#square: arm in a sling

[tiredspacedragon]

Kopeke

First Impression: My first exposure to Kopeke was in Legends #8 Downfall, so this is an odd one. I didn't discover a lot of the pre-2004 story that existed outside of the Chronicles books until much later, so the first time I heard of Kopeke was reading about him, the newly appointed Chronicler, recording Hahli's account of the Mahri's mission. He doesn't exactly get much character there, my reaction to him basically began and ended with finding this new named character, who I assumed had been created for the book, interesting, mostly just for being the new Chronicler. I had a much stronger reaction when I encountered Kopeke later in much earlier material like MNOG, and discovered this was an established character who's been around since the beginning.

Impression Now: Oh he's lovely. I appreciate his uniqueness in being a Ko-Matoran who keeps to himself not because he wants to be alone, but because he's just shy. The little guy's probably a sweetheart once he warms up to you. I still find him a fascinating choice for the next Chronicler, though. Not that I think he's a bad choice; in fact it's very fitting for a member of the Chronicler's Company to become Chronicler themselves, especially the quietest of the bunch; but it makes me wonder if Greg had anything planned for the character going forward. I mean probably, given that so far being named Chronicler had been a euphemism for "you'll be a Toa in two story years."

Favourite Moment: I don't know if I have a favourite Kopeke moment in canon, honestly. That's the downside of being a character with so few appearances. That said, I do have a favourite Kopeke moment in fan content, specifically from Vrahno's Struggle in the Drifts. (Minor Spoiler Warning) Near the beginning of the video, Kopaka and Pohatu come across an ice sculpture of Kopaka, carved by Kopeke, left out on Ihu's hills because Kopeke is shy about his work. Pohatu notes the sculpture's quality, apart from the Akaku's scopes being on the wrong side. Kopaka then looks around warily before using his powers to reshape the sculpture's head so that the scopes are on the right side. Unfortunately, the sculpture is later destroyed in a confrontation with a squad of Kohrak, with most of it being completely smashed while the head is snapped clean off. At the end of the short, Kopeke ventures out to the site of the sculpture, taking in the destruction caused by the battle between the Toa and the Bohrok, until he finds the head of the smashed statue. He picks it up, examines it, notes that the scopes are on the right side, and says "Good," before unceremoniously dumping it in the snow and walking away. Perfection. (Spoilers Over)

Idea for a story: Well, Takua got his journeys across Mata Nui, helping the Turaga, solving mysteries, and facing down Rahi, and Hahli had her Kolhii tournament and her little quest to recover the crystals from those unexplained temples, so naturally Kopeke, as the newest Chronicler, is bound to go on a great journey of his own. I can see him tangled up in some adventure that has him crossing paths with the Toa and Glatorian as they seek out the Great Beings, perhaps even uncovering some of their secrets himself along the way.

Unpopular opinion: I don't know if this is an unpopular opinion so much as an uncommon one because so few people care about it, but I've never been a fan of Kopeke's redesign. I definitely prefer the sand blue Komau over the dark gray Matatu. I mean on the one hand I get it, they wanted to release Kopeke as a set alongside Matoro in 2003 and they didn't want both of them to have the same colour scheme, so they made Kopeke gray. Fair enough, but they didn't need to change his mask too. The lore explanation of his Komau being damaged in Kolhii practice and him choosing a Matatu to honour Nuju is nice, but I don't think it was necessary. Especially since it makes Kopeke less unique among the Ko-Matoran. Both Nuju and Kantai already have the Matatu covered, but no other known character in Ko-Koro wore a Komau. Like, it's not really a big deal, I just think his original design is better for him, that's all.

Favourite Relationship: Maybe a cop-out, but I enjoy Kopeke's relationship with the Chronicler's Company as a whole. We don't get to see him actually interacting one-on-one with very many characters ever, so I make do with enjoying his place in this group dynamic. I like to think he'll settle in eventually as he gets used to having these friends and slowly, but steadily, opens up to them.

Favourite Headcanon: So, in MNOG, Kopeke says this to Takua: "Wisdom is ever the burden of the Turaga. I do not expect it from you." Which is just a vicious thing to say. But Kopeke isn't really portrayed as rude otherwise, just shy, so I like to think that he didn't actually mean this as an insult. He probably meant it as a reassurance, as in "Hey, it's the Turaga's job to know what's going on all the time, I don't blame you for not being totally on top of things." And then after Takua left he probably spent the next while kicking himself over how incredibly rude he accidentally sounded. Poor guy.

#bionicle #kopeke #ask game #shy icy friend #and supposedly ko-koro's greatest athlete as well #a snowball sling champion #actually that might be my new favourite kopeke headcanon #guy's got an arm like a catapult #he can scoop up snow #shape it into a perfect sphere #and hit anyone square between the eyes with it #in under a second #he's like a machine in a snowball fight #in fact he might get a little too into it

[petewentzisblack1312]

i want to get a square metre of fabric to use as a furoshiki so i can have a reusable bag that doubles as a triangular bandage for emergencies. this has been my dream for years.

