#i’m fully out of sing street content

[dwsavideos]

My Roman Empire is the cinematic masterpiece that is the surrealist/noir music video that the Sing Street cast put together to honor Gary Clark for his birthday in 2020. No plot. Just serving looks and melodramatic vibes. I’d watch a whole movie based on this.

#i’m fully out of sing street content #i need this show to revive please #this video is so funny #broadway #musical theatre #broadway musicals #sing street #sing street musical #sing street cast #sing street off broadway #music #music video #brenock o’connor #gus halper #gary clark

[azulas-lightning-bolt]

guys. guys. guys.

100yr war mako. guys.

okay so I know I’m already going insane about the dadamon au but. but hear me out. and this one is completely of my own design and I don’t think I’ve actually seen anything else on this (if you have pls pls pls pls send links) but there’s so much I could do with mako in the atla timeline because he’s a mixed kid.

now, I also need to account for how mako looks in my head (completely oc-ified). he’s way more ek the way I imagine him (he and bolin are closer in features, in short, but this post has me being stupid more comprehensively), darker skin, central heterochromatic green/gold eyes, curved nose, etc. for context the ek look in my head is kind of blasian? it’s not exactly but for the sake of succinct imagery, yk.

okay so moving on to au info (under the cut)!

fire nation soldier:

—this mako is an amputee. I haven’t decided which limb(s) but he is missing at least one is.

—he joined the army for the money, but given his appearance could only join closer to the eclipse and is treated like shit

—hates his firebending and the atrocities he has to commit with it to afford to eat

—mother was a fn deserter who left for ek father, hid in ba sing se for a few years where mako n bolin were born and raised, before oppressive class system and denial of war became too much and they moved out to ek town bordering fn territory (mako-5, bolin-3). they lived alright for a few more years, before naoki was recognized and she n san were killed. orphanism.

—mako joined the army at 13, the enlistment age being 16. passed himself off as a really scrawny 16yo. enlistments knew but disliked ‘half-breeds’ and hoped the front lines would just take care of him for them.

—he has to get a tattoo to signify he is not of pure fn blood,,, ohhh the angst potential,,,

—canon starts when he’s almost 13, as it has to get close enough to eclipse for him to join at 13. he only worked about a year in the army by the time canon ends and zuko becomes firelord. as a concession of losing, fn’s army is reduced greatly. zuko’s first choice is to remove child soldiers, esp the kids pretending to be 16. he has a program, but mako ofc slips through the cracks.

—traumatized 13/14yo amputee war veteran struggles to regain normal human behavior with worried brother: the saga, basically.

—maybe throw in a little found family/adoption, as a treat

Im so madly in love w this au btw.

joins the gaang (good start):

—there are two versions of 100yr war mako joining the gaang I have, and this is the happier one. almost no one dies! besides like. his parents. it’s for character development mako, sorry. so basically the plot is that the gaang is in the fire nation for the eclipse, but instead of mako joining the army then, they find scraggly street orphan and decide to drag him and happy brother along.

—to make this better, they originally think he and bolin are fully ek, hiding in the fire nation, and that mako is a nonbender (he still hates his fire) but then they’re like BAM we’re actually the children of a deserter and her ek boyfriend! they’re both dead.

—womp womp, teach me firebending mako!!

—and to literally no one’s surprise, his answer is an enthusiastic shove that stupid idea right back up your

—eclipse fails, but mako and azula freak each other out by being reallllyy similar.

—zuko joins; mako is also on toph’s side and bolin is content to follow his brother (reminder he is 11 at this point, mako is 13) because mako knows (as most fn citizens do) about the story of his scar and would die from guilt if he were to fight and scar the prince with fire again. (he has lightning scars and stuff too from early on after being orphaned, being without control of his fire)

—also mako still knows how to lightningbend, in all the 100yr war verses. Ik it’s supposed to be a royal family exclusive in atla, but either mako encountered iroh on the road and picked it up quickly or he had another version of zolt to teach him/give him the push to figure it out himself. GASP mako learning lightning from the dragons/sun warriors after going to the ruins for a safe place w bolin,,,

—so zuko joins. remember how I said mako/azula were still mirror images here? yeah zuko kinda gets freaked out by the 13yo who’s realllyy similar to his sister.

—mako is super awkward around him, still kind of treating him like he’s a prince (running away). zuko misinterprets this as mako hating him. after mr prince loses his bending, what does this mean? mako gets to tag along on dragon field trip!!

—in line w mako learning lightning from dragons previously, he’s able to navigate super easily into the city, but leaves aang and zuko behind by accident in the process. they do the little dragon dance and mako is the one to find them (with sun warrior supervision, because they don’t want the baby dragon to die encountering someone he didn’t expect) and they are accepted significantly more easily.

—mako watches them meet the masters with stifled amusement. he’s not worried; he knows they’re pure of heart.

—speedrunning everything up to the comet with fluffy gaang relationships, mako tries to blow the guy up back (it does not work)

—day of the comet, mako stays glued to bolin. he’s offered the chance to sit out the attack, they can pull through in units of two (+aang) and he almost accepts. but he’s thirteen, a year older than the inventor of metalbending and the avatar. bolin is a year younger, and takes importance, but-but he needs to do something. he’s been by their side a quarter of what katara and sokka have been, and he doesn’t want to have been dead weight. he joins aang, able to be present after the battle if medical help or a quick escape are needed, and enhanced as a firebender so he’s good enough to fight a bit.

—aang’s energy is being swallowed and mako doesn’t understand what’s happening but he knows it’s not good. he goes running up to aang, bolin at his side, ready to pull the avatar away and save them both. aang wins in the end, and ozai’s bending is gone.

—the rest of the gaang lands, the weakened ozai is still restrained, but the looks of disgust aimed at him from not only his traitor spawn but two peasant half-breeds gives him enough rage to spit threats at them all, a promise that all of them, starting with the little green-eyed brat (bo) will be picked off and tortured to extermination by his sympathizers.

—mako, standing on business as usual, doesn’t hesitate. he relishes in the split second of terror in ozai’s eyes as he realizes his special, hoarded technique, lightning, is being used against him, and he is powerless to stop it, before he’s struck. toph’s earth bounds shatter at the bolstered impact, but it doesn’t matter as the former phoenix king falls lifelessly to the ground. mako’s eyes are hard and cold. he’s thirteen. he is not a stranger to doing what needs to be done, and bolin comes first. who will sympathize with a dead man?

—the end :3

this one is probably one of my favorite 100yr war versions

joins the gaang (bad start):

—this one is probably marginally more tragic. mako’s start towards the gaang is bolin’s death. he died in a night robbery from older firebenders; mako was powerless to stop them, and they didn’t care enough to stop themselves. mako didn’t bother saving up for another travel pack or enough food and clothes to fill it again. he regrets ever having been so foolish as to think that was something he could keep.

—he ends up at the factory that’s polluting the village’s river in the painted lady ep. he works at the factory but lives in the village, just as desolate as the rest (though, again, decidedly more ek-looking).

—based off their harshness upon finding out their savior was katara, the village people don’t take too well to mako either, considering he’s both mixed and works at the factory. when katara is outed (and mako is packing up, because they just lost him his job), he gets pushed to the front with her and met with the same scornful glares.

—sokka defends his sister (common sokka w) and strange, scrawny child. the village distinctly apologizes more to katara as mako gives them all a stink eye.

—he helps the gaang clean out the river as thanks by burning the muck and disposing of the smoke.

—he goes to leave at the same time as them, aang notices, and offers a ride (to sokka’s slight chagrin-he could kiss his schedule goodbye officially now.) mako agrees, thinking he’ll fall off the bison if he gets lucky (yk, and other regular very normal 12yo thoughts)

—a ride turns into ‘oh just stop here with us! we don’t mind sharing dinner, there’s extra!’ and that turns into ‘it’s way too rainy to go on your own, we can just camp together another night!’ which becomes ‘where are you going? if you don’t know, you can just hit a few more stops with us.’ and eventually they just stop making excuses because, if mako is honest with himself, he’s totally gotten attached. they all know he’s not leaving. he’s smiled, laughed, felt joy for the first time in two years, the two years since bolin was killed.

—gaang shenanigans ensue. mako and toph get along like a house on fire, because they’re both grimy, angry, shithead 12yos absolutely out for blood. mako and aang develop telepathic communication within two weeks because mako can’t communicate normally and aang tries so hard to understand that he actually does. they’re bsfs.

—mako is decidedly reckless with his life and katara gets to practice her healing even more regularly than in canon. she’s not too pleased. sokka thinks mako is the best ever (grumpy mini-me) and wants to wrap him in furs and tuck him away from the dangers of the war (he calls mako cute one time(!) and gets set on fire for it)

—zuko and mako bond over scars (lightning+fire to the face) and zuko sibling-izes mako cuz azula parallels

—sozin’s comet goes about the same, but katara insists mako comes with her and zuko so she can keep an eye on him, which actually saves zuko from the lightning scar bcs zuko taught mako how 2 redirect‼️‼️

—I don’t have too much on this au because my brain is being consumed by the next one and thinking too hard abt this one upsets me greatly. also so much of mako’s personality in canon is centered around bolin (oh look that’s an upcoming post too) that it’s difficult to imagine him as more than a shell of a person without him.

dead:

—okay so this one is technically atla and tlok. will elaborate later.

—mako dies with his mother and father (naoki is still a deserter here) but bolin survives on his own. he mourns his brother, but a nice earth kingdom family adopts him, mistaking him for a full ek earthbender, which he doesn’t correct. bolin eventually moves on with his life, scraping by in the tail end of the war. these events take place ~ten years before atla canon, so bolin is 16 by b1 and 17 when the gaang reaches the earth kingdom. mako is eight and dead. for the record.

—so how does a dead kid become part of canon? well, I’ll be making a post about how I think afterlife and ghostly spirits work in the avatarverse, but for the sake of conciseness, the dead who have ‘unfinished business’ become spirits that can interact with the human world at will, because they never quite “crossed over.” mako, not knowing if bolin will survive on his own, has ‘unfinished business’. however, this causes permanent spirithood, which is part of why it’s so rare. a soul has to be really upset to eternally subject themselves to that.

—so spirit-mako isn’t really mako anymore, he’s a guardian spirit of, let’s say, children fending for themselves. you know a group of children fending for themselves that’s pretty relevant in atla. yeah. so he ends up unable to find bolin, because bolin is being taken care of. he’s instead drawn to the southern water tribe, where dozens of kids’ parents traveled off to war.

—he doesn’t reveal himself at all, just preventing little accidents for the most part. the swt nicknames him veiti, deigning him their guardian spirit. he lost most of himself as mako, all that’s really left is a bit of snark left for other spirits and fondness for his brother.

—he follows katara and sokka as they find aang, drawn to the weight of another lonely boy. aang feels something off, lingering in the air around the water siblings, from the start, but doesn’t mention it. veiti doesn’t stop the flare from firing because he knows someone needs to follow it, needs to come.

—zuko arrives. veiti is confused by him, but the scar on his face bears so much weight. they feel familiar to veiti, so much so that the tundra fills with the weeping of a spirit. this actually scares off zuko’s ship before an escalated confrontation (aang going w zuko) happens, so it works out well in the end.

—when katara and sokka follow aang away from the swt, veiti decides he wants (he hasn’t wanted in a while now) to follow them. but he can’t just abandon the tribe that’s come to rely on his protection, even going as far as to offer the occasional fish, so he decides to temporarily possess a vessel. other spirits have told him he should be able to take a human form, but he hasn’t figured that out yet. he possesses a little otter penguin, and tells a mildly disturbed kanna that he is veiti, and will be joining the siblings and avatar to protect them there. he tries to give a spirit blessing on his way, but he’s not sure if it works.

—the wails of a spirit’s grief fill the echoing halls of the deserted air temple along with aang’s rage, and he hopes the avatar can feel the comforting weight of a fellow mourner draped over him when katara talks him down. veiti feels decidedly uneasy (seen) with the statues of past avatars, and is relieved when momo is found and they all leave.

—he clings to aang as he rides the unagi, bats away too-sharp too-close fans when the kyoshi warriors get too aggressive. he nearly smacks sokka upside the head, physical form or not, when he starts blabbering about the male warriors that don’t exist. that one behavior of his had always ticked veiti off, but he tried to be understanding with sokka’s lack of a… well, mother.

—as the gaang experiences the mundanity of kyoshi island, veiti finds himself regaining some sense of… something he lost. he remembers, seeing the face of a boy on the island, that the brother he longed to see again was named bolin. he remembered that he was eight, in human years. he couldn’t gather any more than that, hard as he tried.

—omashu was hell for veiti, the spirit confused as to if he should be defending despite the lack of aggression from the king, and what he should do if he needs to step in. aang recognizes his friend, however, and veiti allows himself a break from them as they travel to an ek mining town. he hovers over zuko in this time, observing him and his interactions with his uncle (what is an uncle, veiti isn’t quite sure. they didn’t have those in the swt)

—zuko finding katara’s necklace on the brig makes veiti rush back to the gaang, relieved to find them all in tact in a different town. however, this town is dealing with spirit meddling, which veiti approaches with some annoyance. he tries to get sokka back, asking the other spirits, but he’s told hei bai isn’t too hospitable. aang enters the spirit world, and catches a glance of a mangled boy around eight who looks a mix of fn and ek. he’s conversing with the spirits casually, which is aang’s clue he wasn’t taken from the village as well. he wants to call the boy over, but has more pressing matters to deal with. hei bai is pacified, and everyone is returned.

—veiti travels with them to the fn, despite everything in him yelling to run the other way. the sages are dangerous, the evil named zhao is far too powerful there, and the children aren’t safe, tied up, beyond his protection. he finds the fire bows to him, and that is another thing veiti recalls; he is a firebender. no harm comes to zuko or katara or sokka when roku’s fury is released through aang, despite veiti’s primal terror when roku’s gaze locks on him. buried deep inside, aang wonders if he is seeing the same boy from hei bai’s forest.

—the scroll is stolen. veiti is, again, halfway to a heart attack (can spirits have heart attacks?) working himself into a panic when katara is captured by the pirates. zuko becomes something else for him to worry about, katara’s necklace in hand. however, apart from numerous last minute saves from slicing blades, veiti barely has to do anything as the situation works itself out.

—veiti is again torn as the gaang meets jet. there’s distant wailing in the forest all the days they stay with jet (and aang recognizes it, the same as in the temple and the tundra because it was from that mangled little boy he keeps seeing. maybe sokka is right, something is off about jet. don’t you hear that, katara?). jet is a lost child, but jet is malicious as well. veiti can’t understand if jet is to protect or harm or defend and it’s making him crazy.

—veiti feels himself grow absent for a while, he resurfaces when aang is captured, choosing to dance through the arrows of the yuyan as they miraculously miss the blue spirit (zuko was to protect, veiti had a feeling) and his ‘captive’, the avatar. the divide between katara, sokka, and aang is one they must fix themselves. the scars on katara’s hands from the terrible lessons of the deserter (he had known a deserter. a mother, his mother. if only he could recall her name.)

—another temple echoes with a spirit’s tears as they visit the northern temple with its gadgets and gears. teo is a bright boy, veiti knows he will fly far with his strange inventions. the nwt is a destination veiti abhors. he finds pakku agitating, and far too reminiscent of sokka previous kyoshi island. the siege by the evil called zhao (veiti wants him gone. veiti can make him gone.) is terrible. he burns tui, and mako runs to her side in childish worry, asking la if he can in some way help. he warms her with licking flames that don’t burn (because he is a firebender, he knows now) and infuses what little of himself he can give. it hurts, almost, and la’s weeping joins his in the oasis.

—it is by design that zhao does not take zuko’s hand.

—yue will give herself to tui, la tells him. but what if yue? he asks. he knows there cannot be a life handed over and a life kept. his fire has warmed tui, but it will not fix her. they will share the burden, la tells him. yue will lend tui the strength tui lent her, just as veiti did, and tui will recover in time. yue will be weakened, but she too will recover. as aang is returned, mako allows himself to jump up and cling to his frame. he is shocked to feel the ghost of a hug reciprocated. aang’s eyes search around veiti, as though aware of his presence but unsure where his eyes should land. veiti allows himself to beam.

—the earth kingdom general seeks to take advantage of aang in a way that greatly discomforts them both. he doesn’t revere the spirits the way he should. veiti makes sure his head gets stuck very firmly in a ditch once the children are safely away, and leaves them to their devices for a bit to make sure the general does not try such foolish exploitation again. he leaves them unattended for a while, not feeling a tug towards them as he normally would in danger. he drifts back around the time aang is being attacked for being the avatar, and it greatly unnerves him. why should he be scorned for being their savior? kyoshi makes an appearance much like roku did. and just as he did with roku, veiti pretends her all seeing eyes do not, for the briefest moment, settle on him. something of being perceived is far too disquieting for him in his state.

—veiti is greatly pleased when the blind bandit joins them. she has the burden of an unguided child, despite having parents. he doesn’t imagine them to be good ones.

—the girl with eyes like his (that’s another thing he remembers. his eyes—his human form has those—are gold, flecked with green. was deserter-mother gold-green, too?) hurtshurtshurts in her soul and in her fire. veiti cries at the too familiar violence, echoes of something that had terrified him once. he isn’t quite sure what, but his sniffles fill the air all the same. veiti cried sparsely in the south, sparing his tears for death and severe injury, but so many things in the rest of the world make him ache in a way he can through no other method express.

—veiti dislikes the heavy presence of the spirit in the library. he fuels toph’s veins with his own fire when her grip slips and somehow, he is enough to let her split her attention; the foul benders who reek of thieves are held up until aang can return, incensed at the muzzle on his bison.

—ba sing se is hell. veiti needs to find someone. he’s so close, he knows, but he doesn’t understand who he needs to find. his senses are torn between protecting the avatar and searching for someone he isn’t sure of.

—he parts ways with the gaang, and he looks. he searches all of ba sing se and the surrounding towns until he finds a small family of five. two parents, though the mother is scarred by fire, and three children. the oldest is a young adult, a boy named yuyi. the youngest is a girl named meiying. and the other boy has green eyes flecked with gold (gold-green, green-gold) and his name is bolin. veiti knows this is who he has been searching for. the world’s tug suddenly applies to him, and he feels his feet touch the wooden floor as he looks up instead of down at the family’s dinner. the creaks alert them to his sudden presence, and bolin’s (brother!) eyes widen, filling with tears. veiti’s voice is high pitched (he is eight in human years, he remembers) and warbles when he asks for confirmation that bolin is his brother. his body stings like bad fire when he is wrapped in a careful embrace, but a tentative smile curls his lips all the same. he asks bolin his name. apparently, veiti’s name is mako. veiti tells bolin that he is called veiti, and asks which name is better. bolin thinks they’re both nice, so mako decides he will use both.

—something tugs desperately for his help (aang needs help) so veiti tells bolin he needs to go, he needs to help. he promises he’ll always look after bolin and his family, and thanks his brother for reminding him of his name. he’ll miss his brother and his new family lots, he says, but they’ll be okay with his spirit blessing. he’s gotten better at those, he promises. with a smile and a wave, the little boy is in veiti’s form once more.

—aang is-was dead. mako wishes so terribly he has been there. he can do lightning, too, another spirit showed him how while he was searching. he could’ve helped. but katara is healing aang with the special water from the oasis. veiti wonders how she’s doing. he thinks about tui being hurt so badly and yue being weakened and aang being dead and mako misses his brother already and sobs fill the clear night air. the sadness weighs too heavily for his spirit form to handle, so he drops into appa’s saddle in the form of a little boy warped by fire.

—aang’s friends are wary at first, but it’s hard to deny he’s a spirit given his arrival. mako finds he like talking to them rather than just watching over them, and katara and sokka’s faces when he tells them he is actually veiti are really funny. the only thing he doesn’t like is how they seem so careful around him. at first, he thinks it’s because they don’t want to be so close to a real spirit rather than a half-spirit like the avatar, but he realizes it’s about how small he is when katara looks at him sad after he proudly announces he is eight human years old.

—aang wakes up and veiti is one of the first to greet, him, bouncing around in a mix of excitement and nervousness at the chance to meet him for real and have an actual conversation. he thinks aang has probably seen or heard him before, being the avatar, but they’ve never actually talked. aang tries to muster the energy to feel the same, but the feeling of failure drowns it out. mako retreats to his spirit form, upset, but understands he still needs to watch out for aang. he drags him to shore when the storm knocks him out, worriedly hovering until katara makes it on the scene.

—mako, as badly as he wants to, doesn’t go into a physical form with aang at the fire nation school. he thinks it would be a perfect chance for them to talk normally, as he’s been staying in his spiritual form since aang first woke. it’s not until they reach the village of the painted lady that he takes his human body again. the mood of the place is somber, but veiti cheerfully (foolishly) offers to try and talk to the painted lady for them. katara is all on board for this, and aang offers to tag along, but sokka is insistent that their schedule cannot take that dent.

—veiti goes to talk to the painted lady anyway. she’s very friendly, but she calls mako silly! she tells him he is to learn an important lesson from this; human affairs, like this, sort themselves out more often than not, and it is a spirit’s duty to meddle only when absolutely necessary. the gaang is there for a reason, and he should let them deal as necessary.

—the rest of b3 goes without much influence from mako. he tries to heed the painted lady’s advice and step back, even on the day of the black sun. human affairs, as they often do, sorted themselves out. however, he does tag along when zuko (who veiti is so happy to have. he was right!) and aang go to meet the firebending masters, because he is a firebender too! zuko doesn’t technically know about him, because katara is the one who introduced him to everyone else at the western air temple but she doesn’t like zuko, so he doesn’t show himself at all until aang and zuko go. he tells aang in secret that he’s going to stay behind to try and talk to ran and shaw, and not to worry when he doesn’t feel mako in the air. he’ll be back in no time!

—it’s on the boiling rock that mako shows himself to zuko, and it’s totally on accident! sokka was really stressing out, and veiti swears up and down that zuko was asleep, so he lets the world’s tug pull him down as human feet touch the ground. he tries to help sokka feel better, but it doesn’t really work because sokka got scared that he showed up out of nowhere and then zuko freaked out about the ‘little kid in a high security prison’. mako tried not to be offended, but eight human years isn’t a little kid! he’s basically an adult already! he’s as helpful as he can be with their escape plans, keeping zuko warm with his fire (and after he talked to ran and shaw, they taught him how to make it colorful!) in the cooler (what a terrible invention) and helping tug zuko back up into the cart when they get mr sokka and katara’s dad and suki with them and zuko battles gold-eyes sister. mr hakoda is kind of freaked out my veiti too, and he tries not to be upset, but sokka sees his eyes water and makes a whole huge deal out of it. and veiti is absolutely not pouting when he doesn’t talk to them the rest of the way back to the temple! he’s just recovering his strength cause zuko’s heavy.

