#cause I deserve it and feeling like I’m stuck and unable to move forward is shit but even if I can’t make my body be how I want with t

[simplifiedemotions]

Make Me

“You want to shave my face?” 

Hermione does her best to not look away from Draco’s probing gaze. He knows her so well now, she thinks, as his mirrored frown reveals her expression of guilt.

It’s her fault he’s so heavily wounded, having protected her from a swarm of dark-hooded figures whilst on a reconnaissance mission in Budapest. 

It's her fault they’re stuck in a Muggle hotel and unable to use their wands for fear of being traced.

Draco’s silver eyes gleam as he regards her. “And why offer, Granger?”

Oh, but the bastard is amused at her expense. She’d throttle him if the guilt didn’t eclipse any other feeling. 

Well, almost any other feeling. She meets his penetrating gaze again.

“It took you over an hour just to take a simple shower. You’re clearly not suited to take care of yourself.”

“And?” 

Her ineffable heart quickens when he lazily leans back on the settee that’s set against the wall. In invitation. He lifts his good shoulder in question.

She fiddles with the long sleeves of Draco’s black cloak. He had draped it over her when he saw how badly she was shivering after their attack. 

She still hasn’t taken it off.

“I also thought it would be a good way to pass the time for both of us.”

“And you thought putting a sharp blade to my face was a good way for us to pass time?” 

“You’ve been scratching your jaw like mad! I honestly don’t know why you haven’t shaved it at all since we’ve gone on this mission.” 

“Perhaps I’ve been waiting for you to offer.”

He always reverts to being a suave flirt when he’s angry or worried. She doesn’t know when she’s started to be able to tell how he’s really feeling, but she sees it in the almost imperceptible ways: in the tight line of his jaw as he clenches his teeth, and the bruised knuckles of his tightly clenched fists that he gathers at his sides.

He screws up his eyes as she touches his face. It shouldn’t endear her so much to see that he cares about her well-being, but the private part of her relishes in the idea.

When did that happen? When had he become the person she trusted most to have her back?

With her free hand, she conjures a razor and dips it into the bowl of warm water she had set aside earlier.

“Okay?” she asks in a soft voice, steadying her trembling hands. Her own breath is loud in her ears. 

He opens his eyes, and the heat of his gaze makes her nerve endings shutter.

“Go on.”

She slathers the shaving foam she’d found in one of the drawers into her hands, rubbing the soft soapy substance between her palms before gently touching it to Draco’s face. 

Draco makes a tsking sound at her. “Magic?”

“Wandless magic isn’t as easily traceable,” she explains, knowing she sounds breathless as she explores the planes of Draco’s face. His skin is smooth except for where sparse hair grows on his cheeks and jaw.

“Does that mean my beard will grow back?”

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” she snaps, tipping his chin up and shaving the left side of his jaw. “You know how traced magic works. And let’s not get too ahead of ourselves and call whatever is ominously growing on your upper lip a beard.”

She pretends his smile is ugly. “I’m afraid my injuries have caused a Weasley-shaped atrophy in my brain.” 

She purposely makes a small cut at the highest tip of his left cheekbone, smiling at his dramatic hiss of pain.

“You deserved that one.”

“Hardly.” He looks at her. “You don’t need that much foam,” he says as she swipes more on his face.

“Shh. You wouldn’t want me to slip.”

He gives her an unimpressed raise of his brows, but keeps quiet as she moves forward with the razor and makes a diagonal cut up from his jaw to the bottom of his cheek.

His warm breath against her cheek makes her shiver. Her heart makes funny sounds in her chest.

Hermione clears her throat. It’s so hard “I need to get closer.”

She tries not to think about it too much, as she goes forward and lifts her legs so that she can climb onto Draco’s lap, careful to not jostle the makeshift sling holding his left arm in place.

She glides like water, supported by the weight of his hand on her waist. He draws her closer until they are chest to chest. She’s trembling all over, unable to connect the flurry of her feelings spearing through her with the other, more rational part of her brain.

Draco doesn’t flinch as she slices the hair on his upper lip away. His trust in her is the thing she treasures most.

His fingers court the curves of her body; her hands frame his face like an artist making something beautiful out of clay.

Ignoring her stuttering heart and the warmth pooling beneath her navel, she wipes the razor on a hand towel before starting on the other side of his face.

Their noses touch as she moves back, and Hermione can’t help the motion of moving against him, feeling his skin against her own, as the whiff of minty shaving cream and the body soap Draco used in the shower creates an altogether unbalancing sensation.

“Granger.”

She startles, looking up.

“Are you finished?”

Instantly, Hermione feels embarrassed. Draco likely thinks she’s being an idiot. Here she is, practically purring on his lap, and he’s just trying to get her off him as soon as possible.

“I’m so sorry,” she says as she starts to move back and off his lap. “That was completely inappropriate and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want—” good god, what is she saying? 

Maybe she can go live out the rest of her days in some homestead on another continent where no one can find her. Better yet, an entire planet. One where she isn’t likely to meet any other handsome blond men who unnerve her the way this one does.

Draco’s arm tightens around her waist as he grunts and brings her even closer than she was before.

He grabs hold of Hermione’s chin between two fingers so that she meets his steady scrutiny.

“I never said I didn’t enjoy you being on my lap, Granger.”

“Oh?” she stutters out. “Then, why—”

He leans back just enough so they’re at eye level.

She is so used to him towering over her that it’s disorientating—heady, to be able to lift her head and look down at him. 

“I just need to make you aware that there is only so long I can stay still when you are squirming in my lap like that. ”  

Hermione flushes. Oh. “I was not—” She goes still. “I am not,” she states firmly.

He slowly starts tracing the sensitive ridges of her spine. Up and down. Up and down. She jerks in his lap.

“I’m sure I could make you move even more,” he murmurs. 

Hermione narrows her eyes in defiance. “And I’m sure I could stay completely still.”

Heated grey eyes scorch her. “Is that a challenge, Granger?”

Here again, at a standstill. The same game they've played before.

It started with a hesitant step forward from both sides, with a tentative touch of two mouths and trembling hands. With Draco pulling her closer and closer, as Hermione’s breath hitched at his shoulder as she wrapped herself around him.  All those months ago, and now again here.

Now, it starts with her initiative, as she leans forwards until her mouth hovers over his. She thrills at the unsteady breath that leaves him, and the way his hand fists her shirt.

As if now that he’s caught her in his grasp, he’s never going to let go.

“Let me be good for you,” he whispers at the shell of her ear.

Make me, she wants to whisper, but satisfies herself by running her soap-scented fingers through Draco’s still wet hair.

He huffs a laugh against her collarbone.

Hermione is shaking as she draws back just enough to look at him. It feels foolishly hard to look away. 

“Is that a challenge?” she asks.

Draco smiles at her. 

“If you want it to be.”

She leans in and places her hand over his heart, triumphant at how it pounds underneath her palm. She is not the only one who is so easily affected.

“Why don’t you show me?”

#dramione #dhr #dhr fanfiction #Hermione Granger #Draco Malfoy #my writing

[sapphic-woes]

Trust Me Pt.3

Chapters: One Two

___________________

“What’s your status Widow?” Natasha should have known all this had been too good to be true.

The paramedic muttered the words casually under their breath as they tended to Natasha’s wound. They didn’t have to say the infamous mantra for Natasha to know who they were, and the warm giddiness the spy felt moments before all but disappeared. Instead, she was crushed with the heavy weight of ice on her chest, glancing at the open doors of the ambulance to make sure that Peggy was out of earshot.

“Hail Hydra–the weaknesses of the captain are still at large.” She’s way too trusting, too willing to put her own life on the line for others. She’s quick to pity and even quicker to empathize. “The serum makes her...otherworldly. I am still unsure of how to take her down.” Natasha wasn’t lying...at least not really. Carter did seem indestructible at times, taking missiles head-on with nothing but her raw strength and shield to protect her. 

But sometimes, when the captain looked down at her just before the beginning of a mission–as though searing every inch of Natasha’s face into her mind–she became incredibly soft, painfully tender, utterly loving…but worst of all, undeniably weak. 

If Hydra were to learn of that…there’s no telling what they’d do.

“Hydra sent you in because we believed you were capable of achieving results…not just playing hero with the enemy.” Natasha stiffened, hissing when the so called medic dug his fingers into her wound. She bit back a cry, furrowing her eyebrows as he continued, “try harder Natasha. That woman was just like us once, and everyone has a weakness. I’ll be back soon, and if Hydra hears anything other than a positive report…well, you of all people know what they can do.”

She did, but Natasha feared it didn't matter to her anymore. They can't find out. Natasha kept a neutral face once the medic finished patching her up and Carter came forward. They'll do anything to kill her. She didn't react to the delicate brush of the captain's hand against her skin, holding back a shiver as Carter inspected her bandaged leg. Even if it means harming their best spy, as long as Carter is brought to her knees they won't care.

Hydra would use her to get to Carter, and above all else, Natasha refused to be her captain's weakness.

"What's going on Nat? One second you tell me you might feel something for me, and then the next you're giving me the cold shoulder. Did I do something wrong? Was that...too fast or–?" Rather than continue their conversation elsewhere, Natasha insisted on going home herself. Afterward, she refused to see Carter while Shield benched her till she completely healed. She used every excuse under the book until the captain finally had enough and showed up at Natasha's door herself.

Casual clothing should have been banned from Carter's body, the simple black tank and gray hooded jacket somehow making Natasha's heart jump. She stiffened under Carter's unyielding stare, unable to meet the captain's gaze.

"That...was a mistake on my part. I shouldn't have said that." Natasha took in a wavering breath, gripping the doorknob as she murmured her words. "I'm your partner, having a relationship could distract the both of us, and the public deserves more than that. I'm sorry Carter but…" The spy couldn't bring herself to look up, feeling tears brim the backs of her eyes. No, not now. She had to stay strong, finish this and disappear from both Hydra and Shield. 

"We can't be together. Ever. It'll only cause us pain, and eventually…" Eventually, when you know the truth you'll come to hate me too. Natasha held herself back before she said the words aloud, shaking her head before she moved to shut the door.

"No. You have to be a bigger idiot than me if you think I'll believe such a flimsy excuse, partner." The growled out words made Natasha look up in shock, catching deep brown eyes darkened with desperation. Carter stuck her foot in the door before gripping it in her hand, easily overpowering Natasha and prying it open.

"A distraction? Natasha I couldn't be a distraction to you even if I tried. You're always hellbent on completing a mission. You act as if they're always some type of test, and you've got some imaginary judge rating your performance." Natasha wobbled back as Carter came forward, her calm rage more frightening than any outburst Natasha could have.

Though, Natasha guessed Carter's anger scared her the most because it came from a place of love. One she knew would eventually be her downfall.

"Carter I–"

"I never understand why. Every mission you would look at me as though it would be your last. As if that imaginary judge would give you a bad score one day and you would just disappear. Did you even realize you did that? Did you…" Natasha jolted when her back met the coolness of her apartment wall, swallowing as Carter didn't slow her pace. 

The spy froze as the captain came closer, and then closer still–until neither of their breaths were their own, and Natasha swore Carter could hear her heartbeat. Carter pressed her left arm onto the wall above Natasha's head, her other hand moving to cup the spy's face in her hand. The captain let out a trembling breath, voice strained as she just barely whispered her next words aloud.

"Did you ever...think about how much that scared me?"

When Natasha finally looked up into her captain's eyes, she swore she saw the sun. It dripped down rays of longing over her, Carter's tears melting the ice Natasha had so desperately tried to freeze over her heart. I can't… What couldn't she do? Give into those glistening eyes above her? Continue to reject them? She felt like both were impossible, shutting her eyes tightly as she spoke.

"I'm doing this for you. It isn't safe to be with me, I'm not who you think I am Carter. I– before I was in Shield I wasn't good...and I'm still not." Natasha carefully chose her words, still fearful of how Carter would react if she knew the truth. Nervously she rubbed her arms, shrinking into herself as she spoke.

"You're right, it was a shitty excuse...but trust me when I say that the truth is worse. It doesn't matter what I feel about you Carter...regardless I'm bad news. I'll hurt you and bring you down one day–and you don't deserve that. You're too good for that. You're...too good for me." Natasha's voice cracked over her final words, sucking in a breath when a hand delicately held her chin. 

Natasha shivered when Carter guided Natasha's gaze back up, pressed her forehead down against the spy's own, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She's...a giant crybaby huh? The intrusive thought almost made Natasha laugh in the midst of everything, head moving left and right as Carter shook her head against hers.

"Don't say that. Don't give up on us before you even try. You think I couldn't tell you had a past? Natasha...I know the person you were before becoming my partner was different. Hell, in hindsight the you I met ages ago was probably fabricated as well. But this?" Carter pressed her hand flush against Natasha's chest, letting out a breathless chuckle when she felt her partner shudder under her.

"Kind of hard to fake a heartbeat that fast. I know what's happening right now is real, and to me that matters more than who you used to be. You won't hurt me, let alone will anyone from your past...not as long as I have you." How can she say such things so easily? How can she trust me knowing I'm keeping secrets from her? 

"You're naive. You don't know what I could be doing behind your back! I-I could be a terrible person, and you don't even know it!" Natasha burst out, reaching forward to grip a fistful of Carter's tank top. "You're going to get yourself killed like this! You're way too trusting and–!" Natasha yelped as suddenly Carter gripped her by the waist, picking her up before carefully dumping the spy on her couch. She didn't have time to orient herself before the couch groaned under Carter's weight, swallowing as the captain hovered over her.

Maybe...I should buy a bigger couch.

"So are you? Planning to kill me that is? It's a rather elaborate plan if you ask me. Becoming my partner, making me fall in love, falling in love yourself ...and then attempting to run away at the last minute? Ah–unless the whole 'fall in love with the enemy' part wasn't planned?" Natasha flushed at the sly grin Carter gave her, eyebrows knit together.

"I'm not planning to kill you–"

"Then there's nothing to worry about, right? The girl I like doesn't want me dead–what else could I possibly want? Natasha...don't push me away. Whatever it is holding you back we can face together, head on. With you and me side by side...what out there even stands a chance?" Natasha had resolved to heal up her leg and then disappear before either Shield or Hydra contacted her again–anything to keep Carter safe.

Yet here the captain was, ripping apart her plans and planting a seed of hope in the soil of her despair. Could she really reach forward and touch happiness, even though she had been denied it so many times before? Hesitantly Natasha reached up, faintly brushing the tips of her fingers against Carter's cheek. She felt the dried tears there, and the warmth–her overwhelming warmth that beckoned Natasha closer. It seems I can. For once in my life I can see happiness before my face and grasp it in my hands.

Though she was fearful of Hydra, fearful of Shield and most of all fearful of losing Carter–Natasha had to try. She had to trust Carter's words, believe she wasn't lying, and so in turn lay herself bare before the captain as well. It was the only way to prepare Carter for what was coming, and Natasha gulped as she slowly nodded.

"Okay...I'll tell you who I really am. But before I do…" Natasha sucked in a breath, heart pounding heavily against her chest. She'd never asked Carter for anything before, but suddenly she felt needy, skin burning as she all but whispered the request. "Let me call you by your first name from now on. Marg–"

"It's Peggy. My nickname. Most people close to me call me that...and I'd love it if you did as well Natasha." At the answer Natasha couldn't help but smile for the first time since Peggy came, nodding with a small laugh as she grinned up at her captain.

"Alright, Peggy ... I'll tell you a little story of who the Natasha Romanoff you know really is."

#wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw writing #peggy x natasha #peggynat #peggy carter #captain carter #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #mcu #lesbians #sapphic #sapphic writing #sapphic woes

[castelvetrano]

Hey Anabelle🤍

Do you have any advice on how to deal with or manage self criticism or self esteem? I moved back to my home city and I feel even more unsure of myself than usual, like I’m not yet the best version of myself intellectually, physically and emotionally. I’m postponing plans with friends and avoiding meeting new people because I just don’t have the confidence to be around people intimately still

I know that we’re all works in progress and nobody is their best version all the time, but I feel like so many friends and acquaintances have it all figured out and I’m stuck

Thanks Anabelle, have a happy thanksgiving weekend 🌼

Hi there, I’m so sorry you’re going through this but it is so completely normal and you are not alone. Some people are better at faking it and other people unfortunately are unable to mask their insecurities with false sense of confidence so it’s normal to want to remain in your comfort zone where you feel safe. I promise you though, you won’t be able to reach the best version of yourself by hiding away until you think you’re ready. You reach that place by realizing your good enough as is but there still place to grow and better yourself while you enjoy your life and remain in the present. You’ll become the best version of yourself by hanging out with friends, going out, trying out new workout spots or joining a gym, maybe if it’s in your budget join a luxury gym, it really worth the price if you’re looking forward to being more healthy, moving your body and having nice facilities, cause you do deserve that! Maybe join a pottery class, start cooking more, speak with your family more, reach out to friends. You can start with baby steps but you need to just slowly get the ball moving. If you wait until you’re ready you will just isolate yourself more and make yourself feel less ready and in control. I know you are absolutely perfect right now and I know your friends think that as well. Be kind to yourself and your friends and take chances. It’s so worth it. Love you!!