#dils declares #i just havent gotten around to going to buying and hemming a square of fabric. #the allure of a multitasker #although i need to remind myself of how to tie an arm sling

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon/dubcon, bullying, reader wears glasses

gn reader

Thinking about jock bully hunting you down after the bell rings...

You hurry – haphazardously shoving your books and pens into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder – ready to get out before the chimes are even done singing.

Thankfully, it seemed fine for now as you couldn't hear the roaring of buzzing students in the hallway just yet, only your own class packing up their belongings with movements rather lazy compared to yours. 

But you couldn't afford to take your time – even with the free period following the end of your class. You needed to leave before he could find you.

"Where’ you off to in such a hurry, Specs?"

You ought to have knocked on wood before finishing your thought – you admonished yourself with eyes squeezed tightly shut and a punishing bite to your lower lip.

It's funny – you winced – how his voice is so casual, so breezy and laidback, all cool and friendly – funny how it sends such spiky goosebumps down your spine.

You ignore him, trying to squeeze past him – quick and dexterous as you attempt to slip away and disappear out the door – maybe be so lucky to lose him in the crowd.

"Whoa, whoa- you tryna run off on me?" He joked. His large hands held up to block your way. 

You watch the rest of your classmates leave – leaving you to fend for yourself. But you couldn't really blame them… none of you wanted to explain new bruises to worried parents at home.

He was like a shark circling, and if he smelt blood in the water, you were as good as done for. And you were like an open cut.

"Now, what did I do to deserve a disappearing act, huh?" He pouted. His head tilted, blocking out the lights in the ceiling, shadowing his already scary face. 

You nearly squeaked instead of speaking. "Please- I- I-"

"Calm down, will yah?" He dismissed. Flashing you a wide smile – the one that nearly fooled you into believing he was a good and decent guy. "I ain't come to pick on yah…"

You didn't listen. Once again, you bravely tried to push past him with your bag squeezed tightly to your chest – trying to rush to the door.

But his size was like the door itself. Big and squared. Muscly and tough as he blocked your way effortlessly. Though, no less bothered with your insistent attempt at running away from him.

"Now, when I tell you to do something-" He laughed passive-aggressively as his hand reached out to clutch the handle on your bag, yanking you back. "You should perk up and listen, yeah? Use that head of yours for something useful for once."

His knee rode up between your thighs – making you whimper where you stood, caged between his thick arms and the desk behind you.

"Wouldn't wanna make me angry now, do yah?"

His breath tickled your face, and you bowed your head under his gaze – unable to take your eyes off of the veins flexing along his beefy arms as his large hands gripped the table’s edge, sleeves rolled up like usual – the sight of his knuckles whitening, making you queasy with unease.

You tried ducking away once again. "Please, I need to-"

But he just clicked his tongue at the measle effort. Cutting you off yet again. 

"You don't need to do anything but stand here and entertain me." He decided with a voice a bit more biting than before.

You jolted, your eyes round and wide as you looked back up into his glare.

He laughed out a lighthearted chuckle before his hand broke off from marring the desk – scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile – serving a small effort at easing your worries where you stood tense and rigid in your place in front of him.

"Thing is…” He started once again, his tone back to normal – or whatever he wanted you to think was his normal. “Coach is gonna kick me off the team if I don’t get my grades in order.” He explained. “So’s thinkin’ since you’re such a good little nerd, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out.”

His hand reached out to tickle your chin.

“M’sure havin’ a cute little nerd-tutor like you is exactly what I need.”

Your throat was so tight you thought you might just choke. “I don’t-”

“Good!” He boasted over your pitiful protest. “Since y’got nothin’ better to do, how ‘bout we just head straight for my dorm right now?” He asked – though you knew better than to think it was a question. “Le’me carry that for yah-”

He yanked your backpack from your chest, ripping it out of the tight hug before throwing it over his own shoulder.

“I can carry you too if yah want?” He posed – smirk loud on his face as he placed his large paws at your waist – followed quickly by you shooting your arms forward to shove him off in protest.

But though you thought you’d put in some strength behind it, the boy in front didn’t budge at all. 

He just arched a brow as though asking if that was really all you had. And you hoped dearly he couldn’t see how the stiff muscles of his shredded chest had actually strained your wrists instead.

“What do you say, short stuff?” He leaned in, his breath foggy on your glasses and hot on your cheeks, as his hands clawed themselves into the fat of your waist, pulling you off your feet just a bit.

“N- no, thank you.” You stuttered out, stumbling a bit as you braced yourself against him. Your eyes squished close as you bowed your head away from him in a mix of fear and embarrassment while you suppressed the mortifying feeling of nearly pissing yourself.

But the tall boy realized little of your inner turmoil – rather enjoying it as he scoffed out an amused laugh at you. “A'ight then, come on.”