—aang and katara are happy to see him in his body form again, and toph punches him which he’s pretty sure means she’s happy too. katara goes on a field trip with zuko this time, and he’s convinced to stay at the temple after zuko is told he tagged along with the last two. katara comes back not mad at zuko but neither of them are bloodstained so mako decides not to worry. then they go to ember island and see the terrible performance of their adventures by the theatre troupe there. veiti’s a little upset they know about the cabbage guy but not him, but he doesn’t mind too much.

—sozin’s comet comes, and mako knows that human affairs are to be dealt with by humans now. he’s still eight human years, but the time spent with aang has made him feel a LOT older. he tells them good luck, but he has to protect bolin and his family during the comet and he’ll see them later. and-he hesitates to make promises he might not be able to keep, but he tells them that if they really need it, they can call veiti and he will come. he stresses that it has to be the most important EVER because he has to make sure bolin’s okay.

—the cut off call from toph stirs a worry in his gut, but he is physically unable to part from his brother without a firm tug. but the comet passes, as do the fire nation forces, and mako returns to his friends (can he call them that?) to find them all mostly okay!

—the world continues on. veiti learns that eight human years is not, in fact, almost an adult, but he doesn’t grow farther than that despite how many years he lives, so he decides it’s adult enough. he, annoyingly, doesn’t ‘mature’ the same way the rest of his friends or his brother do, so he’s essentially an 8yo for the next 80 years.

—he spends a lot of that time watching the gaang and their kids growing up. he spends a lot of time w aang and katara’s kids on air temple island, especially kya. after he makes republic city his more regular haunt, he particularly fond of lin (who is an adult, at this point). none of the gaang kids see veiti much, but they all know about him from their parents. lin is the most often privy to his presence, kya second. he calls them ‘ms kya’ and ‘ms lin’ but everyone else is just their first name lmao 😭

—and then guess what happens (can you tell I’m getting tired. I’ve been writing this post for five hours straight and I literally had the atla episodes pulled up on my computer) aang dies aww :( and the new avatar is born!!!! she actually has parents and figures of guidance, so mako leaves her alone. but guess who he does chill with!? his grandnephew, bolin ii! family line goes like this: bolin marries an ek girl, they have kids. one of the kids’ names is san, after bolin’s late father. san finds himself a pretty fn girl named naoki, and wow, what a coincidence, huh? not that san ii is aware of it. they have one son, who is named bolin ii, after his grandfather. bolin ii is orphaned when he is 14, but toza is ushered by a mysterious force (dead mako) to find and take in earthbending child after a month or two at the orphanage cause no one wants older kids. or mixed kids.

—this post is actually so fucking long and it’s like ten o’clock at night rn (I’m gonna schedule this to post sometime tmr) so I’m just gonna summarize by saying mako tags along for tlok and freaks everyone out cause that’s what he is. a little freak. I am not rewriting an outline for four fucking season idc. spirit mako vs amon could be really interesting but I’ll just. make a separate post for that.

can you tell I hyperfixated so fucking hard on this au btw. ts has been in the fucking works in my brain for months now. I hate this stupid fucking orphan I need him to die immediately.

#mako lok #legend of korra #lok #tlok #atla #katara #avatar the last airbender #zuko #toph #aang #bolin lok #korra #sokka #slug’s stuff

[bittykimmy13]

Can we please get more Everly and Micah content? 🥺

How about their first meeting?? Though I suspect it'll leave you wanting morrrre 😘

Micah and Everly are gonna get their own book!! So here's an excerpt @marydublinauthor and I wrote a while back as we were first dreaming them up 💖

Warning: Hints of dehumanization as part of the setting

((More Micah/Everly))

💖FOREVERLY💖

Everly was sprawled out on the couch, aching down to her bones from her shift. Working in the human sector was exhausting, but the pay was better compared to staying within the walls of the print community. Not for the first time, she questioned if it was worth it.

Just when she was dozing off to the sound of her two roommates playing cards at the table next to her, Grayson gave a shout as he lost the game.

“Could you keep it down?” Everly groaned and buried her eyes in the heels of her hands. “I deal with loud people all day.”

“Sorry, Ev,” Wyatt said, though he hadn’t made a sound.

“Aw, what’s one more loud person.” Grayson came over to the couch and lifted Everly’s legs up so he could sit down. Her calves rested on his lap. She considered kicking him, but he was smiling right at her. “Anything you want to rant about?”

“Everything,” she said. “But what’s the point?”

Wyatt turned his chair around to face the couch. “Thinking about leaving your job yet?”

“No. No, it’s worth it.”

“Worth what?” Grayson said. “You leave early, come back late, and knock out just to do it all over again. You’ve got no life. I’m starting to think you buy into the whole ‘prints live to serve humans’ thing.”

Now she was definitely going to kick him. Especially considering he used to be human.

A sound made them all turn their heads to the window. It was unmistakably a voice, and judging by the speed at which its volume was growing, it had to belong to a human. And it wasn’t the sound of a keeper sneaking in phone conversation during a late shift.

He was singing.

They were all entranced for a few seconds. There was no denying it—he had an impressive voice, but as he came closer and closer, it became all too clear that he was making too much noise. It was well past midnight, and there were plenty of prints who needed to be up before sunrise to head to the human sector for work.

“Are you kidding me?” Everly muttered, pushing herself up from the couch.

Wyatt started to stand too. “Ev, maybe you shouldn’t—”

Too late. She pushed the window up until it was fully open and leaned out into the freezing night to see down the street. She didn’t have to look long before she saw the keeper. He was staggering, careening dangerously close to a building as he turned a corner. He was still singing, trailing off at times and starting the same phrases over and over.

He headed straight for her building. Across the street, she could see the lights in other windows turning on, along with face peeking past curtains. He was waking everyone up.

Gripping the edge of the window sill, she leaned out further as he approached. The third-floor apartment put her at level with his elbow. She craned her neck back and found that he hadn’t even noticed her. His unfocused gaze was on the ground, as if he had to look at his feet to keep from losing balance.

“Hey!” she called out. “Keeper! Are you drunk?”

The singing stopped, and so did he. As he turned toward her voice, Grayson and Wyatt appeared on either side of her, grabbing her by the shoulders to wrench her away. As they all staggered back, they lost their balance and fell into a heap together. Everly sat up in time to see the lights across the street vanish, replaced by a wall of dark fabric. There was a dull impact from the outside bricks, as though the keeper was bracing his hand on the side of the building as he stooped down.

Part of the human’s face descended in front of the window. A dark brown eye found them sitting on the living room floor. Grayson squeezed Everly’s hand and locked an arm around Wyatt’s shoulders, pulling him in close. As the eye squinted at them, Everly couldn’t find her voice.

“She’s sorry,” Wyatt said. “S-she had a long shift today. She didn’t mean it.”

Grayson shouldered her, raising his eyebrows steeply when he caught her gaze. “Earth to Ev?” he gritted out. “Apologize before he turns this whole fucking floor into the new roof!”

She faced forward with every intention of saying sorry, but when she saw the eye focus right on her alone, she was a deer caught in headlights. All she could manage was a breathy, “Uh… I’m…”

“Yes,” the keeper said, his voice easily overpowering hers.

“Um.” She shared a puzzled frown with her friends, then looked back at the keeper’s eye. “What?”

The keeper’s chuckle danced through the floor beneath her. “You asked me a question. The answer is…” He straightened slightly so that his mouth was visible through the window. “Yes,” he stage-whispered.

His white grin stayed there for another heartbeat before he pulled away entirely. The lights from the building across became visible again. There were more of them now—prints watching and waiting to see if someone was about to be dragged out through the window. The keeper provided no such entertainment, however. Everly felt the rumble of his footsteps fade off. He started singing again.

“He is drunk,” Everly said. She stood and began pacing while Wyatt helped Grayson up. “This is ridiculous! We work and live our lives under the stupidest, strictest rules imaginable, but this asshole gets to show up drunk to his job without any consequence?”

“Well, good to know you can still talk,” Grayson said dryly. “We were starting to worry.”

She rounded on him to find that he had sunk onto the couch, and Wyatt was leaned up against the table with his fingertips pressed to his temples. Beneath the relief that nothing had happened, she could see they were still tense.

Sighing, she went to sit by Wyatt and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I just… it’s so…”

She trailed off and scowled at the open window. The keeper’s voice was still going strong. As the seconds passed, she realized he wasn’t getting any further away.

“Great,” Everly said. “I bet he found a place to hunker down, and who knows when he’ll stop singing. Keepers don’t change shifts till six AM.”

“Could be worse,” Grayson said, crossing his arms. “You have to admit, he sounds pretty good.”

More than pretty good. He sounded downright enchanting.

“That’s not the point.” In an instant, she was on her feet again. “He’s gonna keep everyone up all night because he decided to show up to work like this. And who’s gonna get in trouble? The prints who can’t do their jobs right because they’re sleep-deprived.”

She stormed over to the door, but Grayson went and grabbed the handle before she could unlock it.

“Slow down,” he said. “Where are you going?”

Squaring her shoulders, she stood a little taller and looked at him coolly. “To kindly tell him to shut the fuck up.”

He let the back of his head thud against the door. “Do I actually need to tell you why that’s a bad idea, or should we just skip to tying you down on the couch for the night?”

“Well, it’s not like putting in a report is gonna do anything!” she said.

Less than a month ago, Cindy from down the hall reported that a keeper was following and harassing her. Days later, she had vanished without a trace, and the keeper still had his job. No one had the slightest clue where she was, and the human managers of the community had investigated the matter for roughly ten minutes, chalking her up as a runaway.

“You know,” Wyatt said. “You’re more likely to disappear if you go about it this way. Besides, it’s way past curfew. If you step outside, he’s well within his rights to arrest you.”

“I don’t think he has the wherewithal to know what arresting means.” She turned to face Grayson, who was still blocking the door. “If no one stands up to the keepers, they’re not gonna stop doing whatever they want. So you can either let me out now, or I can go for the window.”

Grayson heaved a sigh and looked at Wyatt, who gave a reluctant nod. With the door clear, Everly unlocked it and stepped into the hallway.

“You’re making the wrong choice,” Wyatt said.

“That’s easy, considering prints only get wrong choices.” She shut the door behind her and headed for the stairs.

Outside, the human’s deep tenor caught in the space between buildings, ringing against her skin and raising hairs on the back of her neck. It was like pushing through musical waves as she approached.

The keeper was slumped against the glass building that housed their community pool. It was a wonder of science that the glass didn’t strain against his weight. His tailored gray uniform was rumpled, a hip flask poking out of his pocket. His eyes were closed, apparently too engrossed in belting his heart out to even the barest part of his job description.

She stopped by his knee—close enough to be heard, far enough that she could make a break for it. She opened her mouth to confront him, but the urge died on her tongue each time. He was a mess, but something deep in her gut didn’t want the music to stop.

When the song was apparently finished, his silence felt strange. The human sighed deeply. His chin sagged to his chest and his dark eyes fell to the lone figure beside him—noticing her, but not alarmed. “I wrote it myself you know,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

Her heart hammered under the closeness of him, the weight of his attention. Still, she made sure he saw her displeasure. “Most of that was nonsense, so I wouldn’t be boasting,” she said. “Look, can you be drunk somewhere else?”

“You didn’t like it?”

“You’re keeping the entire sector from sleeping.”

The keeper’s unfocused gaze lifted, noticing for the first time the illuminated windows on either side of him; curtains all drawn, curious eyes fearfully peeking between the shutters.

He giggled like he was laughing at his own joke. “Oops.”

Her blood boiled at his stifled snickering, making her bold enough to storm closer. “Is that really all you have to say for yourself? You fucker.”

His laughter tapered off, and he leaned down closer to eye her with a bemused frown. If not for the faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth, she would have bolted. “Wow. You’re mean,” he said. “Why are you so mean?”

Everly drew in a deep breath and let it out as an even deeper sigh. “Because. I’m sleepy.”

“Then why don’t you go to sleep?”

She wasn’t sure which was worse—that he might be toying with her, or that his question might be genuine. Dropping her chin for a moment, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“I can’t,” she said, stretching out each syllable like she was explaining something to a toddler. “Because there’s a giant fucker drunk off his ass and singing like it’s his last night on earth.”

“Why are you talking so slow?”

Throwing her head back, she groaned. “In hopes of piercing the fog occupying the wasteland between your ears!”

As he pursed his lips, she could practically see his inner cogs turning as he processed what she said. “Huh. You’ve got a way with words,” he decided finally. “Ever thought about writing lyrics?”

“What is wrong with you?” She started pacing, feeling like she might spontaneously combust if she didn’t get the energy out. All the while, she kept her eyes trained up at him. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have no control over anything? No! You don’t! Do you have any idea what would happen if I showed up drunk to work? Hell, they’d probably make me a trinket if I even seemed a little hungover! But here you are, barely able to stand. The worst part is that I can’t even be at your level to tell you off properly! If you remember this when you’re sober, you’re probably just gonna laugh—”

He was so sloppy in his motion, she had plenty of time to react and dodge his incoming hand, but she froze up like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. She didn’t react until his hand wrapped around her waist and swept her off the ground. Weightlessness left her short of breath. All at once, she was a mass of flailing limbs, a scream starting to tear through her.

“Shh.” He stole her voice, pressing his free index finger over her mouth. She went still, trying to lean away from his touch as her shallow breaths ravaged through her. He frowned deeply, as though trying to make sense of her fear. “Easy. I just saved you from getting soaked.”

He nodded at the ground. Water glinted under the starlight—a dip in the asphalt she hadn’t noticed in her rage. She brought her gaze back to him and nodded as best she could.

“Not going to freak out?” he asked.

She shook her head, and he tentatively pulled his finger away, briefly pressing it to his own lips in a shushing motion as his stupid smile returned.

“Great,” she breathed, hating how her voice cracked. “My hero. Now put me down.”

It felt like a reasonable and straightforward enough request to her, but apparently he didn’t see it that way. He shifted where he sat, folding one long leg up close to his chest. Much to her horror, he brought her over his knee and set her down atop it. She sat up straight, bracing her hands behind her and grasping fistfuls of fabric. Her shoes scrabbled against his thigh, trying to find solid purchase.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” She didn’t have to crane her neck to glare at him now, at least. “I said down! This is not down!”

“You said you hated not being at my level.” He cocked his head and pouted, as if he had really thought she would be pleased with his idea.

“You’re…” She would have thrown her hands up if not for the fear of sliding down his lap and dangerously near his crotch. “I don’t know what you are. Sing all night if you want, just put me down so I can go home. I’ll have one of my roomies knock me out with a blunt object.”

“Hang on, hang on.” His gaze danced over her inquisitively, making her go rigid. “One of those guys said you had a long shift. Where does an angry girl like you work?”

She bit her lip and gathered patience, praying he’d let her go if she humored him. “For an electric company in the city. Now—”

He chuckled. “What are you, like an electrical engineer?”

“Are you this funny when you’re sober?” she deadpanned. “No. When there’s electric problems in building walls or heavy machinery in need of maintenance, I go inside with a camera, and my handler guides me on how to fix it. It’s really not that fascinating.”

"So... what's your name?" the keeper asked.

She narrowed her eyes cautiously. "Why?"

"So I can put it in a song. To make up for keeping you awake tonight."

She figured he meant to put her in some incident report, but he looked too hammered to even think about doing his job right. When he continued to stare expectantly, she sighed.

"Everly."

"Everly... A song for Everly..." His eyes lit up. "What if I called it Foreverly?"