[ransomdemands]

//

#its looking like I am gonna have to delay starting T for a mother couple months if I want to do the fertility preservation #and that’s fine I’m ..... fine with it #I mean I’m ..... deciding to be fine with it but whatever #the thing thats really frustrating about this is that I can’t ..... talk about it with anyone #like all my friends are sweet and lovely and .... primarily cis #and so when I say something like - I’m getting frustrated with the waiting #they ..... they don’t really understand #like they obviously don’t understand how it feels to have to wait #and I can’t bring myself to try and explain it cause it just sounds like whining and also #the last time I tried my friend was like - why don’t you try joining a support group or finding other trans people to talk to instead #and I was like thanks - why would I have wanted to talk to you my close personal friend of 10 years instead of a stranger on the internet #(bless you strangers on the internet I love you but it’s different ya feel) #so like I just have to kinda bottle it up and I .... am getting frustrated #but anyway enough whining #I’m just gonna keep on keeping on #but I’m also gonna recklessly get a bunch of tattoos in the mean time #cause I deserve it and feeling like I’m stuck and unable to move forward is shit but even if I can’t make my body be how I want with t #I can at least make it look how I want superficially #ransom talks

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

Summary: Ace, Rook, Epel, and Riddle failed to stop Eliza and Idia’s wedding. All hope is lost, and midnight is approaching. 

An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Idia-centric. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

Wyd when you’re minutes away from receiving the literal kiss of death? Idia wished he could ask Threaddit. Of all ways to go, he never imagined getting kidnapped by a ghost princess and being forced to marry her. It was a dark but almost funny twist that wrote itself into his uneventful shut-in life. 

“The wait is over, my prince. It’s time for our vows!” Eliza told him, as if this were something to be happy about. It was absolutely baffling how she never noticed his tears today. His pleas fell to deaf ears as an ancient wedding march played, which sounded more like a funeral march. It was a fitting BGM. 

> Idia tried to escape, but was paralyzed on the floor and couldn’t move an inch! 

> We need a healer to come save us! 

> Someone with a skill to clear debuffs!

At first, he thought it was ridiculous for him to be chosen when Vil, Leona, and Malleus were right there. But now, he figured it was only right for an NPC like him to be sacrificed so that the heroes could shine. The problem was that there were no heroes here—everyone here was selfish. Besides, no one could really save him now. His schoolmates lay defeated on the floor, frozen by Eliza’s OP status effect. 

Ace-shi was tied up and silenced after “offending the princess”. He tried to speak, but only incoherent grumbling could be heard with that silvery, translucent gag in the way. 

Epel-shi followed after him, but started yelling and wildly waving his bouquet around after Eliza asked him to consider being a bridesmaid. He had to be restrained by the ghosts. 

Rook-shi almost did it, but was slapped after Eliza somehow felt that his words weren’t for her alone. 

Riddle-shi was rejected for being too short. He tried to reason with the princess, making her feel that he was too serious. He was slapped. 

These four would-be saviors were frozen on the floor like everyone who came before. The Headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Since he’d been kidnapped, Ortho had been trying to help. Unfortunately, his brother was unable to do much for him without anyone’s aid. He isn’t even here right now. Idia’s heart broke at the thought of his brother still gathering people to help him.

And you? He hadn’t seen you all day.

While he waited for a savior, Eliza waited for his “I Do.” When the clock strikes twelve, she would kiss him. Then, it would be Game Over. 

“I stand before this couple this day to unite them in the bonds of matrimony,” begins the ghost officiant. Idia thinks of his unfinished manga volumes, the anime he didn’t get to watch, the games he never got to play, and movie sequels he’d never get to see. Most importantly, he thinks of you—his unexpected friend. Or maybe the more appropriate word would be crush. These past few weeks, he strongly denied these feelings as if his life depended upon it. Maybe it did. 

“... if there be anyone present that may present a just and lawful cause why these two individuals may not be lawfully wed…”

It was totally lame, but yes—your rejection would Crit him. 

“... let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

If his schoolmates couldn’t do anything, he didn’t expect you, a magicless human to be able to stop this. Still, it would have felt better to see you try. So, where were you? Did you ever care for him at all, or did he overestimate your friendship points? 

“Do you, Idia Shroud, take Eliza as your lawful wife...”

Can someone crash through those doors right at this moment?

to have and to hold from this day forward—”

Maybe an explosion could happen in the middle of the cafeteria idk

“for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,”

Or the ground could crack open, sucking all the ghosts into the Underworld! 

in sickness and in health?” 

Anyone, please?

“Man, I’m so done with this!” Floyd whined, cutting off the vows and distracting the ghosts. Idia let himself exhale as he silently thanked the eel for interrupting. “When Mr. Firefly Squid gets a kiss, we get to go home, right? Get it done already.” Oh. Or maybe not.

“My back is starting to hurt from being stuck in the same position for so long. Give her a good peck on the lips while the gettin’s good,” said Lilia. What? I gamed with you! Traitor!

“Do as Lilia says! Hurry and give her a good peck!” yelled Sebek. This was followed by more jeers—more urging for him to just die already. 

Unbelievable. But he should’ve expected this from the beginning. This was why he hated people. None of them liked him, so none of them would care. It was fair, wasn’t it? There was no one he cared about in here. Only Ortho strongly protested against the wedding, but what could he do and where was he now? If only he knew this was going to happen, then maybe he could have installed some ghostbusting features into Ortho—like that one movie he watched!

In his desperation, he tried to appeal to the closest person to him in the room. “Azul-shi, we’re board game club buddies. Do something!” 

But his friend, if he could even be called that, only faked a sniffle. “I’m so moved I can barely see through my tears. Congratulations, you have my blessing!”

If Azul-shi, his closest in the room won’t and couldn’t help him, who would? He hoped it would be you, but that hope has long been squashed and only left him hating that he ever hoped at all. He must have bullied you too much while you were gaming. Did he overdo the trash talk? Was he too mean? (He swears it was all light-hearted!) Did he shut you out too much? Did you hate hanging out with him all along? Of course you would. 

Gaming together and talking on VC for hours, he supposed, weren’t enough to make you care if he lost his life tonight. 

Eliza talking about the kiss barely registered as a lone tear escaped his eye. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” If you were here, would you be chanting with them? Probably. It’s about time you showed your true colors too. 

“STOP CHEERING!” he yelled, anger flaring amidst his sadness. Did he deserve this? Did he deserve to be this hated?  

“Pay them no more mind, Idia. Midnight is here!” 

“Shut up, shut up! Can’t you see I don’t want this?”

But Eliza leans in, drawing closer and closer. Tears seep out of Idia’s eyes, weeping for things that never came to pass. No. No. No, he chanted in his head with his eyes closed, as if it could do anything. A chilly feeling begins to cover his face. This is it. GG. 

A sad and pathetic ending for a sad and pathetic shut-in boy. This was the only love he’ll ever get. Love wasn’t real. Heroes aren’t real. Dating sims aren’t reality. He should just—

BANG. 

Huh?

“I OBJECT!” 

“That voice!”

“Is it really…?”

Gasps and murmurs erupted in the hall at the sudden arrival of a figure clad in all-black. Beside them was Ortho, and at their feet was Grim. A large hat obscured their face, adding to the mystery of their person. The entire hall was awe-struck.

The ghosts whispered in confusion and alarm, but those who recognized the voice began hoping to be saved. Eliza, who’d been stunned into silence, quickly grew annoyed at the new interruption. 

“Who is that?” she asked him, but Idia couldn’t care about her. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. His blood was alive. There they were again—those butterflies you’ve been giving him… as cliché as that sounds. 

He watched you take off your hat as the hall greeted you with cheers. 

~~

To be continued

This is my first post and I’m nervous as hell.

I’ve been seeing the “Yuu-crashes-Ghost-marriage” idea around and decided to write my (really long) version of it. (Seriously, it got really long ahaha) Thank you for reading. If you liked this, stay tuned for the next parts!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

#idia x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst fic #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud #rewritten

[in-sapphic-ruins]

Trust Me Pt. 3

Chapters: One Two 

“What’s your status Widow?” Natasha should have known all this had been too good to be true.

The paramedic muttered the words casually under their breath as they tended to Natasha’s wound. They didn’t have to say the infamous mantra for Natasha to know who they were, and the warm giddiness the spy felt moments before all but disappeared. Instead, she was crushed with the heavy weight of ice on her chest, glancing at the open doors of the ambulance to make sure that Peggy was out of earshot.

“Hail Hydra–the weaknesses of the captain are still at large.” She’s way too trusting, too willing to put her own life on the line for others. She’s quick to pity and even quicker to empathize. “The serum makes her...otherworldly. I am still unsure of how to take her down.” Natasha wasn’t lying...at least not really. Carter did seem indestructible at times, taking missiles head-on with nothing but her raw strength and shield to protect her. 

But sometimes, when the captain looked down at her just before the beginning of a mission–as though searing every inch of Natasha’s face into her mind–she became incredibly soft, painfully tender, utterly loving…but worst of all, undeniably weak. 

If Hydra were to learn of that…there’s no telling what they’d do.

“Hydra sent you in because we believed you were capable of achieving results…not just playing hero with the enemy.” Natasha stiffened, hissing when the so called medic dug his fingers into her wound. She bit back a cry, furrowing her eyebrows as he continued, “try harder Natasha. That woman was just like us once, and everyone has a weakness. I’ll be back soon, and if Hydra hears anything other than a positive report…well, you of all people know what they can do.”

She did, but Natasha feared it didn't matter to her anymore. They can't find out. Natasha kept a neutral face once the medic finished patching her up and Carter came forward. They'll do anything to kill her. She didn't react to the delicate brush of the captain's hand against her skin, holding back a shiver as Carter inspected her bandaged leg. Even if it means harming their best spy, as long as Carter is brought to her knees they won't care.

Hydra would use her to get to Carter, and above all else, Natasha refused to be her captain's weakness.

"What's going on Nat? One second you tell me you might feel something for me, and then the next you're giving me the cold shoulder. Did I do something wrong? Was that...too fast or–?" Rather than continue their conversation elsewhere, Natasha insisted on going home herself. Afterward, she refused to see Carter while Shield benched her till she completely healed. She used every excuse under the book until the captain finally had enough and showed up at Natasha's door herself.

Casual clothing should have been banned from Carter's body, the simple black tank and gray hooded jacket somehow making Natasha's heart jump. She stiffened under Carter's unyielding stare, unable to meet the captain's gaze.

"That...was a mistake on my part. I shouldn't have said that." Natasha took in a wavering breath, gripping the doorknob as she murmured her words. "I'm your partner, having a relationship could distract the both of us, and the public deserves more than that. I'm sorry Carter but…" The spy couldn't bring herself to look up, feeling tears brim the backs of her eyes. No, not now. She had to stay strong, finish this and disappear from both Hydra and Shield. 

"We can't be together. Ever. It'll only cause us pain, and eventually…" Eventually, when you know the truth you'll come to hate me too. Natasha held herself back before she said the words aloud, shaking her head before she moved to shut the door.

"No. You have to be a bigger idiot than me if you think I'll believe such a flimsy excuse, partner." The growled out words made Natasha look up in shock, catching deep brown eyes darkened with desperation. Carter stuck her foot in the door before gripping it in her hand, easily overpowering Natasha and prying it open.

"A distraction? Natasha I couldn't be a distraction to you even if I tried. You're always hellbent on completing a mission. You act as if they're always some type of test, and you've got some imaginary judge rating your performance." Natasha wobbled back as Carter came forward, her calm rage more frightening than any outburst Natasha could have.

Though, Natasha guessed Carter's anger scared her the most because it came from a place of love. One she knew would eventually be her downfall.

"Carter I–"

"I never understand why. Every mission you would look at me as though it would be your last. As if that imaginary judge would give you a bad score one day and you would just disappear. Did you even realize you did that? Did you…" Natasha jolted when her back met the coolness of her apartment wall, swallowing as Carter didn't slow her pace. 

The spy froze as the captain came closer, and then closer still–until neither of their breaths were their own, and Natasha swore Carter could hear her heartbeat. Carter pressed her left arm onto the wall above Natasha's head, her other hand moving to cup the spy's face in her hand. The captain let out a trembling breath, voice strained as she just barely whispered her next words aloud.

"Did you ever...think about how much that scared me?"

When Natasha finally looked up into her captain's eyes, she swore she saw the sun. It dripped down rays of longing over her, Carter's tears melting the ice Natasha had so desperately tried to freeze over her heart. I can't… What couldn't she do? Give into those glistening eyes above her? Continue to reject them? She felt like both were impossible, shutting her eyes tightly as she spoke.

"I'm doing this for you. It isn't safe to be with me, I'm not who you think I am Carter. I–before I was in Shield I wasn't good...and I'm still not." Natasha carefully chose her words, still fearful of how Carter would react if she knew the truth. Nervously she rubbed her arms, shrinking into herself as she spoke.

"You're right, it was a shitty excuse...but trust me when I say that the truth is worse. It doesn't matter what I feel about you Carter...regardless I'm bad news. I'll hurt you and bring you down one day–and you don't deserve that. You're too good for that. You're...too good for me." Natasha's voice cracked over her final words, sucking in a breath when a hand delicately held her chin. 

Natasha shivered when Carter guided Natasha's gaze back up, pressed her forehead down against the spy's own, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She's...a giant crybaby huh? The intrusive thought almost made Natasha laugh in the midst of everything, head moving left and right as Carter shook her head against hers.

"Don't say that. Don't give up on us before you even try. You think I couldn't tell you had a past? Natasha...I know the person you were before becoming my partner was different. Hell, in hindsight the you I met ages ago was probably fabricated as well. But this?" Carter pressed her hand flush against Natasha's chest, letting out a breathless chuckle when she felt her partner shudder under her.

"Kind of hard to fake a heartbeat that fast. I know what's happening right now is real, and to me that matters more than who you used to be. You won't hurt me, let alone will anyone from your past...not as long as I have you." How can she say such things so easily? How can she trust me knowing I'm keeping secrets from her? 

"You're naive. You don't know what I could be doing behind your back! I-I could be a terrible person, and you don't even know it!" Natasha burst out, reaching forward to grip a fistful of Carter's tank top. "You're going to get yourself killed like this! You're way too trusting and–!" Natasha yelped as suddenly Carter gripped her by the waist, picking her up before carefully dumping the spy on her couch. She didn't have time to orient herself before the couch groaned under Carter's weight, swallowing as the captain hovered over her.

Maybe...I should buy a bigger couch.

"So are you? Planning to kill me that is? It's a rather elaborate plan if you ask me. Becoming my partner, making me fall in love, falling in love yourself...and then attempting to run away at the last minute? Ah–unless the whole 'fall in love with the enemy' part wasn't planned?" Natasha flushed at the sly grin Carter gave her, eyebrows knit together.

"I'm not planning to kill you–"

"Then there's nothing to worry about, right? The girl I like doesn't want me dead–what else could I possibly want? Natasha...don't push me away. Whatever it is holding you back we can face together, head on. With you and me side by side...what out there even stands a chance?" Natasha had resolved to heal up her leg and then disappear before either Shield or Hydra contacted her again–anything to keep Carter safe.

Yet here the captain was, ripping apart her plans and planting a seed of hope in the soil of her despair. Could she really reach forward and touch happiness, even though she had been denied it so many times before? Hesitantly Natasha reached up, faintly brushing the tips of her fingers against Carter's cheek. She felt the dried tears there, and the warmth–her overwhelming warmth that beckoned Natasha closer. It seems I can. For once in my life I can see happiness before my face and grasp it in my hands.

Though she was fearful of Hydra, fearful of Shield and most of all fearful of losing Carter–Natasha had to try. She had to trust Carter's words, believe she wasn't lying, and so in turn lay herself bare before the captain as well. It was the only way to prepare Carter for what was coming, and Natasha gulped as she slowly nodded.

"Okay...I'll tell you who I really am. But before I do…" Natasha sucked in a breath, heart pounding heavily against her chest. She'd never asked Carter for anything before, but suddenly she felt needy, skin burning as she all but whispered the request. "Let me call you by your first name from now on. Marg–"

"It's Peggy. My nickname. Most people close to me call me that...and I'd love it if you did as well Natasha." At the answer Natasha couldn't help but smile for the first time since Peggy came, nodding with a small laugh as she grinned up at her captain.

"Alright, Peggy...I'll tell you a little story of who the Natasha Romanoff you know really is."