He yanked you along – his large paw gripping your arm as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Nearly needing to resort to jogging where you otherwise tripped when the gap between the two of you became so large you had to skip a step or two to catch up – and before you even realized it, you were already standing outside the boy’s dorm waiting for him to find his keys.

He unlocked the door and welcomed you inside with the same grace of a warden showing a prisoner to their cell – with the weight and breadth of his warm hand on the small of your back as he nudged you inside.

The room had an overwhelming dank scent of both bodyspray and sweat and other things you’d only expect to smell in a boy’s locker room.

“Yo.” Came another voice from inside.

“Sup, roomie.” Your bully replied lazily. Grinning at how you gripped his shirt, all but jumping into hiding behind him. 

You’re cute…

“Who’s that you got there?” His friend arched a brow at you, where you peaked at him from behind your bully’s sleeve.

“I’mma need the room.” He announced, not really answering the question.

The roommate then scoffed with a grin, beholding you with slim eyes for a moment, then scoffed once more before he got up to leave.

“Don’t hit the books too hard – Coach’ll have your ass if you don’t bring your A-game later.” He warned, pulling his gym bag up on his shoulder as he excused himself.

You looked around once he was gone, spotting dumbbells and other equipment – and quickly realized how there must be many more muscles beneath his shirt than what you’d already borne witness. 

“So- uhm-” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you awkwardly turned to the boy. “Where're your books?”

Your bully smiled, taking a casual step toward you. “My books?” He asked, nowhere near even trying to sound the least bit genuinely confused.

“Your- uhm...” You paused, feeling uneasy. “Textbooks?”

His smile sharpened. “That’s cute.” He mocked sweetly while buttoning up the small black buttons of his white uniform shirt, giving a flash of those muscles you’d been anxiously anticipating. “You actually thought we were gonna study?”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

HQ – Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Tendou, Ukai

AOT – Eren

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere demon slayer #yandere aot #yandere bllk #yandere blue lock #yandere attack on titan #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

[jarofstyles]

More DAD!Harry pleasssseee like baby boy pouting because he wants to be treated like a big boy and Harry can't help but kiss his chubby cheeks????

PLEASNJENJRF I love dadrry so much

Check out our Patreon!

------

"What is the frown for, peanut?" Harry's voice echoed in the kitchen as he saw his son sitting with his arms crossed in his booster seat. The tv show themed plate and cup set sat in front of him, Y/N having served lunch to them both and excusing herself to grab her own. "Do you not want this?"

It was his favorite. Grilled cheese that Y/N had cut into smaller squares, goldfish crackers, cut up grapes and strawberries neatly arranged on the plate and apple juice in his cup. He couldn't quite see anything wrong with it, but he had been reminded that toddlers changed their minds about their likes all the time.

"It's baby." He whispered, looking at the printed cup. Paw Patrol characters decorated the sides of the sippy cup. "Don't want to be baby. I want to be a big boy." His eyes looked up at Harry's, the color strikingly similar to his own as his brows furrowed.

"What demean, mate?" he looked at the food. "Nothin' too baby about it. Looks like a great meal that mumma made for us. Don't you like Paw Patrol?" the man reached out to brush some of the curls from his son's face, heart clenching a bit. He was the perfect mix of his younger self and his wife. He was growing up much to fast for Harry's liking. It felt like just the other day that he had been in the baby sling while Harry did the dishes, trying to keep him asleep by singing as to not disturb an exhausted Y/N who had just fallen asleep on the couch.

"It's baby." He looked down, kicking his feet. The light up shoes activated as they hit against the side of the table, feeling a little shy with his father's attention. "Want a big cup like you. Please?" His little voice tugged at his heartstrings, the earnest want in his tone making him purse his lips.

"Well... we can, but I have to say, I may steal the cup for myself." He sighed, looking at it in faux longing. "I've always wanted a cup like that. It's too cool for me though. Besides, it makes sure there's no spills. Y'don't want to get all sticky with the juice if it spills over, right?" He rubbed over his little cheek, watching as he visibly worked through what his daddy had said. It was a wonder to observe, seeing someone so new to life have such obvious emotions and though processes on his face.

"You like the cup?" He peeped. "It's cool?" his hands tugged at the bottom of his shirt as he looked at the cup Harry had taken in his hand. Seeing his father show interest meant it must be cool.

"I do. It's the coolest, and besides.. Mumma looked for ages for this cup for you." He smiled. "Why don't you use It for a while and we can get you a big cup in a few weeks, okay? I may steal the cup if you don't want to use it."

"No, Daddy! It's mine!" giggles left his now bright eyes. "You ca borrow it but.. it's cool. You said so. " The chubby hands reached for the cup which the man handed over, feigning hesitation.

"Okay, my lovely. But you better watch your back. I may come and take it."