Sparing the ground a longing glance, she made a face at him. "What if you put me down and we call it a night?"

~~~

(Author's note: Once again, I am at the mercy of the sunshine/grump trope :') Though I imagine that being around a drunk, unfamiliar giant would put anyone in a wary mood aslkdjf. BUT Micah's a good boy 💕 What do you think of their first meeting?)

#g/t #giant tiny #gt writing #g/t writing #gt #print universe #trinket universe #micah #everly #mywriting #foreverly

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sapphire Heartverse! The Fanfic!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7: Lovelorn Hearts

Part 8

With a short grunt, Ice hoists a few packages into his freshly washed black SUV. 

August

“Hm?” He turns around and sees Tippy trying his best to keep carrying one of the large boxes, clearly struggling. Vanilla inhales and sighs, makes his way over to the bluenette, and rests his hands on his hips,

“Now, what are you doing?”

“Lifting… Mr Dio’s… mysterious packages?” Tippy struggles to answer.

“Really?” Ice looks him all over, up and down, “It looks like you’re trying to…” Ice thinks for a bit, “Lift… the pyramids of Giza rather than a simple little package.” He chuckles then takes the large package from Tippy, “Go get the others. They’re more your size anyway, Termite.”

“Wha–? Hey, wait a second! Is that why you call me a termite?! Because I’m short?!” Tippy puffs out his cheeks, a little annoyed. Vanilla sets the package in the back of the SUV before turning around with a bit of a bored expression, as if the answer to this question is obvious,

“No, actually.”

Ice walks past Tippy while saying,

“It’s because you bug me to no end.” Tippy isn’t able to witness Ice’s smug smile at his little joke because he’s picking up another large cardboard box.

“Y…you… I-I…” Tippy is flummoxed by yet again another clever joke from this normally poised gentleman. 

“What are you waiting for, bug? Go grab that package.” Ice tells him. Seemingly out of nowhere, Ice leans in close to Tippy and halfheartedly scolds him, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, you rapscallion.”

“H-hey!” Tippy blushes, yet again missing the smirk Ice so cleverly hides from him. With a huff and a pout, Tippy carries over the last of the small packages, “Hngh! So, what are in these things anyway?”

“Classified.” Vanilla closes the back of his SUV and heads towards the driver’s side.

“So you don’t know what’s in the boxes? What if it’s rabid alligators? What if it’s more severed heads? What if it’s explosives? What if we hit a bump and go KABOOM?!” Tippy waves his hands and makes explosion noises. 

“I never said I didn’t know what was in those packages. I just said that the contents inside of them are classified information… No, they’re not explosives. Well,” Ice turns around then looks back at Tippy with a shrug, “At least I hope not.” 

“.... But having said that, you didn’t deny it was at least one or more of the previous things I said.” Tippy narrows his eyes and lightly taps his chin. Ice pulls out of the hidden warehouse driveway and onto the road,

“Mmm… that’s classified.”

“Oh, come on! Won’t ya tell me? I promise I won’t tell Mr Dio!” Tippy pleads.

“I don’t think so, Termite.” Vanilla shakes his head lightly. He presses play on his radio, playing a CD that he had in his car. Tippy recognizes the artist instantly,

“Whoa, hold on a second. That’s Eminem! You like Eminem?”

“Yeah.” Ice braces himself for what’s about to come next,

“I always assumed– nah, it's too easy.” Tippy slumps down in the passenger’s seat. Vanilla sighs in relief and rolls his eyes,

“If you must know, I am fully aware. But that’s all we’re going to say.” He makes a turn and looks around at the city street, “I have a ton of CDs in here before the ‘big bloop’ happened. I couldn’t help myself though. I went ahead and bought a ton more after I had discovered more music. They’re all in the glove compartment.” 

Tippy curiously opens the compartment, sure enough there are tons and tons of CDs in cases all in neat rows,

“Whoa!”

“Help yourself. Go on, pick something out, see if I have anything you might like.” Ice’s voice is a bit more gentle. Tippy looks around then notices a familiar CD. He opens it up and places it in the CD player.

“Oh, that’s… that’s a good one.” Vanilla nods at him. Tippy and Vanilla end up happily singing along at the same time,

“I just saw Halley’s Comet, she waved. Said, ‘why you always running in place? Even the man in the moon disappeared… somewhere in the stratosphere!” x

This cheesy little moment has made Vanilla more relaxed and solidified his decision in trusting Tippy just a bit more. The feeling of having somebody sitting in that normally empty passenger’s seat, is enough to make him feel less alone in general. He will never forget this moment.

In the mansion

Vanilla and Tippy bring the packages inside and painstakingly bring them into one of Dio’s sitting rooms for him to inspect.

“So is it like… dr–” Vanilla softly hushes Tippy and kneels to Dio. Vanilla lightly tugs on Tippy’s shirt for him to copy his manners. Tippy kneels down next to Ice and tries to do what he does. Dio turns around and gives the two gentlemen a passing glance as he makes his way to the packages,

“No, sweet little boy, it isn’t illicit substances. Mmm, yes, these are just some things I am simply…. Owed.” 

The two remain silent. Ice doesn’t look upon his master, while Tippy watches curiously as Dio takes out a jewel encrusted dagger. Dio slices the packages open delicately, yet something about the way he cuts them is so sinister. 

“Hm. Ice.” Dio doesn’t look away from the freshly sliced package.

“Yes, my lord?” Vanilla is ready to jump up and do whatever is commanded of him at a moment’s notice.

“Did you, perchance, tell our little friend here what is in these parcels?” Dio asks with feigned politeness. 

“I did not, sire.” Ice answers.

“Hmhm… That’s a good boy.” Dio chuckles. “You two are relieved.” As soon as Dio says this, Vanilla quickly stands at attention and pulls Tippy up by the bicep,

“Yes, sire. Very good, sire.” Ice pushes Tippy out of the room quickly yet gingerly. 

In the kitchen

Vanilla is fixing up lunch for the day.

“What the heck was that all about?” Tippy asks, sprawling his arms over the small dining table.

“I told you already, Termite,” Vanilla points a butter knife covered in mayonnaise at xem, “I have sworn to Lord Dio never to tell a soul any secrets he confides in me.”

“But what about Jonny? He doesn’t even have a soul! He’s just a head, so you could tell him then he could tell me!” Jonathan stops bouncing on the counter while holding a plate in his mouth and gives Tippy an offended look. “See? That way technically you didn’t tell me anything.”

Vanilla takes the plate from Jonathan,

“Just because somebody is only a head, doesn’t mean they do not count as a soul.” Vanilla sets a sandwich on Jonathan’s plate. “Don’t you know anything about secrets, Termite?”

“Well, yeah, I know!” Tippy pouts and rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, “I was just wondering is all.”

“Huh! Curiosity killed the cat, bug.” Vanilla notices Jonathan is trying to take the plate in his mouth and bounce off. Ice takes the plate away. He grasps Jonathan gently and swiftly turns him around and sets the plate back down. Pointing at it, he silently tells him to stay on the counter, “Some things are better left a mystery so let’s leave it at that.”

“Oh, alright…” Tippy lays his face on the table. Vanilla walks over and lays a plate down next to Tippy,

“Quit that.” Ice nudges Tippy with his elbow, “Eat.” He walks back over to the counter to finish making himself a sandwich, and to make sure Jonathan doesn’t make a mess. 

“Hmph.” Tippy takes a bite.

Ice gently wipes Jonathan’s mouth with a napkin after he’s finished and leaves the plate on the counter. The brunette looks over at Tippy and makes sure he’s eating before he can feel content enough to enjoy food for himself. Ice watches Tippy for a bit and takes his plate when he is finished eating. 

“Hey, you need any help, Vans?” Tippy asks, following Vanilla to the sink.

“Hm? No, no. It’s not that much work.” Ice tells him politely as he scrubs a plate with a sponge.

“Well, whenever you need any help, you know where to find me.” Tippy says to Vanilla with a playful smile. Their eyes meet one last time before Tippy leaves. Vanilla’s hand slips and he accidentally drops one of the plates in the sink with a loud KEE-THEENK! Jonathan hops over next to the sink and looks up at Vanilla’s face.

His eyes are a bit wide, his mouth twisted into a frown, Ice is very flustered and troubled at the moment.

“Mr. Ice?” Jonathan speaks up.

“What do you need, Mr. Jojo?” Vanilla remains polite as best as he can.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, my dear friend but… I have noticed that your shoulders tend to relax whenever Tippy is around. Otherwise, you’re quite–” Ice accidentally drops a fork on the ground, “er… tense.”

“Tense? I don’t get tense easily,” Vanilla washes off the utensil, “Sure, it’s a bit grueling to have to keep everyone in this place in check, I have to cook and clean and do laundry, I have to go grocery shopping, I have to break up fights…” Ice sighs and rests his hands on the counter after turning off the sink. He dries his hands off and rubs his forehead, “All in all, it’s a sacrifice I am willing to make for Lord Dio. I owe him my life, you know that.”

“Be that as it may… Your mental stability has deteriorated, all of this stress has taken a toll on you.” Jonathan hops along the counter to follow Vanilla, “I worry about you, dear friend. Although, it seems as though all of your troubles simply vanish when that gentleman is around! Ohohoho.”

Ice freezes in his tracks. He’s… he’s right. Somebody who was once a person I dreaded even being around, is now somebody I look forward to seeing each day. 

“Oooh, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve developed a little bit of an infatuation for the guy.” Jonathan pokes fun at Ice a little bit.

He turns around to face Jonathan a little too fast that his long brown hair flies over his face. Vanilla spits his hair out, some sticking to his lip gloss, and fixes it by brushing his fingers through. 

“What– pleh! What makes you think that?” Ice asks, feeling his heart skip a beat, “You know I love no man aside from Lord Dio! Who even told you such a false claim?! Just because I have to haul that squirmy little aphid around with me on occasion, doesn’t mean I have fallen in love with him! And no, I do not have daydreams about him every now and then like I do with Lord Dio! I am loyal to one man and one man only, and that man is Lord Dio… as I have stated previously many times over.” Ice puffs out his chest and feels his heart flutter in his chest, sending adrenaline shocks through his veins.

“My my! My goodness, Mr Ice. Seems I’ve struck a nerve there.” Jonathan mutters, just loud enough for Vanilla to hear. The brunette is fuming internally, trying not to let his emotions spill out at once. If he keeps speaking this foolish nonsense, I’m going to stick him in a pickle jar. 

A few weeks later, one night

“Hahaha, okay then, Termite. I have a question for you now.” Ice chuckles. Both gentlemen are sitting outside under the desert sky. It’s quiet except for the bit of ambience coming from the city in the background. The temperature is cool, a nice contrast from the blistering heat of the day. The stars glimmer across the dim navy blue veil of darkness, which was once a dainty pastel blue. Tippy looks out onto the horizon then back up into Vanilla’s milk chocolate eyes,

“Oh yeah? Go ahead.”

“Hmhm… Why do you always wear those gaudy dog collars around your little neck?” Ice delicately fidgets with Tippy’s spiked choker with a little heart locket on the front.

“It’s not a dog collar!” Tippy smiles and playfully bats Vanilla’s hand away, “I just like chokers is all. It’s like you with those dorky little leotards.”

“Well, at least my leotards have a purpose, Termite.” Vanilla makes a faint smirk, “Do these,” he nonchalantly slips his finger under Tippy’s choker and pulls him a little with it, “serve any purpose aside from making you look like a feral animal?”

The two gentlemen stare into each others’ eyes for a few seconds, both of them with cheeky smiles on their faces. Ice glances down at Tippy’s glossed lips then back up into his dark cocoa eyes. Tippy makes a short inhale,

“Why would a feral animal wear a collar?”

“I don’t know.” Ice releases Tippy, “Maybe somebody was trying to tame it? They underestimated that animal’s ferocity perhaps and it escaped while wearing the collar?” 

“Maybe!” Tippy giggles and rubs his arms with his hands, shivering a bit. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re cold. It’s not that bad out here.” Ice leans back and relaxes a bit more.

“Just a little bit. I get cold easily. Look at all these goosebumps I have.” Tippy shows his arm to Vanilla.

“You are just so darn fragile, hm?” Ice teases him. Tippy looks up at the night sky at all of the stars, still shivering, all curled up in on himself with his knees up to his chest. Vanilla takes his ripped dark jean jacket off and rests it upon Tippy’s back. The jacket is very warm and smells just like Vanilla’s cologne and deodorant.

“Hm?!” Tippy looks over at Vanilla with surprise. Ice’s smile fades and he looks up at the sky,

“You need it more than I do. I’m sweating over here.” He hides the goosebumps on his arms with the sleeves of his leotard. It doesn’t help much, considering his legs are also quite cold. The silence is a bit awkward, but Tippy is warm and content. Vanilla clears his throat,

“So… do you know what constellations are?”

“Yeah, of course!” Tippy laughs. Vanilla points up to the sky,

“There are those that everyone knows about, but… there’s one thing I used to do with Lord Dio before he ultimately grew bored of it. We would make up our own.”

“Oh, yeah! Hey, check it out, that one looks like a diamond!” Tippy points.

“You’re right. Oh, look, over there. That one looks like two hearts.” Ice leans over, getting a little closer to Tippy. 

“It does, heh!” Tippy looks up at Vanilla, “Like your earrings kind of.” 

Vanilla looks down at him and touches one of his own earrings. Tippy notices Ice’s arms,

“Hey, you are getting cold. Maybe we should head back inside.”

“No, no. I’m fine… However… I think there’s a nice little shop across the street from here where we can, perhaps, grab a couple of drinks and warm up a bit.” Vanilla rubs his neck.

“That sounds like a plan. I was getting a little thirsty anyway.” Tippy stands up and tosses Vanilla’s jacket in his face playfully, “Let’s get going!” Tippy giggles and runs to the gate.

Ice puts his jacket back on and a warm smile spreads across his face.

At the little cafe

The two gentlemen are laughing and drinking their tea. Ice stirs his drink a bit with a straw,

“Yeah… I suppose I have a lot to thank Lord Dio for, hm?”

“Well, now you know not to put Dio’s handmade throw pillows in the washing machine!” Tippy giggles and covers his mouth. 

“I was picking out feathers from my clothes for weeks.” Ice smiles and looks at his drink. “Um… hm… You know, Termite. I have a curious little question for you.”

“Go ahead!” Tippy takes a sip from his drink.

“You mentioned… that you have had previous lovers a while ago. Have you ever loved one of them so much that you were willing to do anything for them?” Vanilla casually takes a sip of his drink and looks at Tippy.

“I wouldn’t say that… There have been times where I was afraid of them cheating on me so I just tried to be everything they wanted. It didn’t work and they still ended up cheating.” Tippy tells him.

“I see.” Ice looks to the side, “What did you do after that?”

“I told myself that I’m not going to let myself be treated poorly by anyone ever again. I may be small and weak against physical fights, but I refuse to be treated like dirt. I wasn’t going to stand there and be compared to other people anymore. I wasn’t going to let them tell me who to be or what to do anymore.” Tippy’s face goes from jovial to forlorn once this conversation has begun. Vanilla doesn’t speak nor look at Tippy. This makes the bluenette feel a little embarrassed,

“I-I’m sorry, I think I said a little too much.”

“No, you’re alright…” Ice takes another sip from his drink, “You've been treated poorly by those around you, not just your exes, but from your peers, your loved ones…” The brunette stirs his drink with the straw a little, “Me…”

Tippy’s brows frown. His eyes go from staring into Vanilla’s, to looking down at the floor. The energy between the two gentlemen is tense, but not in the way of anger or resentment. They both regret the things they have done and said to each other in the past. Ice watches Tippy’s body language and knows that he feels a whirlwind of emotions. There is so much to be said in this very moment and yet… silence from both ends. 

They both finish their drinks and are too uncomfortable to speak to one another for a while. Vanilla inhales and closes his eyes as he clutches his cup speaking gently,

“I’m sorry.” Tippy looks up at him. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. That was unfair.”

“No, dude… I’m sorry.” Tippy stands up from the chair, “After all, I started it.” A teasing smirk from Tippy sends a wave of ease to Vanilla. The brunette sighs in relief,

“You sure did, you little Termite.” Ice tousles Tippy’s hair. 

After a while, the conversation turns back to lighthearted and fun. 

Back outside

“Here,” Vanilla takes his jacket back off once again and rests it on Tippy’s shoulders, “This time, don’t give it back to me until we’re at the manor.”

“Alright, alright, Lucky Charms.” Tippy gives an exaggerated eye roll. During the walk back home, Tippy playfully bumps into Vanilla a few times,

“What are you doing, you little bug?” Ice bumps him back with a chuckle.

“You’re like a brick wall!” Tippy stumbles a bit then bumps into Ice with a laugh. Vanilla laughs back,

“Hey!” The brunette pushes a little too hard and Tippy loses his balance. The short gentleman slips and starts falling to the concrete. Ice gasps and swiftly grabs onto Tippy. Instead of gracefully helping him back up, they both end up tripping and wobbling down to the sidewalk. Both of them end up with scrapes and light bruises. Vanilla and Tippy softly groan in pain and the feeling of being dazed, until they realize…

“Hngh?!” Vanilla had broken Tippy’s fall for the most part and now their legs are intertwined, and Vanilla is still holding onto Tippy’s forearm. 

“I-I-I’m sorry!” Is all Tippy can say. They both scan each others’ faces, which are very close to each other. Vanilla’s cheeks are on fire and he feels his heart is about to explode out of his chest. Tippy’s cheeks are scarlet and he feels the same way, and can’t help but laugh uncontrollably. The way Tippy laughs makes things a bit less embarrassing for the two. Vanilla grins, still feeling a little awkward about the situation.

“Here,” Ice crouches and holds out his hand for Tippy to take it. He grasps onto Vanilla’s large hand and is pulled up a bit too quickly. 

“Whoa!” Tippy crashes into Vanilla’s chest face first.

“Oh! Are you alright?” Ice asks and gently takes Tippy by the shoulders.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. Uh…” The two look each other in the eyes for what seems like ages. Tippy sighs and looks away.

“Wait. Is something wrong?” Ice asks with concern.

“It’s nothing… Well– no, nevermind.” Tippy may have a slight smile on his face, but there’s sadness behind it.

“You can tell me. If something is bothering you, I would be more than happy to help.” Vanilla nods and they continue the walk back home.

“It’s just that… I don’t want to ruin everything. But– you know what? Now’s a good a time as any.” Tippy steps in front of him. “Vanilla…”

“Y-yes?” Ice tries to remain calm and poised as usual, but he can’t shake the nervous sparks running up and down his body like an electrical current. His stomach churns and his heart skips a beat when Tippy speaks,

“I have feelings for you. I like you. I do. I really really like you! Ugh! And I hated the fact that I liked you for so long, but I just–!” He stumbles over his words and covers his face. Vanilla is taken aback, his eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed. “I’m sorry. I know your heart belongs to Dio… I know I just ruined everything by saying something, but I just had to say something, but– ugh, this is so confusing!” 

Tippy sits down on the curb and sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. Vanilla is at a loss for any kind of response. After a while, Vanilla decides to sit down next to Tippy and speak in a gentle tone,

“Yes, I told you that my heart belongs to Dio… however… I don't think he knows. He doesn't...have to know.” Tippy looks over at Vanilla, which causes Vanilla to turn away. “What I’m trying to say is… you–,” Ice inhales and holds his breath, “I share your infatuation… unfortunately. Now, don’t make me say anything else.” Vanilla exhales. 

“R-really?” Tippy raises an eyebrow in surprise, “I mean… I kind of figured you were flirting with me every now and then, so I kind of did the same! Heheh!” 

Vanilla covers his face with both of his hands and sighs in embarrassment. 

“So uh… what do we do now?” Tippy says softly, with a giddy little smile.

“I guess this means we’re a couple now.” Ice takes Tippy’s hand and looks at him with that stoic face he always has. They both look at each other with pure romance in their eyes. Tippy covers his mouth and can’t help himself, he giggles. Ice attempts to suppress a smile. Ugh… damn it, he’s so cute… I should go for it… right? Vanilla leans in, making Tippy lean in too. Both gentlemen close their eyes and go in for a kiss.

They end up bumping their noses against each others’, chuckling, then finally planting their lips together. 

The kiss between Vanilla and Tippy is so warm and filled with desire. Ice can’t control himself, he leans in further, melting into the kiss as if they were both the only two men in the entire world. Tippy wraps his arms around Vanilla’s shoulders, running his fingers through his long brown hair. Vanilla’s touch starvation surfaces when he lets out a small pleased grunt while kissing his new boyfriend. Everything Vanilla has ever wanted in a partner was right in front of him the entire time. This moment is so magical, he wants to cry. Tippy doesn’t pull away too soon like Dio does. Vanilla finally gets the satisfaction of romance he so desperately craved. Tippy smiles on Vanilla’s lips and they both pull away for breath. Ice gently rests his forehead against Tippy’s and gulps, catching his breath still. I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want this feeling to end. Please… please stay… forever and ever. Tippy chuckles and holds Vanilla close,

“This feels right…”

“...yeah.” Ice is internally beating himself up for not saying everything on his mind. Not only does he not know how to articulate his intricate thoughts, but speaking about his own feelings has always been an obstacle for him. 

In Vanilla Ice’s bedroom

The two gentlemen decided to paint each others’ nails, brush each others’ hair, and share music like any other night together. Ice listens to Tippy talk about things and make jokes for a while, until he speaks up,

“We kissed…”

“Yeah, we did!” Tippy says.

“But… Everyone knows we don’t like each other very much.” Vanilla messes with some nail polish.

“Well… I mean… nobody has to know anything just yet.” Tippy crawls over to Vanilla and looks into his eyes. Ice’s eyebrows are frowned and his eyelids are hooded. Tippy leans in and lays on Vanilla’s chest, to which the brunette wastes no time wrapping his muscular arms around the thin gentleman. Ice breathes a content sigh and snuggles up against Tippy. 

After a while, it’s obvious Vanilla tends to follow his instincts and only has so much self control. Every now and then he does things in the heat of the moment. He and Tippy are quite similar in that regard, the two gentlemen end up sharing a beautiful night full of intimacy and passion. They can’t keep their hands off of each other. Each moment spent together this night is pure ecstasy, the feeling of bliss and fulfillment is immeasurable. Ice has never felt this amount of pleasure in his entire life, he is ever so grateful to share this intimate moment with his new beloved. The couple share a shower, filled with romantic embraces, warm kisses, laughs, and the close feeling of togetherness that is washing each others’ hair. 

Vanilla and Tippy end up falling asleep in each others’ arms for the rest of the night. Vanilla doesn’t want to let Tippy go… They keep each other warm in that big cozy bed of his. Those two are inseparable and complete each other to the highest degree. Ice wakes up in the middle of the night, expecting to wake up to a big empty bed once again… but it’s true what happened. He curls up next to Tippy and kisses his cheek sleepily before resting his arm over his boyfriend.

I can get used to this… I don't want sire to know just yet. I can't shake this feeling of guilt, even though I know Lord Dio wouldn't mind. What sire doesn't know won't hurt, right? I can only hope this feeling never goes away… I hope Tippy never ever goes away… I love him so much.

To be continued…

#sapphire heartverse fanfic #sapphire heartverse #tipvans #vanilla my sweet #implied sex #implied sex mention #let me know if this needs anymore tags please #safeship

[whatistrivechallenge8]

Own Your Future Obstacle

Therefore currently https://www.linkedin.com/in/deangraziosiinc had by my employees. I have a new baby woman as well as I got to be house to be with her versus surviving the roadway. So innovation, I'm only utilizing this instance. It's never the issue with your lack of seeing where your leverage is and also the take advantage of today is in modern technology. But you're just going to have the ability to make use of that. You know, Ray Dahlia is a good friend of mine. Very Own Your Future ChallengePedro Adao has figured out just how to create amazing obstacles. If you wish to have a great deal of fun while creating your brand name, he's the individual to see. He's a professional at developing obstacle funnels that scale to 7 numbers. Jamie Kern Lima Dean, in the way that this program functions, we're mosting likely to transition to a various format if it's fine with you. 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I'm an injury specialist as well as the damage done on shaming a person, particularly in a public forum, is violent. I enjoy what Tony shared, however with Tony not showing up for eventually, as well as they stated we were told he would not exist when both my boy and I don't remember the news and also him disappointing up for the last 5 hrs, I'm looking to obtain a reimbursement. Also since the winner is not awarded with a prize money, yet with a high-value and rare opportunity for a clinical on-farm recognition test. The Popular Ballot Top Marker will instantly bypass the following round of judging and be positioned in the final round of judging. The Administrative Testimonial procedure verifies that the entry meets the standards, regulations as well as guidelines of the Difficulty. If we do that, we are more probable to drive consumer satisfaction, and in turn, increase client retention. Review our Intro to Client Requirements Analysis Surveys here. 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#deangraziosi

[witch-hazels-musings]

HI i do not know if i am submitting this request right (and if i’m not, i am so sorry), but. could you possibly write SFW content about zhongli x a gender neutral archaeologist reader?

i just finished historia antiqua: I, & i am so brainrotted by it omg. i can’t help but to lose my mind at the idea of zhongli’s partner being super into archaeology or anthropology and he just looks at them so lovingly when they’re rambling abt some new fossil/relic they’ve found, or some incredibly specific fact about liyue. this idea is v v personal to me (i’m an anthropology major w/ a focus on archaeology) and i can’t help but to get so flustered at the idea of zhongli listening to my geeky little history talks and even adding onto it. no one else listens to me when i talk abt history so i get a lil emo at the thought of zhongli listening :’)

sorry this request is so long!! thank u for your time and i’m so sorry if i sent this incorrectly!

our history is before us 

Warning -> SFW

Zhongli  X Archeology!GN Reader | anthology 

To know where we’ve been is to know where we may go. We are merely travelers along the path laid out by those before us; to disregard their successes or let the trail be washed away by the sand of time, is an opportunity wasted. 

It is with hands that can caress away the erosion of time and bring the beauty of the past to the surface; it is with a sharp mind and earnest heart to walk in shoes that haven’t been worn in thousands of years; it is with keen eyes that can see what others cannot - to find beauty in the rocks unturned and holes waiting to be dug. 

Zhongli, Morax, the great Rex Lapis who has walked this plane for a millennium has seen mountains rise and fall within a single breath of his lungs

He has witness nations turn over again and again - their greed running rampant in the streets, their hopes lifted and taken upon the wind, their voices singing or screaming to be heard - he has been the singular observer to it all - the scenes that played beneath him like a play left unattended; he may never fully recall them all and even if he does, he wishes to forget 

It is a contract that binds him - unknown and buried - it was a contract that freed him - destructive and eager

In this life he never imagined that he’d come across someone who could show him the past which ran by him like a rushing river, never could he know their mind would open a door to places that dissolved like sugar cubes - never did he imagine he’d meet someone like you 