#wlw fanfic #peggy x natasha #peggynat #peggy carter #captain carter #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #mcu #lesbians #yea ik its late booohooooo

[chewiedon]

SWIM IN GOLD | DOUMA

request: Reader is known to be the most beautiful woman in the village. Douma got intrigued by the word 'beautiful' from rumors that he tried to find the reader to see how beautiful she is and probably eat her soon. But when he saw how beautiful she really is. He hold off his hunger and kidnapped her. After that, Douma locked her in one of a special room for Queens (idk). The reader was upset and wanted to escape. As soon as she got the chance to, she run endlessly through the deep forest. A demon jumped out and attacked her, but before it could. Douma was there to kill it himself. The reader was threatened to be punished after that. But she doesn't care anymore. She knows she is safe with him from now on.

You woke up on the rough surface of the tatami mat with a thin comforter over your figure. Waking up with confusion plaguing your mind, you quickly raised your body and turned your head left and right trying to find something familiar in your strange surroundings. Immediately you tried to remember what you did the night previous, did you get drunk and accidentally sleep with someone? Did you end up being kidnapped?

The last thing you remember was laying down comfortably in your futon and going to sleep, not being able to recall the ingestion of any intoxication. The thought crossed your mind that someone might have drugged you asleep, that way you wouldn't have woken up. You weren't that heavy of a sleeper.

Morning rays of sun seeped through the cracks of the shoji doors, a body sized mirror in the corner or the small room reflected the little light it could catch. Standing up on your feet you got a better look at the room you were in, your gaze stopped at the sliding door which you immediately grabbed.

Sliding it open you were welcomed with long halls containing wooden floors, a man in a light colored kimono flinched when he saw you as he rushed to you.

"Madam, please wait in that room! The Lord is currently speaking to worshippers, I-" You cut the distressed man before he could continue.

"Where am I? I've never been here before," You were confused at the formality, sure men were usually formal to you but never like this.

"You're within the Lords' Chambers, if you're refusing to stay in there I'll have to lock you in there, madam!" You disliked his tone of voice with you, you were looking why and where you were and he was trying to lock you inside a room?

The rules of being a good guest flew out the window, you were in this strange house against your will and you don't want anything to do with it. You raised your voice, anger and frustration beginning to surface.

"I don't give a rat's ass about your "Lord" or whatever! Why am I here, I wish to leave!" You could feel the heat surface to your face as aggression rushed through your body, your foot stomping on the floor in frustration as if you were some child.

"Ma'am please!" The man pleaded.

"I had a feeling I heard a commotion~!" A masculine voice sang, a man dressed in colorful layers of kimonos with shining blonde hair.

He looked like he didn't long for this world, he was so colorful. A top his head he wore a crown as if he were some kind of God, in this case you could even say he was that. It explains his majestic appearance.

"Pardon the trouble, but please get back into the room, I'll be with you soon~!" You could hear the facade behind his tone, it was disgustingly obvious and he was disgustingly good at it.

The colorful man reached out to touch you, likely for some kind of comfort. You swatted his hand away, and took a step away. Your emotions were going haywire, who do these people think they are? Kidnapping you? Before you could even blink, a large hand had grabbed your jawline and pulled it forward.

"Keep this shit up and I'll punish you. I'll be with you soon," His tone turned cold, his smile wiped off his face- he looked like a different thing entirely.

Your stomach sank as fear had set in, this man standing in front of you was much bigger than you and clearly had power over people. There wasn't much hope for you, was there? You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded with a small whimper, you could feel your forehead dampen with sweat.

He removed his hand slowly and put a friendly pat on top of your head, his cheery disposition had returned. He walked down the hallway, the same way he came from originally.

"I'm so happy my wife is so understanding~!" He sang, "Takeshi-san please take good care of her in my place!" He sang before disappearing around the corner, leaving you in shock.

The servant, now dubbed as Takeshi shouted back, "Y-yes Douma-sama right away!" Before nudging you back into the room.

Douma was a name that rang in your ear, your mother often talked about him with the other housewives in the village about his cult. Despite the warm demeanor that followed the Eternal Paradise religion, you'd stayed far away from it. Something felt always off.

And now that you were stuck inside this small room with no reason why you were in the first place. A rock had settled in your stomach, a very large and immovable rock. You sat on the rough tatami mats on the verge of tears, choking back sobs.

Minutes turned into hours, hours of a sore throat and quiet crying. You were stuck, and nobody would think to look for you in here.

"Crying? What's wrong?"

The voice you had dreaded resonated throughout the room, your gaze was fixated on your crossed knees. His hakama pants made way into your view as he stood right above you.

"My... You didn't even use any of the gifts I got for you. I was sure you would like them."

"Why am I here?" Your voice was cold, trying your best to keep yourself from shaking.

Something was wrong, so very wrong. A sinister edge came off of Douma, he almost reeked of impurity. Simply from the way he presented himself to you, his facade made the rock in your stomach only grow. Your evident helplessness only made your anxiety spike.

His hand was cold, he cupped your cheek. Douma's multicolored eyes seemed to leave you in a trance, they were beautiful. Before you could even process what was happening his lips were on yours.

You've never felt more disgusted by something than right now.

Douma didn't have any body heat, his skin held a chill to it.

Shivers danced up and down your spine, you didn't dare to break the connection. He broke off and kissed your forehead while you stood frozen.

His breath smelled like blood.

"Was that your first kiss? Well don't worry, when we get married I'll make sure to kiss you plenty~!" He sang out, a bright smile on his face and his cheeks red.

"Married?" you had started, "I can't get married, my mother says I must wait until I'm 18 until I choose a suitor!"

"Your mother, oh the nice older lady with (h/c), right? No worries, I ate her just last night when I took her!"

Ate? What the fuck?

Was he the leader of some sick cannibalistic cult? Worshippers of the devil? Your voice was caught in your throat, unable to properly process the words that had spilled from Douma's lips. Was it a metaphor for something?

Douma sat down, your gazes at a similar height as you sat up straight. His back was slouched to look you straight in the eye.

"I'm unable to stay long, I'll make sure to keep you lots of company tomorrow though! It's simply just bad timing, my master has requested a very impromptu meeting. I'll be back, darling~!" he skipped around the room and flung the shoji door open, revealing the engawa.

Taking a deep breath, allowing the night air to fill his lungs.

"The night is beautiful," Douma commented, "But you're even more beautiful."

In less than a blink of an eye he disappeared. As if he was never there in the first place.

Douma didn't lie to you, he did have to leave to see his higher ups. But it was a trap, a test. He had known you were jittery, and he could feel the rushing adrenaline from the moment the two of yours' lips had met. He knew you would try to run away, and as such he could provide protection. Humans' minds were simple and delicate, and he knew how exactly to get you on his side. You were such a delicacy, he's never felt drawn towards someone like he had with you.

It may have been the way other men had talked about you. Or the way you had presented yourself to others. Those meager humans didn't deserve you in his opinion. You presented yourself as some kind of goddess, an inhuman being and giving your attention to mere maggots.

Back inside the estate, you didn't even look to see if Douma had actually left. Some fucked up shit was happening here and you didn't want any part of it. Not even looking for your shoes you had dashed out of the house. Ignoring the stinging of pine needles and small rocks against the bottom of your feet, you forced your legs to carry you through the forest.

Even though you didn't get a good look at your surroundings, nothing looked familiar in the slightest. You didn't care if you were running to the middle of the forest, you just needed to get away from him. The loose kimono restricted your movement, you twisted the obi off and lazily knotted the string around your waist.

Eventually, your adrenaline and stamina had given out. Your burning muscles only got weaker until they eventually gave out and knocked you on your knees, your lungs on fire from running. You had no idea how far away you were from the house, you could still see the dim light over the array of bushes and trees.

The song of the crickets was loud in your ears, as well as the snapping twigs and the rustling of the life around you. You had tried your best to muffle your heavy breathing, not wanting to cause any abnormal disturbances that might hint to your disappearance. Putting one hand over your wheezing mouth and another over your chest in hope to help calm yourself down. You could feel the blood pulsating all over your body.

"Ohoh? A human?"

Your heart sank, everything in your body completely refused to move. Ruled by the exhaustion and terror. It wasn't Douma's voice, but the choking stench of death made your throat close up.

"A woman too, luck really is on my side tonight!"

The demon stood above you from the withered log you had been hiding against, he twisted his body downward inhumanly. Grabbing your shoulder and digging his claws into your flesh, the stinging pain invading all your senses as you tried to wiggle yourself out. You tugged desperately at the hand, screeching and crying until your vocals were sore.

"How troublesome."

Before you could even begin to process the bloody image in front of you, your body had slammed into the rough ground below you, almost knocking the wind out of you. Scurrying backwards, seeing the attacker now in bite sized pieces. Decorating the grass below him with his insides.

"You disobeyed me."

Douma stood on the log above you, moonlight highlighting his figure. Godlike. Just what was he?

"I'll have to punish you."

The shaking in your body ceased, as soon as he had stepped on the ground before you your arms were latched around him.

You didn't care how he'd punish or hold you captive, you knew you were safe.

#douma #demon slayer douma #douma x reader #demon slayer x reader #douma demon slayer #demon slayer #demon slayer muzan #kny muzan #muzan x reader #kny x reader angst #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #anime x reader #manga x reader #hi

[echo-of-sounds]

one man can only do so much

Small drabbles of you helping Aizawa and Toshi through a panic attack.

Warning: panic attack

Aizawa Shouta

“Let’s head to the third floor. There’s a new clothing store I want to check out.”

You got one step forward when your hand was seized. You turned to Shouta’s steeled face. His eyes stared pointed and blank, glazed over, yet still intently searching for a threat. What little color his skin had paled to white. The grip crushed your fingers and knuckles.

Despite the pain, you coolly asked, “Sho?”

Dark eyes snapped to yours. Faint red began to glow. Hairs floated skyward. You heedfully reached for his arm, prepared to jerk away if he flinched or fought. But he didn’t react at all to your touch.

“Shouta, can you talk?”

His chest wasn’t expanding. His throat wasn’t swallowing. Heat irradiated through clothing.

“There’s no danger here, Shouta. You’re safe.”

Eyes darted and prowled for the predator. He was making a plan, readying for whoever or whatever attacked.

“Shouta,” you whispered calm and clear, reminding him of who he was right now. He wasn’t a Hero. He wasn’t a teacher. He was simply a man who wished to spend a simple day out. No scars or sacrifices would happen. No blood would be spilled. One man can only do so much- can only bear so much before he breaks.

“It’ll be alright. Follow me. Okay?” Slowly and without making any sudden, sharp movements, you guided him. Legs stepped stiffly. No air moved in his body. His face held unease. He wasn’t going to make it out of the mall. The bench at the end of the wing was acceptable.

He fell to the seat, still clutching your hand. It left you unable to rub his back. You opted for his thigh, squeezing it solid and firm, grounding him, showing him you were right beside him. “Shouta, can you talk to me?”

Nothing came. He only stared at the floor. Inert lungs stressed his temples red, glassed his eyes distant, bulged his neck venous. 

You flattened your free hand to his stomach. It felt dead. “You need to breathe.” At his inaction, you mildly pleaded, not wanting to worsen his panic, “Shouta, baby, please. You’re safe here, I promise. Breathe in through your nose.”

“You- You-” he huffed. 

“I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m safe, too.”

With the assurance of your safety, he gasped for breath, finally granting his body oxygen. His mouth hung open in stuttering inhales.

“That’s good, baby. Breathe in through your nose. Feel your lungs fill with air.”

His hand covered yours as his chest swelled. It deflated a millisecond later, not sufficient to relieve him of his drowning.

“Try holding it for four seconds.”

He couldn’t. He heaved out loudly.

“That’s okay. Just try again, Sho. You’re safe right now. We have all the time in the world.”

He sucked in, clenching both your hands. The pressure in his chest inflated and stagnated before releasing. You walked him through the long, painful, choppy breaths. 

They eventually evened enough to bring him to the car. He never unhanded your right hand while you drove home. Heated skin caused yours to sweat. You didn’t comment or try to pull it back, knowing he needed something solid.

And once inside, snuggled in your bed, Shouta’s arms never unwrapped from your waist, his head never rose from your chest, and his body never so much as lifted a centimeter away from yours. You kissed his forehead, whispering to his drowsy senses, “You and I are safe right now. You can sleep. You’re safe. I love you.”

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori leaned his elbows on the table. “Is it good?”

“Very. The frosting is amazing. Here.” You extended the fork, letting him taste the red velvet cake. 

He matched your smile, humming, “That is really good.”

You took another bite. It wasn’t enjoyable because when you raised your head, his eyes weren’t there. They looked at you, but they weren’t looking at you. One tiny tear fell. 

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head, unable to speak, glancing every which way wildly. You ripped the keys out of your pocket and offered them. “Go to the car. I’ll be right out.” 

He snatched them and fast-walked out. You got the waiter’s attention, quickly paid, and boxed the rest of the dessert. After that, you gathered his forgotten jacket and rushed to the car. He wasn’t in it. He wasn’t near it. Keys laid on the dirty ground.

Setting the items on the hood, you spun, searching for bright blond hair. Your only light was the streetlamps, and they didn’t help in the least. “Toshi, where are you? Toshinori?” 

A sharp gasp came from a nearby alleyway. Heavy breathing came next. You followed it, finding him leaning against the wall, holding his side, hunched over. Water beaded down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw. You murmured, “Toshi, I’m right here.”

He blindly reached for you. You welcomed his hand, and he slumped to your shoulder. Then his legs gave and his weight drove your torso down. Your back pressed to the wall, cushioning his body as you both slid to the icy concrete, tangled in his limbs, only feeling warmth from the other.

Hair stuck to his skin. Wanting to give him some room to breathe, you brushed it back in the odd position. But he recoiled at your fingers and twisted into himself. Fear quivered from his heart. It was distressing, sobering. He wanted to help, yet he couldn’t, so he opted to disappear. 

“It’s me, Toshi. It’s me. Are you in pain?” In his sorrow, you softly sought, “What are you feeling?”

He shook his head.

“What are you scared of?”

He mouthed just above a whisper, ‘I don’t want anyone to die.’ 

“Nobody’s died, Toshi. Everyone’s safe. The kids are safe.”

‘I can’t protect them. I can’t do anything anymore.’

“You’ve done everything humanly possible.” Not caring about sweat, you kissed his forehead again and again. One man can only do so much. And he’s done his due. 

He coiled in. Tears wet your shirt, soaking your heart. Long legs and lanky arms awkwardly curled, cowering, cold, and weak. The pressures of the public and the expectations of All Might reduced him to fear, failure, and the fear of failure. It wasn’t right to put that on anyone. It doesn’t matter if they openly accepted the burden and smiled through the hardship.

You spoke slowly, “That weight isn’t yours to bear. It’s not fair. You deserve better. You deserve happiness and so much more.” You kissed his palm. Rough, worn skin chilled your lips. They warmed when his cracked lips covered them.

“I don’t feel like I do.”

“Then I’ll always remind you.” You stroked his stained cheeks. Your voice broke, “I promise.”

Toshi dropped his head, nuzzling as close as possible, out of the world’s excessive glare. You remained in the alley, unconcerned with the brisk air. You’d deal with frostbite if it meant he could experience a brief escape.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #aizawa imagine #all might imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #tw panic attack

[mypoisonedvine]

Getting In Tune | Chris Evans x reader fluff

summary: taking house calls as a piano tuner doesn’t usually mean meeting hot guys… mostly just old ladies who offer you lemonade, which is great and all, but did not prepare you for an appointment to tune chris evans’ full grand.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, dirty jokes about pianos, allusions to nsfw things?? vaguely?, mostly just fluff and flirting and awkwardness

Checking that the address on your worksheet matched the one on the door in front of you, you reviewed the nature of the appointment as your boss had written out for you: 

Customer: Christopher Evans

Appointment type: Warranty tuning and check-up

Arrival time: 10 a.m. 

You checked your watch and saw that it was 9:58, but hopefully that wouldn’t bother him too much.  Leaning forward, you knocked on the door and waited.  You could hear a dog barking inside, running up to the other side of the door as someone unlocked the bolt and cracked it open, poking his head out while he held the dog back with his leg.

He seemed a little surprised to see you standing there, made even more apparent by the fact that he was obviously wearing pajamas— specifically, a baggy tank top and gingham flannel pants.  A few tattoos were visible on his arms and collarbones, though you tried not to stare at them or anything.

“Did you not know you had an appointment today?” you asked him.  When he didn’t answer, you tried to give a bit more of a prompting.  “I’m here from Boston Steinway…?”

“Right, right,” he agreed, “uh, let me put the dog out, and… put on a shirt…”

“Good idea,” you suggested, “I’ll be here!” 

He smiled at you one more time before shutting the door again, his footsteps shuffling away as you waited for his return.  Thankfully it was a nice day out so you weren’t too cold in your work uniform (yes, you felt like a total dork having to wear a polo with a nametag on it, but such is the life of a piano tuner).  When you heard the dog run into the backyard, and the sound of Chris coming back to open the door, you took a moment to straighten yourself in hopes of looking like you’d been waiting patiently.