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dadrry #dad harry styles #dad harry #parent Harry #Harry blurb #Harry blurbs #Harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #Harry styles au #Harry styles blurbs

[jobean12-blog]

Love in Bloom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Plant!Dad!Bucky)

Word Count: 2,863

Summary: You and Bucky have the best coffee date then meet up at the Farmer's Market. Every minute you spend with him makes you fall harder.

Author's Note: More plant!dad!bucky for you! I'm so excited that you all liked meeting him so much! I'm having a lot of fun with him! You can read the first story HERE! And please check out @nalonzooo art to see how amazing it is! 😍Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS If you'd like to see the shirt Bucky is wearing you can HERE and the two plant pots, ONE and TWO. 🥰💕

Warnings: plant talk, Alpine fluffs, sweet and soft fluffs all around :)

You and Bucky have been texting every day since you met at the garden center, silly plant memes and pictures of Alpine filling up the lines between sweet words and soft flirting.

You couldn’t wait to see him for coffee today.  

The bell above the door dings as you enter and your eyes search for him. He’s standing at the counter, a large black backpack slung over his shoulders and a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He’s not wearing his hat today and his long hair is pulled back into a low bun with several strands sticking out.

When he spots you he smiles wide and waves you over.

“Hiya doll,” he says when you get close. “You look beautiful.”

You preen under his sweet words and kiss his cheek hello. “Hi Bucky.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky’s backpack starts to move and Alpine’s white furry head peeks out between the open zipper.

“ALPINE!” you squeal, rubbing his head.

“He would have been very upset if I showed up without him,” Bucky laughs. “You can take him out if ya want.”

You reach down and gather up the cat, carefully lifting him out until he’s in your arms. You coo and gush over him while Bucky waits for your coffees.

The barista sets them down with a smile.

“Oh…shit,” Bucky mutters, finally tearing his eyes away from you when the coffee arrives. “Uh…I almost forgot,” he continues, holding out the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”

You take them with your free hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“They’re so beautiful Bucky! Thank you!”

He grabs your coffees and starts toward a small empty table in the back. “You’re welcome doll. I got them at the Farmer’s Market in Union Square this morning.”

“You picked them out?” you ask, softly fingering the petals of the different blooms.

“Yeah,” he answers, looking both proud and slightly shy at the same time. “I like makin’ bouquets but I don’t really get the chance much.”

Bucky puts the coffees down and pulls your chair out for you. 

“Well, it’s perfect,” you tell him as you sit, setting the flowers down on the extra seat. “Thank you!”

Alpine promptly curls up in your lap, his tail swishing contentedly back and forth as you pet him.

Bucky sits next to you and unhooks the front strap of his backpack before slinging it off.

You stare at his chest.

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

“What?” he asks. “Did I drop some of my breakfast on my shirt?”

His worried eyes shoot down and he pulls his shirt away from his body, studying it closely.

“That shirt is so cute!”

He sighs in relief and lifts his eyes with a chuckle. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

You press your hand to the soft fabric to smooth it out, poking the spot where the cat sits on the shelf in between all the plants. The feel of his hard chest beneath your fingertips has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and it takes all of your willpower to drag your hand away.

“I love it,” you whisper. “It feels soft too.”

“It’s really comfortable,” he agrees. “I’m glad you like it. I didn’t even realize I put it on. Sometimes I wonder if all the plant and cat stuff is a bit much…”

“No way,” you interject. “What’s not to love about plants and cats?”

You sip your coffee and eye him over the rim of the cup.

“You get it,” he says, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Mmm,” you hum, “this is so good. I can’t believe I’ve never been here!”

“This place is great,” he agrees, “and they allow cats!”

After some yummy sips and comfortable silence he asks, “so how’s Spidey? Still alive I hope?”

“Thankfully still alive,” you giggle. “But I still don’t know the best spot to keep him and how often to water him and if I should repot him? If I kill another plant I’m not sure my confidence will recover…”

You laugh but the look on your face must say it all.

“You’re not going to kill him doll!” he assures you before launching into a barrage of questions and information.

You’re long done with your coffee and scones by the time you both feel satisfied that you have enough starter plant knowledge to keep Spidey thriving.

“When he gets too big for his pot I can’t wait to pick a new one out! They have so many cute ones on Etsy!”

Bucky drops his head with a playful scoff. “Don’t even get me started on Etsy. I have two new pots on the way right now.”

“Lemme see!” you squeak, smacking him in the arm in excitement.

He feigns pain and rubs the spot. “Ouch.”

“Oh please,” you tease. “You’re like solid muscle. There is no way that hurt.”

You squeeze his bicep and he instinctively flexes.

“Well now you’re just showing off,” you tell him, “and if you don’t stop I’m going to feel you up in the coffee shop.”

He goes still, his eyes laser focused on you before they drop to your lips when your tongue darts out to wet them.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment. “I would never…”

“Doll,” he says, stopping you. “It’s fine. More than fine actually. I have zero problem with you touching me.”

“Oh.”

His eyes wander over your face before he leans in a little closer.