As he made his way to the mountain site, he recalled the first day he stumbled into your research. Steady feet propelled him forward and curious eyes detecting something unique sticking up from the landscape. 

When he approached and found you working through piles of dirt, a small brush in your hand, and a hat blocking out the beating sun, he couldn’t help but inquire about your activities. 

“Good afternoon.” He called down to you, your body going stiff before you leaned up to face him. A lovely expression under the shade of your hat, splotches of dirt decoration your cheeks and eyes filled with wonder. 

“Oh, hello!” 

“May I ask what it is you are doing?” He wrapped his hands around their partner's wrist and rested it against his back. The wind made the edge of your tent flap wildly, like a drum beating in a wild tempo. 

“Ah - uh well. That’s hard to explain. Have you ever heard of the story about the ‘Palace Beneath the Sea’ -- well, supposedly the village used to be here before the mountains pushed its way toward the sky.” You looked at the small hole which surrounded you, scratching the back of your head and sighing deeply. “Though, I can’t seem to find anything that points to the accuracy of that statement.” 

Zhongli moved his hand to his chin, the leather of his glove warm from the afternoon. “I may know a better place.” 

“Really!” Your face lit up brighter than a flash of mora in the light and, without waiting for any time to pass, you scrambled out of the pit and stood before him. The smell of earth and history wafting off of you. “Take me there.” 

He knew as soon as the campsite came into view that you’d be hard at work. It never surprised him, your ability to analyze ancient texts and then know the locations where artifacts could be found. He found it hard to believe that you weren’t some spirit reincarnated here with knowledge of the past buried deep within your soul. 

There was a flicker of light and, as he moved his hand to shield his gaze from the sun, he saw you step out from under the makeshift tent you’d thrown up early in the morning. The light jacket that fell around you was pushed by the breeze, the arms it covered wrapped around your torso as you looked across the field and, as if you knew he was approaching, you turned toward him. Even in the bright light of the sun, he knew you were smiling, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. 

He loved to listen to you talk about the things you had discovered or were bound to discover 

Upon your return from the field - he was able to dive deep into the artifacts that spilled from your bags. The knowledge you possessed in regards to them seemed endless, and even when he chimed in to offer you some additional insight, you picked right back up or took diligent notes 

“How do you know so much about this!” You exclaimed, jotting down his words on the small tag which wrapped around the ancient object. 

“History is something I am fond of discussing.” His hand reached for a particular one, a small compact mirror whose reflection had faded long ago. It reminded him of the women who once made their way from event to event when gatherings like those were more functional instead of for pleasure. 

“Well, what can you tell me about this?” Reaching into the basket of items, you pulled out a trinket, something that brought flashes of life to his greyed-out memories. “See, my theory is …” He listened to you with incredible interest. While his ears took in your words, it seemed his eyes were distracted by the movement of your lips. 

Because he knew of your affinity for the subject, he often took you to places that held strong significance to the people of Liyue, or those who wandered around Teyvat 

There were times you happened upon remote museums of archons and Adeptus whose actions shaped the very cartography of the landscape 

He’d never met someone who found joy in these subjects before - other than fellow historians, but even they sometimes found their well empty - but you, from the bright morning light to the last sliver of its presence, would talk with him about it all 

No matter if it were pleasant or unpleasant, the conversation always ended with a delightful discussion or interested minds searching for more answers yet to be found 

“What are you researching today?” He asked you, leaning over your shoulder and taking a peek at the work spread across your desk. 

“I am going to tackle something that’s been on my mind for a while.” 

“What might that be?” 

“The rise of Rex Lapis.” Your fingers stretched as they picked up a particularly heavy scroll. Almost dragging it closer to you until its contents unfurled across your other papers and writing utensils.

“Hasn’t that story been told many times before?” 

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s accurate. We know who he was, but not really where he came from. I want to know more …” 

“I may be able to offer you some insight, if you’d like I can make us a pot of tea.” You glanced at him, eyes connecting with the amber glow in his and with eager expressions, you accepted his offer. “Though, I must warn the history may not be what you expect.” 

“I’m ready for answers no matter what they are.” You nod, standing up and heading toward the pile of books on the table behind you. He hoped, wished that you were ready because what is learned cannot be unlearned.  

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#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #zhongli #Zhongli X reader #genshin zhongli

[vibraniumwing]

only girl in the world.

a sam wilson x fem!reader wherein the reader cleans the apartment due to jealousy.

WARNING: NSFW (18+, minors DNI. ), praise kink, oral stimulation (f receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration (wrap it before you tap it lovelies), light choking, swearing, the setting is set somewhere in between AoU and CACW so like around the time in Ant-Man ?? also slight au ( i think )

A/N: so this is for @anchoeritic's 3k writing challenge! seeing that she’s a fellow sam wilson simp, i chose him for this fic (and we are seriously lacking in sam wilson content i hate this) and because it’s sam’s birthday we’re gonna celebrate >:)))) icb he’s an aries though. uGh

prompt/scenario: character A catching character B singing

word count: 3.7k

---

Dating a superhero meant there was a lot of restrictions; cuddles and movie dates with them are fleeting moments since you never know when they would get a call about a grape-headed alien terrorizing the planet and you couldn’t flaunt them as much as you wanted to because your safety would be greatly affected if their arch nemesis finds out about your existence.

But regardless of it all, you were thankful because Sam never made you feel less of what you really are to him. A lot of your friends who know about your relationship with The Falcon were envious about how mature the both of you are, managing to balance both of your work lives and your personal ones at home; none of them really knowing how immature the both of you are behind closed doors.

Making this another reason why you loved the privacy being hidden from the public eye; you felt like you were in your own coming-of-age, rom-com movie with Sam with all the hidden rendezvous at The Washington Mall at midnight and drive around the empty streets of the city just until the crack of dawn or just stay at home and cook countless of meals, teaching each other recipes from both sides of your families

It was the relationship anyone could have ever dreamed of.

---

“You’re not making this any easier for me, baby girl.” Sam said, sighing inwardly as he stuffed his duffel. He was going over to New York for a few days, probably on another mission with the Avengers (or training with them) and you weren’t having any of it; wanting nothing more than to have him home and with you for a few more days一 possibly forever if that was even possible.

You groaned softly at his response, sitting on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest as you watch him ready his things for yet another mission. “Then don’t go” You simply told him, face holding the same sad expression as your lower lip was jutted out in a small pout as you looked away, not waiting to tear up once again; him leaving for missions was always the hardest.

A chuckle left his lips, setting the suitcase down on the carpeted floor of your shared room before claiming his spot next to you; the dip of the bed from his weight caused you to look at him. “You know I wouldn’t dare to leave if I had the chance to, right?” He asked, his scooting closer to you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “But I always come back, right? Because you’re my home.”

You relaxed under his touch, stretching your legs unto the bed and wrapped your arms around his muscular frame, hugging him close to you in fear that he might disappear all of a sudden. “I know, but do you really have to go?” You murmur, hiding your face against his neck, the way your breath falls on his skin causes goosebumps to rise on his own.

“I have to, they need me, sweets.” He explains, wrapping his arms around your own frame and squeezes gently, enough to convey that he’ll be fine; that he’ll be safe and unharmed after all of the fighting he has due.

“I’ll be back in no time.” His reassurance made you sigh inwardly, knowing that you can’t convince him otherwise. Sam was always just like that, once something is set on his mind on something, he won’t stop until he gets it done. He rarely second guesses what he wants and he does, you’re the person he talks to.

You didn’t speak anymore, opting to let the warmth from his body consume you and lull you into sleep, his hand tracing small shapes into your back as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go to sleep, baby. I love you.”

---

The sunlight that peeked in through the sheer fabric of the curtains was enough to wake you up, reaching over to Sam’s side, expecting to feel him there but instead you were greeted with the sound of paper crumpling from the side of your hand. Stirring awake, you sat up and grabbed the note that was folded neatly.

“I’ll be back soon, baby girl. Don’t miss me too much, I love you.” You read outloud, adoring how neat his handwriting was, hugging the paper to your chest before whispering, “I love you too” before placing the note by your bedside table, rolling out of bed to get on with your day when your phone dinged. Looking at the lit up screen, you smiled at the message from Sam.

[ from: birdman lover ]

- It hasn’t even been a day and I already miss you.

- This’ll be a long week.

- Have a great day though.

- I love you.

---

- Steve’s still clueless on how phones work but he’s getting there. He “greets you a hello”.

The rest of the week was your normal routine, aside from the occasional texts and calls you would get from Sam whenever he had the chance to check his phone; telling you how much he missed you and sharing stories of what’s going on inside the compound. It was like he never left, the only difference being he wasn’t physically there to give you the affection.

Saturday morning soon rolled around and you were bouncing off the walls excited that you had to wait just one more day before Sam could come back home; come back to you. You practically bounced off the walls as you did all your errands一 mainly you getting your car cleaned and your weekly Target run一 and your day was all rainbows and sunshines.

Until it wasn’t. You were scrolling through your Instagram when you saw a picture that made your blood boil immensely. It was a photo of an actress (who was extremely good looking) in the arms of The Falcon. You had to take a few moments in to fully register the fact that the woman had managed to snag a photo with him, “He’s even hotter in person.” You read the caption out loud, eyes rolling in irritation, even replying to some comments from her fanbase, making it seem like they were dating.

You rarely get jealous about anything with Sam, being so secure with your relationship with him but seeing someone who has a platform freely post him made you writhe in your seat about how you should be the one flexing him like that, not her or anyone else.

You opted to call your lover to tell him how you feel but there was this side of you that didn’t want to go through a whole discourse with him through the phone so you went with the better option, cleaning the fuck out of your apartment until your agression washes away.

Plugging your phone to the sound system, you started off with Rihanna’s Only Girl in the World before grabbing the broom from the small closet in your apartment's kitchen, starting to sweep the floor. “You’re a bad bitch, Y/N. Now go clean,” You hyped yourself up in the mirror before strutting back to the living room to sweep your emotions away.

Unbeknownst to you however was the fact that Sam was well on his way home. He got to go back home earlier than expected and he didn’t tell you, wanting to give you a surprise. Jogging up the stairs of your apartment complex, he was practically rushing to make it your door so he can finally kiss you.

Finally finding the keys to your shared apartment, he opened the door and slowly creeped in, expecting to see you seated on the couch but what he saw was something else. He was stunned beyond words to see you clad nothing but his shirt and a messy bun while holding a broom, singing your heart out.

“Want you to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world” you sang out loud, holding onto the broom as if it was a mic while you danced, awkwardly body rolling to the beat. “Like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love, like I’m the only one who knows your heart” You continued, starting to “sweep” the floor again while grooving to the beat of the song, not noticing Sam who was silently watching you.

“Like I’m the only one who’s in command” Your voice blending into the music as you rocked around the room, singing your heart out to the chorus. “Cause I’m the only one who understands how to make you feel like a ma一 Sam!”

You dropped the broom, jumping up in the air as you turned around to see your boyfriend leaning by the wall, watching you with an amused expression while holding his arms out to you. “Are you just gonna stand there or come here and give me a hug?” He questioned, raising up an eyebrow at you.

Wasting no time, you paused the song before making your way over to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as you hugged him. “How long have you been here? Why are you here already? Shouldn’t you be coming home tomorrow?” Your bombardment with questions made him chuckle, his arms going under your thighs to support your weight, walking towards the couch and settling the both of you on there.

“I wanted to surprise you, baby. We finished a little bit earlier than expected so the moment we got back to the compound I was well on my way home.” He answered, one of his hands retreating from your backside to sneak up and cup your jaw, thumb tracing it gently. His eyes were locked with yours, filled with adoration and love as he continued, “turns out you have a surprise of your own for me. What’s got you cleaning so aggressively?”

You laughed, the anger you had just moments ago melting away as you lean into his touch, “It’s nothing, Sammy. Just me being a little jealous, is all.” You explained, finding it easy to admit your feelings. Your relationship with him was just like that; centered on honesty, understanding, and love. The reason why you’re so assured with him.

“Jealous? What’s got my baby jealous?” His brows were furrowed at the answer, mind trying to remember his actions prior to this conversation to see if he had done anything wrong but came up with nothing. “Did I do something?” He questioned, sitting up a bit as the conversation got more serious.

“I just saw this picture of this you and this actress posted on her instagram and一” you paused, finding it silly now that you’ve even been this jealous about this in the first place. “一I just got jealous that she could post you on their social media so freely. Kind of made me realize that I’m still not existent in the eyes of others; I should be the one posting you like that. Kind of made me realize that I’m not the only girl in the world that wants you.” you finished, not wanting to look into his eyes anymore at the sudden sadness from being hidden.

Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye on it but seeing how broken you were, Sam was shattered that you had to go through that thought. “There’s no need to feel ashamed that you got jealous, Y/N.” He said, the hand that was on your jaw now going under your chin to make you look at him again. “I know I insisted that I hide you from the public eye so you can be safe from harm and I’m sorry that because of it makes you feel like this.”

He sighed softly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “But if you’re ready to be introduced to everyone, even to the team, then I’ll be more than glad to show you to the world.” Sam said, his lips just millimeters away from yours, “The only girl I’ll ever love.” He finished, locking his lips with yours.

You swore on the fact that Sam’s lips were made for your own, the pace slow and sensual, enough to relay that he was sticking to his words and that you didn’t need to worry about anything. His plush tiers felt soft against yours, his teeth sinking into your bottom one, nibbling against it softly before swiping his tongue against it.

“Does my angel want me to show her how much she really means to me?” He whispers, pressing one more kiss to your lips before pulling back, locking his gaze with yours, pupils blown with love and adoration clouded with a hint of lust over the thought of seeing you squirm under him.

Given the fact that you were sitting on his lap, you could feel how hard he was under you. “You feel that, darling? You do that to me.” He groans as you shift, the friction causing his dick to twitch inside his tight jeans. “Be a good girl and use your words, baby.”

“Want you, Sam.” You say, mind too aroused and clouded with perverse thoughts due to the lack of touch you had from him this week to make a concise sentence. “Want you to make me feel good, please.” You beg, brows furrowing lightly in need as you watch him study your expression, a small smile forming on his lips as he easily hoists you up, arms gripping your thighs.

“How can I resist such a good girl begging for me to make her feel good?” He questions, gracing your lips with another chaste kiss as he carries you into your shared bedroom, placing you on the bed as he hovers above you. “I’ll make you feel so good tonight, sweets.”

His lips are then on yours again, his lower half grinding on yours a few times to rile you up, making you elicit a few moans that caused him to go overdrive. He grunts, taking in the scandalous sounds you make before sitting back up, taking the shirt off from your body, throwing his head back at the sight of you clad in only your underwear. “You do know how to make me go wild, baby doll.”

You smiled at him, happy that you were able to make him go haywire at just the sight of you not even fully naked. “My clothes never seem to stay on with you around anyways.” You answer, making him chuckle lightly as he started to attack your neck with kisses, nipping at the skin quite harshly making you hiss in pleasurable pain.

“You look better naked” was all he said before taking in one of your breasts, tongue swirling around the hard nub as his hand teased the other, fingers pinching on it lightly making you take a sharp gasp. He did this for a few moments before kissing his way from the valley of your breasts all the way down to the top of your panties.

Sam looked up at you with a devilish grin upon the realization of what lingerie you were wearing, “My angel looks so good.” he praises, taking a moment to admire your already fucked out appearance with lips swollen and hickey littered skin. He was quick to take off your underwear, eyes filled with hunger at the sight of your soaking cunt.

This feeded his ego to no ends, seeing you so needy for him. “I haven’t even touched you yet you’re already so wet for me, baby girl.” he commented, hands caressing your inner thighs teasingly as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you.

The way his rough and slightly calloused hands were in juxtaposition to the smoothness of your skin granted goosebumps to run along your skin, the cold air of the room adding on to your arousal. “Sam, please. Need you.” You begged once more, attempting to close your legs for some needed friction but his sudden grip on it making you think otherwise.

“Almost there, baby. Patience.” He said, bringing two digits to very lightly graze upon your slit before bringing it up to your lips, his thumb tapping your bottom lip, “Open up, sweets. Wanna see you taste yourself first.” He ordered, wanting to see you suck on his fingers.

Wanting nothing more than his touch, you easily obliged and took his fingers in without him prying them open. Your eyes were locked with his as you sucked on it, setting a blaze inside his eyes that you haven’t seen before, that lone making your stomach twist in knots.

As soon as Sam was satisfied at how wet you made his fingers, he finally gave your throbbing pussy the attention it yearned for. Inserting the two digits inside of you with ease as he slowly started to pump it in and out of your heat while his thumb rubbed circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were a moaning mess under his touch, back arching at the slightest touch he would do to your clit. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure he was providing you. “F-fuck!” You breathlessly moan, hips bucking up as you wanted more of his touch.

Sam then leaned, tongue lapping up your sweet juices as he sucked on your aching clit, the gentle suckling was sinful to your ears. He moaned at the taste of you, its vibrations against you making you whine at the contact. He curled his fingers inside you, easily finding your sweet spot upon seeing how you writhed under his touch.

With Sam’s tongue abusing your clit to no end and his digits mercilessly pumping in and out of you, the tension was all too much to handle that the knot that was in your stomach finally broke. “Go on, baby. Come for me, why don’t you.” He said, feeling how your walls were clamping up around him. The euphoria that followed made your legs tremble as you reached your high, shamelessly moaning Sam’s name mixed with profanities as he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

“Such a good girl for me” Was his words, rising up from his position. You watched as he licked up every last drop of your cum off his fingers, rolling off the bed to rid himself off from his own clothes, your mouth practically watering at the sight of his rock hard length that sprung out from the tight confinements of his boxers.

You were gonna reach out to feel him when he stopped you, “No, baby. Tonight, it’s all about you, remember?” he said, stroking his length a few times, thumb circling around his tip that was glistening with pre-cum as he got back on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Sam.” and upon hearing your answer, he eased into you. Both moaning at the longing of feeling each other intimately. No matter how many times the two of you would fuck, you still couldn’t get used to his size. He filled you up quite easily, his hips meeting yours as he filled you in deep.

Ever the gentleman, he waited for you to give the signal that you were ready and upon your nod, he started to move slowly, wanting to ease you into the pace.. Sam’s groans were music to your ear, “So fucking tight, angel.” He said, one of his hands reaching up to wrap around your neck, pressing against its sides lightly.

“F-faster, Sam. Please” You said and he complied, like your words were pressed a switch in him, he started to relentlessly slam into you, fucking you into the bed and into oblivion. His other hand was on the headboard, palm spread out to gain some support, the bed shaking violently as he continued.

“Let me hear those moans, angel. Let everyone know who you belong to.” Sam said, the hold around your neck tightening slightly, wanting to see you slowly gasp out for air as you let out those heavenly yet sinful sounds, “Who do you belong to, baby?”

“Y-You, Sam!” You answer, feeling your body writhe as another orgasm was already brewing at the pit of your stomach. “F-fuck, I-i’m yours!” You continued, eyes practically rolling to the back at the immense amount of pleasure you got from him drilling you into the mattress.

With those words that left your lips, he started to pound to you even rougher, not caring if the neighbouring apartments heard your cries of pleasure or the squeaking of the bed. You were his and it was his very intention to let everyone know that. “That’s right, doll. You belong to me.” he said, his eyes on your fucked out face. “Mine to fuck and mine to love.”

Feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, your hands were gripping the bed sheets as you cried out in pleasure, “I’m gonna cum!” body unable to handle the amount of pleasure being handed to you as Sam continued to fuck you out, riding out your high until his own climax hit with one final slam, moaning as he filled you up with his own cum.

Pulling out slowly, Sam took the time to admire his own cum mixed with your drip down from your cunt, a feeling of satisfaction spread through his chest at the sight of you. He leaned in to kiss you once again, this time it was soft and just filled with love, hand running along your sides gently, “Such a good girl for me.” he whispered, pressing one last kiss before he stood up and walked over to the bathroom.

You attempted to follow him, but ultimately failed as your legs were shaking too much from your recent orgasm. You could hear Sam chuckle as he re-emerged from the other room, a wet washcloth in his hand as he approached you. “Let me take care of it, alright princess?” He said softly.

He then started to clean you up, making sure to whisper soft praises about how you took him so well and of how you were so good for him. The moment he was done, he mindlessly threw the cloth into the hamper, collapsing on the bed and took you in his arms, eager to cuddle you. Sam pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “I love you, Y/N. You’re the only girl I’ll ever love.”

You hummed softly, making yourself comfortable in his arms, reaching up to steal a kiss from him, “I love you too, Sammy. I’ll always love you.”

---

TAGLIST: @harrysweasleys @selenasprompts @weasleytwins-41 @anchoeritic @darthwheezely (hello fellow the falcon simp)

if your name is in bold, it means that i can't tag you for some weird reason. join my taglist! find the link in my main masterlist!

#kelly's 3k wc ! #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fics #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson smut #the falcon #the falcon x reader #anthony mackie x reader #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu smut

[seijorhi]

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly. 

Publicly. 

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon. 

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer. 

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world. 

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety. 

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee. 

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?” 

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte. 

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing. 

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist. 

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him. 

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside. 

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it. 

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking. 

Well, nobody until him, he supposes. 

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did. 

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere fic #my writing #tw stalking #tw blood #tw minor violence & implied murder

[teddy06writes]

No Matter What

{Ayup! It's Layne slowly going insane here again to bring my followers content they did not want! Yeah thats right I'm writing the outsiders again, and yeah, that means I will be accepting requests for the greasers now though probably only Dally and Johnny}

Dallas Winston x reader

trigger warnings: general canon level violence/getting jumped, mentions of/implied drunkness, swearing

premise: on your way home from the drive in you have a rough encounter with some socs, but Dallas manages to always be there to protect you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The movie hadn't been one you were that excited about, but Ponyboy had begged you to go, since no one else in the gang wanted, or had the time to go with him, and Darry didn't want him out past dark alone.

"Man, that Audrey Hepburn's really something." Pony mused as you climbed back over the fence.

You nodded, "She's pretty- but that hat she was wearing in the scene with the races- it was ridiculous!"

"Well all the outfits those guys were wearin in that part were ridiculous." He agreed.

You chuckled, elbowing him, "Sounded like somethin Dally or Two would do- 'move your bloomin arse!'"

He laughed, "Probably just Two-Bit, You've seen Dal durin the races, he's always quiet."

"S cause he always knows whos gonna win," You smiled to yourself.

As you both turned down the street the Curtis' lived on, you couldn't help but notice the slow turn of headlights behind you, trailing slowly. You bit the inside of your lip, anxiously, but didn't say anything, just sped up slightly, trusting Pony to do the same.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice, and you jammed your hands in your pockets, wrapping a hand around your pocket knife, until at last, the porch light came into view.