“Come in please,” he offered as he opened the door one more time, wearing a navy sweater and jeans now (and a NASA ball cap, for whatever reason) and stepping aside to invite you in.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” you smiled as you stepped past him, letting him shut the door behind you, “a lot of people forget when I’m supposed to show up, trust me.”  You shuddered as you remembered those times you caught people in a lot worse than pajamas.

“No, I knew somebody was coming today, I just… wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

“A girl?” you finished for him with a smirk.

“I… yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting a girl,” he laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well, piano tuning is a real boy's club," you joked.  

"Is it?" he asked sincerely.

"Um, no, not particularly."

"Oh."

After an awkward moment passed while you cringed internally at your failed joke, he finally guided you across the house to where the piano was; you set your toolbag down beside it, stepping back to admire the instrument.  “It’s gorgeous,” you told him.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled a little.  “Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“How long have you been playing?” you asked.  “Or are you one of those people who keeps it mostly for decoration.”

“Decoration?” he repeated incredulously.  “Do people do that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “more often than not I end up doing cosmetic repairs instead of internal ones because families are basically using this as the most expensive object possible to put framed family photos on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, “I mean, I’m sure I’m not using this thing the way it deserves, cause I’m still not very good at it but… yeah, at least I play it a few times a week.”

“Good, it deserves that,” you agreed.  “Mind if I…?”

“Oh, go ahead,” he prompted, stepping back and motioning for you to touch the piano.  You didn’t sit down, just leaning over to do a quick scale up and back down.  "Anyways, I think it's mostly fine but those higher notes are getting kinda squeaky…" he mumbled.

"Right,” you noted, messing around with the keys near the top to check what he’d said, “well, they do that, especially out here with these cold winters making the strings tighten up.  Should be fixable."

“Great,” he smiled.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s take a look at your guts,” you grinned, groaning a bit as you lifted the heavy lid to see the strings inside.  "It's in great shape,” you observed aloud, “this can't be more than a few years old."

"Yeah, I got it pretty recently actually.  It's never been tuned before."

"Oh, this is its first time?" you smirked, leaning in to whisper to the strings: "don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He blushed a little as he laughed, making you pretty sure your joke hadn't gone too far.

“You, uh, don’t have to be around for this part,” you informed him.  “I mean, unless you want to, but it’ll just be me messing around in here for a few hours.

“No, I’ll give you some space,” he decided, “just let me know if you need anything.  Do you want, like, water or something?”

“I’m fine, but thanks,” you dismissed, “just continue as if I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna see that,” he disagreed, looking like he regretted saying it as soon as he finished his sentence.  You felt your face warm and hoped he just meant that he’d be eating cheetos out of the bag in his underwear and not anything more… mature.  

As he awkwardly shuffled away, you opened your toolbox and got to work.  Your first task was to get a pitch reader so you could figure out how well-tuned each string was— you set that on the soundboard and got to work testing keys and reading the little digital display of your device.  Once that told you how much work each key needed, it was easy to just put your tuning hammer on one pin at a time, loosening or tightening until the pitch was just right.  You couldn’t just start at one side and tune all the way up to the other, oh no, there was a very specific ideal tuning order that you’d memorized by now: first the middle strings of the octaves from C3 to C5, then the one of each of the unison strings in the double bass section, then the middle strings from C5 to C8, then the lower single bass strings, then every left string of all the unisons from C3 to C8, then the rest of the double bass section, and finally all the right strings from C3 to C8.

Easy peasy, right?

It actually sort of would be, if you hadn’t gotten stuck on the unison bass string of E flat 3, your tuning hammer suddenly unable to turn even when you tried to brace yourself against the piano for some leverage.

"Um, Mr. Evans?" you called out.

"Yup!" he answered, swinging out from the entryway instantly— he must have been waiting just outside, which made you feel a little like you were being spied on.  

"Would you maybe come over here and use your manly-man strength on this?"

"My what now?" he laughed, walking towards you.

"You know," you explained by flexing your biceps and making a sort of serious face; your charades version of what a muscular man looked like, apparently.

"Oh, I see," he nodded, "my—" and he repeated the charade, except it made your face warm and your eyes all but bulge out of your head.  That was him jokingly flexing?!  What did he look like when he was actually trying to show his muscles?

You tore yourself from that train of thought as he leaned over the edge of the piano, gripping the tuning hammer you'd left on the pin there.

"This one?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give it a little nudge counter-clockwise, please."

He did it like it was no trouble at all.

"You could've at least pretended it was difficult," you rolled your eyes.

"No, you loosened it up for me," he winked.  WINKED.  Was he trying to kill you or something?  "Chris is fine," he said abruptly.

Chris is fine indeed, your brain supplied instantly.  "I'm sorry?" you choked out aloud instead.

"You can call me Chris, I mean," he explained.  "You called me Mr. Evans before."

"Oh, right," you nodded.  "Chris.  Thanks for your help with that, Chris."

"Sure thing," he smiled.

Just as the conversation began to lull, you could hear the dog whining and scratching at the back door, and you felt so guilty that he had been left outside.  “You can let the dog back in, you know,” you suggested, “I don’t mind.”

“I shouldn’t,” he shook his head, “he’ll jump all over you and stuff…”

“No, really, it’s fine, I love dogs,” you assured him.

“Alright, just prepare yourself,” he chuckled a little as he slipped over to the back door to let the dog in.  Running past his owner instantly and straight to you, you knelt down to let it lick your face as you laughed.

“Hi puppy!” you greeted.  “Oh, thank you for the kisses, it’s nice to meet you!”  He calmed down a bit when you scratched behind his ears, wiggling and putting his paws up on your knees.  “What’s his name?” you asked, turning your attention to Chris who had his arms crossed and a prideful smile on his face.

“Dodger,” he informed you with a nod.

“Aw, hi Dodger,” you cooed at the pup, “I’d sit here and pet you all day, but your dad’s not paying me to play with you— apparently.”

Chris laughed a bit as you stood up, and Dodger actually took it pretty well, dashing to curl up on the nearest couch as you got back to work on the piano.  

“I’m just about halfway done,” you informed him as you started to move on to the next string, occasionally plucking the string to test that the pitch was right.

“I’ve never heard a piano plucked before,” he observed, leaning in to watch you work.

“Yeah, probably better to just stick to hitting the keys,” you smirked.

“Psh, anybody can do that,” he scoffed, “you could invent a whole new genre of music!”

"I'll leave the musical experimentation to you," you decided, "and I'll stay on this side of the action board."

"See, I didn't even know that was a part of the piano," he admitted.

"And that's why you're on that side."

You two chatted while you worked— he asked some questions about you, you asked some questions about him, classic small talk sort of stuff.  He managed to keep it interesting, though, and keep you laughing throughout the whole conversation.  It was significantly more fun than you usually had during house calls like this, and instead of distracting you it actually seemed to help you keep your focus.  It was easier to talk to him when you could keep your eyes on the strings anyways: looking right at him was sort of overwhelming.

With the last string adjusted, you slipped the tuning hammer into your back pocket and dusted off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work.

"That's it?" he asked as he stood up from the couch, noticing the signs of completion.

"It is if it sounds good!" you smiled.  "Go ahead, take it for a spin," you suggested.  "Play something and tell me if it sounds how you want."

"Okay," he nodded, slipping around the bench and sliding onto it.  He took a breath before he placed his hands on the keys, but then suddenly stopped and set them back on his lap with a sigh as he turned to you.  "Um, it's a little weird with you watching me."

"Oh, are you not used to performance?"

"Not outside of my family and friends and stuff, no."

"I don't really have to be here for this part, as long as you're happy with it then that's fine," you shrugged, "but you know, I wanna be able to fix any issues while I'm still here—"

"No, it’s not a big deal," he shook his head quickly, "I should get over myself.  I guess it's just scary cause you've probably heard people a lot better than me play…"

"Don't worry about that," you laughed, "just play something, really, I won't judge."

He spun back to face the keys, placing his hands on them— for a second you wondered if he struggled to hit just one key at a time with those thick fingers, but you pushed that thought away quickly.

As he started to play, you found yourself focusing on the music more than the sound of the keys like you should've been.  He was good, actually, although you could hear the hesitance in the way he played.  He didn't rush as much as most people did, though; he was savoring the piece, one note at a time, and you let your eyes fall shut as he continued to play.

You broke from your trance when he suddenly stopped, repeating the phrase he'd just finished and stopping on the same note.

"Does this one sound kinda… off to you?" he asked.

"Um," you paused, "play it again?"

He poked the key with one finger a few times, and you frowned.  "I can't really tell." You stepped forward and leaned over his shoulder, caging his body in accidentally as your arms wrapped around his shoulders to fiddle with the keys in front of him.  You rested your knee on the bench beside his legs, not even realizing that it was a massive invasion of his personal space until you were already in it.

He moved his hands out of the way so you could repeat the phrase, and although you didn't hear anything wrong, you felt the key sticking.

"Oh," you mumbled to yourself, "it's the key, not the string."

"Can you fix it?" he asked looking up at you.

"Yeah, I—" you stopped in the middle of your word as you looked back at him because his face was really close, so close that his bright blue eyes were burning right through you; so close that you completely lost your train of thought.  "I can fix anything," you finished softly.

"Great," he whispered back, eyes seeming to glance down to your lips quickly before moving back up to meet your gaze.

You cleared your throat as you stepped back, giving him space again as you nervously crossed your arms.  "It's probably just something stuck under there or whatever, but I can order a replacement key if not."

"Right," he agreed with a nod, sliding to the side of the bench to give you room to fiddle with it.  You grabbed your smaller toolkit and sat beside him, starting with your flashlight to see if there was anything hiding underneath there.

Moving to peer behind the action frame, you realized it was a problem with the hammer hitting the string— or, more specifically, with the mechanism that kept the hammer balanced.  All you had to do was reach in with a long screwdriver and shift some parts around, and it seemed to be back in working order.

“Play it again?” you requested, and he slid back to the middle and started the piece over.  He grinned when he reached the part he’d stopped at before, flying through the phrase without stopping.

“Hey!  You fixed it!” he beamed.

“I’m a genius,” you shrugged, smirking a little.  He stopped playing and you found yourself a little disappointed by that, unexpectedly.  “Any other musical ailments I can magically cure for you today?”

“Unless you can make me a better sight reader, that’ll be all,” he smiled, standing up from the bench.

“Ah, if I could do that, I’d be using that power on myself.”

He shrugged; "Fair enough."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," you announced as you put the last of your tools away and picked up your bag.  "Hope I didn't disrupt your day too much."

"You did, actually— in a good way," he grinned.  "I definitely learned a lot more than I was going to just watching TV and drinking beer."

You followed him back to the front door, which he opened for you.  "You can always give us a call if you need anything.  Um, anything piano-related, that is.  Tell the dog I said goodbye, okay?"

Chris smiled a little, softer than his normal expression.  "I'll be sure he gets the message."

As you got back in your car, you took a minute to just catch your breath for the first time since you'd gotten here.  Trying to be funny and cute and charming when all you wanna do is stutter and gawk and melt is exhausting!  As enjoyable as it was, in a certain sense, you were relieved at the idea of returning to your routine— which typically did not include super hot dudes chatting you up at work.

//

“This must be a mistake,” you shook your head as you showed the work order form to your boss, “I was at this address two weeks ago, the piano’s in perfect condition.”

“Well, he has an unlimited warranty, so either something happened since you were there last, or you fucked something up when you were there last, or he’s just determined to get his money’s worth out of us,” she explained without looking up from her computer.

You sighed and left, heading back to the same address and hoping you weren’t about to get chewed out for somehow ruining Chris’ like-new piano.

Knocking on the door, you found yourself chewing your lip as you waited for him to answer the door.  You were a little surprised when he answered in a button-up and slacks— entirely opposite to pajamas, although you sort of missed that get-up if you were being honest.

“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, stepping back to motion for you to come inside.

“Hi,” you responded awkwardly as you stepped past him.  “Is... everything alright with the piano?  I didn’t damage it, did I?”

He cleared his throat as he shut the door behind you, the size of the hallway forcing the two of you to stand slightly closer together than you would’ve personally preferred; it was hard to focus with him so close, sometimes.  “No, no, it’s not that,” he answered, “the piano’s fine, I just…” he stammered a little, starting over.  “Uh, there was something I wanted to ask you about last time, and I called the Steinway store but I couldn’t figure out how to call you specifically, so I just had to make a new tuning appointment.”

You furrowed your brow with confusion, not sure why someone else on the phone couldn’t answer whatever question he had, but decided to let him go through with his thought.  “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh, I just wanted to ask you… out,” he finished plainly.

You paused as you processed that.  “Out?”

“Like, I was wondering if you’d wanna… go out, with me.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away all of your shock, but at the same time, you figured it probably did.

He winced as you continued to stare at him in silence.  “I’m kind of out on a limb here,” he reminded you.

“Right, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “um, I guess I’m just sort of surprised because you’re, like… hot, and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Yeah, like… nice…” you explained.

“Hot and nice?” he laughed.  “Slow down, you’ll give me an ego.”

You laughed, too, and less nervously than you expected.  Feeling the rare urge to be spontaneous, you scratched your neck as you prepared to propose an idea.  “Listen, so, this might be crazy but... I have another appointment today, at the Symphony Hall— it’s a final tune-up on the pianos and harps before this massive concerto thing and they always let me stay to watch the performance afterwards.  If you came with me, I could get you in for free.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you probably have better things to do today—”

“I don’t,” he refuted.

“And if you just wanted to, like, get lunch some time then that would be great, I just thought I might as well invite you to hear the chamber orchestra from the best seat in the house,” you shrugged.

“The best seat?” he questioned incredulously.  “And where is that?”

“The rafters,” you laughed.

And that was how you and Chris ended up sitting on the steel catwalk suspended on the ceiling of the Boston Symphony Hall, dangling your feet over the edge as the sounds of the concerto echoed out from the stage, over the silent audience and, finally, up to you two.

The music was incredible, if a little quiet from where you were listening, and so soothing that you felt compelled to close your eyes and focus on the sound.  You were partial to the piano, as always, but the violins and cellos in harmony made your chest warm unexpectedly.  Or maybe that was from the feeling of Chris’ gaze on you, as you opened your eyes to find him looking at your face rather than the performance below.  

“What are you looking at me for?” you asked him with a nervous laugh.

“For fun,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem very exciting,” you scoffed, looking back to the stage.

“Oh, it’s exciting,” he mumbled his reply as he returned his gaze to the performance as well.  

Your cheeks burned when you heard that, in spite of the fact that it was actually a bit drafty in the auditorium.  Even though your nerves were buzzing with anxiety, a rush of bravery struck you and suddenly you were leaning your head onto his shoulder.  Just the warmth of him through his shirt— hell, even the smell of his cologne— somehow managed to relax you and energize you simultaneously.  His hand gingerly slipping around your waist was even better.

After this many years of tuning pianos, it felt like you were getting yourself in tune for the first time.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- Meant to Be (Obsessed Part 3)

A/N: Here is part 3 of Obsessed! It’s a big long so I’ve decided to split it into two parts based on your feedback. Thank you to anyone who responded to that post! 

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping, brief descriptions of attempted sexual assault

Here are the links to part 1 and part 2!!

You woke to the feeling of nausea blooming in your stomach. With a groan, you rolled onto your side, only to realize that your hands were bound. When you opened your eyes, you found that you were lying in a dark room on an unfamiliar bed. 

Confusion washed over you, and when you tried to remember the events of the previous night, there was nothing but a blank spot in your mind. The last thing you knew, you were walking into Lydia’s birthday party with Stiles trailing in front of you. You remembered his crooked smile as he glanced over his shoulder, and then there was nothing. 

You could see sunlight filtering through a pair of gray curtains, so you knew you must have slept through all of last night. You struggled against the duct tape for a few more minutes, but you eventually realized you couldn’t break out of it.

A whimper escaped your lips, but it was muffled by the tape pressed over your mouth. That was when you heard footsteps outside the bedroom door. You closed your eyes quickly, trying to quell your panic. 

You heard the door swing open. The footsteps paused. That was when the sound of a camera shutter cut through the silence. It happened a few more times, and then the bed dipped with the weight of someone else. Warm fingers were suddenly running down your face, stroking your cheek. 

Then the tape over your mouth was pulled off, causing you to flinch in pain. You opened your eyes, knowing you would be unable to hide the fact that you were awake now.

Matt was staring down at you, smiling in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There was something eerie about the look in his blue eyes. 

“I’m sorry I had to trick you,” he murmured. “After we talked, I knew you would never just come with me. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

He had a water bottle in his hand, dripping with condensation. He held it out to you. “You should drink some water. You’re probably dehydrated.”

You glared at him. How stupid did he think you were?

“I didn’t put anything in it this time,” he promised. 

So he had drugged you. You were suspicious, given your lack of memory of the previous night, but you weren’t sure until now. 