“That’s good,” you whisper, getting a good whiff of him, clean and spicy.

“Here are your blueberry muffins to go!” the barista says as she sets down the boxes.

You and Bucky move apart quickly, clearly startled out of the heat of the moment.

“Thanks,” you say, giving the barista a small smile.

When you take out your wallet he stops you with a warm hand over yours. “I got it doll.”

“But you already got the coffee and scones,” you explain.

“And I’ve got the muffins too,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He leans in and gives you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary and your skin tingles.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling out his phone.

He scrolls around for a few seconds before turning his screen around so you can see it. There’s a picture of a white pot with a cat shaped face, the cat’s expression sweet and serene.

“So I got that one anddddd this one,” he says, scrolling again to a picture of another white cat planter, except this time it has four little legs.

“I love them,” you say. “They’re perfect and almost as cute as Alpine!”

Once you’re outside in the sunshine and back to some form of reality you reluctantly hand over Alpine.

“Guess I have to give him back huh?” you joke.

“Well,” Bucky begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re going to be at the Farmer’s Market again tomorrow morning. If you’re around you could join us?”

“I do need to stock up on fruits and vegetables,” you muse. “I’ll be there, just text me a time later.”

Thankfully Sunday morning comes quickly and you’re out the door in record time, strolling down West 17th street in the sunshine.

When you don’t see Buck you start to amble around the stalls, picking through various fruits and admiring the jarred jams.

“That one is really good.”

The deep and familiar voice makes you smile before you even turn around and when you do you see Bucky standing there with his backpack against his chest and Alpine’s head sticking out.

“Hey you two!”

He quickly but carefully swings the bag to his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you toward his chest for a sweet kiss on the cheek.

His hair is down today, brushing his shoulder and you have a strong urge to take one of the strands hanging in his face and twirl it around your finger.

Instead, you reach up and tuck it behind his ear, your eyes studying his face while you lean into him.

“I also have that in fig and raspberry flavor.”

“I think she’s talking to you,” Bucky says with a smirk.

“Huh?” you mumble, still staring at him.

He delicately takes your chin between his fingers and turns your head toward the stall.

“OH!” you squeak. “I’m so sorry…I was just saying hello and um…right. Did you say fig and raspberry?”

The vendor nods with a knowing smile.

“That’s great. I love figs. I’ll take one!”

You slip from Bucky’s arms and finish the transaction, taking your nicely packaged jam and walking toward the next stall, still feeling a bit awkward.

When you stop at the sunflower stall Bucky says, “I’ve always wanted to grow these but I don’t really have anywhere to do it.”

“They get really tall right?”

“Yeah, taller than me,” he says with a laugh. “I have to do more research.”

“They’re beautiful! Have you ever been to a farm to see them. It’s amazing!”

“I haven’t yet but I’d really like to do that,” he admits.

“We can go together…if you want?”

“How about you let me take you on a proper date first then we’ll go out to the farm and pick sunflowers.”

“I love that plan.”

Even though you’re still standing beside the stall and there are people walking by and around you, it seems as if it all fades away as Bucky steps closer and his fingertips graze your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He whispers your name, his eyes falling to your lips just before Alpine’s paw shoots between your faces and bats away a loose piece of Bucky’s hair.

“Alpine!” Bucky chides. “Watch it buddy!”

You cover your mouth but can’t stop your eruption of giggles as you watch Alpine continue to try and bat Bucky in the face.

“Told you he was a menace!” Bucky says with a pointed look at Alpine who simply meows with a blink.

“Aw but who could be mad at that face?” you coo, scratching under Alpine’s chin.

“ME!” Bucky practically pouts. “I’m mad!”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and after a moment of silence you both start laughing again.

“Come on,” Bucky says as he slings his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s buy some food!”

By the time you’re done perusing and purchasing it’s almost lunch time.

“I’m starving,” Bucky says as he rubs his stomach.

Your eyes fall to the action just as his shirt rides up and you catch a glimpse of his taut skin lined with a dark trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.

With a hard swallow you avert your eyes and mumble, “me too!”

“Wanna get some lunch doll?”

“What was that?” you ask, lifting your eyes to find him watching you intently.

“Do you want to grab a bite? It’s lunch time.”

“Shit, already! I’m supposed to meet my best friend for lunch at one!”

“It’s only a little after twelve, don’t worry,” he assures you with a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d invite you to come along but it’s our girl time,” you explain, looking disappointed yourself.

“Nope, I get it doll. That’s important time but let me at least walk you back to your place.”

“I’d like that.”

He adjusts Alpine and his backpack then takes your bag from you, switching hands so his free one is swinging next to yours.

Every so often your fingers brush as you walk and finally he hooks his pinky through yours, gauging your reaction. When you smile and tighten your grip he entwines all his fingers with yours, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

You walk back to your apartment hand in hand.

“I can’t believe I didn’t buy any flowers or plants today,” Bucky states, looking surprised as he holds the door of your building open for you.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!”