"How was the movie?" Darrel asked as you both got inside.

"It was real great!" Ponyboy grinned, "That Audrey Hepburn's a real looker."

Two-Bit looked over at you, chuckling, "Shame I missed the opportunity."

You laughed, "Nah, you wouldn'ta been able to stand it, too much singing."

"You went all the way to the drive in just for a musical?" Two-Bit asked.

"It was good!"

You laughed, starting to turn to look back out the door, relived to see that the car must've past.

"Right, well, I think I'm gonna head back to mine," You said, "I'll see y'all tomorrow."

"You don't want one of us to walk you home?" Darry asked.

You scoffed, "Darrel I live one street away, I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged.

As you headed out onto the porch, Ponyboy called, "Thanks for goin with me (y/n)!"

"No problem kid!" You chuckled.

You tucked your hands back into your jacket pockets, moving down the street and trying not to shiver in the cold night air.

Just after you'd turned at the end of the street you noticed it, the low, steady rumble of a car engine.

Glancing behind you, you could see the car, headlights off, creeping along.

"Fuckin hell." You muttered, finding a grip on your knife once again, as you upped your pace.

Turning onto your street, you glanced back again, breaking into a dead run as he car stopped, and two Socs climbed out.

"Where do you think you're goin grease?" One of them slurred.

You turned, trying to gage how far away they were, and inevitably tripped, tumbling to the ground.

They quickly got closer, and you scrambled up, flicking open your knife, "Don't you come near me!"

Still they approached, "Aww, you don't scare me little grease."

"You really think a knife's gonna scare me off?" The one who asked it was practically stumbling over his own feet.

They were clearly out of it, you told yourself, you could take them.

This theory was quickly miss proven, as another climbed from the car, and the more sober one that had been inching closer, suddenly darted forward, grabbing your wrist.

As you went to fight back, the other grabbed your other hand, violently wrenching the knife from it and flinging it away.

The third, a red head, laughed as the others pinned you down, one sitting on your still thrashing legs, "Been waitin to get you alone all night."

"Don't put your fuckin hands on me." You hissed, managing to wrench one hand free and sock him in the face.

He groaned, starting to rub at his jaw before reaching back and pulling out his knife, "You're gonna regret that little greaser."

"Keep 'em down." He hissed to the others, who were all too happy to comply.

You gasped for air, panic fully gripping you as he brought his knife toward your face.

"just a little hair cut, but I should tell you," He traced your jaw with the dull side of the knife, "I'm liable to slip."

The one holding down your arms laughed, "Look at that, little greasers gonna cry!"

It was true, tears had sprung in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks.

"Hey!" A voice cut through the night, angry and threatening, and sounding ready to kill, "Don't you fucking touch them!"

The next thing you knew, the soc was being tackled off of you, the other two jumping up as someone began to wail on their leader.

You couldn't quite tell what happened next, only knowing that a fight took place as you half sat up, shuffling back against the sidewalk, panting, eyes darting around wildly, and tears still pouring.

Before you knew it, Dallas Winston was crouched in front of you, a busted lip, and a smear of blood above his brow, "Holy shit Doll..."

You took in another shuddering breath, as his hands found your shoulders, "Shit.... your shakin like a leaf doll..."

"Dal-" you choked out, nearly falling forward into his chest, "thought- they- I thought they were gonna- gonna kill..."

In a surprisingly gentle manor, he began to wipe the tears from your eyes, holding you carefully, "I ain't gonna let that happen, Doll. I'm gonna do my best to protect you, no matter what."

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #teddy06 #teddy 06 writes

[jaehyunhour]

34+35 ⭑ JOHNNY SUH

⭑ GENRE: fluff, smut

⭑ MEMBERS: fem!reader x johnny (mentions of jaemin and jeno)

⭑ DETAILS: yet another college!au, frat boy boyfriend johnny

⭑ WARNINGS: slight exhibitionism, mention of the word daddy, 69, oral [both f & m receiving], unprotected sex, lil bit of spanking

⭑ WC: 4,031

⭑ SUMMARY: as you're nearing finals week, you and johnny decide to help each other destress a bit.

⭑ AUTHORS NOTE: this is basically porn with little plot and is purely self indulgent, enjoy my babies <33

You straddle Johnny’s lap, hands placed on his cheeks as your lips connect with his. Your skirt rides up with each subtle thrust of his hips, his hands gripping onto your thighs tightly. It’s the middle of midterm season and you’ve booked a study room in the library to do work, but it quickly escalated as Johnny’s fingers trailed from your knee up to the wet patch on your underwear as you were trying to make flashcards for your Physics class. His hands reach up to grip onto your hips as his tongue slips into your mouth, fingers digging into your bones and forcing you to grind down against him and moan against his mouth.

“You might think I’m crazy, but you know what I’ve been craving lately?” You say, pulling back and tilting your head as Johnny’s lips trail down to your collarbones. He sucks the skin into his mouth, nibbling lightly and your mouth opens in a breathy moan. “To put it quite plainly—” you start, but are cut off by the doorknob jiggling. You groan, pulling yourself up off of Johnny and heading towards the door. You pull it open, not even bothering fixing your askew skirt or messy hair. You’re met with a group of boys you recognize from one of your classes and you flash a smile. 

“Can I help you?” You say in a sing-song voice.

“I-uh, we booked the study room starting at 2 and it’s already 2:15,” one of them says quietly.

“Oh! Sorry about that, we got a bit carried away,” you turn around to look at Johnny and fix your skirt. The boys push the door open a bit more, peeking into the room and Johnny throws his head back and lets out a sigh. He zips his pants back up, buckling his belt before picking his backpack up off the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. You bend down to pick your backpack up, flashing both Johnny and the group of boys the way your wet panties are sticking to you. Johnny feels his dick stir in his pants and he quickly grabs you by the hand and drags you out of the library.

Once outside, you grip Johnny’s hand tightly as you aimlessly walk around campus enjoying his presence. He walks slowly, enjoying the uncommon quiet of the school and the feeling of your hand in his. “So what was that about you craving something lately, princess?”

Your cheeks heat up at his words. Despite it only being approximately seven minutes since you were grinding on Johnny in one of the private study rooms of the library, you had already forgotten about what you had said. Truth be told, in the moment you were thinking of the last time you had sex with Johnny, the feeling of him filling you making you feel warm and content.

“I don’t wanna say, someone could leave one of these buildings and hear us…”

“C’mon, princess, don’t get shy on me now. You were about 3 minutes away from riding me in the middle of that study room and now you don’t want to admit that you just want me to fill you with my cum?” He tsks.

“Oh my god, baby, stop,” You blush and hit his arm playfully. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Hmmm, well we have a chapter meeting tonight that’s supposed to last for a few hours and I have to study for some exams.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted and you know that,” you say with a slight pout on your face.

Johnny’s hand slips out of yours and he lets out a laugh. His hand then comes up to your face, gripping your jaw tightly and effectively wiping the pout off your face. He slips his thumb into your mouth, and your tongue swirls around it instinctively before closing your lips around it and sucking on it. “What did you want me to say, baby? That I am going to do you all night? Hm? Fuck you till the daylight?”

You nod eagerly and he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, wiping it clean on your cheek and you whine.

“How bout you come over tonight after the chapter meeting and we can watch a couple of movies instead of studying for finals? We haven’t had any alone time in a couple weeks… I’ll even keep the suit on for you,” Johnny suggests.

“Fine, but I should get home now then so I can rest before I get over there. We’re not watching aaaaany movies tonight,” you respond.

“Let me walk you to your car.” He slips his hand back into yours, pulling you towards the student parking lot quickly. Once at your car, he presses your back into the drivers side door and leans in to press a kiss to your lips.

You grab onto his hand and push it between your thighs and underneath your skirt. “Are you sure you don’t want to come into the backseat with me for a few minutes?” You bat your eyelashes at him and Johnny sucks in a breath as he pushes your underwear to the side and feels how wet you are. He rubs tight circles onto your clit and you let out a whine that echoes in the parking lot. He turns you around, pressing you harder into the car door and pushing his crotch against your ass. 

“Ten minutes, max.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, unlocking the doors and crawling into the back, but not without a harsh spank landing on your ass.

“You really can’t keep it in your pants, huh?”

“Only because you’re a dream come true.”

Back at your apartment, you begin packing your bag for your overnight at the frat house. Johnny invited you over for movies, but after not having spent any alone time with him in nearly three weeks you know there is absolutely no way you’re going to be watching anything. After packing your bag with fresh underwear, your phone charger, and a couple of other things, you change into a fresh pair of comfy pajamas before getting into bed. You lay in bed in the dark, eyes closed and sinking into your bed.

Your roommate comes home a few minutes later, raising an eyebrow as she walks past your room and sees you laying in the dark but obviously not asleep.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Saving up my energy,” you respond. “I’ve got a long night ahead of me.”

“Are you pulling an all-nighter for midterms?”

“Nope. Going to the Sigma Chi house after their chapter meeting.”

“And you’re planning to fuck the entire house or what?”

“Just Johnny, duh. Although I wouldn’t mind getting some of the others in bed… Have you seen the new recruits? They’re absolutely delectable. There’s these two boys named Jeno and Jaemin, they’re best friends and my god are they pretty. I keep asking Johnny if we could invite at least one of them the next time we do stuff but he always says no.”

She fake sighs. “Your life is so hard. Have fun tonight, hope you can walk tomorrow.”

“Actually, my goal is to not be able to walk for the rest of the week. Rest of the month if I’m lucky.”

The drive from your apartment to the frat house is short. You park your car on the street in front of the house, not bothering to let Johnny know you’ve arrived. When you walk up to the house, overnight bag in hand, and knock on the door, you’re met with Johnny’s bright smile and it forces one onto your own face. You look him up and down; he’s still wearing the suit he’s required to wear for his chapter meetings, and it fits him perfectly in all the right places. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you take in his appearance. He lets out a laugh as he sees your eyes raking his body and he grabs your hand before pulling you into the house.

The inside of the Sigma Chi Frat house isn’t really what you’d expect from a bunch of frat boys. It’s fully furnished, neat, and most importantly: clean. Upon first glance, you wouldn’t think that around ten different boys all live here together — but then you walk into the kitchen to see they have a beer pong table in place of a dining table with a bunch of folding chairs around it, and realize that only a bunch of boys could live here. Johnny pulls you into the living room, sitting down on the couch and pulling you on top of him as he presses play on the movie he was watching. 

You straddle his hips, making sure to grind down on him as you press an array of kisses onto his neck. His hands hold onto your hips tightly, helping you move as his eyes are focused on the TV behind you. He’s not actually paying attention to the movie anymore, but he loves to make you work for the things you want. He loves the way you get needier and needier with the lack of attention he gives you, the way your hips speed up against him, and the way you whine against his neck. You pull away from Johnny, scooting back to put some space in between your crotch and his, letting your hand unbutton his dress slacks and pull the zipper down. Your hand slips into his boxers, pulling his half-hardened dick out and he lets out a hiss when the air hits him.

“Right here, princess? Where anyone could see?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow as your hand begins to move up and down slowly on his hardening length. 

You nod, his dick now fully hard in your hand, and you drop your head to his, forehead to forehead, lips ghosting over his. “Yeah, why? You got a problem with that?” Your hand moves faster and Johnny throws his head back onto the couch with a groan. His hands fall from your hips to the couch, and he grips the cushions tightly as you continue your movements. His hips buck up every time your hand comes all the way up, thumb wiping across his tip, and you can tell he’s going to burst any minute. Johnny lets out a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down before he cums all over himself in the middle of the living room.

His hand shoots out to grab onto your wrist as he feels himself seconds away from his orgasm, and he pants as he tries to recollect himself. You tighten your grip on the base of his dick and he lets out another groan. Before Johnny can say anything, though, you hear someone coming down the stairs and within seconds are met with Jaemin. 

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were coming over,” Jaemin says excitedly, standing still at the bottom of the staircase and flashing you a smile.

The couch shields your lower half, and you smile back, continuing to move your hand discreetly over the length of Johnny’s dick, forcing him to bite his bottom lip to stop any noises from escaping. “Jaeminnnnn,” you coo. “I didn’t know you were home! I figured you would be out studying with Jeno.”

“Well, we were going to go to the library to study but figured we should just stay here instead. At least here we don’t have to put any pants on.”

“Riiiight,” you say. You focus your attention onto Johnny’s tip, moving your hand unbelievably fast, his head falling onto your chest. “If I had known you and Jeno were home, I would’ve invited you two to come watch a movie with us.” With your other hand, you grab onto the hair on the nape of Johnny’s neck, tugging his head back and giving him a mischievous smile. “Johnny, you should’ve told me that Jeno and Jaemin were staying in tonight. You’re so mean.”

“Yeah, hyung! So mean,” Jaemin echoes, walking into the kitchen without another glance at you. 

Johnny gives you a dirty look to which you can only giggle at. You slip out of his lap, your hand never stopping its movements, and slide in between his thighs, head meeting his crotch and tongue coming out to kitten lick the tip of his dick.

“You are such a tease,” Johnny says, hand holding the back of your head and bringing you closer to his aching dick. You laugh, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Within seconds Johnny is finishing right onto your face, most landing in your mouth but a little bit getting on your cheek, and he lets out a loud groan as he finishes. His fingers collect what landed on your face, pushing it into your mouth and you swallow before sticking your tongue back out to show him everything is gone.

Johnny doesn’t even allow himself a moment to calm down from the mind-blowing orgasm you’ve just given him. Instead, he quickly tucks himself back into his dress slacks and pulls you up off the ground. He grabs your overnight bag from the floor and heads straight to his bedroom, you trailing right behind him.

Just like the rest of the home, Johnny’s room is not what you would expect from a frat boy. His bed is neatly made, there are movie posters all over the walls, and he keeps everything on his desk organized. All of his dirty clothes are in the hamper in his closet, where they should be, and he has all of his shirts and sweaters in his closet organized by color.

Once inside the room, you crawl onto the bed and get on your back, watching as Johnny takes his suit tie off and hangs it on the outside knob of his door before slamming the door shut. He peels his blazer off, putting it back onto a hanger and into his closet where appropriate. He untucks his shirt, unbuttoning it one button at a time and you slip your hand into your underwear, fingers circling your clit lightly as you watch Johnny undress. A soft moan escapes your lips when you put pressure, toes curling at the much needed attention on your clit and Johnny laughs at the sound. He pulls his pants off, setting them on top of his dresser, then saunters over to the bed.

You spread your legs as soon as Johnny reaches the edge of the bed, leaving enough room for him to crawl in-between. Within seconds, Johnny’s hand is replacing yours in your underwear as his lips attach to yours. Your lips move in sync, tongues coming out to play with each other, and you peel your shorts and underwear down and kick them off to give Johnny more room to move. He collects your slick on his fingers, inserting two fingers into you without warning, a surprised moan getting caught in his mouth.

His fingers move in and out slowly, lips moving to suck on the skin of your neck and leave red and purple marks in its wake. You tilt your head to the side to give him more room, bucking your hips up as a silent plea to get Johnny to move faster, which he does. He drives his fingers into you quickly, thumb circling at your clit and your jaw hangs open, letting out every moan that bubbles in your throat. He pulls away from your neck for a moment, allowing you to remove your shirt before he bends down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks harshly on your nipple, fingers moving even faster in and out of you and your orgasm starts bubbling in your stomach. He lets the nipple go with a pop and then moves onto the other one, all the while curling his fingers to hit your g-spot and tightening the circles on your clit.

“F-fuck, Johnny—” you say, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m so close, sososo close.” Your hips buck up in an attempt to get just the tiniest bit more of pressure that will push you over the edge, but Johnny pulls his fingers away from you as soon as he feels you beginning to clench around his fingers and you whine loudly.

“What was that for?” You say with a pout, kicking your feet and on the brink of throwing a tiny tantrum. Johnny laughs, bringing his fingers up to your face and forcing them into your mouth. You lick his fingers clean, sucking on them lightly and he smiles at you before pressing a kiss onto your nose.

“Good girl,” Johnny says in a low voice. “Don’t worry, princess, you’ll get to cum. I want to try something with you, though.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping them on the bedsheets and brings you in for a deep kiss. When he pulls away, you raise an eyebrow at him and he pets your head softly. “You want to try something new?”

Johnny nods. “You wanna 69?”

You let out a tiny gasp at his bluntness, but feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought. He laughs at your reaction, grinding his hips into yours and you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers. After thinking it over for a moment, you nod and Johnny gets into position, lying on his back and pushing his boxers all the way down. You get on top of his body, positioning your head just above Johnny’s dick, letting a trail of spit fall from your mouth and onto his tip. He groans at the feeling, hands gripping onto your hips and pulling your wet heat right to his face.

You wrap your lips around Johnny’s tip, hollowing your cheeks and sucking on it tightly. Johnny lets out a loud fuck, pulling your hips all the way down and licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance. The tip of his tongue pokes at your entrance and you begin to bob your head, slowly moving up and down and stroking what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hand.

He sucks your clit between his lips quickly and harshly, forcing you to moan around his dick. His tongue licks at your clit in quick strokes and you grind down onto him, chasing your orgasm from earlier. You pull your mouth off of his dick, using your spit as lube so you can stroke him quickly and resting your head on his thigh. You press your lips to the skin of his thigh, sucking the skin into your mouth to ease the sound of the moans coming out of your mouth. One of Johnny’s hands leaves your hip, two fingers slipping right into your wet heat as his mouth continues to abuse your clit. You bite onto his thigh, forcing Johnny to groan against your clit, and within seconds you’re falling apart around his fingers, clenching tightly as your hips stutter against his face and legs begin to tremble.

You release the skin of his thigh from your mouth, hand still stroking his dick so slowly he can barely feel it, panting as Johnny licks you through your orgasm. The sound of Johnny’s lips moving against you and tongue slurping forces a blush to rise on your cheek. the thought of someone walking past his room and hearing him eat you out coming into mind. Once you’re satisfied, you pull your hips away from him, thighs shaking violently as you try to hold yourself up over his body.

“You taste like candy,” Johnny says, licking his lips and delivering a harsh spank to your ass. “Do you think you can take another, babygirl?”

You nod, flopping onto the bed beside him and flashing a smile at him. “Are you even going to last?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to fuck you ’till the daylight, baby.” He steps off the bed, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Flip over, princess.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say jokingly, flipping over and pushing onto your hands and knees.

“Don’t say that,” Johnny says, pressing his tip against your hole. He pushes into you slowly and a moan gets caught in your throat at the feeling of his long, hard length sinking into you. You clench around him once he bottoms out and slaps your ass again.

“Why? You don’t like it?” You pause for a second. “Daddy?”

Johnny wastes no time, grabbing onto your hips and quickly thrusting in and out of you like his life depends on it. Your head falls onto the bed, your mouth hanging open and letting out a moan every time Johnny bottoms out and fills you completely. You start moving back, meeting each of Johnny’s thrusts as his hand travels from your hip, up your back, and digs into your hair. He pulls your hair, forcing your body up and off the bed and you let out a surprised scream at the feeling of Johnny tugging on your hair as his hips hit your g-spot repeatedly.

“You’re so fucking nasty,” Johnny says through groans as he thrusts into you harshly. The sound of skin slapping against skin is heard in the entire room, his bed frame hitting the wall with every thrust. “Jaemin and Jeno are right next door and here you are, letting them know how good you’re getting fucked. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

You shake your head ‘no’ as best as you can with Johnny still pulling your hair tightly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the mention of the younger boys. You clench around Johnny, and his hips falter for just a second before he’s back to his almost inhumane pace.

“J-johnny, I’m so close,” you say, clenching around him again. Johnny lets go of your hair, your upper body falling back down onto the bed, and his fingers move to rub your clit as he seemingly begins to thrust faster. 

“Come on, babygirl. Call out to them, give Jeno and Jaemin something to jerk off to tonight,” Johnny says, drilling into you and rubbing your clit harshly. 

You shake your head as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “I c-can’t, Johnny, I can’t.”

“Do it or I’m not letting you cum,” Johnny says, pinching your clit between his fingers, pushing you even closer to the edge. He angles his hips, tip perfectly hitting your spot and within seconds, you’re tumbling over the edge with a cry.

“F-fuck, Jaem-Jeno-o-Johnny, feels so good,” you babble, clenching tightly around Johnny’s dick as he continues to thrust, letting you ride out your orgasm. The feeling of you clenching around Johnny is enough to push him over the edge. He bottoms out, pulling your hips flush against his as he finishes in thick white ropes, filling you to the brim. You fall onto the bed, Johnny’s softening dick slipping out of you, and he crouches down to be level with your crotch. He watches as his cum begins to seep out of you, two of his fingers instinctively pushing it back into you.

“Too much,” you whine. Johnny laughs, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. He slips into bed, pulling your body close to his. Your head rests on his bare chest, legs tangling with his as his arms wrap around you. He moves your hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting out a satisfied sigh and sinking further into the bed. You close your eyes, snuggling into his side.

“I’m just going to take a quick nap,” you say.

“Quick nap? Baby, it’s nearly midnight, just go to sleep.”

“Nuh-uh. You said we’re going ‘till the daylight. Give me like 30 minutes and I’ll be good to go again.”

“You’re insane,” Johnny says with a laugh, his dick stirring at the thought of going for another around.

“You love it, though.”

“You got me there.”

#nct smut #johnny suh #seo youngho #johnny fic #johnny smut #kpop smut #nct fluff #kpop fluff #nct 127 #kpop #kpop scenarios #nct 127 smut #nice boys

[lesbean-zelda]

introducing, Keeping Up With the Links AU

ok it’s probably not exactly as you think but I made a fun modern/family AU with some Links and stuff!! mostly because modern AUs are fun and I’m always craving the Links being happy and having families!! now there are some Links I haven’t done yet, mainly Skyward Sword Link and his fiancée Zelda (and their baby Fi!) and some that I just don’t know how to place into the AU... the Zeldas and stuff are kinda separate so I’ll think about that later....

anyway, here’s what I call the ranch household!

I’ll introduce them in order from left to right!

Palon, Twilight Princess Link, 15 years old: (yes, I know his name means big stick in Spanish, yes it is intentional) Named in the according to the naming scheme used for his grandfather Talon and his mother Malon, he hates his real name and prefers to be called Twilight instead (Twi for short). He’s the generic angsty teen at 15 years old, even though his parents support him unconditionally he believes that nobody, except for one of the ranch’s horses truly understands him. Even though he does enjoy hard music and dresses in an edgy way, he’s really a country boy at heart. He is Timeos’ and Malon’s biological child, and their firstborn

Timeos, Ocarina of Time Link, 40 years old: Timeos is the father of the family, he loves his kids more than anything. He says he used to be quite adventurous in his teenage years, but ended up settling down quite soon after with Malon. His childhood wasn’t the kindest to him, so he is determined to give his kids the best he can do, though he sometimes has a hard time understanding their emotions. He mostly works around on the ranch, and in his free time he enjoys fishing and grilling, you know, the generic dad stuff.

Malon, Ocarina of Time Malon, 40 years old: Malon was born on the ranch her family now lives on, and she’s a kindhearted mother. She loves horses and singing, and is a wonderful cook! she is always there to listen to her kids, but when it comes to work on the ranch she can be quite lazy. Malon was friends with Ilmar’ and Aryll’s parents before their death, so when their grandmother could no longer take care of them, she happily took them in as her own. On the weekends, she offers horse riding lessons!

Ilmar, Wind Waker Link, 7 years old: Ilmar is the adopted son of the family. His and Aryll’s parents died when they both were too young to fully understand what had happened. They were taken care of by their grandmother until she got ill due to her age and could no longer take care of the two. Ilmar is an adventurous boy who loves the ocean, having lived by the beach before moving to the ranch. He dreams of being a pirate when he grows up, and loves reading stories about them.

Aryll, Wind Waker Aryll (duh), 5 years old: Aryll is the adopted daughter of the family, and Ilmar’s biological sister. She follows her older brother everywhere and tries to mimic everything he does. Like Ilmar, Aryll loves the sea, but more than that she loves birds! Malon always has to have seeds or breadcrumbs in her purse when going out anywhere, just so Aryll can feed the birds they pass by. Because of this, the birds around town have grown to know her and fly around her begging for food when she’s around. She’s even gotten to hug the birds, which Malon wasn’t too happy about not knowing where they’ve been..