“Look,” he said, unscrewing the cap. He took several big gulps and offered the bottle to you once more. 

Finally, you sat up and took the water. It was a little difficult with your hands still taped together, but you drained it in seconds. He was probably right about you being dehydrated. 

He took the empty bottle and tossed it into a black, plastic trash can on the side of the bed. It was then that you really had the chance to look around the room. 

The decor was sleek and modern. There were some art pieces decorating the walls, all of them pictures or paintings of sports cars. There were a couple of lamps, a nightstand, and a desk in the room. The comforter and pillow cases were all a dark grey color. It was then that you realized where you were.

“You brought me to Jackson’s house?” 

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here before?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Stiles,” he snapped. 

Clearly he didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

“I had to come here when Jackson and I got partnered up for a project in graphic design class,” you explained. “I remembered cause he’s the only guy who has fifteen pictures of his own car up on the wall.”

Matt smiled. “I like to think I’m humbling him.”

You swallowed. “Yeah, by using him to kill people? Where are his parents anyway? Where is he?”

Matt sighed, and reached out. You flinched back, but he simply placed his hand over yours. He ran his thumb across your skin in a gesture you assumed was meant to be comforting. It wasn’t.

“They’re out of town until next week. He’s downstairs, but it doesn’t really matter, considering he does whatever I want right now.”

Your face contorted his disgust. Matt frowned.

“You don’t understand right now, but all of those people deserved it.” 

He leaned in close, as if the two of you were sharing a secret. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted anyone dead?”

“I think there’s a big difference between wanting someone dead and actually killing them,” you protested.

Matt tilted his head. “I don’t think so. You’re telling me that you wouldn’t kill that guy who attacked you on the lacrosse field if you had the chance?”

He had to be talking about Peter Hale. It was no secret that you and Lydia almost died at the winter formal, but you wondered if Matt knew the exact details now that he had discovered the supernatural. 

“He’s already dead,” you told him quietly. 

“That’s a shame, because if I could, I’d kill him for you. I’d rip him apart for doing what he did to you.”

He reached up, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sure what he did left scars.”

You looked down. You didn’t like to think about that night. Peter had almost killed you when you tried to stop him from attacking Lydia. Even so, you felt lucky. You hadn’t made it out with any of the strange behaviors or hallucinations that she seemed to be plagued by. If you had your way, you would pretend it never happened. 

 “You know, I don’t know what you see in Stiles. He was the one who left you there, bleeding.”

You glanced up in shock. There was only one way he could possibly know that. “You were watching.”. 

“I was,” he told you. “I was taking photos for the winter formal. That night was the first time I ever saw you. I wanted to ask you to dance, but you seemed distracted. You were looking for Lydia, but I didn’t know that, so I followed you.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of Matt watching from the shadows. He would have witnessed every bite, every slash of Peter’s claws. He would have been watching as you dug your fingers into the grass while you attempted to get away, breaking your nails in the process.

“So you saw everything?” you whispered. 

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t make it out of the gym in time to see where you walked off to. By the time I found you, you were lying next to Lydia on the lacrosse field. You weren’t moving, and I couldn’t really see the guy who attacked you. His back was turned, but I could see Stiles was with him. And then he just left you there.”

“He had to,” you insisted. “Peter threatened to kill us if he didn’t leave with him.”

 Matt let out a short laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself? You think Stiles is this big hero, but I was the one who saved you that night.”

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

“You really don’t remember?” he asked incredulously. “I was the one who called 911. I thought you were dead when I ran over, but you weren’t. I held your hand. I waited with you while the ambulance came, and you opened your eyes and looked at me before you passed out again. That’s when I knew that we were meant to be together.”

You swallowed. The thought of Matt being there as you bled out on the field, and then deciding to stalk you for months because of it sent another wave of nausea through you. Had he really been watching you for that long?

“Y/n?” Matt asked. “Are you-”

Before he could finish, you leaned over and vomited into the trashcan next to Jackson’s bed. Matt reached forward and swept your hair back and out of your face, but the feel of his hands on your neck just made your skin crawl. 

It reminded you of the time you and Stiles had gotten drunk with Scott in the woods after Allison had broken up with him. You had thrown up in the bushes as Stiles held your hair back. You remembered the comfort of his hand on your back and how he told you that you didn’t have to be embarrassed, that everyone got sick from drinking at least once. 

Matt’s hands were the opposite of comforting. All they did was remind you that you were stuck with him. 

When you finished throwing up, Matt guided you into the bathroom. He pulled out a pocket knife and cut off the tape around your wrists. He leaned against the door frame, probably intending to watch you, but you looked back at him. “Can I just have a second alone? Please?”

Matt seemed a little hurt, but he nodded and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, you let the tears spill from your eyes. You washed your mouth out in the sink and then took a swig of Jackson’s mouth wash. 

When you were finished, you kept the sink running, hoping it would be able to cover up the sound of you crying. You wiped your face, over and over, but you couldn’t help it. The tears just kept flowing and the more you thought about it, the more scared you became. 

You wondered where Scott and Stiles were. You had no doubt they knew you were missing by now and were trying to find you. You just weren’t sure if they would be able to.

------

“So this kid’s the real killer...and you think he took Y/n?”

Stiles looked back at Scott before answering his dad. The three of them were in Stiles’ bedroom, examining one of the old Beacon Hills Highschool yearbooks he had resting on his desk. A picture of Matt was on one of the pages below, circled several times in red sharpie. 

“Yeah.”

Sheriff Stilinski stared down at it for a few moments. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“Yes!” Stiles insisted. 

“No.”

“Dad, come on!” Stiles protested, jumping out of his desk chair. “Everyone knows the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So, like, all they have to do is look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Cara, wasn’t in Harris’ class.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Alright, okay, you’re right, sorry. So I guess they just drop the charges against him?”

His father glared at him. “No, you know what? They’re not dropping the charges, but that doesn’t prove anything. And no one saw Y/n being taken. I mean, no one even saw her and Matt together last night.”

Stiles opened his mouth to continue, but the Sheriff cut him off. “Scott, do you believe this?”

Scott nodded. “It’s really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it’s Matt.”

“Yeah, he took Harris’ car,” Stiles insisted. “He knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders and that if enough of the victims were in Harris’ class, they’d arrest him!”

“Alright, fine. I’ll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive for the murders. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stiles asked. “Our swim team sucks! They haven’t won in like six years...okay, we don’t have a motive yet. I mean come on, does Harris? Plus, the guy’s a total creep. He has to have Y/n. He was stalking her. And if they can arrest him, they can find her.”

The Sheriff nodded solemnly. “What do you want me to do?”

“We need to look at the evidence,” Scott told him. 

“Yeah, that would be in the station...where I no longer work.”

“Trust me. They’ll let you in,” Stiles said. 

“Trust you?” his dad repeated. 

Stiles pursed his lips. “Trust...trust Scott?”

His dad looked back and forth between them. 

“Scott I trust.”

------

You sat on Jackson’s bed, hugging your knees as the credits from another old movie ran across the screen. This one was Jaws.

While Matt was holding you hostage in Jackson’s room, he insisted that the two of you have a classic movie marathon, since Jackson’s parents had quite the collection. You had already made it through Casablanca, The Exorcist, and It’s a Wonderful Life.

It was dark outside by now, and Matt got up to pick another movie from the stack sitting on the nightstand. 

“Now this is one of the best,” he told you, holding the DVD case up for you to see. 

It had an old, creepy looking house on the front of it. The title read Psycho in bold white letters.

Fitting, you thought to yourself.

You honestly weren’t sure if you could stand another second cooped up in the room with Matt. He had been sitting next to you for hours, pointing out all the little nuances in each movie. If you were in a different situation, you might have been happy to learn why these movies were considered classics. Being forced to watch them while you were held hostage seemed to take all the excitement out of it. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to take a bite out of the pizza Matt ordered, though you hadn’t had anything to eat since last night. 

You had actually considered screaming for help when the pizza guy arrived, but Matt had already thought of that. He made Jackson wait with you upstairs while he went to the door, and he kept a clawed hand at your throat, squeezing just hard enough that you couldn’t make a sound. 

“Can we go outside?” you asked Matt suddenly. 

“You haven’t even touched your pizza,” he complained. 

He gestured to the paper plate sitting on the comforter. It had been sitting there long enough that grease was beginning to soak into it.

“I’m not hungry. I think I need some air. Can we please go outside?”

Matt thought for a moment. At first, you thought he might agree. Your hopes were dashed when he got up from the bed. “I’ll just open a window for you.”

“Fine,” you muttered. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the pillows. You were exhausted, but you were too afraid to go to sleep. Your head was pounding, and you were weak from the lack of food in your stomach. 

Matt smiled as you reached for the paper plate and finally started to eat. You ignored him as best you could. Halfway through Psycho, Matt’s eyes started to droop.

You felt a flutter of hope as you realized he was falling asleep. You closed your own eyes, hoping he would let his guard down. When you felt his body slump back against the pillows, you opened your eyes again. He began to snore softly.

You waited a few more minutes until you were sure he was sleeping soundly. That was when you rose from the bed and moved toward the open window. Thankfully, Jackson had no screens over the windows. His house was two stories high, but you were willing to risk breaking something if it meant getting away from Matt. If you rolled off the roof and tucked in your limbs, you might make it out unscathed. 

You were just starting to pull yourself through the window when you heard the bed creak behind you. You froze. 

“Y/n, no!”

You threw yourself through the window and out onto the sloping roof, but Matt’s hand locked around your ankle. You screamed as he started to drag you back inside, grasping desperately at the window pane. One of his hands came around to cover your mouth, muffling your cries.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Matt snarled. He grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked you back through the window. 

You whimpered as he tossed you onto the carpet. You scrambled back on your hands and knees, but he grabbed you by the throat and dragged you up to your feet. He walked you backward, slamming you against the wall. 

The back of your head hit the plaster, causing you to see white for a moment. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he screamed in your face. “What were you gonna do?! Jump off the roof?! You could have broken your leg, or-or your neck! You want to leave me that bad?!”

When he said that last part, his voice seemed to change. It dropped what seemed like ten octaves, and he almost sounded like he wasn’t human for a second.

His face was bright red as he screamed at you. His fingers were digging into your neck so forcefully that you knew there was going to be a bruise.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tears were streaming down your face, and you were shaking. You weren’t sure what Matt was going to do to you, but then his face softened. 

“Hey. Hey, don’t cry, Y/n. I’m sorry.”

His fingers left your throat, and you collapsed onto the ground, still sobbing. He lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, but you couldn’t stop shaking. You wouldn’t look at him. You were too afraid of what you would see in his icy blue eyes. 

“Y/n, please look at me,” he begged. 

You closed your eyes. 

“Look at me!” he ordered.

Finally you did. To your surprise, he was crying too. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his palm. “I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again. You just scared me.”

You were silent, terrified that if you said the wrong thing it might set him off again. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Y/n,” he murmured. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

He traced your jaw with his thumb. Your face was still flushed from crying, and there were still undried tears dripping down your cheeks. Matt tenderly wiped them away, but you still flinched at his touch. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispered. 

Says the psycho who kidnapped me, you wanted to shout, but all you could do was sit there. 

“Tell me you’re not afraid of me,” he begged. “Tell me that you love me too.”

“I...I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you.” 

Your voice was so soft that he barely heard you. 

“You do?”

“I do,” you lied. 

He smiled, and cupped your face in his hands as he leaned in to kiss you. You felt your stomach sinking when he pressed his lips against yours. You had played into his fantasy, but you weren’t sure you had any choice. 

He placed one hand against your lower back, pressing you closer. You felt like you could barely get a breath in, and you were growing dizzy. 

Then he moved forward, laying you down on the carpet. You pushed back, but he reached down to pin your wrists onto the ground. 

“Matt, wait-”

“It’s okay,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Matt, stop. Plea-”

His mouth was back on yours, cutting you off. He ran one hand down your hip, and his fingers grasped the hem of your dress. He was pushing it up your thighs. 

You panicked, glancing around to see if there was any possible way you could break out of his hold.

That was when you noticed the bottom of his t-shirt riding up. His stomach was exposed, but there was something wrong with it. Instead of smooth, pale skin, it was a dark, brownish green. It looked textured.

“What’s wrong with your stomach?” you gasped. 

“What?”

Matt drew back and lifted up his shirt. When he looked down at his side, he found that it was partially covered in dark green scales, exactly like the Kanima’s. 

“W-what is that?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” you admitted. You took the opportunity to sit up and readjust your dress with trembling fingers.

“Who would know?” he demanded. “Scott? Stiles?”

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “The Argents, maybe. They’ve got this book, it’s like a history of mythical creatures or something. It’s called a bestiary. Scott knows more about it than I do.”

“A bestiary?” he repeated.

You nodded. Your shoulders sagged in relief as you realized Matt was too preoccupied with himself to try and touch you again. You weren’t sure what was happening to him, but whatever it was had bought you some time. 

“I need to get that book,” he muttered to himself. “We need to find your brother.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #@screamxqueenx94 #tw stalking #tw kidnapping

[on-maars]

Kaleidoscope

Another buddie fic cause I can’t get enough of these two dumb idiots.

Read it on AO3.

Eddie’s first thought is that he’s been buried alive. He moves his hands to the side but his knuckles hit the wood and that’s when he realizes he must be trapped in some kind of box. He tries to scream but the air around him is so thick and the sound of his voice is swallowed by the darkness surrounding him at all sides.

His heart beats hard against his chest, so hard Eddie feels like it will break through his rib-cage. His eyes shuttle back and forth, scanning his surroundings and trying to adjust to the dark. He kicks the wood again and again but the material doesn’t give way and his breathing becomes labored as sweat starts falling down his forehead.

He strikes the wood above his head and doesn’t stop until he can feel the material cracks under his fingers. Only then he uses his elbow and continues hitting until the whole thing breaks and he’s buried in sand.

Eddie closes his eyes and the next thing he knows he’s back in Afghanistan. He watches his friends die and he wants to reach forward, wants to get them out of harm’s way but that’s when the bullet hits him and pain radiates through his shoulder and he falls.

“ Firefighter is down! I repeat, firefighter is down!” He hears a voice shouting. Because he’s not in Afghanistan anymore. He’s in LA. In broad daylight.

And his lungs are filled with water.

Is he drowning?

“ Eddie! Eddie!”

It’s Buck’s voice, screaming his name over and over again, so loud it makes Eddie cry.

He tries to reach out to him but his hand slips and he loses him. The last thing Eddie sees is the bloodied face of his best-friend disappearing into the water.

Eddie wakes up with a start, gasping for air. His entire body is drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and his heart pounding against his chest like a hammer. He runs his shaking hands through his hair and closes his eyes fiercely, trying to get rid of all these images invading his mind.

“You okay?” Bobby asks and Eddie jumps with surprise. His captain is leaning against the wall and watches him with a concerned expression plastered all over his face, his eyes shuttling back and forth as if performing an internal scan of Eddie’s mind.

“I’m fine.” He says, shakily. “Just another nightmare. But I’ll be alright, cap.”

It’s a lie. An easy lie. Eddie knows it. The kind of lies he has to tell to try and maintain a somehow strong image among the 118, the kind of lies he has to tell over and over again in the hope that, with time, he might believe it himself. Because truth be told, Eddie’s not so sure he can hold on much longer. Truth be told, he can slowly feel his shell crack, each nightmare spreading the fissures wider apart.

“Buck’s upstairs.” Bobby only answers. “If you need him.”

“I’m fine.” Eddie repeats without thinking. It became a reflex, something he says as easily as a tired ‘good morning’ in the early hours of the day.

“Who are you trying to convince, Eddie? Me or yourself?” Bobby asks, his eyebrows raised. “You know we only want to help. We only want to be there for you.”

“I’m f-”

“Yeah, we know.” Bobby says with a sigh. “You’re fine. If you’re not gonna be honest with me then at least be honest with him.” He adds and Eddie looks away, his fingers twitching uncontrollably.

“I… I can’t.” He says, biting his lower lip.

“He was with you that day, you know.” Bobby tells him. Eddie can notice a slight trace of blame in his voice. “What you both went through, it’s- no one’s expecting you to have it all together, Eddie. Especially not him.” He adds. “What are you so scared is going to happen if you start talking to him about it?”

“I’ll be- I'll be okay.” Eddie repeats, stubbornly. Because it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. He darts his eyes towards his Captain for a few seconds and the expression of disappointment painted all over his face is enough to fill Eddie with guilt.

Bobby sighs and nods to himself, as if knowing there’s nothing he can say to encourage Eddie to finally open up. He places his right hand on the door handle, takes a small step forward but Eddie doesn’t let him the time to leave the room completely.

“He deserves better than to put up with all my shit, Bobby.” He says through gritted teeth, bending his fingers into a fist.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how he sees it, Eddie.” Bobby answers, taking a seat on the bunk next to him. His captain is watching him with so much attention it fills Eddie with unease, makes him want to run far, far away from this place.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a chuckle. “Well, too bad. I’m not letting him the chance to ruin his life for someone as messed up as me.” He adds, wiping his tears with the back of his hands.