“It’s your fault,” he teases. “You’re a distraction.”

You press your teeth into your bottom lip and shrug demurely before turning and heading up the steps.

“Thankfully I’m only on the second floor…this is me.”

You point to the door on the left and start to fish for your keys. Once you have the door open you tell him to come in so you can take your bag and show him Spidey.

He approves of your placement and also Spidey’s overall health and you clap your hands together happily.

Your phone dings and you grab it, quickly reading a text from Nat.

“Thank goodness she finally picked a place to eat,” you laugh.

“Me and Alpine will have to pick some pizza up on the way home,” he says with a wink.

You stand only a few inches apart, staring at each other.

“Well, I guess…” you start.

“Thanks for meeting…” he begins at the same time.

You both drop your heads and laugh.

“I had the best time Bucky. I wish we could have had lunch too…”

“Nah don’t worry, it’s ok doll. I mean I do too. I would have loved to spend the rest of the day with you but you have plans. I understand.”

He turns and starts toward the door.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Alpine. He’ll bitch the whole way home if you don’t.”

As if on cue Alpine’s two white ears perk up and he pops his head out of Bucky’s open backpack.

“Bye handsome,” you croon. “Be good and I’ll see you soon.”

“He’s not coming on our dinner date next week,” Bucky chimes in. “I don’t want him stepping on my toes again.”

“Awwww,” you say with feigned sadness. “I’ll miss him!”

When Bucky’s standing in your doorway he turns to face you again and licks his lips.

“Text me when you get home?” he asks, his tone unsure.

“I will,” you say with a soft smile.

“Have fun doll!”

You both stand there staring at each other again and you finally take a step closer, your eyes focused on his before they drop to his lips.

“Bye Bucky.”

You practically invite him to kiss you, pressing yourself against him as you lean up. You lay your palms on his chest and feel his muscles flex beneath you. He dips his head, his lips brushing your cheek before he gives you a quick peck in the same spot and turns on his heel.

You try to hide your disappointment with a smile but the corners of his mouth turn down as he backs up.

“See you soon,” he says quietly.

“See you soon,” you reply as you start to shut the door.

With a wave you shut it softly and let out an exhale as you deflate.

You’re not even two steps away when you hear a knock. Your stomach erupts in butterflies as you twirl around and swing the door open, staring at Bucky on the other side.

“That’s not at all how I wanted to say goodbye,” he murmurs before he steps back inside your apartment, shuts the door and spins you against it.

You realize there’s nowhere to go as you find yourself pressed to the door; Bucky’s hard body lined up with yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his metal hand as it wraps around your arm and his other clasping the nape of your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

You make a throaty sound you can’t control and cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands holding you to him, it’s all overwhelming in the best way. His hand at your neck tightens every so slightly and he groans, the sound skimming across your skin like electricity.

He deepens the kiss, demanding more and it’s enough to steal your breath. Your hands dive into his hair and you moan into his mouth again, unable to stop it as his hand on your arm slips behind you and traces the curve of your spine.

With a muttered curse he breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His blue eyes are dark, his long lashes lowered as he traces his tongue over his swollen lips.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, resting his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry if that was…”

“It was perfect,” you whisper.

His eyes open and he lifts his head, reluctantly putting some space between you.

“Perfect,” he repeats.

He still looks like he wants to kiss you again and again as his eyes wash over you and his expression looks pained.

Your phone dings again.

“Nat,” you state, not taking your eyes off him.

He wavers, leaning toward you before he mutters, “fuck,” and runs a hand through his hair. “Right. Lunch.”

“I’ll talk to you later doll,” he says.

“Ok,” you manage, willing your body to keep holding you upright.

He gives you a slow and sexy smile before turning and walking down the steps.

@book-dragon-13 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @sebstanwhore @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #plant!dad Bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #plant!dad bucky x reader #plant!dad bucky au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Thinking of making this a little series, will be a fluff, bit of a slow burn, bodyguard trope?

You aren’t sure how you’d got through the last few hours.  Everything’s a blur as you try to think back of the horror that had occurred, now you’re now sat in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar office. Your right arm is in a sling, shoulder throbbing somewhat from a reset dislocation, broken fingers splintered together on the same arm, medical tape holding a wound closed on your temple, disinfectant swiped across the numerous scrapes, your body aching with developing bruises on your legs, poking out from under your dress, from the fall down the stairs – the fall that apparently ended up saving your life from the unearthly creature that had rampaged through your workplace and tore your co-workers apart.

After being treated by a DSO medic, you’d been escorted by a tall, armed to the gills, annoyingly silent man. He’d confiscated your phone, despite the fact the screen was smashed and wouldn’t turn on, and taken you across the city to the main HQ, ushered up a side entrance into the room you now sat, told you to wait, and left you alone for what felt like hours.

