Fic is rated T.

The doors to the elevator open and Finnick gets in. Haymitch Abernathy is already inside and Finnick can see that the button for the lobby is already lit up. The doors close. Haymitch is whistling when Finnick gets on, but he cuts it short as he looks Finnick up and down.

Finnick doesn’t meet his eyes. He knows how he must look, wearing hot pants and a thin, pink shirt that hangs completely open, not to mention the makeup. He looks like a whore. Which is exactly what he is. But he hates the way that some of the other victors are starting to look at him, starting to piece it together.

Other people never look at him like that. The public views him with lust or envy, but never with pity. Finnick hates being looked at with pity. But the other victors look at him like they understand all too well. Most of them have been trafficked themselves at one point or another. Haymitch himself is probably on his way to a “special appointment.” He doesn’t really strike Finnick as the type of guy who would wear leather pants of his own accord.

Out of the corner of his eye, Finnick can see Haymitch’s face darken. He’s getting angry. The other victors do that as well. Because Finnick is only fifteen and Snow had previously refrained from selling victors until they were sixteen. So most of the victors assume that Snow has done the same with Finnick until they see something that tells them otherwise.

“Finnick—” Haymitch begins.

“Don’t look at me,” Finnick snaps.

The elevator doors open and Finnick practically runs away from him.

#genres of fan fiction #angst #thg fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #finnick odair #haymitch abernathy #ficlet #rated: t

[mp100ficrec]

Black Mold by Gallus

Fic can be read HERE.

Angst, Pre-Canon. Completed. Rated: T. Word Count: 1207

Pairings: None

Trigger Warnings: Agoraphobia, Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, Depression, Anxiety, Disordered Eating

"Alone in his room Serizawa Katsuya rots."

#Mob Psycho 100 #mp100ficrecs #black mold #gallus #no pairings #serizawa katsuya #angst #pre canon #completed #rated: t #word count: 0 to 2k

[thegrangerarchives]

brandy, apricot, and spice by @lovesbitca8

There’s a Christmas pudding in his cupboard.

It was made by warm hands with strong fingers, kneading into the mix and chopping quickly as she had in Potions.

It was made before.

And now, he supposes, it is after.

Rated: T; Chapters: 1; Words: 1994

→ Link: Archive of Our Own → Audiobook: Spotify

#author: lovebitca8 #Hermione Granger #Draco Malfoy #hermione x draco #christmas #dramione: draco pov #collection: D/Hr Advent 2019 #making up #lovebitca8 #archive of our own #audiobook #status: one shot #Rated: T #thegrangerarchives