“Because you don’t think he has issues of his own?” Bobby asks and Eddies shrugs his shoulders.

“Nothing to put up with.” Eddie clarifies, running his right hand through his sweaty hair once again.

“You only say that because you love him.” Bobby remarks and Eddie whirls his head around. “You don’t see his issues as something you have to put up with because you love him for who he is, no matter how much baggage he may be carrying with him.” He says. “Did you ever stop for one second to think that maybe he feels the same way about you?”

Eddie lowers his head down and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to answer to that, doesn’t know how to make sense of everything Bobby just said. He knows that, in all likelihood, his Captain might be right. Maybe that’s how Buck feels. Maybe he’s in for the long haul.

After all, every sign seems to point to that conclusion, whether it is the fact that Buck took care of Christopher without even being asked while he was fighting for his life in that hospital, or the three weeks he spent in their house helping him with his recovery, or even his break-up with Taylor strangely coinciding with his own separation with Ana, give or take a few days. The signs are here and they’re clear but something in Eddie still doubts. Something in him still hesitates.

That’s the moment Buck chooses to barge in the bunk room with a cheerful stride, smiling wildly.

That’s enough for Eddie’s lips to turn up at the edges. He can’t help it. Buck’s presence is like a ray of sunlight finally poking through the clouds after days of rain, it feels Eddie with so much love he’s afraid his heart might explode.

And Eddie’s aware of how that sounds, Hen and Chimney reminded him of how miserably cheesy he looks whenever his best-friend is around enough time to make sure of it, but Eddie doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He’s irrevocably in love with his best-friend and maybe fighting it and trying to pretend otherwise only makes it worse.

Buck’s smile only lasts a second though. His eyes quickly fall on his best-friend and his entire face darkens.

“Eds? What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asks and rushes towards him.

“He’s okay.” Eddie can hear Bobby says. “But I think he could use some Buck time.” He adds, while getting to his feet. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulders and crosses the room, closing the door behind him. And Eddie’s grateful for the privacy but really there’s nothing more he wants but to follow Bobby out of this room and leave Buck alone.

“Another one of your nightmares?” Buck asks carefully, not sure whether to finally cross the line that seemed to have been erected between them ever since he left his flat. Eddie only nods but stays silent, the words still stuck in his throat. “The shooting again?”

Eddie nods again, not trusting himself to speak, not trusting himself to tell the truth, make him understand the true extent of his nightmares.

Not just the shooting.

Not just the shooting, Buck. The well, too. Afghanistan. The tsunami. Losing Christopher. Losing you.

Always losing you.

A silence slowly settles in the room, one person too scared to cross that invisible barrier, the other too afraid to speak. That, until Buck’s fingers tentatively reach out and brush past Eddie’s hand.

And Eddie? Eddie wants nothing more than to lean in on the touch but he does the only thing he seems to know how to do instead: He runs away. He gets up from the bed as if he’s been electrocuted by Buck's touch but his best-friend's voice stops him dead in his tracks.

“I wish you knew how to talk to me.” He says. His voice is filled with concern, and sorrow.

“I- I know how to talk to you.” Eddie says, his voice weak, overwhelmed with so many different emotions he doesn’t even know how to make sense of any of them.

“Then how come you never do, Eds?” Buck asks, his voice soft.

Eddie’s hands start shaking again. In fact, his whole body trembles but still, he says nothing.

“I don’t know what changed, Eddie.” His best-friend adds, but this time his tone is desperate, almost pleading. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t need to say anything.” Eddie finds himself saying, glancing at his best-friend who slowly looks up, his big blue eyes filled with worry staring back at him.

“Maybe.” His best-friend agrees. “But you run away even when I don’t.” He adds, smiling sadly at him.

Eddie’s throat is so tight he can barely breathe.

“I still have them too, you know.” Buck goes on and Eddie stays here, unable to move, let alone speak. “The nightmares.” He adds. “I still have them. And I don’t know what’s going on inside your head lately Diaz. I don’t know if it’s another one of your weird phases when you push everyone away because you feel like you’re strong enough to deal with everything on your own, or- or if it’s just a fucked up way for you to try and protect me from yourself but you don’t need to pretend with me, Eds.”

Eddie darts his eyes towards him and his best-friend is already looking at him dead in the eye, not blinking.

“Because I was there too, you know.” Buck adds. “I wasn’t the one who got shot but I was there, too.” He adds and something in his face just breaks. “So whatever you’re feeling, Eds, I- I get it. Trust me.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes fiercely, sighing deeply as he lets himself fall on his bunk next to Buck. For a moment, neither of them say anything. Eddie only intertwines their fingers together and lets his thumb draws small patterns on Buck's palm.

“I never wanted you to leave.” He still admits after a few seconds, ignoring the way his best-friend whirls his head around, his eyebrows frowned in confusion. “I wanted you to stay.” He adds. “The first night I spent on my own, the only thing I wanted to do was to call you and beg you to come back.”

“Why didn’t you?” Buck asks. And it’s a simple question. A simple question that should come with an easy answer but once again, the words get stuck in Eddie’s throat and he can’t speak. “Why didn’t you call me?” Buck repeats and Eddie chuckles, lowering his eyes to the ground.

It’s only a few seconds later that the words finally come.

“Because you would’ve come.” Eddie breathes out. “And I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Why?” His best-friend asks, his hand squeezing Eddie’s thigh. “You think I can’t deal with your nightmares?” He teases and Eddie lets out a shaky laugh, nudging him playfully.

“I know you can.” He says and Buck’s smile is so soft Eddie has to look away. “I just don’t want you to.” He adds.

“So what, you think I don’t have issues on my own?” Buck answers, forcing him to look up by lifting his chin with his forefinger.

“Of course you do.” Eddie whispers, his eyes are still down. “So why would you want to add mine to your pile?”

Buck sighs and cradles his chin with his hands, his thumbs brushing along his cheeks until Eddie’s eyes stare back at him. Only then, he says:

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath and doesn’t look away even when Buck’s hand moves from his cheeks to the back of his neck to press a kiss to his forehead.

“And I… I guess there’s no way for me to talk you of it?” Eddie says and smiles when Buck only scoffs and taps him on the back of his head.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Diaz.” He says. “This is non negotiable.” Buck’s eyes glance down at his lips and all it takes is a small nod from Eddie for Buck to capture his mouth in a gentle kiss.

“I might be in love with you too, Buckley.” Eddie says against his lips and manages to miss Buck’s nudge by moving his body a bit further to the left.

“Oh you might?’ Buck teases him and Eddie cradles his neck with his hand, bringing him closer to kiss him one more time.

“I am.” Eddie clarifies, his voice clear and steady. “I’m so in love with you I think it makes me look stupid, Evan.”

And when Buck wraps his arms around his back and buries his face in the crook of his neck, Eddie only smiles and rests his chin on his shoulder, thinking that as long as Evan Buckley is by his side, then he might be alright.  

#buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #my writing #9-1-1 #911

[atticinthecafe]

its 1 am and I wanted to write before I headed off to bed. this jumps around a lot time wise and I did not proof read it I'm ti r e d

---

The first time Akira did this Morgana nagged at him the whole time.

---

"Joker! You've been wandering around the city for hours," Morgana whined from inside the bag, shifting around.

Akira just hummed in response. His eyes were distant and foggy, constantly trained on the distance. Sometimes they would scan across the crowds, almost like he was looking for someone, but for the most part he just seems dazed, lost in thought. He kept walking, the twists and turns memorized by the back of his hand, simply wandering. Sometimes he'd end up on a train to some other area, but he just wandered all the same.

"When are we going home? I'm bored!" Morgana complained, this time getting a bit louder.

This seemed to break Akira from his thoughts, as he frowned looking at his bag where Morgana sat.

"I can talk you home if you want," He spoke low, just to his cat, in a neutral tone. It was hard to tell what was on his mind.

"Yes! wait- you're going to keep walking?"

"Mhm,"

"I'm not leaving you on your own! I'll just tough it out then! But we better get food sometime soon!"

---

Morgana hadn't really known why he was wandering, but to be fair, neither did he.

He had his hand shoved into a pocket, holding the glove he had gotten from his rival and walked around the city, watching the scenery and the people go past as he drifted. It was different now. He had been doing this for weeks. Just- walking around.

Orginally he had no clue why he did it. Something weighed on him, made him feel heavy. He zoned out during conversations and stared into space. Morgana suggested maybe fresh air and a walk would help refresh his senses, but it just ended in him wandering.

He needed the space, to be away from people. He also needed away from his thoughts, but that wasn't so easy. The city provided a nice distraction. Different things to think about. But that didn't stop the soft lull of sadness from weighing down his head.

He missed Akechi if he was being honest. He didn't notice it. But it was like a low hum in the back of his heart. Invisible stress making him tired when he hadn't done anything. It haunted him and didn't leave him be.

---

Morgana at some point had mentioned how when cats lose a friend or someone they care about they'll wander around, meowing and crying out for the other.Akira wondered if Morgana had been talking about him when he brought it up.

Today he had left Morgana with Futaba. The fog in his head and weight in his chest had gotten worse the past week. He hadn't known why until Ryuji mentioned it was around the same date they had met Akechi.

Incredible how his subconscious refused to let go.

The rain pattered against his umbrella as he walked and puddles gently splashed beneath his feet. It was nice to get rain in June. He certainly didn't mind it. It gave the city a softer, calmer feel. It almost felt like the rain took some of his weight with it when it fell.

---

Akira was fine most days. He seemed normal. Almost like he had moved on, but there were some where he simply disappeared out the front door, and everyone knew. They knew he still missed Akechi, no matter how many times they told him he shouldn't.  They knew he needed space for a bit.

The one time they made him stay it was obvious how he was stressed without realizing it. He fidgeted awkwardly and didn't participate in conversation. He seemed like he wasn't there at all and when spoke to he'd look up confused and obviously off in his own world.

Sometimes they would intentionally tell him to take a walk. He'd get shaky and tense for no reason. Seem more irritable and quiet than usually. Not handle loud noises or being around people well. This is when his friends would step in and tell him maybe he should go for a walk to calm his nerves. Sometimes it would take him getting frustrated over something small and all his stress breaking like a dam for the others to take notice, in which case they'd quiet down and all pause to take care of him. Whether it be one of them going on a walk with him, or the group settling down to bundle up in blankets and form a small pile as they watched movies together.

He wished it would stop. The days where he was stressed without realsing it and dazed. The days where he felt like the slightest thing going wrong would cause him to start sobbing and he didn't know why. The days where he missed Akechi.

He wasn't even certain if he was alive.

---

It had been a few years. Akira was better. He was managing better. But he still suddenly disappeared for walks. Some nights he wouldn't sleep at all and instead wandered.

It had been one of those nights, and now here he was, head resting on the counter of Leblanc well Sojiro huffed at him in the background. Something about going upstairs to sleep and not staying up so late.

He didn't move though, and Sojiro didn't seem to mind. There was something calming about the atmosphere. It was warm and the chattering of the TV in the background provided comfort in it's own way.

He couldn't sleep, as much as he wanted to the stress tugged at his brain keeping him just awake enough to be unable to sleep but not awake enough to bypass his exhaustion. So he just sat there, soaking in the smell of coffee and the peaceful air.

---

A ring sounded from the door, and Akira didn't bother looking up, staying where he was.

That was until he heard a soft, almost amused hum as a chair besides him was dragged out from its spot, someone sitting besides him. His eyes flickered open and up to meet red ones, gazing at him fondly.

The time passed in sections, one moment he has his head on the table, next he knew Akira was a crossed from the man, getting started on his favorite cup of coffee, pressing his glove back into his hand with tears pricking at his eyes. Then he was brewing coffee. A conversation between them was happening but- he didn't hear it. It made his chest warm and light, the lightest it had felt it years.

He placed the coffee infront of the other with a smile. He could feel the pure, unfiltered love and happiness just to be able to hear his voice again rush through his body with every word the man spoke.

He hummed softly as the other pressed their hands together, the warmth filling his body yet lingering just where he touched him.

---

His heart felt raw.

Akira blinked open his eyes to Sojiro leaving. To the once warm comforting room feeling cold and bitterly lonely. The warmth that lingered on his hand feeling almost like a bitter sting.

He lifted his head up to find tears streaming down his face and his sleeves damp from where he had been resting his head.

Of course, it was just a dream.

His fingers found their way into his pocket, and he gripped the glove tight. His chest was nothing but raw pain that you would have figured he would have gotten over by now.

He just wanted to see him again.

---

The next few days were incredible low for Akira. He spent most of them asleep.

Dreams were incredible tantalizing now. The fact that occasionally, he would see Akechi again in them made them feel more worth while than reality sometimes.

It was lonely.

He spent a long time asleep that week. More than he should have, but he couldn't help it. The sting in his chest was hard to bare.

---

Akira laughed.

It was the fullest his chest had felt in a while. No longer that haunting hollow that followed him around from day to day.

He was still moving on, he still occasionally had days where he would wander. But they were less now.

The warmth that filled his chest when his friends smiled, the brightness in their eyes and the lightness to their tone when they said the stupidest jokes made the lonely fade.

He had forgotten how good they make him feel.

There was a bittersweet taste left in his mouth when he thought about Akechi. How he should get to feel the same warmth Akira did. How he deserved so much more than the cards he was handed, but Akira didn't linger on that. He couldn't. He had to move forwards.

Akechi would probably call him stupid for staying stuck on him so long. He would say how he shouldn't waste the life he has thinking about someone who killed him. How if anything he should be glad he finally won. There was no more rivalry to be had. But Akira still had to disagree.

Akira took every step as a challenge to be better. He spent the days trying to improve, telling himself that he couldn't fall behind now. He couldn't disappoint the rival he loved so dearly by stopping just because it was over.

He figured if Akechi ever did return, he'd give him a real challenge. If he met Akechi again he wanted to be someone he could respect, someone he could challenge and find worth challenging. He wanted to keep the rivalry alive in his own little way. It was just a promise in his own mind he had to keep. And he couldn't do that with a hurting chest, so he indulged in the moments surrounded by friends, with laughter in the air.

He would do his best to continue, just to prove that he could. He wouldn't forget Akechi, he didnt think he could, but he wouldn't fall behind because of him.

---

When the day was late and the sky had turned shades of orange Akira was left cleaning up Leblanc, making sure everything was ready for business tomorrow.

It had been a while since he had finally realized that he had moved forwards, but he was still making progress with each day.

He leaned back onto a shelf, letting out a soft satisfied hum as he relaxed for the day.

Then the bell on the door rung.

Then a familiar voice spoke, and Akira had to make sure this wasn't a dream.

"I hope I haven't come in too late for a cup of coffee Kurusu, I was hoping we could catch up,"

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #persona 5 #ren amamiya #persona 5 royal #akira kurusu #oneshot #mmmm tired

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. 

Day 4: Pink To Make The Boys Wink

Warnings: Bad Language words, SMUT (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this my second instalment for the Ransom advent collaboration between myself and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​. 

We hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist. 

 The bedroom was full of sinful moans and groans, and the debauched sound of skin slapping on skin as Ransom’s hands curled around your hips, pulling you down onto him, thrusting upwards to meet you.

“That’s it, Princess.” he panted, your head falling back in a groan as a deliciously hard thrust hit you right on your spot. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged and he suddenly sat up, drawing a gasp and a strangled cry from your mouth as his hands curled round your back, holding you to him as much as he could, his legs bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress. One hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a filthy kiss as his hips continued pistoning up into you. You felt the heat beginning to rise in the low pit of your belly, the familiar sensation spreading between your legs and you moaned into his mouth.

“Ransom, I’m gonna…” your hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his smooth, taught skin as you groaned again, the coil in your abdomen reaching snapping point.

“Yeah, baby, come on my cock.” He growled, his teeth nipping at your ear. “Fuck you feel so good!”

With a final loud cry, you tipped your head back as you came, hard, Ransom’s hands gripping once more on your hips as he pulled you down harder, picking up the pace racing to his end. His hips jerked, his legs twitched and his head dropped forward to your shoulder, biting down gently as he let out a groan before he stilled completely, his chest heaving. Your hands danced up his back, sliding into his hair before he pulled away and placed a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Quick enough for you?” he smirked and you scoffed, slapping his shoulder slightly as he fell backwards, tugging you with him, pivoting so you were led on your side, his cock softening inside you.

“You’re such a dick.” You said as he kissed the top of your nose.

“You love my dick.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, and my love of your dick is what got us into this.” You said, your hand taking his and pressing it to your bump. His eyes lit up, the way the always did when he felt your baby moving within your swollen belly. You knew it stoked his ego, knowing that he’d knocked you up, marked you from the inside as his, the evidence that you belong to him in every single damned way right there for everyone to see.