The door eventually opens and a smartly dressed, pretty woman, hair pinned up in a bun and wearing glasses enters, immediately heading to the other side of the desk and taking what you assumed was her seat. A handsome man accompanied her, shaggy brown hair, dressed in cargo pants, fingerless gloves, knife strapped to his thigh, finished off with a leather jacket, a holster poking out from underneath. He gives you a sympathetic once over as he sits down besides you, careful not to brush your knee with his own as he does. Considerate.

“Were you given adequate pain medication?” The lady asks abruptly, beginning to type on her keyboard.

You stare at her a moment – she’s all business. “Er… Yeah. Thanks.” Though you’re sure the two of them have noticed the wince as you shuffled in your seat. The medic had offered you stronger stuff but you’d declined, wanting to keep your wits about you. “Sorry, what’s happening now?”

“I’m Ingrid Hunnigan, this is Agent Kennedy.” She nods to the man opposite her.

“Name’s Leon.” The man besides you offers his hand and you notice he’s adapted for your incapacitated arm, in what will surely result in a very awkward handshake but the gesture is nice. You take it, hoping the tremor in your grip isn’t so painfully obvious. “Hi. Erm, I’m-”

“Dove.” Hunnigan cuts you off. “I am aware of your identity, but we will be referring to you as Dove.”

“It’s a codename.” Leon explains, a little less business. “For your safety.”

Hunnigan pauses in her typing, hitting backspace slowly as she replies. “Agent Kennedy will be your protection detail until we get this mess squared up.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her choice of word, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. “Mess? It was a massacre in there-”

“I know. We know.” The agent besides you stresses. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Am I the only one who…?” You don’t know why you ask.

“I’m afraid so.” Hunnigan replies, a little softer in tone. “We’re going to send you to a safe house. Agent Kennedy will stay with you.”

“O-okay.” You nod, not taking it all in. “You… You think they’d send whatever that thing was after me?”

“That’s what we need time to establish.” Hunnigan replies. “From the CCTV, after the attack, there was a breach on the database. We need to establish how much data they managed to extract, if any. Agent Kennedy will keep you updated as much as he can when he receives any intel.” She turns more to him then, cutting you out of the conversation. “I’ll send the co-ordinates of the safe house when you’re out of the city. They’re loading up an SUV with supplies for at least a week. If it goes on longer, we’ll arrange a supply drop via another location.”

“That long?” You feel like you’re interrupting.

“Worse case scenario, Dove.” Leon offers you a smile. “I’m sure we’ll have you back home in no time. Did they send you away with any meds?”

“The medic sent in a report – with a treatment plan. It’s in the information pack, prescribed medicine is in with the supplies. Again, enough for a week.” Hunnigan replies. “I’ve arranged clothes too – medic guessed your size for me. We’ll be keeping your phone for now.”

“Why?”

“We can’t allow you to contact anyone – for your safety and theirs.”

Your heart skips a beat at that comment. “Wait… You think I might be behind this, don’t you?”

Hunnigan purses her lips. “It is an avenue we need to explore. There are questions as to why you alone survived. We will be dispatching a team to your residence once the two of you are out of the city to help in our investigation.”

“Again, that’s just protocol.” Leon tries to reassure, but your mind is whirling. “No-one is accusing you of anything, Dove.”

“I… I’ve worked here for years, I passed all the clearance checks. I wouldn’t, I didn’t…”

“As Agent Kennedy said, it’s just protocol. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.” Hunnigan resumes tapping away at the keyboard as she talks, pausing as the computer emits a ping. “SUV’s ready. I suggest you two go.”

Leon gets to his feet, once more offering his hand to help you to yours. He smiles, sympathetically, as he takes in your appearance – your face has lost what little colour it had.

“Time to go, Dove. It’ll be all right.”

You want to say no, you feel like you need to stay to plead your innocence, but you catch sight of the gun holstered by his side and the flame of defiance is extinguished. You take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He places his hand on the small of your back to guide you back through the door and you can’t work out if it should feel like comfort or a threat.

--

You felt numb as Leon had escorted you to a large SUV with blacked out windows in an empty carpark. He’d opened the door for you, helped you climb in before hesitating.

“Need a hand with your seatbelt?”

You stare at him for a moment too long.

“Because of your arm, I mean.”

“Oh. Please.”

He leans over you, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Right. Comfy?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods, closes the door behind him – softly, you note, rather than a slam and it’s then you realise that you also can’t see out the windows. He hops up into the front, buckles his own seatbelt and starts the engine, swinging the SUV out of the parking space with ease. You can’t really see anything from where you’re sat, bar the back of his head and it must be deliberate.

“Hopefully it’s not too long of a drive.” He comments. “Had one that was a twelve hours’ away once and we are not allowed to stop for bathroom breaks.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how far away it is when you know?”

“Don’t see why not. Hunnigan will ping it through once we’re clear enough.”

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when, eventually, the promised ping echoes around the car. You can hear him tap his fingers against something and he hums to himself.