Valon, Breath of the Wild Link, 2 years old: Timeos’ and Malon’s second biological child. Valon, too was named in the same vein as his eldest brother. Valon is still a toddler, so not much can be said about him yet, other than that he will put anything and everything in his mouth and that he heavily dislikes wearing pants. Even though he is already 2 years old, he has not said his first words yet. Doctors told Timeos and Malon that he will likely remain non-verbal, but will find other ways to communicate.

then..! a not very canon (in AU) name to call them, but I call them the downfall bros!

again, I will introduce them from left to right!

Ravio, a Link Between Worlds Ravio (again, duh), 14 years old: Ravio is the twin brother of Arthur and the younger brother of Reid. He is very talkative and always thinking of sneaky ways to earn a bit of money. He really enjoys cute stuff like bunnies! He and Arthur are identical twins, so to differentiate himself more from his brother, he dyed his hair a dark colour with the help of Reid. Ravio tends to steal Reid’s old CDs, and sell them to Twi. He doesn’t listen to them himself though, because he is scared of the screaming in death metal.

Arthur, a Link Between Worlds Link, 14 years old: Arthur, is short for Art, which is the nickname he most often goes by because of his love for drawing. he is a quiet kid, quite the opposite to his twin brother. He has no idea how to dress himself, which Reid often picks on him for. He enjoys drawing, and is very interested in street art and graffiti. Though, he is too scared to try it out for himself as usually that requires doing something that isn’t allowed.

Reid, a Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle games Link, 20 years old: Reid is the older brother of Ravio and Arthur. Their parents are often away on work related trips, so the twins get dumped on him to babysit. Reid enjoys exploring abandoned and scary places, such as caves and “haunted” houses. He says he doesn’t take his brothers with him on these adventures because they’d be too scared because they’re such wussies, which is partially true, but really he just worries for their safety, as these places can be unstable. Reid has a large social media following, but not for the content of him exploring scary places. His following is mostly there due to his alternative style and a few one-off videos of him lip-syncing to music he likes. Reid often changes his hair-colour between pink, his natural colour, and his natural colour with pink stripes. His constant teasing of the twins aside, he truly loves his brothers. 

#keeping up with the links au #kuwtl for short?? #the legend of zelda #link #zelda #tloz #alternate universe #ocarina of time #twilight princess #wind waker #breath of the wild #a link between worlds #a link to the past #tloz au

[ellewords]

toothpaste kisses

fic notes : bokuto x gn!reader, just pure fluff, lowercase intended, wc: ~1.23k  

from elle !  it’s 6am on a monday rn and i have a meeting that i’m terrified of attending in a couple of hours so uh,, here’s some self indulgent domestic bokuto fluff :<< ngl this was supposed to be a lil drabble then i got a little too carried away :((

bokuto is always the first to wake up on monday mornings, just a few minutes before your alarm would begin to shake you from your slumber. his hands reaches up to his eyes, trying to rub away the sleep, to little success. a yawn escapes him, stretching his arms out in attempt to fully wake himself, this time slightly more successful.

it’s quiet, but it’s comfortable, the early morning breeze blowing through the curtains of your bedroom windows. the sun has risen, the sky a pale shade of blue, barely a cloud in sight to cover it up. if he tried to listen hard enough he could hear the soft singing of the birds that tweeted from the  plane tree planted just outside your apartment building, the cars that drove past your street, the distant yells of your neighbors from the hallways, from the floor above yours.

but he hears your breathing too, and bokuto watches the way your chest rose and fell with each intake of breath, the way your mouth is ever so slightly parted. it’s a nice reminder that you are there with him, alive and breathing, that he could feel the warmth of your skin so closely pressed against his. 

he turns to his side, facing you, a hand supporting his head as his gaze travelled over your features — lingering on your closed eyes and the curve of your lips. you looked peaceful, serene. there wasn’t  a single crease between your brows or a frown on your mouth. bokuto smiles to himself when you mumble his name in your sleep, a content sigh following soon after. the hammering of his heart is so loud he’s convinced it may actually wake you up. but you move closer to him, grabbing onto his shirt and snuggling into his chest. he softly bites his lips in an attempt not to squeal, heat rising to the apples of his cheeks.

bokuto wraps an arm around you, holding you as close as he possibly can, until not even a sheet of paper could slip through your bodies. his lips are by your temple and he presses a soft kiss to it, eyes fluttering shut as he takes in your scent, the vanilla and cinnamon body wash you had used the night before — the one he impulsively bought on a previous trip to the mall. bokuto matches his breathing with yours, allowing himself to fall back to sleep.

beep. beep. beep. it’s loud. annoying. incessant. you fight the urge to not push your alarm off the bedside table, groaning into bokuto’s chest, “five more minutes.”

he chuckles, entire body moving with every laugh, shaking you slightly as he continued to hold you close. “come on, i have practice and you have a meeting to get to.”

you can clearly catch the hesitance that laced his words as he moved to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling you skin. you run your hands through his hair, feeling how soft it felt in between your fingertips, “can’t the real world just wait for a few moments?”

his lips form into a frown, words muffled by the fact that his face was still practically pressed against your neck, “maybe. but my manager can’t and your boss certainly won’t.”

a heavy sigh escapes you, brows knitting together as you slowly accept the fact that you had to wake up, the sun’s beams moving through your window and shining on your face — you’d really have to get up now. “good morning, kou.”

bokuto finally looks up at you, eyes meeting yours. it’s far from the first time he’s done it, but your heart still skips a beat when he does. your breath hitches, it’s like he’s trying to say so much with just a single look. there’s love and there’s sincerity. there’s joy and excitement. there’s peacefulness and there’s comfort. bokuto usually had something to say, and more often than not his words are louder than they need to be. but you lived for these few seconds, when his hand moves to rest against your cheek, looking at you like you were his entire world — and you are. it’s the loudest you ever hear him. 

bokuto leans in closer. and just like that, the trance is broken.   

“baby, morning breath.” you whined, pressing a hand to his lips, “go brush your teeth first.” 

“then i can have my morning kiss?” he pouts, tilting his head to the side.

“you can have all the kisses you want.”

bokuto immediately leaps from your bed, grabbing your hand in the process and leading you to the bathroom. a laugh leaves your lips as he drags you to the sink, handing you your toothbrush. you shake your head at his antics, catching a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror. you’re wearing his shirt, tiredness still evident in your eyes. bokuto’s hair is down, almost to his eyes. you hadn’t noticed how long it had gotten, considering he had it gelled up most of the time.  

there’s a mischievous little glint in his eyes, the kind you would have missed if you blinked. 

“hey, yn.” 

bokuto’s voice is muffled by the fact that he still had his toothbrush in his mouth, white foam from the toothpaste on the corners of his lips. you turn to face him and as quick as lightning, he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“kou! gross!” you screeched, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand.

he spits out the remains of foamed up toothpaste from his mouth, turning to you with a teasing grin, “are you saying you don’t want my kisses, yn?”

next thing you know he’s chasing you around your apartment, weaving through various items of furniture, holding his toothbrush like how horror movie villains held their weapons. you manage to outrun him in your bedroom, the hallways, and the living room. but he catches you once you reach the kitchen, his hands on your waist as he pulls your back to his chest, placing multiple little kisses to your cheeks. 

“you happy now?” you asked once he finally lets you go, trying to hide the smile that slowly made its way to your features.

“very.”

“come home to me?”

you stand near the doorway of your shared apartment, hands placed on bokuto’s shoulders. there’s a small, hopeful smile on his face once he asks the question — like he was afraid that you were somehow going to say no. sometimes it’s bokuto who asks that question first, like today, when he knows practice is going to end early. 

“always.” you reply, and there’s a scowl on your face once you’re reminded of the fact that you’d be home later than usual, “wait for me?”

“i’ll be here.”

is it cheesier than the typical ‘goodbye/have a good day at work’ ? maybe. but neither of you would have it any other way. 

bokuto presses his lips to your cheek before he exits the door with a wave of his hand. your fingertips reach up to where his lips once was, and you smile. you really loved him, you could tell that much in the way you had to shake your head to snap yourself out of the daze you had placed yourself in. you hadn’t even left, and yet you were already looking forward to coming home. 

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[lesbian-in-leather]

Okay so I'm fully aware that this film doesn't deserve the amount of thought that I'm putting into it but. The stepmother's song was heartbreaking like... I'm choosing to pretend my version of Vivian from my previous post is canon so the way the song was musically written as almost a villain song but not quite, combined with the way Idina acted it genuinely hurts and I've already rewatched it several times. And some of the lyrics in particular really stand out to me (so naturally I decide to dissect all of them)

I don't care, this is life

It's not fair, it's not right

Okay first of all we have the fact she she just believes this is how life has to be. She's a woman who has been completely destoryed, and she know it isn't right or fair but she genuinely thinks this is how it has to be, that this is the only was to live

All that hope and that pride

It's a waste, it's a lie

Anyone who thinks the concept of hope is a "waste" and a "lie" is clearly a victim of something like sorry this line hurts me

All you want is to breathe

Little girls should run free

But your corset's too tight

And your heels are too high

She clearly sees so much of herself in Ella and, I mean... look at this. These are the words of a woman who feels so trapped and has just given up and let herself be convinced that this is how the world has to be

The treasure you found? Bury it!

The only way out? Marry it!

That shadow of doubt? Carry it!

Carry it down to your grave, oh...

She feels like she has to hide anything that brings her joy, and that the only way to be safe is to marry. She doesn't even feel safe voicing her true feelings - and she isn't even wholly convinved by this system but she thinks that that means she's wrong. And that she has to carry that doubt to her grave, and just continue with the way things are done. And the really interesting thing is that, at this point in the song she leaves Ella's room. But she doesn't just walk out, no, she runs away with a face full of grief and regret for what she's forcing Ella into

The world doesn't need another dream girl

The world doesn't need another dream girl

She sings the first line alone, looking almost regretful. Like she's convincing herself that what she told Ella was right. And she repeats it into the mirror. She's tearing herself down, burying the doubt deep inside so she can save her daughters (all three of them, but especially Ella, the one who is the most like her) from the pain she felt

You're too dumb, you're too young

Full of heart, so naive

You're so blind, you're so green

You'll give up, just like me

After convincing herself that she's in the right she goes on with her tirade, berrating all of her daughters... by comparing them to herself

The wings are ornamental

They have no intention of letting you fly

First of all, this links back to the corset and the heels being a cage women are forced into, but also, she acknowledges that the temptation and illusion of freedom are right there. But women aren't allowed to try. Which is so obviously about how she was allowed to persue her dream by going to a music school, only to be torn down and insulted by her own husband for doing so. Her use of "they" shows that she isn't the one enforcing these rules - they are being imposed upon her just as much as the girls

Don't be sentimental

During this section, she's holding a butterfly. A green butterfly, so not Ella's magical godmother. Perhaps it would have been her own. But she waves it away after this line, getting rid of the oppurtunity for her life to be changed, because she's been given that chance before and it was a trap

Some legends are born in the wrong time

She knows she could have been great, but she also truely believes that women in this time aren't allowed to be. That neither she, nor Ella, nor any other woman can achieve anything but heartbreak and disappointment in the society that they live in, and that there's nothing to be done but wait. And it echoes so true for so many real women born throughout history and even into the modern day

This treasure you found? (Bury it)

The only way out? (Marry it)

That shadow of doubt? (Carry it)

Carry it down to your gravе

Her daughters join in, and she's clearly been teaching them this from a young age because, despite the sadness and almost fear they show, they don't fight her like Ella does. She truely believes she can never be great, and that she'll have to live with only the broken hope of who she could have been

(Bury it. Marry it. Carry it)

Proving further that this isn't a true villain song, other female character join in. The maids in the palace feel they must bury their individuality. The queen feels she had to marry the king and, in doing so, forfeited her right to an opinion. Gwen feels like she'll have to carry her ambitions to the grave, because she'll never be listened to or even taken seriously by the people with any power

Carry it down to your grave (Bury it)

Your grave (Marry it), your grave (Carry it)

(Bury it) bury it, (Marry it) marry it, (Carry it) carry it

More and more women join in, and Vivian just looks so sad. And the repitition of "grave" shows that she really thinks that this is her life, and that she'll die how she's lived - unfulfilled and ignored

(No, no, no, no ah!)

Bury it! (Bury it!)

Marry it! (Marry it!)

Carry it! (Carry it!)

Bury it! Bury it! Marry it! Marry it! Carry it! Carry it

Carry it down to your grave!

Your grave! Your grave!

This bit gives me chills every time because they all go absolutely feral. Every woman, even Vivian, is just kicking and tearing and screaming because it's so blindingly unfair and there's nothing they can do but they all have the same pent up rage, from the queen to the servants to the women in streets. And if reason won't work then they'll tear the whole goddamn world down. And internally that's what every woman there wants. But they all hold it in because, like Vivian, they've been punished and controlled and stepped on so many times that they've been convinced they're the problem, that everyone else is content with the system so why can't you be?

[Piano Instrumental]

And then finally. Finally Vivian is alone again. And her hair is dishevelled and she looks like she's trying not to cry and she plays the piano so beautifully and so loudly and so wildly that she's like an entirely different person. And then she almost does cry but she shakes her head and smiles a little and I have to applaud Idina's acting because it feels so real. There are no singers, and there's no other music. Just Vivian, and everything she could have been. All the parts of her she's been repressing, finally allowed to be seen for one honest and heartwrenching moment

And it reminds me so much of the final scene in the Ibsen play Hedda Gabler (which happens to be one of my favourites). Where the controlled character of Hedda just lets go and play the piano we've never seen her touch, and she plays wildly and loudly and it's so different to how we've ever seen her before. And her husband tells her to be quiet and she says she'll never make noise again - and then she commits suicide to ensure that she doesn't

The world doesn't need another dream girl

And then this. This line breaks my heart. Because she just sings to herself in the most broken voice, in a quiet, croaked whisper as if she's afraid someone might hear. And it shows how much she's hurting, how much she wishes the world could be different. This song was never directed at Ella. She only sung it to try and save her from the life that Vivian herself lived. Vivian is the dream girl, and that line is always, always directed internally. No one else ever sings it and it's never sung with anyone else on screen. It was always about her, and it was never a villain song

#cinderella #cinderella 2021 #character analysis #i have upset myself #but this song is so good #and so heartbreaking #sorry i went really overboard here #if anyone read this far thank you #hedda gabler #i guess #it was briefly mentioned #tw mentions of suicide

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (02)

word count; 10,121

summary; after getting out to a rough call with newt, resulting in some unpleasant injuries, thomas jumps to a few conclusions.

notes; i don’t have anything to say here.

warnings; reference to violence, reference to gang activity, reference to injury.

“Can I have a cookie?” You motioned to the plate before you, and Fry never looked up from where he was working, nodding his head as he danced to the music in the kitchen, singing loudly to the song on the radio as he prepared everyone a lunch.

Picking up one of the biscuits, you smiled to yourself, before a hand was slapping on yours roughly, the biscuit falling to the floor, and you yelped, rubbing at the stinging skin of your hand as you looked up.

“Hey!” Brenda was cringing a little, seemingly feeling bad for her action, and you stared at the broken biscuit at your feet, before looking back to her. “What was that for?”

“They’re not real Oreos.” Your brows furrowed, looking at the pile once again as you picked up the abandoned one from the floor, walking around her to dump it in the bin, and she shrugged a little. “I filled them with toothpaste, to mess with Chuck. He always wants a snack after he finishes the chores, and Gally has him cleaning the bathroom.”

“So, why does he get messed up Oreos for that?” You questioned, following her to the couch as she grabbed her coffee and wandered away, and you settled in beside her.

“Because every candidate that comes through this house has to be pranked by everyone, it’s tradition. He won’t graduate until he has.”

You grinned, shaking your head fondly at those antics. “Okay, so what has everyone else done so far?”

A wicked look passed over her face, the room crowding with people and it seemed that everybody as gathering discreetly, seeming to know that there was going to be a prank going down. “Gally and Newt teamed up, they had Gally pretend to fall on a wet floor that he didn’t put a sign out on, and Newt faked the injury to be worse than it was. Poor kid freaked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your laughter, and she shrugged.

“Thomas got a bag of dark brown dog hair from the groomers and tipped it over the shower door while Chuck was showering, he thought he was losing his hair, and he smelt like wet dog for days. He screamed like a little girl.” You laughed loudly at that one, unable to contain it, even if it was done by someone you hated because there was no denying that it was creative as hell. “Minho put slime in his locker, Frypan put bubble wrap in his boots right before a call, and he was popping with every step, hilarious. I don’t remember the rest.”

She waved a hand, sipping her coffee, and the room went quiet as an exhausted-looking Chuck entered the room, red cheeks from the exertion and sweating a little. The room went quiet, everybody’s gaze falling to Chuck discreetly as he crossed the room, and Fry kept singing.

“Oh, cool, Oreos. Can I have one?”

“Sure, kiddo.” Brenda piped up, and Chuck beamed, picking one up, bringing it t his mouth, before pulling it away, squinting slightly and frowning, and every breath in the room was held. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re kinda’ soft. Do you not know how to sore cookies?” He waited, before a smirk spread over his face. “Are these old? Like, really old? This is a prank, isn’t it?”

Her jaw dropped, and speechless for a moment as she fumbled for an excuse, and you cleared your throat. “They’re all good, I just had one. Probably just the steam from the kitchen.”

“Oh, okay.” He took you at your word, placing the whole cookie into his mouth and biting down, perfectly content for a moment, a few chews in, before his face was screwing up, and he was gagging, spitting the handful back out. “God damn it!”

The room broke out on raucous laughter, almost deafeningly so, and Brenda held her hand up to you, offering a high five for your contribution to the prank, coffee almost slopping over the edge of her mug form the ferocity with which she was cracking up in amusement.

“You all suck!” He spun around, fake anger in his tone as he grinned, pointing at you. “Especially you! I expected more!”

That only made everyone crack up a little more, and while it was still funny, it made you realise that he hadn't expected it form you, because you weren’t a real part of the team yet. You were still an outsider, you weren’t one who was expected to make pranks and join in with team activities, and your laughter dulled a tad. You weren’t angry or bitter about it, just a little disappointed at the flicker you found burning in your chest as you realised Newt had given you hope, and inspiration, his speech from only a week ago still tinging clearly in your mind, and you didn’t like that feeling, because getting connected to a team only made it that much harder when you were inevitably rejected.

He shook his hand off over the trash, a scowl on his face at the half-chewed snack that was scraped away, and Thomas came over, a smile larger than you’d ever seen him wear before, to lock his arm around the younger boy’s neck affectionately, knuckles ruffling his hair as he squirmed.

“Hey, Chuck, keep up this kind of morale and you’ll do great on squad.”

“Maybe he’ll choose to stay with truck!” Gally voiced, the room splitting wit amusement once again as an easy and lighthearted argument broke out, all in joked, about which team was better. Feeling a nudge on your thigh, you looked back to the woman facing you, her brows raised a little, sipping at her drink once again.

“What’s with the look on your face?”

“What do you mean?” You shifted to face her more fully, the crowds dissipating now the excitement was over, all going about their determined tasks, and she shrugged a little.

“You just have this look on your face. Like you’re happy but sad, nostalgic but bittersweet. You get it sometimes, when you’re looking at us all.” You sighed, not realising she was able to read you so well she was just like Newt, smart and intuitive, and you nibbled on your lower lip as you thought about your next words.

“It’s just nice to see you all like this. Happy and confident with each other, you’re a family.” You looked around, finding Newt, his attention focused on a conversation with Minho, and you remembered what he said, sighing a little as your mind was spinning and confused. “Maybe one day I’ll be part of that too, y’know?”

“You’re already a part of this family! You got a shirt with the logo on and everything.” You rolled your eyes at her joke, lips twisted into a gentle smile.

“No, I’m not.” She looked like she wanted or argue, but the look on your face silenced her, clearly not finished speaking. “I haven’t earned my way into this family, you don’t really know me, you don’t know if you want to welcome me yet. I’ll know when I am, if I deserve to be, I’ll know it.”

“You know, that's kind of poetic.” You scoffed at her claim, punching at her arm softly. “I think you’ll fit in perfectly, when that moment comes.”

You grinned, jaw dropping to thank her for her faith in you, before the alarm overhead was going off, and you were silenced, the room flailing to the same state, as you listened for what was happening. Only ambulance was called for, everybody else seeming t let out a sigh of relief, except for your friend across the room, who groaned loudly, before his chair was scraping across the floor as he stood.

“Up and at it, girly, let’s go!” He clapped his hands, and you struggled to unfold your legs to match his pace, his long strides already taking him to the door as you fumbled to follow him, his next words thrown over his shoulder; “I’ll start driving away without you if you don’t hurry up!”

“I’m coming, just wait!” You yelled, pushing through the doors as you grabbed your jacket, pulling the lightweight blue material up your arms, spinning around from backing out backwards, and crashing right into a solid wall. You groaned, stumbling a little, before a sneer was thrown in your direction.

“Watch where you’re going, would you?” The words were growled out lowly, Thomas stepping around you to continue on without waiting, and you huffed at his actions.

“It was clearly an accident!” He didn’t react, continuing to walk away from you, and your eyes were rolling before you could stop yourself. “Oh, get over yourself.”

He still didn’t reply, head held high, and that only irritated you more, as though you weren’t even worth his time, continuing towards the vehicle, engine already running from the second that your door slammed shut, Newt was putting the van into action. Strapping yourself in as he spun out of the firehouse courtyard.

Grabbing the monitor in front of you, the device was pinging with notifications, reading off every update that was coming in from the public and the police about what it was that the two of you were about to head into. It was a mess, you could tell straight from the off as reports continued to come in about what you were facing, skipping through it all to find details on what was actually calling you to the scene.

“Okay, we got a stab wound, it seems. A street fight, started between two guys, friends got involved, pedestrians got involved.”

“Probably some kind of gang activity.” Newt sighed, already seeming to prepare himself for the situation, and you weren’t unfamiliar with that kind of groups around this area, the rougher the neighbourhood got, the more vicious the groups became, and it certainly wasn’t a surprise as you began to pull through the harder-going roads.

There were blue lights flashing through the air before you’d even pulled up, crowds in the street, and Newt hit the brakes as he avoided hitting anybody, fighting to get through the scene. “What the fuck?”

The streets were blocked, you couldn’t even see the centre of the commotion yet, and a set of police officers came fighting through the crowds to find you. “I guess the fight spilled into the street, and cars got blocked.”

The second your window was rolled down, the noise became unimaginably high, screaming and shouting, the sirens of the cars going off and megaphones over the commotion as the police tried to break it all up. “There’s no way you’re getting through here, we can clear you a pathway, but it’ll take a few minutes, and I wouldn't recommend leaving your van in this area.”

You turned to look at Newt, his brow raising as you tried to work out what to do. Spinning your gaze back out across the crowds, you assessed the situation, barely even able to see the centre, and nobody was parting for the cars to get through, trying to create a pathway to get to the centre. The stabbing victim was undoubtedly going to be going to the hospital, and was likely going to be too injured to fight back through the crowds, and so the likelihood and needing the stretcher was raised high.

“You stay with the truck, I’ll go and do an initial assessment, drive up and meet me.”

“There is no way I’m letting you out alone in that. You’ll never make it out.” You huffed, but your lips flicked up a little at the edges form his concern, unbuckling yourself from your seat and edging yourself through the centre console to the back of the vehicle. “Come and sit back down, right now!”

“Someone’s gotta’ go out there, Newt, or we’re going to be answering questions on why we let someone die of a stab wound.” Lifting your bag onto your shoulder, you secured both straps over your arms, tight enough not to fall, and unlocking the back doors from the inside. “I’m already up now, you wanna’ stop me, you’ll have to catch me first.”

Hopping out and into the edges of the crowds you’d pulled up to, you made sure the latch was on, that the doors couldn't be opened unless it was by Newt himself, slamming them closed, and rounding the vehicle find the police officer who’d come to talk to you both in the first place. The blond was glaring at you from the driver's seat, shaking his head at your actions, even though you both knew it was the only way, and somebody’s life was on the line.