“Well I would say I’m sorry but that would be a total lie.” He shrugged, and with a shift of his hips he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, his hands reaching up and locking behind his head. “What time are you meeting your mom?”

“An hour.” You glanced at your phone and turned back to face him, “I should shower and stick the laundry on before I go.”

“I’ll do it, the laundry that is.” He offered, “Although I could also shower if you wanted “he added, with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“You think you can manage it this time, without shrinking anything?” You teased, your hand resting on your bump.

“Yup.” He popped the P “Especially now you stuck the instructions to the front of the machine.”

“Always better to play it safe. Besides, you shrink another of your sweaters I’m gonna have nothing to wear.”

“I shrank one. And maybe you could try wearing your own clothes.”

“The Spawn of Satan prefers yours.” You shrugged, rubbing your bump again before you heaved yourself out of bed and padded into the en-suite. You paused and turned to face him, your naked body on full show and his eyes darkened a little as you bit your lip “Thought you wanted to shower.”

In a flash he was out of bed and stalking towards you, causing you to giggle as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind him.

*****

Whites, brights, darks…

Ransom nodded to the three piles on the floor in the laundry room and shoved the whites into the machine first, dutifully following the instructions taped to the machine. Once it was on, he headed back into the kitchen deciding that he deserved a break. Fucking his wife all the way to heaven within ten minutes flat, not to mention the after party in the shower, plus then sorting washing, loading the machine and turning it on was tiring work after all.

He made himself a coffee before he headed back into the lounge and settled down with the laptop, checking the latest Newsletter from the Country Club before he ran down the training schedule for the Polo Team that month, checking when his time slots where, not that it really mattered. If he didn’t particularly like a slot he’d been given he’d just kick off until they swapped it for one he did like. Perks of being the star of the team, you got your own way…

He smirked a little as he could hear Y/N’s voice echoing in his head “Story of your life, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

Like he gave a shit.

His phone went off, signalling he had a text and he rolled his eyes as he saw it was from his mother, asking if she could expect him and Y/N for dinner that Sunday. Typing out a single word response- “no,”- he dropped the phone back onto the coffee table as he continued his reading, the TV fixed on some trashy talk show in the background.

He was surprised when the beeping of the machine telling him the cycle had finished hit his ears, and as he glanced at the clock he arched an eyebrow. He’d been that immersed in researching up on the youngest age kids seemed to be able to play polo, and where he could find a decent kids team, that he’d managed to actually while away almost two hours. He placed the laptop down on the couch and headed through to the laundry room, grabbing the basket from the side. Bending down, he pulled open the machined door and began to unload the items into the basket.

It wasn’t until he pulled out Y/N’s white Armani maternity dungarees that he realised something had gone horribly wrong.

“What the…” he straightened up, holding the expensive denim item up in front of him, squinting as he did so.

It looked pink!

Deciding it was the light in the room he walked into the kitchen and cursed loudly as they looked even pinker in the brighter room. He stalked back into the laundry room and began to remove the rest of the washing, and to his dismay it was all the same. His riding britches, 2 of her blouses, a few bras, panties, boxers, 2 of his dress shits, his thermal ribbed undershirt, several t-shirts, a polo shirt…

All. Fucking. Pink.

And more to the point, it had all definitely been white when he’d put it in.

Growling in frustration he tipped the washing out onto the floor and there it was, the culprit. One of Y/N’s thongs, a bright red one, poking out of the pocket of his white-now-pink corduroy trousers that he’d worn to the Fall Gala at the Country Club.

Fuck, he had totally forgotten they were in there after he’d kept them when he’d fucked Y/N in the cloak room. Unable to wait until he got her home as the sight of her in that little black dress, baby bump on show had driven him wild, he’d dragged her off for a dirty little rendezvous, and had ended up snapping the elastic around the waistband meaning they were totally useless. She’d been pissed when she realised and had to spend the rest of the night with nothing on…of course, at the time it had been a great source of amusement to him.

Now, well not so much.

He contemplated googling how to fix this, before he decided that he simply couldn’t be fucking bothered. It would likely involve some complicated soaking routine and frankly he had better things to be doing with his time.

Like researching…important…stuff. Man stuff. Man stuff for him and his baby boy.

Nonchalantly, he tossed the ruined items into the basket and set it on top of the machine with a shrug. He’d buy her some new stuff. And if she went ballistic at him over it all, then he’d just have to remind her that it was her fault her thong was in his pocket in the first place, the dirty little minx.

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans #chris evans characters

[thran-duils]

Am I On the Screen? (P.1)

Title: Am I On the Screen? (Part One) Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Summary: Hugh is a prick and the reader gets herself into trouble with him with her attitude. Hugh has the perfect plan to keep her in line though. Words: 2,116 Warnings: S M U T, language, dub-con, blackmail, masturbation, online sex Author’s Notes: If something like this has been done already, welp, I suck.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Are you, are you filming me? Am I, am I on the screen? 'Cause it feels like your watching me 'Cause it feels like they’re watching me Am I on the screen?

-- Are You Filming Me? // twst

Marta’s laugh faltered and she cleared her throat, her eyes averting from the doorway quickly. You turned your head to look over your shoulder and saw what had made her stop laughing. Hugh. He sure had a way of sucking the air out of a room, especially with that glower he was pointing in the two of your direction.

“Hugh,” you greeted him civilly, turning the shrimp over in the pan. “Are you hungry?”

“Not for anything that you are making,” Hugh responded rudely, walking past you towards the fridge.

You shot Marta a vexed look and she rose her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Well, there’s some take out on the second shelf in the fridge that I can assure you I had nothing to do with. I just picked it up for my lunch. If you want, I’ll trade you that for a plate of what I’m making,” you said, unable to help yourself.

Hugh stopped, his hand on the handle of the fridge. Unamused, he stared at you for a few moments before saying, “You should watch your mouth, Y/N.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you quipped, turning the stove off, and moving to arrange Harlan’s plate.

You could feel Hugh’s glare burning into your back and you smirked to yourself at having gotten under his skin even just a little bit. The prick deserved to be knocked down a couple pegs.

<><><>

Gym bag slung over your shoulder, you slammed your car door closed and locked it. On the way up to your townhouse door, you unlocked your mailbox and grabbed the papers inside. You were looking forward to your shower, thinking of the sweet relief you would get from the hot water.

Upon opening your front door, you almost stepped onto an envelope that had been slid underneath the door. You closed the door and turned around, placing your bag down along with the other mail on the entrance table. You swooped down and picked up the unmarked envelope, confused why it had not just been slipped into your mailbox.

“What…” you muttered, staring down at the photos.

Bile rose in your throat realizing what it was. They were screenshots of you from your OnlyFans account during one of your live events. And you quickly noticed it was not from just one; there were a handful of them, you in different lingerie, different toys. A note was with the pictures.

I want you to say my name when you’re riding that large, pretty, purple dildo tonight.

Who sent you this and why? There was no name attached to it. And how the hell did they know where you lived? A chill crept down your spine, thinking of all the true crime documentaries that you had binged and all the women who were kidnapped and murdered, their bodies never found.

Unnerved, you tore the photos and the note up, rushing towards the kitchen. You shoved the ruined remains in the trash, shoving them as far down as you could. Stepping back, your eyes were glued to the trashcan, anxiety creeping. What if you had a stalker?

You bit your lip, trying to think of all the ways you could protect yourself if you were approached on the street or god forbid, someone broke into your home.

The clock caught your attention, and you swore, realizing you had been standing there for fifteen minutes worrying and had cut into your shower time. You still needed to get to work. Trying to ignore the nagging anxiety, you rushed to get ready.

<><><>

Throughout the day, your mind had continuously returned to the note and the pictures. You could not go to the police to file a report or anything, they would think you were being over dramatic. Plus, you were not keen on sharing your account and really, no one had done anything illegal. Still, you were frightened.

At the end of the day when dinner was finished and you had breakfast set up for the morning for Marta to get ready for Harlan when she got there in the morning, you stopped at the bathroom on the way out the door to relieve yourself before the drive home. When you opened the door, you jumped seeing Hugh standing there, just waiting, looking very much a predator.

Hugh rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning in and effectively blocking your way out of the bathroom.

“Do you need something?” you asked, your tone short. On top of the anxiety you already had, you did not want to deal with this dickhead. When had he shown up anyway?

His smile did not reach his eyes as his eyes wandered down, unabashedly soaking you in. Your mouth set into a thin line. If he was trying to unnerve you by being a pompous ass, he was going to have to try harder than throwing you a lewd look.

“Did you get my gift?” Hugh asked nonchalantly. Your brow stitched, confused. He leaned in closer, a malicious glint in his eyes. “I’d prefer it if you reverse cowgirl’d it while you’re saying my name.”

Your breath froze in your chest and he knew the moment that it clicked for you, an arrogant smile painted on his lips.

“You… bastard,” you got out, before trying to move past him.

He blocked your way again and you clenched your jaw, fury thrumming underneath your skin at the smug look on his face.

“Does my grandfather not pay you enough? I would imagine he does but maybe you’ve got more expensive tastes than you give off,” Hugh ridiculed you. He rose his brows and whispered, “Or maybe you just like knowing there are people getting off to that perfectly round ass.” You tried to get around him again and he chuckled, blocking your way once more. “Did I hit a nerve, babydoll?”

He gripped your jaw and you tried to jerk away but he clamped down harder, stopping you from doing so. “I’ve been watching you for a while. You put on quite the show. I just can’t seem to bring myself to actually bury myself inside you though. I’ve certainly thought about it… showing up at your place and making you wrap those beautiful lips around my cock. But I beat off to whores, not fuck them. Keeps me clean.”

You slapped his hand away, angry tears stinging at your eyes. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Not until you tell me you’re gonna do like I asked.”

Scoffing, you told him as calmly as you could, “I don’t do it for free.”

“Oh, you aren’t,” Hugh assured you. “I already pay to subscribe, remember? But trust me, your job is on the line. What if I showed my grandfather what his cook is doing afterhours? Do you think he would want to keep a slut employed and tied to his name? That is a lot of money on the table and so you aren’t doing it for free. And don’t even think about quitting because I’ll find out where you work. And I have no problem sending the photos there too. So… you’re kind of stuck with me, pumpkin.”

He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to nod as he mimicked a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, Hugh, I’ll beg for you’.” In his regular voice, he practically purred, “C’mon, Y/N. Say it nice and clear for daddy.”

You had no choice. You knew he would make good on his threats; he was not one to mess around about people not following his orders.

Strained, you told him, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He cupped his hand to his ear, “’I’ll do it…’”

You grated, “Daddy.”

“Perfect. You’re a peach,” Hugh told you grinning. He leaned back, dropping his arm. As soon as you saw the exit, you made to rush past him. At the last second, he reached out, grasping your arm and stopping your momentum. “Oh, and by the way… that purple heart plug too. Just to match.”

He gave you one last self-satisfied smirk before letting go of you and you took off, feeling his eyes burn into the back of your head.

<><><>

Legs spread in front of the camera, you tweaked your nipple through your black lace bra. You had put your garter and thigh highs on to match but were panty less. You had already stripped and done some oral play, something the commenters could not seem to ever get enough of.

You uttered his name for the first time, “I want Hugh.”

Your finger running tantalizingly slow down your slit, staring into the camera. You hated how much it sounded like ‘you’, meaning anyone could be hearing it thinking nothing of it. But you knew Hugh was getting off on knowing you were saying his name.

Pressing your fingers in, you spread your lips, showing yourself off to the camera. A new slew of messages popped up, encouraging you to play with your clit.

“I’m sure you wish it was you,” you breathed, well versed on dirty talk during your live feeds. “I’m sure your fingers would be so much better…” You slipped a finger in. “Your fingers instead filling me up. Getting me ready for that big cock of yours.”

You were good and wet now, comments coming in lusting after the glisten on your lips. Remembering what he asked, your fingers left your sex and you got up, moving the camera to the ground and angled upwards. Grabbing the dildo, you wet the bottom of it, suctioning it to the hardwood floor. For good measure, you added a healthy amount of lube to the dildo, making sure the camera could see your hand massaging it, a sly smirk on your face.

None of this would be out of the ordinary if it was not for the fact you knew Hugh was watching. You could not get the image of him sitting behind his screen, his hand stroking himself watching you abide to his whims.

Spreading your cheeks, you showed off the plug and heard the chime of new messages being sent. You could not help but smile, knowing that was a treat for the viewers. The head of the dildo entered you and you moaned softly. You started slow, adjusting to the girth, moving inch by inch down the length. Gradually, you increased the depth and speed, encouraging whoever was watching to think about their own dicks fucking you like this.

“I want Hugh to fuck me,” you gasped, riding the dildo quickly, your fingers stroking your clit. You were getting close and you leaned completely into it, your mind a haze. “I want Hugh to fuck me so bad. Hugh can cum inside me, fill me up. I’ll take every inch, daddy. Please fuck me. I’m your dirty girl.” Your hand was moving erratically and a few more strokes sent you tumbling over the edge. You gasped, seeing stars, clenching around the dildo.

You sat there for a couple moments, relishing in your high.

As your mind cleared, your cheeks burned thinking about all the things you had said lost to your passion. The thought of Hugh’s hand covered in his cum, head thrown back at your complete submission to his request flashed through your mind. Thankfully, your face was away from the camera and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. And also thankfully, your red face could be attributed to that mind blowing orgasm you just gave yourself.

The dildo was wet when you came up off of it and you picked up the camera, taking it with you to sit it back down in front of your station.

Your eyes met the camera again and you gave it a sensual smile, your eyes flicking to all the new comments, positive encouragement ringing throughout them. Your hand slipped down to your cunt and you brought your fingers up to your lips, sucking on them gently.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll think about your hands washing me down,” you told the camera before blowing it a kiss. “Good night.”

As soon as the camera was off, your hands shook as you brought them back to your lap.

That had been a great orgasm. And you hated it.

Your phone buzzed and you whipped your head around to look at it over on your bed. Standing up, you picked it up, staring down at the text. You did not have the number saved but you knew damn well who it was and how he had gotten it in the first place.

I’m gonna break my rule. Don’t shower. Keep that pussy glistening for me.

~~~

Tags: @coconutqueen21

#ransom drysdale x reader #hugh drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #my shit

[shinsouskitten]

Bad dates and kisses

(I’m not good with titles, sorry)

Hitoshi Shinsou x f!reader

Summary: After a failed blind date, Y/n finds comfort (and maybe something else) with her roommate, Shinsou.

Warnings: angst, smut (all characters are 18+), fluff at the end, my writing

---

You sighed as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. 

Another waste of a date, you thought. 

You knew you never should’ve trusted your best friend when she told you she’d set you up for a blind date, but you went along with it anyway. The guy ended up a whole hour late, had the gall to complain about your appearance, and flirted non-stop with every girl near you, even your poor waitress, who accepted your sympathetic glances as your supposed date hit on her despite her obvious uninterest. 

You’d ended up storming out not long after your starter arrived, passing the waitress who gave you a small apology as you ran out of the door. Just your luck, it had started to rain, and you hadn’t brought an umbrella, so you were forced to trudge to your shared apartment with Shinsou in the freezing cold, hugging your jacket as close as you could.

When you arrived home, Shinsou didn’t appear, and you suspected he was already asleep in his room. Part of you was welcome that you didn’t have to face him in your current state, but there was also a small part of you that wanted nothing more than to crawl up in his arms and cry until your eyes were red and raw.

Instead, you rushed to your room, peeling your clothes off and draping them over your radiator as you pulled a large t-shirt from your closet, slipping it over you as you shivered. You let out an irritated groan flopping down in the chair in front of your desk. 

As you stared into your mirror, your despair only grew. Trails of mascara stained your cheeks, though you weren’t sure if it was from tears or the rain. Your hair stuck to your forehead, and droplets of rain ran down your back. You sighed, standing up to fetch a towel from outside your room, halting when you heard a knock at your door.

“Y/n?” Shinsou’s voice filtered into your ears, and you resisted the urge to throw your door open and leap into his arms. 

You bit back a sob as you cleared your throat, not willing to show your current fragile state.

“I’m fine.” You called, cursing yourself as your voice shook. “Did I wake you?”

You hoped you hadn’t. You knew Shinsou’s sleep schedule wasn’t exactly the best, and the thought that you might have robbed him of precious hours made your blood run cold.

“Nah.” He replied. “I was already awake. Heard you slam the door when you came in, so I figured your date was either amazing or terrible. And given your room is quiet...” He trailed off.

You let out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah. Not the best date.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked.

You closed your eyes with a sigh. “I don’t wanna bother you. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep if I wasn’t asleep in the first place.” He chuckled. “Besides, I was gonna make a drink. I could use the company.”

With another sigh, your eyes fluttered open, falling to the make-up remover situated at the end of your desk.

“I’ll be out in a few.” You called.

You heard a hum, then the sound of footsteps fading away, and you presumed Shinsou had relocated to the kitchen. After you had successfully removed the ruined make-up from your face, you checked your reflection, relieved to see that your previous tears weren’t too obvious.

As you made your way to the kitchen, you saw Shinsou slouched against the counter, staring blankly at two steaming mugs in front of him. He jumped as you tapped his shoulder, and you gave your best smile as you gestured towards the drinks.

“Those for us?” You asked.

Shinsou rolled his eyes. “No they’re for the ghost I room with.”

“Probably a better roommate than me.” You muttered.

A warm hand on your chin lifted your head up, and your eyes locked with Shinsou’s as you suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“You wanna talk?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, “you’re never a bother to me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and you tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you stared at him. He smiled widely, removing his hand from your chin as he grabbed the mugs, nodding his head towards the sofa.

“C’mon.”

You felt yourself move without a thought, your body simply obeying his words as you sat down on the soft cushions, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. You let out a grateful smile at the warmth, but as you turned to thank Shinsou, your mind went blank.

It was then that you became aware of what Shinsou was wearing, or rather, what he wasn’t wearing. His chest was completely bare, pale and lean muscles a stark contrast to the dark purple of his hair. A pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and your eyes were quickly drawn to the large outline of-

Nope. No no no. You told yourself. Not the time. Get your mind out of the gutter.

As hard as you tried to pull them away, your eyes kept falling back to Shinsou, and the imprint beneath the thin fabric of his trousers. He was sitting mere feet away, and here you were, wondering how it would feel to wrap your hands around-

“You good?”

Shinsou’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you clenched your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. 

“Fine.” You squeaked.

He hummed in response, lifting his mug to his lips to take a sip. Even though that kind of action was far from an uncommon sight, you were unable to pull your eyes from the curve of his lips, and the way his eyes fell shut in satisfaction as he drank. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about being the cause of that satisfaction, and you felt heat rushed to your cheeks as he turned to look at you, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Just fine.” You replied, leaning forward to place your drink on the coffee table as you pushed your hands into your lap, not trusting yourself to leap at Shinsou and make your thoughts a reality as they drove around your mind on repeat.

Shinsou sighed, placing his drink next to yours as he edged closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pressed his head into your neck. 

You froze at the contact, unsure how to react, but as his thumb trailed soothing circles across your skin you relaxed into his hold.

“They don’t deserve you.” He murmured.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“Those dates.” He replied. “I don’t know why you let yourself go on them. They never end well.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah well people aren’t exactly lining up to date me, so I take what I can get.”

Shinsou sighed against you, and you pushed away your lewd thoughts as his breath tickled your neck.

“They never make you feel good.” He muttered. 

“No one can, apparently.” You sighed.

“I can.”

You froze, unsure if you’d heard him right. 

He pulled back from your hug, placing a warm hand on your cheek as he turned your head to face him.

“Do you want that?” He asked softly.

“Want what?” You replied, still unsure as to what he was implying.

He leant forward, tilting your head to the side as he placed a soft kiss on your neck. 

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” He whispered against your skin.

Your eyes widened as he kissed you again, a shiver traveling down your spine as warmth pooled in your stomach. As he pulled away from your neck, he looked at you, purple eyes boring into yours. 

“I’m gonna need an answer, kitten.” He hummed.

You nodded feverishly, not trusting your words.

“Well then,” he smiled, “where was I?”

Both of you surged forward, lips connecting as your whole body tingled. Sure, you had kissed people before, and you’d even kissed Shinsou once while you were drunk, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Your hands moved to his chest as you pushed him back, lifting your leg over his hips to straddle him as you continued with your onslaught of kisses. When you eventually pulled back, you took in the sight before you with glee: Shinsou’s cheeks flushed and his lips red, his pupils blown as he stared at you.

“God kitten,” he groaned, “you’re so perfect.”

You felt your face flush at his words, and you fell forward to bury your face in his chest. You felt him shake as he chuckled.

“Now what part of that did you like?” He asked. 

You didn’t have to see him to know he was smirking.

“All of it.” You muttered. “Now please, do something.” 

He hissed as you ground your hips against his, the feeling of his hardness evident through the thin layers separating you.

“So needy.” He chuckled, pulling your face up to place a soft kiss on your lips. “But as much as I’d love to rail you on this sofa, I’m sure my room would be much more comfortable.”

Before you could reply, he stood up, and you clung to his chest in fear of falling. Miraculously, you stayed flush against him, the warmth of his arms wrapped around your waist as he held you tight.

Minutes later you felt your back hit the soft blankets of Shinsou’s bed, and you smiled as he crawled on top of you. You tried to lift your hips up to meet his, desperate for some kind of friction, but his warm hands kept you low against the bed, and you let out a whine.

“Aww, don’t worry kitten,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I said I’d make you feel good. And I keep my promises.”

As his hands grasped the hem on your shirt, his eyes flew up to yours to look for any kind of resignation. When you nodded, he pulled the fabric over your body, smiling when he saw you bare beneath him.

You flushed as you realized you’d forgotten to put on some underwear after coming back from your date, so with the removal of your shirt, you were completely naked.

“You’re perfect.” He murmured, trailing kisses from your neck and down your body to where you needed him most.

“Shinsou I-”

You gasped as you felt his warm tongue swipe through your folds.

“You taste amazing.” He said, repeating his previous actions as you squirmed against his touch. “I want more.”

Gasps and moans continued to leave your lips as Shinsou teased you, and you whined each time he pulled away. 

“Is my little kitten needy?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You said you’d make me feel good, so why don’t you stop talking and put your moth to a better use.”

Shinsou smirked again at your tone. “You know, I’m really tempted to gag you, but I really wanna hear those beautiful moans of yours.”

Before you could retort, he delved back between your legs, and your hands flew to grip his hair. He let out a groan as you pulled on the purple strands, and the sound sent vibrations straight to your core.

You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, and apparently so did Shinsou. Just before you hit the edge, he pulled away, smirking when you let out a loud whine.

“Sorry kitten,” he said, “I couldn’t help it. Can’t have you getting too tired before the main course, can we?”

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and you cringed as you saw your juices strung across his chin. 

“Then again,” he continued, “I did say I’d make you feel good. And given I’m the one doing all the work, I think it’s only fair if you give me a show.”

As you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, you hissed at the feeling of a long slender finger sliding inside you. You felt yourself clench around him, desperate for any kind of stimulation, and he replied by thrusting slowly into you, listening to your moans as he reattached himself to your clit. Another finger joined the first, and you gasped as they hit the perfect spot inside you.

“Right there.” You moaned.

Shinsou obliged, curving his fingers to hit the spot each time he plunged them deep into your core, smirking as you bucked yourself back onto his fingers. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, and you felt your orgasm finally hit you, your back arching off the bed as Shinsou kept his fingers diving inside you.

As he pulled away, you whined again, but he stayed quiet, watching your core as it clenched around nothing.

“Beautiful.” He smiled, climbing up to pull you into a kiss.

Too lost in the pleasure, you were unable to even think about the taste of your  juices on his tongue. As your lips danced against each other, your hand moved to grasp Shinsou through his trousers, and he groaned against you.

“Still not satisfied?” He murmured with a smirk.

“You.” You simply replied, moving your hand across the bulge of the fabric as he hissed. “I want you.”

Shinsou pulled away, his dark eyes staring into yours. “You sure?” He asked.

With a nod from you, he smiled softly, pushing himself up to remove his sweatpants, eliciting a moan from you as you stared at him in his full glory. He leant over to the nightstand next to the bed. He reached into the top drawer, pulling out a condom, ripping open the silver to pull it out. 

“I want to do it.” You said, and he handed it to you.

“Be my guest.”

You sat up, your legs still slightly weak from your previous orgasm, and grasped his cock in your hand, swiping a finger over the tip to gather some precum, bringing it to your lips as you stared into his eyes. 

“Fuck kitten,” he groaned, “you’re killing me.”

You smirked, rolling the condom onto his length before laying back on the bed.

He crawled back over you, swiping himself over your folds to gather some of your juices before pressing the tip against you. 

“Please.” You whispered, eyes staring deep into his as he slowly edged himself into you.

The two of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out, and he placed a hand on the side of your face, leaning down to pull you into a kiss. As you rolled your hips against him, he began to thrust, his pace slow as he drew himself almost completely out before plunging back inside, drawing a whimper from you each time. 

As you moan and plead for more, he stops for just long enough to grasp your hips, thrusting even deeper and hitting your perfect sweet spot with each movement of his cock. His hand moves to rub your clit, and your eyes clamp shut as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

You can still see Shinsou pounding into you, even with your eyes closed, as if the image of him is burned into your mind. You’re not complaining though, because soon enough your orgasm slams into you, and you swear for a moment you see stars.

Shinsou groans, the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock have him thrusting into you even harder, something you wouldn’t have thought possible. 

The pressure on your clit becomes too much, and your eyes begin to water at the overstimulation. The mix of pleasure and pain rip another orgasm from your body, and you open your eyes to see Shinsou’s head lolling back as his thrusts become sloppier. You reach forward to pull his chest against yours, placing a kiss to his neck.

“I love you.” You murmur into his skin.

He lets out a loud groan as he finally cums, hot ropes painting you inside as your body spasms under his grip. He pauses to catch his breath, holding himself up with shaking arms as his eyes bore into yours.

You whine as he pulls out of you, and he presses a kiss to your lips before pushing himself off the bed to walk to the bathroom. 

He returns with a towel, and cleans the both of you while pressing sweet kisses on every inch of your skin. Once he’s satisfied you’re clean, he reaches across to his nightstand, grabbing a glass of water you hadn’t noticed before.

“Drink.” He instructs, his voice calm and soothing.

You obey him, welcoming the cold water as it trickles down your throat, and you hum in appreciation. When you stop, he places it back on the nightstand, before pulling you up to sit in front of him.

“You should pee.” He says, chuckling at the expression you give him. “Always pee after sex.”

You roll your eyes as you slide to the edge of the bed, your feet almost numb against the soft carpet of the floor. Once you’re sure you can stand (albeit not well) you hobble towards the hold room, shivering in your nakedness as you sit down.

As you wash your hands, your eyes drift to the mirror in front of you, and you wince at the dark purple marks covering your chest and neck. You’d have to use a lot of make-up to hide them, but that wasn’t important now. 

For now you make your way back to Shinsou, who’s sitting at the foot of his bed with a strangely neutral expression on his face.

“You’re staying here tonight.” He says.

You offer no complaints as you crawl onto the bed, relishing in the warmth of the blankets against your skin. As your eyes begin to drift shut, a hand wraps around your waist, and you feel a smile spread subconsciously across your face before you fall asleep, not hearing the soft words that fall from Shinsou’s lips.

“I love you too, y/n.”

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader #shinsō hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #shinsou smut #shinso smut #hitoshi shinsou smut #hitoshi shinso smut #smut

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Got This

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Characters: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,385

Request:  Can you do a Jay Halstead x reader were everyone thinks of the reader as a soft girl but in reality she's a bada*s so when they're at Molly's one night and a guy starts hitting on the reader & he takes it almost too far but the reader protects themselves and slams the dude against the bar. Thank you love!!

“You know it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you sweetheart,” the older and definitely a little intoxicated man slurred at you, leaning way too close for comfort as you waited for your drinks at the bar at Molly’s. 

To say you were tense was an understatement; the bar was packed to bursting tonight and you knew none of your friends, or your boyfriend Jay, could really see you or what was going on from the booth they’d managed to snag at the back wall. 

Doing your best to ignore him you attempted to shuffle a little to the side, feeling his beer filled breath practically down your neck. You couldn’t move very far without bumping into someone else, so you were stuck. 

“Hey, come now, I’m sensing a lot of attitude here, what’s your problem?” He demanded, tone getting angrier as it always did with entitled men who thought that they were owed a woman’s time and attention. 

You gritted your teeth and said nothing, hoping that by ignoring him he’d get fed up and leave. But out the corner of your eye you saw that he had a cocky look on his face, realising that at least for the moment you were trapped with him at the bar as he shuffled a little closer to you again.

The knuckles on fists were going white as you gripped the edge of the bar, but the creep didn’t seem to notice, too busy watching you like a predator sizes up it’s prey. You didn’t want to cause a scene, not here, but if he forced your hand, he’d soon learn who was who in that situation. 

Although you were small and generally soft and quiet, you’d been raised with three much older army brothers and a fourth closer to your age that had served with your now boyfriend Jay. So it was safe to say that you knew how to handle yourself, you just picked your battles carefully. 

“Come on, don’t be so uptight, have a drink with me,” he pushed, a hand reaching out to your waist as your own slipped off the counter and into a fist, feet shifting a little into a better stance to defend yourself. 

Just as things were about to get ugly you saw Jay appear from the crowd, realising you’d been gone a long time. He took one look at you, and then at the situation unfolding before you, and immediately went into defensive boyfriend mode. 

“Excuse me,” he said loudly, putting a rough hand on the man’s shoulder and pulling him back before he could touch you, stepping slightly between you and him. Your shoulders dropped a little but you stayed in your stance, knowing that this could still turn at any minute but grateful that Jay was now by your side. “What’s going on?” Jay asked the man, anger clear in his voice.

“Hey, easy there,” the man tried to say cooly, removing Jay’s hand from his shoulder and holding up his hands a little, “me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation, so if you don’t mind...” He tried to take another step forward but Jay stood his ground, putting his hand out to stop the man’s advance.

The man couldn’t keep his cool facade much longer as his face flickered with rage at being denied something he thought he deserved. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Jay demanded.

“Who the hell do I think I am?” The guy mocked back, returning the question to Jay without answering, “who the hell do you think you are?”

Jay took a sharp breath, “I’m ‘the lady’’s boyfriend,” he told him straight, hoping that that would be enough to get the guy to back off. The whole situation had you fuming, but as much as you wanted to take this on yourself, you knew this asshole was more likely to respect a no from Jay than from you, no matter how infuriating that fact was.

Instead, however, the man put a finger to Jay’s chest, squaring up and puffing out his chest. Although he was older than Jay, he was also rounder, and about half a foot shorter. Even so, he seemed to think he was somehow the superior male in this situation, like you were all some god damn animals in the wild, as he said: “well, maybe your girlfriend would like to see what it’s like to be with a real man instead of a boy,” he retorted.

You couldn’t help it, letting out an uncontrollable snort of laughter at his remark that made his face go red hot, you could almost imagine steam coming from his ears. “Don’t I get a say? Because I say no,” you snapped, unable to believe what was happening. 

“Listen sweetheart-” he began, pointing his finger at you now like he was about to start some condescending lecture when Jay interupted, shaking his head and clenching his jaw hard.

“Watch it,” he got out as the man whirled back to him. Realising this wasn’t going his way now, nor would it ever, he did the only thing a drunk and unreasonable man would ever consider doing when faced with this situation: he took a swing.

Jay was looking back to make sure you were okay when he readied his fists, and by the time he’d got up a forearm to defend himself you had reached your last straw. 

Before anyone knew what was happening you’d caught the man’s sloppy right hook, slide stepping both men and proceeding to twist the drunk’s arm behind his back, taking a knee to back of his legs and slamming him down chest and head first onto the bar with a loud slam.

The whole bar when quiet, the only sound being Stella quietly cursing as she accidentally let a glass of beer overflow from the tap, too busy watching what had just unfolded to notice. 

“You little bitch-” he snarled but you twisted his arm tighter and cut him off. Everyone looked shocked, even Jay was momentarily frozen as he tried to process what had just happened.  

“Hey, come now, I’m sensing a lot of attitude here, what’s your problem?” You mimicked back to him, giving his arm one last sharp twist before tugging him back up off of the bar and turning him to face you.  

“Listen-” He began, but you were so far past done at this point.

“No, you listen, get the hell out of my bar,” you ordered him, voice scarily calm for someone who had just flipped a man over a bar. He looks around at all the stares and seems to realise that no one is coming to his aid, and why would they?

He grumbled more profanities at you and turned to leave, but you knew better. 

The swing was as predictable as it was wide, and you easily ducked under his arm, aiming a sharp jab just under his ribcage for good measure as he stumbled back, the force of the swing and the punch throwing him off balance as he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the floor. 

He was clearly dazed as he stared up at you, but when he slowly managed to pull himself back to his feet, he definitely realised that he’d lost. Humiliated and angry he at least has the good sense to realise he’s made a terrible mistake, so with a huff he storms out of the bar, the crowd of people stood around parting to let him.

You nodded to your self, satisfied with that conclusion as you stretch out your fist. It took a few seconds for people to go back to their own business, minus a few claps in your direction as they do.

Turning to Jay you saw him staring at you, love and admiration on his face. “You’re a badass baby,” he told you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissing you.

“Hell yeah I am,” you repled with a laugh as Herrmann finally came back over to your part of the bar with your drinks, eyes wide as he gaped at you.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” he said and you smiled with pride at yourself.

Damn right, you thought.

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