The crowds weren’t all that tough to get through at first, following the man in front of you, but as the crowds got rougher and the shouting got louder, you lost sight of him, trying to pick out the colour of his shirt or the hat atop his head, but it was impossible. Jostled from side to side, it got harder to fight your way through the hoards, and you were beginning to use your elbows to nudge people out of the way, fighting your way through.

An elbow, maybe a fist, you weren’t sure, but something solid collided with your side, a grunt leaving you as pain flared up, and you clamped your own arm down over the spot, pushing through the people. It was the first of many, your jaw clenches to deal with it as more spots across your body sparked with patches that would become dull aches in hours, the rioting growing stronger and more intense as the circle of people around you became a more personal addition to the aggressions. You’d have bruises on your shoulders later in the day, the abuse they were receiving as you tried to push through, one hand covering your face, and just like that, you were finding the eye of the storm, the battering you’d been receiving coming to a halt as you broke into the middle.

There was a man on the floor, everybody else being held back by police officers around the small scene, and you swallowed thickly, the barriers looking like they would break at any moment. You couldn't tell who was who, which of the men gathered here were friends of the man, and which ones wanted to kill him, and you were sure that the man who’d down the stabbing was probably in the crowds watching.

Kneeling beside him, you took in the scene, grimacing a little as your knee became sticky, the fabric covering it sticking to your skin with a growing stain as the pool of blood the man had released began to soak into your trousers. “Hi there, I’m a paramedic, and I need you to let me look, okay?”

His head turned to you, a snake on his lips, spitting blood at the ground by your body, and you sighed. Not a surprise, the gangs didn’t often take kindly to groups like firemen and the police, or the paramedics, being that they were mostly going against the law and the public interest, their own form of rebellion, and you did not serve those interests well.

“Alright, listen, you have two choices here.” He huffed, rolling his eyes as his head lay back against the concrete, blood seeping between his fingers from the wound as he coughed and your timer seemed to kick up a notch. “The police are holding these guys back, but I bet you can see at least one person out there who doesn’t want you to get better, am I right? Now, you’ve removed the knife, so you’re bleeding out, and nothing is stopping that, your hands aren’t even in the right place for putting pressure one it. So, either you get your hands out of the way and let me look, or you hope that you bleed to death before that wall breaks and someone comes to finish you off. Which is it going to be?”

He groaned, his body jerking and a cry leaving his lips as his hands fell away, and you nodded your head, a pair of rubber gloves being pulled onto your hands, trying to take a look. It was bleeding far too quickly for you to get any idea about what was happening, thick and dark blood, not the best sign, and you dragged a finger along his skin gently until you found the tear, the shrill cry he made signalling your location, and you measured it as best you could with your finger.

“Well, the good news is, your wound is only about a half-inch across, and it feels pretty clean, there’s no tearing. Smaller knife, huh?”

“Didn’t feel like such a small knife when I was being fucking stabbed.” He hissed, your brow raising, and you let out a light laugh.

“Oh, deadman’s got jokes, huh? That’s good, you’re holding on. for now.”

“If I’m a deadman, then you’re not very good at your job, are you?” His words were wheezed out, and you grinned, lifting his hand to place over the right place, pushing down on it roughly, and he cursed you in another language under his breath, gurgling a little as he did but holding the pressure.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll have you fixed up real quick. You’re going to have to go to the hospital, but I’ll keep you alive ‘til then.” Slipping your bag down your arms, you opened it up, the first set you opened being a leather foldout of tools, unwrapping the knot and letting it fall open, filled with different instruments. With fingers hovering over them, bloody digits picking up a pair of scissors. Lining them up at the edge of his shirt, you looked back up to him, noting the way his eyes were rolling a little. “Hope you weren’t too attached to this shirt, because it’s not going to make it.”

He only grumbled, his hand barely flinching when you lifted it to place on the ground, and the speed at which blood was bubbling up from the gash across his flesh was slowing down, concerningly so. Cutting away his shirt, tanned skin was smeared with drying blood, a frown on your lips, and you hummed to yourself under your breath.

“You still with me there?”

He groaned again, and you hurried your work as much as you could. Grabbing at a handful of bandaging, you left it scattered across your lap, the first package being torn open and beginning to wipe up the blood that was seeping from his injury the rags becoming soaked as you worked, and as you cleared at the darker blood staining his skin, you began to reach the fresh red, lesser as you want, his skin paling around the sever in his flesh. Picking up his wrist, the veins were fading, no longer visible directly under the skin, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as panic set in.

“Hey, c’mon, now. I need you to hold on for me, alright?” He twitched a finger, the hand laying on the concrete became a fist, and you picked up an antibacterial wipe, fingers shaking a little as you tried to open the packet, and it felt like the screaming around you was getting louder, everything going into overdrive. “Look, my partner will be here in one second, and we’ll get you on the stretcher, and get you to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay.” His words were raspy, laboured through the liquid building in his throat as he tried to speak, but you were relieved to hear anything at all.

“This is going to hurt, alright?” He didn’t respond to that, but he made what you assumed was supposed to be a scream as you wiped over the cut, apologising quietly as he thrashed with what energy he had left, and the movements caused a surge more blood to spew from the wound. Looking up, you found the front of the white van, your ambulance number printed in dark blue lettering across the front, a relieved sigh making itself known from your throat as the driver’s seat was empty, and Newt would be here in a moment. “Alright, we’re going to get you on a stretcher now, alright?”

“‘Bout time.”

You laughed breathily, his head twisting toward you, and a pang of guilt shot through you as you really took a moment to observe him. He couldn't be any older than fifteen, he was still just a kid, and you tried to suppress the nausea that was twisting in your gut at the idea of a kid dying on your watch. “When we do, we’re going to roll you onto your side, just for a split second. When we do, I want you to cough. Hard as you can. It’ll hurt, but we can get some blood out of your throat. Can you do that?”

His hand twitched again, wet breaths as he loved the fist to sit on its side thumb raising weakly to conform he understood in what was the most pitiful and depressing use of a ‘thumbs up’ that you had ever seen. Using one hand to put pressure on the wound, you tried to pack up your kit with the other, cries leaving him as he finally let his youth show through, not enough strength to hide it anymore and clean tears were being left along the dirt and blood on his cheeks from the tears that were rolling free, gasping for breath as he struggled to even breathe.

The shouting took up again, loudly, a sudden combustion of violent and terrified screams, you twisted your head to glance over your shoulder, catching a flash of movement, before a solid hand landed on your shoulder and you were being torn backwards, a yelp on your lips. You were steady, for only a moment, legs flexing underneath you s you were partially lifted from the flood in the grip, before you were landing on your side, your arm crossed under you and the bruised side of your ribs was battered even more, a pained scream, before it was cut off as the side of your head hit the ground to follow.

Your ears were ringing, head pounding from the collision with the pavement and eyes a little blurry as you watched the man who’d dashed forward be tackled by two sides of blue, pinned to the floor by officers as the crowd roared in a combination of thrilled and angered hollers. You groaned, every muscle in your body feeling weak for a moment, and your eyes watered at the burn along your side increased tenfold, now a throbbing agony.

A gentler hand now, rolling you over, and you blinked up at whoever it was, managing to decipher Newt as your vision cleared. His mouth was moving, and you could somewhat understand him, your hands finding the floor again as you pushed yourself to sit up, his hand smoothing around to your back as he helped you.

“Newt, get the kid.”

“Are you okay?” He persisted, the stretcher long abandoned, and you nodded your head, despite the pain it caused.

“It’s a kid, Newt! Get the kid, I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look so convinced, shaking his head a little, before you were pushing him away, taking a moment to catch your breath as it had been forced from your lungs, and he did as told. You heard the cough, and the velcro-sounds of the neck brace being put on him, the young boy groaning as he was moved, and you decided that if he still had the energy, then you did too.

Making a fist, you braced yourself for support, pushing up from the ground and staggering to your feet, feeling a little weak as the pain travelled your body, but you could handle it, and as the kid was adjusted on the strong yellow blackboard for the stretcher, you made your way to the other side. Taking a hold of one handle, and Newt stared up at you. His jaw dropped to argue, a slight shake of your head silencing him, and he frowned again.

“You ready?”

“Are you?” He retorted, and you locked your hands over the other handle, watching as he mirrored your stance, bent at the knees and ready to halt him up onto the trolley.

“Lift on three, alright?” He did the count down, and you bit on your tongue to keep your complaints and pain to yourself, lifting the board with the boy up and securing it onto the folding trolley, trying not to jerk him too much as you strapped him down.

“You know, it’s going to be worse getting out then it was getting in. Lotta’ them don’t want him to leave.”

You had already braced yourself for that, the back of the ambulance only ten metres away, and you had to reach it, strap him in, and get the doors closed, before you were safe and could get to the hospital. Pushing the vehicle along together, you were grabbed at, ducking fists and avoiding kicks as you struggled through. Newt moved first, unlocking the back of the van and rolling down the ramp again, grabbing the front of the truck while you pushed from the back, pulling him up until the wheels locked into their place.

He moved to the front, the engine starting up as you retrieved the ramp and pulled the doors closed, watching as hands were snapped out of the way when you showed no regards for trapping or breaking fingers. The second they were shut, you locked them, jerking a little and trying to catch yourself as the van went into motion.

Leaning over the boy before you, a hand on the top of the vehicle to hold yourself steady, you let out a relieved breath as he blinked, eyes turning to look at you. Your first move was getting a heart rate band on his arm pushing up his sleeve as the shredded material of his shirt hung open, and he didn’t even move as the cuff was placed around his upper arm, squeezing tightly. The machine above you clicked into life as it gained date, a steady and alarmingly relaxed heart rate ringing out, and you were determined to do something about that. Lifting down an oxygen mask and twisting the tank on, you lifted his head, securing the band around his skull and ignoring the throbbing within your own as the mask settled over his mouth.

Now, you could move to the wound. Barely patched up, the quickest job either of you could do in the middle of the riot, you had time to focus now, trying to hold yourself steady as your body trembled angrily and the vehicle swung around corners, sirens blaring as you rushed to the hospital. “Jeez, Newt, can you hold us steady?”

“Sorry! I’m trying!”

You only huffed, meeting his eye in the mirror as he looked back to you, a slight twinkle in them despite it all, raised at the edges to show a smile you couldn't see. Focusing back on the injured kid before you, the wrapping on his stomach was carefully removed, the bleeding somewhat under control, but you were putting that down to a worrying amount of blood loss, his sin going pale, eyelid drooping as he barely clung to consciousness, and you began to try and keep it as well closed as you possibly could while you approached where he could get real care.

Plastic stitches, strong enough to attach to either side of the wound and pull it shit, sticky and resilient on the hold, and they sealed it up enough to stop the copious amounts of blood that had been coming through, narrowing it down to small beads. Grabbing for a larger, cleaner patch of gauze to cover the injury, for now, you doused it with an antibacterial, the product being just wet enough to soak into his wound, before pressing it over his cut and sealing down to his skin, the paper tape fastened it and you let out a sigh of relief.

His heart rate was stabilising, it wasn’t ideal but he was at least reaching a level he could hold, and you slumped down into the seat as you felt newt begin to slow down, picking up the radio on his dashboard to call it in as the roads narrowed and became a little more calm, approaching the hospital. Newt was talking in the front, reciting everything that he could about the boy’s injury, and he wasn’t in much of a state to tell you much about his blood type or allergies right now.

A hand reached out, locking onto your wrist, and your eyes snapped up to find the young boy, his head rolled to the side to look at you, it was a weak grip, a somewhat distant look in his eyes, and you shook your head as you watched him reach up to try and remove the mask. Doing it for him, you removed it carefully, placing it over his chin, and he coughed a little with the sudden change in air consistencies, but it was a healthier and dryer sounding cough than it had been.

“Thank you.” You barely caught the words, your brows furrowing as you took a minute to decipher what he’d said, still not believing it when you worked it out, but the earnest look in his eyes said it all. Brushing some of the sweat and grime matted hair back out of his face, you sighed, placing the mask back over his mouth gently, and trying to offer him the most reassuring smile you could.

“You gotta’ get out of this lifestyle, kid. You’re young enough to change everything, still. You could still get good grades, go to college, do something great.” He stared at you, confusing flittering through dull eyes as you spoke. “You don’t have to still be doing this in ten years, you can stop.”

He shook his head, looking as though he attempted to speak again, and you didn’t allow it, knowing he needed to just rest for the final few moments.

“I know you feel like there’s no way out, and that the other boys in the gang are your family. You need a healthy family, a supportive family, not a family who let you get stabbed. I know a thing or two about taking any family you can get, but you have to find the right one, okay?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, looking away from you, and you were certain that you’d hit a brick wall, but his hand slipped down from your wrist to your own, squeezing tightly as he nodded his head, eyes sliding closed, and you could feel Newt’s gaze flicking back and forth to you as he pulled up to the front of the hospital, clearly having heard your words, but you never looked at him, keeping your eyes on the kid whose life you were saving.

The second that the vehicle stopped, you were out of it, like a flash, unlocking the doors and unrolling the ramp, freeing the stretcher wheels from their locks. Uncuffing the band on his arm and oxygen mask from around his head, it was left to dangle uselessly, cleaned for later so that you could roll him into the hospital. Two nurses met you at the door, taking the stretcher and walking him away, letting you spew off any extra facts you could think of, his eyes sticking to yours for a final moment, before he was disappearing behind a curtain that was dragging shut, and you could finally feel yourself breathe easy again as he fell into expert hands.

You let out a long sigh, turning to face Newt, who was in much the same position as you were; a little battered and bruised, totally frazzled, and in desperate need of a rest now.

“You ready to go?”

“Not ‘til you get checked out yourself.” He motioned a hand along your body, and you looked down at yourself, arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re going to say something like ‘they’re only bruises, Newt’ or ‘it’s not that big of a deal’, well, maybe they are and maybe it’s not, but we’re not leaving until you get it checked. I have this worry you, like, broke a rib, or something.”

You gaped at him, hating how well he knew you, and he smirked as he stared back, raising a challenging brow and crossing his own arms, completing the stare down, the battle of wills, that you were both having. He was just as stubborn as you were, unwilling to back down, and you gave in, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slumped. “Fine, I’ll get my ribs checked, but only if you get that ankle checked.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me ank-”

“So, you didn't get kicked in your bag leg while loading the ambulance? And, you haven’t been favouring the other since we left?” He scowled, throwing an arm over your shoulders and letting the slight limp show as the two of you walked over to the nurses’ desk.

“I don’t like how you turned that one me.”

“What are friends for, huh?” He turned to you, leaning against the counter as you aired for assistance, and he beamed.

“Oh, so you admit that we’re friends, now? You know, that’s one step closer to wanting to stay.” There were more words on his tongue, you could practically already hear them, something about a ‘family’ no doubt, a joke about the conversation he’d overheard between you and the patient, but he was interrupted before he could get the chance. A nurse he knew, sweet eyes and a name tag with ‘Allison’ written on, and she guided you both to separate beds, only a curtain to separate you, and yet as you rested against the cushions, you already felt like you could fall asleep right there, relieved just to get off of your feet.

Your head was hanging, eyes slipping shut a little, and you startled when the curtain was dragged back open, the metal hooks scraping over the bar holding it up, and you jumped, looking up at the doctor before you. Dark hair, tanned skin, and a sweet smile on his lips as he held his hand out to you to shake. His name followed, introducing himself as a ‘Doctor McCall’, and he pulled up a chair, the wheels rolling over the floor as he took a seat before you to let you explain what happened.

Undoing the buttons on your shirt, he shook his head with a bashful smile and a falsely judgemental eyes as he took in the extent of the damage, and as you looked down at the dark purple bruising beginning to spread over your skin, and the swelling taking lace, you realised you may have underestimated the damage. Perhaps it was a good thing to have Newt looking out for you. You weren’t used to that.

He pressed along your skin gently, the rubber gloves on his hands cold and making your twitch, silence going by for a few seconds as he tested your breathing, listened into your chest, and watched you raised and move your arms, trying to be honest about your pain when he asked, and when it flared up.

He decided you didn't have a broken rib, a diagnosis you were grateful for, because the longer it took, the more it felt like Newt may actually have been right. It was simply bad swelling, a collection that would take at least two weeks to start truly dying down, but you were cleared for duty as long as you tried to take it easy. He cleaned the cut along your hairline, paper stitches standing out in a stark contrast to your skin that you soon covered with your hair, and with a few painkillers in you and a schedule for more, as well as a prescription for some bruise cream, you were sent on your way.

Newt was already waiting, staring disdainfully at the contraption on his foot, and regardless of the pain it caused, you laughed loudly as he turned the glare and scowl on you. “I have to wear this bloody thing for a week, thanks to you!”

“I think you look stylish.” You teased, and he scoffed.

“It’s annoying already, and it makes my foot itch. I hate it.” You only rolled your eyes, but even at the awkward steps he was taking with the pressure-holding and padded velcro boot he wore, he was no longer limping, and that was a good thing.

“You know, I’m going to have to drive. You’ll press all the pedals at once with that thing on.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but could clearly tell you were right, and his shoulders slumped even further as you held out your hand, watching him fish through his pockets to find the keys, and handing them over reluctantly.

The ride back to the station was filled with music and quiet chatter, you telling Newt all about this kid and his sense of humour, and the great thing you thought he could one day do, and he was happy to listen, telling you about some of the other patients he'd worked on himself, as the current chart-toppers played quietly in the background, keeping your moods high and upbeat.

You couldn't deny that it was nice, to have someone to consider a friend, someone you could rely on, and with every case you worked - today’s in particular - you were finding yourself trusting Newt more and more. He was someone who made you laugh, he had a sharp sense of humour but gave you the harsh truths you needed, even when you didn’t want to hear them, and yet he still cared about you, that much was clear, and you were finding yourself starting to care about him, too.

You both groaned as you pulled into the driveway, watching the delivery truck for pharmaceutical supplies arrive, and it wasn’t a lot of boxes, but you still had paperwork and the cleaning of the truck to do, as well as unpack all the new supplies into the station medical kits and the van, and you stared at one another for a second. He offered his hands in a battle of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ for it, and yet you knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

“You go inside, and put some ice on your ankle. Do all the paperwork, and I’ll sort the supplies and the van out.”

“Yeah?” He perked up a little at the offer, sitting up in his seat as you parked the van properly and handed him his keys back, both of you hopping out of the car, and walking around together to the front of the vehicle.

“Yes, I’ll go sign for everything and get them to bring it inside, you go find ice.”

He grinned, ruffling your hair with one hand, and you sighed, rolling your head from side to side to loosen the knots forming, before heading over to where the delivery man was waiting. As he began unloading the boxes inside of the garage doors, you checked over the list, ticking off in your head everything that had been gathered, and what they hadn't been able to get a hold of, signing your name at the bottom of several pieces of paper, and handing it back to him. He tipped his cap at you, a sweet older man that always made you laugh, and you waved him off as he left, hands falling to your hips as you stared at the boxes.

You were left with your thoughts, trying to come up with a game plan, and your body was desperately screaming out for a shower, when a loud shout of your name echoed around the bay, loud enough that you’d have been able to hear it from the other end of the station, your head snapping up.

Thomas was staring at you, pure fire in his eyes, that made you gulp, and he stormed toward you with determination, stopping a few feet away. “What the fuck is that?”

“Uh, supplies?”

“Not the fucking boxes, the boot on Newt’s leg.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and everyone in the room who had been working on the trucks and the tables around fell quiet, the silence so tense you swore you’d be able to hear a pin drop. “He has a bad leg, you already knew that, and yet you let him get injured. What kind of fucking partner are you?”

“That’s not fair! We-”

“That’s not fair? No, what’s not fair is knowing that Newt has done everything he can to make you feel welcome here, to try and drag you kicking and screaming into a house you don’t want to be in, and at which you're not wanted, and this is how you repay him?” That stung, your jaw snapping shut as you swallowed thickly, eyes flicking over the other people who had all gone stock still, hoping if they just observed and didn’t get noticed, they wouldn't fall victim to Thomas’ sudden wrath too.

You got it, you truly did. Thomas and Newt were the best of friends, ever since they were kids. Newt had told you the story of how they'd practically been ‘friends since the sandbox’, and you did feel awful for what happened to him, but it wasn't your fault.

“You want to be a part of this team? You want to make it here? Then you need to start acting like a member of a team, and start looking out for people other than yourself.”

He stormed away, spinning on his heel, and your nails were digging into your palms from how tightly your fists were clenched. You weren’t going to make a scene, or breakdown and give him the satisfaction. Instead, you held your head high, making your way to the showers to be alone with your thoughts and wash up, to try and soothe the aching pains along your body, and the aching pain in your chest from his harsh words.

Turning on the hot water, your eyes squeezed shut, letting out a long and shaky breath as you tried to let go of your emotions. You were trembling slightly, unsure whether it was from the way you’d been spoken to, the events of the day, or simply the pain in your body, but dipping your head under the water, you breathed out happily at the hot water beating down against you.

You were tense, muscles stiff and joints practically locked as you tried to relax, and you could have dozed off from the very second that your eyes closed. It was a struggle to simply find the motivation to wash yourself off, water dripping from the tip of your nose and your shin as you looked down, eyelashes feeling heavy and clumpy as you stared at your feet, a tint to the water as the dirt often day washed off.

There was a cut on your knee, brushing along your thigh and your knuckles were torn from your collision with the ground, but luckily, they were all small cuts that would heal very quickly. The bruises would take longer, your side littered with them now, one big bruise that was stretching from your hips to under your arms, fanning around your stomach and as far as your bak in all different shades of splotchy severity.

It hurt to lift your arms and wash your hair, and it hurt even more to scrub your body, stretching muscles gourd and cleaning at the skin. When you finally got out, trying to rub some simple cream into you face and comb your hair, the edge of your t-shirt held between your teeth to keep it up as you stared at the markings in the mirror, a patch wiped in the steam on the glass to be able to see, a tube of cream from your personal medkit open in your hand, and you weren’t sure you even had enough left to cover a patch this large.

You gave it your best go, starting in the middle where it hurt the most and working out toward the edges, eyes lined with tears as your fingers pressed to the skin, rubbing the cream until it was warm and could distribute more evenly across your skin, pain flaring up with each patch you touched. It felt as though it was on fire, even as you lowered your shirt. That pain took a while to rescind, you had pulled on your boots and tied back what you could of the still slightly damp hair, knowing that you’d never be able to hold up a hairdryer long enough to get it dry anyway.

The speakers overhead chirped twice, a melody that was different to the alarm that asked you to go to call, but this one was something that always brought joy, telling you that it was time for you to go home. The end of the day, the next shift coming in, your team leaving as House ‘21’s Team Two came in to take over. You grabbed your hoodie from your locker, no longer needing to look as professional, but knowing that you still weren’t going home anytime soon, you needed to at least be wrapped up warm.

You still had supplies to unpack, and a van to clean, blood dripped on the floor and equipment to be sterilised, and as you left the locker room, you swung by the cleaning cupboard, a bucket of supplies under your arm as you went. A lot of your team were still hanging around as you exited, getting ready to leave as the first of the other team began to trickle in, making sure there were always enough people left here to hand over in case there was a poorly timed call.

The fire teams had it reasonably lucky, each team shared the same squad or truck vehicles, but the ambulances were separate, and so you’d only loathe yourself if you didn’t do it now, and had to come in early before your next shift to sort it.

Unlocking the back doors, you opened it up, unfolding the ramp and lifting each individual bottle out of the bucket to line them up along the back of the truck. The mop bucket was left empty, and you knew you’d have to clean the floors, but you wanted to get everything else done first. Stripping the sheets from the stretcher, still stained with blood, and the plastic sheet underneath too, you grabbed a new wrapping from the hatch over the bed, covering the simple mattress that was laid over the metal bars.

Dropping the dirty rags onto the cold stone floor outside of the van, you grabbed at a bottle of disinfectant spray, shaking it as you went, and popping the top off of it. You sprayed everything, covering the inside of the mask and the outside, every surrounding piece of equipment, anything the man may have touched, or that you might have while wearing bloodied gloves, all the way to the handles on the insides of the doors.

You sprayed the seats, too, knowing that you’d had blood on yourself as you’d sat there, and the smell of bleach and chemicals was making your eyes sting and your throat feel itchy and blocked, but at least it was clean. Dropping that back down, you found some cloth and glass cleaner next, the windows and the mirrors dirty and dusty from the commotion, and you knew they needed to stay clean, so your guidance when driving was never impaired. It was all squeaky clean when you were finishing with it, only the floss left to be mopped down, and then the supplies unstacked, and you placed your hands on your hips as you stared at it all, feeling proud despite the protesting your body was giving up.

You still needed to mop, blood stains and dirt on the floors of the truck, but that was arguably the easiest part of your job, and so you scanned your eyes around for the mop bucket once again. There were several buckets still lay out, disinfectant, bleach, different germ killers, and some that you’d simply selected for their nice smell, and you added a splash of each to the bucket, a concoction you’d been using for years in many different formations from house to house.

Grabbing it by the handle, you held it in both arms, heading through to the rec-room, and dipping your head in a nod with a smile as you watched Newt and Minho head out, the former of who’s hand raised up in a wave as he continued to walk out with his friend, never stopping his chatter.

Placing the mop bucket under the hot water canteen, it rested of its own free will on the counter, and you leaned back a little, taking a small break. Fry was still looking through the fridge, grabbing the tupperwares of food he’d made but never had a chance to eat, his dinner for the night most likely, before nudging it shut with his foot and offering you a bright grin as he left. Brenda was singing loudly from the locker room, the new team beginning to filter in, and fill the space, and as you heard the cupboard door behind you open, you jumped, snapping back to attention and unsure of when your eyes had even closed.

Taller than you, a good free inches on your height, you turned to look up at the curly-haired boy standing beside you, watching as he retreated from within with a cereal bar, unwrapping it as he nudged it closed, peeling it open and turning to face you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a little tired, ready to head home. Not much left to do, now.” It was a small lie, only brief, because you’d probably still be here for a couple of hours with the pace at which you were moving and the workload that was left, and you turned to flip the tab on the hot water, deeming it to be enough as the sweet smell of the floral mix you’d added to the bleach drifted around the room.

“I meant, how are you doing.” His gaze dropped down to your side, the side you were holding a somewhat limp arm at, before coming back up to meet your gaze, and taking a bite of the snack in his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m a candidate. Ninety percent of my time is spent schlepping around doing all the chores. I saw you cleaning the trucks while I was going through some paperwork, you’ve been favouring your right side. You must’ve gotten the other side beat up pretty bad.” You raised a brow at his observations, impressed by how much he’d managed to deduce, but he dipped his head, a small smile on his face. “Also, after Thomas yelled at you, Newt chewed his ear off for, like, five minutes in front of everyone and said you got hurt too.”

“And here I was thinking you were just that observant.” You tutted, leaning down to pick up the bucket, and Chuck jumped in, taking it for you, instead, and you mumbled a thank you, walking along beside him.

“You know, you could have come and asked me for help. I didn’t think you’d still be around cleaning this late.”

“Well, someone has to do it, right? It’s best to just get it done, and then I can go home and relax.” He placed the bucket down at your feet as the two of you came to stand before the opened truck, and you grabbed for the mop, dunking it into the hot water and swishing it around a little.

“Yeah, but, you’re hurt. I could have helped.”

“It's my job, Chuck. Not yours. You already have enough on your plate.” You walked up the ramp, beginning to swipe the wet end across the floor, stains and muck smearing as you went to reveal the polished metal underneath. He tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders rising and falling a little.

“It feels like you can’t ask anyone to help, right?” You paused, looking up at him, and his face was painted neutral, but an understanding look shone in his eyes. “I get it. When you feel like you’re more just colleagues than friends, everyone is nice to you but asking a favour of them still seems more like it’d be a burden on them. An inconvenience. You’re on the team, but you’re not on the team. That’s how you feel right?”

“Did you talk to Newt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, the young boy’s curls bouncing as he did. “No, he wouldn't get it. Newt is great, but he’s on the team. I’m just a candidate, they still worry I might drop out, or have my experience and transfer to another house instead. They don’t trust me yet. Not fully. I think you feel that way, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You paused, rinsing the mop and ringing it clean to wipe at the floors again, pausing to lean on the handle a little. “They like you more than me, though.”

“Maybe, but I still have more in common with you right now than I do any of the others. We can be in this together.” That brought a smile to your face, your heart warming a little bit, because it did feel nice to finally have someone else to relate to, and so you found yourself smiling, figuring you might as well add a nod in agreement at this point.

“Alright, Chuck. We’re in it together.”

He laughed a little, reaching out one hand to smack against yours in a high five, your giggles mixing with his at the simple action, before he stepped back once again. “I’d stay with you and help out, but I have dinner plans with my mom. I can call and rearrange, if you do want some help, though? I feel like that’s what I should do.”

“Go to dinner, Chuck.”

“But, friends don’t leave other friends to clean alone when they’re hurt.” He sighed, a puppy-dog look crossing over his features.

“I will be fine, I swear. Go enjoy your family time, if it gets too much, I’ll just stop and leave it.” He made you promise to do so, his pinky held out in a way that made you laugh as you sealed the bond by wrapping your finger with his.

He took a few steps backwards, waving as he went, before facing the right way once again. You were left to watch him take his few steps toward the door, and you turned back to the job at hand, you kept up with the mopping, trying to make sure the floor was spotless, and using your foot to push the head of the mop along as you did, trying to ease the ache on your arms.

A knock against the edge of the ambulance, the metal ringing loudly, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you set the mop back down. “Thought I told you to go home, Chuck?”

Spinning around, your smile quickly dropped, the person looking up at you not being Chuck, and you tried not to frown as Thomas stared up at you. “It’s, uh, not Chuck.”

“I see that.”

He pursed his lips, a look more like a grimace on his face as he stepped back, letting you walk down the ramp slowly to stand before him, and he rolled on the balls on his feet a little as the space between you died with awkward tension. As the moment dragged out, you felt even more on edge than usual, watching as he let his eyes flick over the rest of the open space, avoiding you entirely.

“So, what do you need?”

“I wanted to apologise for shouting at you.” His gaze finally returned to you, an honest look on his face as he did, and you sighed trying not to seem quite too aggressive in your stance as he offered the first apology between you both. “Newt said you got hurt too, and that I shouldn’t have gone off at you, so, I’m sorry.”

“Right.” You hummed, not sure of what to say now that he had, and you lifted an arm, holding on the elbow on the other side, slightly defensive as you tried to steady your own anxiety. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Can I see?”

“What?” Your eyes narrowed on him, and he sighed with a slight hint of irritation in his voice.

“The bruises. Can I see how bad it is?”

“I’m a paramedic, Lieutenant. I know how to diagnose bruises, and I had it checked out at the hospital, I’m perfectly fine.” You turned away from him, taking barely a step before his hand was wrapping around upper-arm, and turning you to face him again. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was on your bad side, and it hurt a little bit as you spun. He seemed to sense the pain, maybe it was the wince on your face, but he let go.

“Can you stop making it so hard to extend an olive branch, or whatever? It’s my job to know how badly injured you are so I can try and make your workload lighter. I’m just trying to be nice.” He growled, the word coming out through gritted teeth, and you swallowed a little, a single jolt of guilt running through you.

Turning to your side, you lifted the edge of your jumper and shirt, shivering a little at the cool breeze that had brushed over your skin as you did. He hissed under his breath, reaching out a little but never touching you as he took it in, before nodding his head. He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning up from your eyes to your hairline, squinting a little at the mark there.

A hand landed on your cheek, high enough that his thumb could push almost-dry strands out of the way, turning your head to the side, and your jaw dropped as he did, feeling his thumb smoothing over your skin lightly. Pulling your head away from him, he dropped his hand back to his side, caring his throat, and that same awkward tension rose between you again. “They’re pretty bad.”

“Well, they’re not sunshine and flowers.”

You swore you almost saw amusement flicker across the blank look on his face for just a second, but you'd never be sure, and so you simply folded your arms and tried not to clench too much. “You want some help carrying it all inside? You can finish mopping, and then we can put the stuff away together.”

“That’s really not n-” He raised a brow at you, challenging the refusal of the help and hidden olive branch he was offering you. “Fine, yeah. That would be nice.”

He only dipped his head, moving to the boxes in the corner, he opened up the first, lifting out rolls of bandages and bringing them back over as you inched the bucket down the ramp once again. He brought them over, stepping up alongside you and resting the box on the gurney as he began to unpack the contents quietly.

“Oh, the gauze! That goes in t-”

“I know where it goes.” He muttered, your jaw snapping shut, and you huffed a little. He never cast you a glance. “I’ve worked here a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

You only hummed, bending enough to pick up the blood soaked sheets from the floor and take them to the washers. He didn’t spare you a glance as you informed him of your plans, letting you walk away in silence as he unpacked boxes.

It wasn’t ideal, it certainly wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was something. It was the longest the two of you had ever been in one another’s company without it becoming a screaming match, and so it was a step beyond simply despising one another, finding some kind of common ground.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #SAF #smoke and fire #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut

[lailnii]

when you first meet ft naruto characters

warning; blind reader, sai being sai

word count; 981

🎶

sai

↦ morning drew on apace. the air became more sharp and piercing, as its first dull hue: the death of night, rather than the birth of day: glimmered faintly in the sky. the objects which had looked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. sai was typically wide awake when these shapes and colors washed over the horizon— but apparently naruto wasn’t as appreciative of the worlds morning sketches.

↦ “gah, i hate mornings—“ naruto complained as he shuffled next to sai. the sun burned his cerulean eyes and forced him to squint. that wasn’t to mention his unbrushed hair and wrinkled clothes

↦ sai, personally didn’t understand how someone could harbor dislike for a certain time of the day. it had no effect over an individual, and so the morning hours should logically be met with indifference. perhaps it was because he was lazy— or a complete moron. sai still couldn’t tell which one it was. maybe it was both.

↦ sai had expected to see a realistic portrait of Konoha’s streets, or a decorative animal, but instead he was left bewildered. it was a clash of color, none matching at all, and seemingly unstructured as well.

↦ “how ugly—“ sai said without a shred of restraint or regret. naruto may have scolded him if he were there, but he had kept walking without even noticing that sai had stopped to insult the artist.

↦ the painters hand halted, and the brush was rested on the small table beside them. they spoke, and there voice seemed to reflect all the melodic serenity of a singing bird. “you think so?”

↦ “yes, i do.” sai confirmed, taking another glance at the canvas. “those shades do not match. i can’t even tell what you are trying to paint.”

↦ “well, i never really had much of a grasp on the concept of color.” you said with a surprising amount of calm in your tone. as sai drew back away from the painting, he saw you begin to turn. he willed himself to smile, as he always did, but it was fake and empty gesture. apparently this effort of trying to look ‘normal’ was wasted on you, because when your face came into view he saw the milky, unfocused shade of your eyes.

↦ “a blind painter? no wonder it looked so horrid.” sai commented, not cruelly, only honestly. his voice was light and inviting but it contradicted his harsh words. “what exactly were you trying to paint.”

↦ “i’m not sure.” you answered. you grinned, he noticed that it was more genuine than he could ever manage. “maybe the sky, maybe the people, maybe my soul. everything and anything.”

↦ “what is the point if you do not know what you are making?”

↦ “i’m a firm believer that every portrait that is painted with feelings— is a portrait of the artist, not the sitter or muse.” you explained patiently. “it may not look like the sky, for all i know it might look like nothing at all, but it has been made with the passionate intention of capturing something unseen and unknown and dwelling solely inside my mind. that is all that matters.”

↦ sai’s brow furrowed in clear confusion. he didn’t understand what you were trying to say. the aesthetic accuracy of a painting was all there was— there was no deeper meaning or good attempts. there was only the beauty of success and the hideousness of inexperienced.

↦ “you don’t agree?” you asked knowingly, and thought you were blind, you could almost sense his confusion.

↦ “no. i do not.”

↦ “i suppose you’re a painter too then?” you smiled, reaching your hand out until they found his. when your fingertips brushed against his palm, sai tensed as if he were uncertain what this touch could mean. then, he felt your hands move and memorize the feeling of every long, slender finger. “those are definitely a painters hands. perhaps you could draw something for me.”

↦ sai pulled his hand away. “you won’t see it, so there’s the point.”

↦ you shook your head, turning back to the canvas and plucking your brush back up from the small table. “it’s funny how my own blindness seems to limit people’s imagination. it never bothered me, nor did it stop me from doing what i love, but other people— it always stopped them.”

↦ sai fell silent. he still didn’t fully grasp your words. the world was a picture of black and white to him, and there was no room for greys, or half-formed ideas, or deeply knit concepts.

↦ “i was nice meeting you. i hope to see you again— no pun intended.” you chuckled, then started stroking a bright purple mess on top of a bright red skyline. “i think your friend’s looking for you.”

↦ just as you said that naruto had came dashing from the crowd with a look of pure annoyance on his face. sai was dragged away from your disgusting painting and crystal voice, but for the rest of the day he lingered on your words. he hoped to one day dissect them and understand the content of them, but this world was still so strange to him— and its people were an unreadable phenomenon; like white paint on an untouched canvas.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

previous; sasueke u.

next; shikamaru n.

#sai #sai yamanaka #sai x reader #sai yamanaka x reader #sai imagines #sai headcanons #sai scenarios #shikamaru #shikamaru nara #naruto shippuden

[astralkoo]

the huntress | jungkook (teaser)

Pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

Genre: werewolf au, hunter au, action, thriller, angst, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+ (graphic violence / explicit sexual content)

Estimated Final Word Count: 15-20k??? Maybe more bc it’s already at 7.4k and I haven’t even fully hit on the main plot yikes

Teaser Word Count: 1,780

Summary: You are a hunter. You are a protector. And you are a killer. These are simple facts. Facts that have been drilled into your head since you were a child. These facts are all that you know, all that you can rely on when the world around you is constantly changing. But, what can you do when one of the very creatures you’ve been taught to hunt, taught to kill, taught to hate makes you question everything you once believed?

Warnings: explicit language, descriptions of blood, graphic violence, death, killing/murder, jk is kept in a cage, panic attack, betrayal, sad jk, explicit sexual content; sex in a lake, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), sub!jungkook, dom!reader, virgin!jungkook, lots of whining, light dirty talk, hand job, fingering, jk has a kissing kink, oral (f. receiving), biting, reader calls jk puppy (all warnings are subject to change)

Release Date: TBD

A/N ; ah shit here we go. she’s been coming along pretty smoothly, so I thought it was the right time put the teaser out for you guys! I’m really excited to get the full fic posted and hopefully it won’t be too far in the future, but with my track record... I can make no guarantees. thank you for 1.4K followers!! I hope you enjoy!

You felt it building in your chest, swelling into something large and uncontainable. The sensation creeping up your throat, filling the back of your mouth and forcing open your jaws. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes and your dry lips strained as they stretched open, the monstrous yawn finally breaking free.

Fuck. You are so tired.

It had been an exhausting day to begin with and of course, with your luck, it was your turn to take the night watch.

Around you, the forest was alive: crickets and cicadas singing lazy songs, the warm summer breeze rustling through the leaves, the waning moon casting a cool silver glow over the sleeping earth. Beside you, the dying remains of a bonfire flickers and spits blazing embers, choking and fading with every gust of wind. The darkness is slowly closing in, the eerie shadows of the surrounding trees creeping closer and closer with every passing minute.

Gravity pulled at your eyelids, the sweet lure of sleep all too tempting.

Crack.

You shot upright, eyes wide and alert, ears straining. It was too dark to see past the outer layer of trees, and a heavy silence followed, only remedied by the soft crackling of the singed wood. There’s a familiar prickle under your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s dark, but you don’t need to see to know that there is something out there. Call it a self-made sixth sense if you will, something you’ve developed and trained into perfection over the course of many years.

Instinctively, your fingers reached for your bow. The sleek black metal scraped against the large stone it was propped up on as you swiftly and silently fall into position. Unsheathing an arrow from the leather quiver, you pull it back against the string until you feel that perfect tension. The side of your thumb caresses the cool skin of your cheek, and you close one eye, honing in on the dark tree line.

Come on. Give me a reason.

But you’re only rewarded with silence.

After a few tense moments, you slowly lowered your weapon, brow twitching in irritation.

“Get a grip, y/n.” You grumbled roughly.

You were on edge. It’s understandable; you were in completely unfamiliar territory, with no reliable knowledge of the land or its inhabitants to lean back on. The knowledge which you did have, however (that being the knowledge that the nearby town had been getting ravaged by a bloodthirsty beast under the cover of nightfall), didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders in the slightest.

After all, that was the whole reason for your troop’s relocation.

A little over three weeks ago, the head of your troop received a letter from a desperate mayor, pleading for your help. They had a problem. Almost every night for the past month, towns people that wandered the streets late into the evening when the sun had set behind the hills and the moon had risen past the horizon, whether it be walking home from a long day of work or going for an evening jog when the summer heat wasn’t so unbearable, had been getting killed. No, not killed— slaughtered.

You’d seen the pictures.

No human being was capable of doing what had been done to those people.

Ergo, the exigency for your troop’s presence.

This town didn’t need cops, they didn’t need police or detectives searching for some rampant serial killer. What they needed were hunters. More specifically, werewolf hunters. Which is precisely what you were. ‘Slayers of the Supernatural’, some might say. Your job was simple: find the murderous creature responsible for the bloody deaths of thirty seven innocent civilians, and eliminate the problem, once and for all. Pretty cut and dry when you think about it.

And for a troop as skilled and experienced as yours, finding and ending this bloodthirsty beast should be a cinch.

But, that didn’t make sitting out, so painfully alone in the dark of night with a killer werewolf on the loose any less unnerving.

Now, you weren’t afraid of the monster itself, you’d held your own against its kind and worse plenty of times in the past. No, it was the deafening silence that was most disquieting. The stillness. The lack of happening. It set you on edge, made it feel like you had to hold your breath to get the slightest idea of what was going on around you. The wait had always been your least favorite part of the hunt, despite it being one of the most vital.

You’ll admit, you can be impatient. It was your most notable cause of failure back in your training days and in some of your earlier hunts. But you’ve gotten better, become capable of capping your overzealous antics, improved in terms of self restraint. Though, you’d still much rather be in the heart of the action than sitting on the sidelines and waiting with buzzing anticipation nipping at your heels.

Exhaling heavily, you slumped back onto the ground, exhaustion quickly seeping back into your sore muscles once the brief flush of adrenaline drained from your system.

Then you heard the rustling of leaves. But this— it was different from the sound made when the breeze wisps through them. There was a certain force to it, a heaviness in the way the branches clicked and the leaves crunched. It was the sound of a body moving through the heavy foliage. A large animal? Maybe. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Not human. Not an animal. But something in between.

Your hand was around the grip of your bow in less than a second, body swiftly falling into a low crouch.

It was dark. But the moon spilled just enough light over the forest for you to catch a glimpse of a silhouette: a tall, dark shape moving slowly through the brush. You had your mark. Now you just needed a reason to loose your arrow.

Never strike without absolute certainty that you have your eye on the right target. That’s what Junmyeon always drilled into your head during training after you attacked too early and without proper understanding of who (the dummy representing an innocent civilian, in such cases) you’d been aiming at. Because if you somehow mistook an innocent for one of the beasts you hunt— it was a thought you didn’t want to so much as consider.

Teeth gritting, you carefully followed the shadowy figure, feet shifting silently across the dirt. Suddenly, your boot clad toe suddenly knocked a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground. You froze, and so did the silhouette. Then its head whipped in your direction, and the very second you saw the flash of two unmistakable red eyes, your fingers released the taut string, sending the arrow whizzing into the tree line.

A shriek of agony ripped through the calm night air. The figure staggered, doubling over, before quickly righting itself and whirling around, taking off into the dense, black forest.

You didn’t let so much as a fraction of a second pass before you launched yourself off the dirt ground and bolted into the woods after the creature, a delicious combination of red hot adrenaline and childlike excitement immediately consuming you. It was this— this feeling, this exhilaration that you lived for. That you hunted for. It drove you in ways nothing else ever had. The combination of blood rushing through your veins and your heart thundering in your ears created an almost euphoric sensation. It was a high, thrilling and electrifying. But perhaps those weren’t quite the right words to describe it.

Maybe it was the fact that for these moments as you were rushing through the brush, low branches slicing at your arms and face, cool wind winding through your hair, you could clear your mind and focus only on this one thing, on putting every ounce of your energy into this one moment to accomplish this one feat. There wasn’t— there couldn’t be a single invading thought, doubt, concern. There was nothing but boiling determination, molten in your bloodstream.

Ahead of you, the creature rushed frantically through the dense forest, weaving and staggering around the bulging trunks of towering trees. It was trying to lose you. But you excelled when it came to the chase. The fact that it was wounded also helped; the dark red blood stained the leaves and mossy earth, leaving a clear path for you to follow.

You were catching up, the distance between you and it growing smaller and smaller with each moment. You could hear the creature's heavy footfalls, the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs. Within a few strides, you were within arms distance. If you were to reach out your hand—

Just as your fingertips grazed its back, you broke through the tree line. The creature, caught off guard, stumbled. A fatal mistake. Before it had a chance to recover, you rammed your shoulder into its back, directly between its shoulder blades, sending it stumbling forward with a stunned yelp. You hadn’t even noticed the massive body of water until he fell into it. Always be aware of your surroundings, you reminded yourself sharply, before honing in on your target. The water, reflecting the night sky like a mirror, rippled and spat around the form of the creature as it attempted to scramble away from you. But you didn’t let it get far.

You thrust yourself on top of him, pinning his kicking legs down with your own and making a grab for his flailing arms. A sharp hiss rushed past your teeth when you felt something slice into your arm, but you paid no heed to the warm, familiar trickle of blood. It only fueled the roaring fire of determination inside of you further. He was bucking up, thrashing wildly, trying to throw you off, but you held fast, angling yourself in such a way that you had the upper hand. Icy water splashed across your face, seeping into your clothes as you used all your strength to keep him down. But it wasn’t easy fighting a werewolf with your bare hands. Not even a wounded one. And you were quickly growing sick of feeling the piercing sting of his claws cutting through your clothes and biting into your skin.

In one swift motion, you unsheathed the silver blade hidden in a pouch sewn into the inside of your boot. Every muscle in his body froze up at the feeling of cold metal pressing threateningly against his vulnerable throat.

Panting through clenched teeth, you pinned him with a chilling glare.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

#bts fanfic #Jungkook fanfic #teaser #the huntress #bts #Jungkook #bts smut #werewolf Jungkook #bts au #fanfic teaser #sub!jungkook #sub!bts #Jungkook smut