“We’re in luck – about two hours away, Dove. Want some music on? Don’t have any CDs but got the radio.���

Maybe the music will help drown out how loud your heart is thudding in your ears. ”Yeah, sure.”

He fiddles with the dial – sound crackling around the car before it settles on some acoustic tune you don’t recognize. Must be some easy listening station.

“You can nap, if you like.”

“Maybe.” Though you’re not sure how you’ll ever sleep again after today.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, apart from the sound of the radio. You close your eyes a few times, leaning your head back against the seat but the creature seems burned into your retinas, haunting your vision.

“This is us.” Leon breaks the silence as you feel the car turn and he reduces the speed. He switches off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, turning back to face you. “Wait there just a moment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

 He smiles, opens his door and hops out, again closing the door softly behind him. What must be a few minutes later, your door opens and he once again offers his hand.

“Ready?

You unclip your seatbelt with your good hand before accepting his outstretched one, helping you step down from the SUV. You’re in a garage now of some sort – spacious enough to fit the car and what looks to be a chest freezer, washer and tumble dryer - the whole room illuminated by an orange bulb.

“So, we said safe house – seems more like a safe bungalow to me. I’ll give you the tour.” He gestures forward towards an open door and you walk forward, once again his hand falling to the small of your back. It leads through to a modest sized kitchen – usual white appliances and opens out into a living room with two couches, a coffee table and an entertainment unit with a television. There are two more doors along the wall, but what really strikes you is how small the windows all are, covered in thick panes of glass.

Bulletproof, you wonder.

“Bathroom’s this one,” he opens the door in demonstration, revealing a typical bathroom, before moving along. “And the bedroom.” It has a double bed, white linen sheets, a wardrobe and dresser. “Your bedroom,” he corrects. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?”

He smiles at your concern. “I’m pretty good at sleeping anywhere, but it looks comfortable enough. Speaking of, it’s pretty late so I think we should call it a night.” He ducks into the bathroom, pulling out a washbag from under the sink and empties the contents on the counter. “Standard toiletries kit to start us off. I’m gonna start bringing in the supplies. Sound good?”

You nod and he heads back towards the garage. You kick off your shoes before you step into the bathroom and close the door, twisting the lock closed. You use the facilities with some difficulty, your first visit since being an arm down, though thankful to be in a dress so as not to battle with trousers. After what some might call a best attempt of washing your hand, you pick up the toothbrush and immediately put it back down in annoyance as you realise you’ll need to deal with the toothpaste first. Thankful for the flip cap, the tube slips from your grip as you squeeze, shooting across the counter and knocking a glass off the counter, sending it smashing to the floor.

“Fu-” The word doesn’t even make it out of your mouth when the door is broken open, slammed against the wall and Leon is stood there, gun raised as you scream.

He scans the room with his eyes, concedes it’s clear and lowers his gun. “What happened? You okay?”

“I… I d-dropped the t-t-toothpaste and smashed the g-glass and…” Your breath catches in your throat again, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hey,” he holsters the gun on his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Sorry for scaring you. I thought there was a window in here.”

He looks down at the broken glass that’s exploded over the floor and your sock-clad feet. “Sit down, all right? I’ll clear this up.”

“No, I s-should-”

“I can do it. Just sit, please. I’ll go grab a dustpan – they have one. Not my first safe house.” He soothes, heading off into the kitchen cupboards in search of it.

You sit down on the closed toilet seat lid and wonder bitterly if he’s at more safe houses than his own home. You take the moment to try and settle your breathing, your heart still pounding.

Leon appears at the door once more, grinning as he holds the dustpan and brush aloft in triumph. “Found it.” He crouches down, beginning to sweep up the glass. You watch in silence as he tackles the floor methodically, making sure to brush along each square of bathroom tile until he seems satisfied with his work.

“There. All done.” He places it to the side and grabs the troublesome toothpaste tube, before standing up to his full height. “So, this was the culprit, huh?”

You nod. “I don’t know what happened - the only difference was the toothbrush being on the counter, so I should be able to do it, just-”

He picks up the toothbrush and squeezes a blob of toothpaste on it. “On the house.” Leon jokes, offering it back to you. You stand up and accept it, hesitantly.

“I kinda feel pathetic.” You admit.

“Dove…” You’re getting a little used to the name now. It sounds nice off his tongue – soft and sweet. “You’ve had a shitty day, give yourself a break.”

“No, I mean, it just feels like you’re my servant or something – sweeping up, squeezing out my toothpaste...”

“To protect and serve’s the motto.” He smiles at your confused look. “I was a cop before I was an agent.”

“And this is the stuff you did as a cop?”

“Yes, alongside the helping old ladies with their groceries, helping ducks cross the street…” He teases, before nodding at the toothbrush in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After brushing your teeth without further incident and taking a few more moments to compose yourself, you exit the bathroom. Leon’s stood at the kitchen counter, paper bag in hand, looking at pill packets. There’s a couple of duffel bags near the garage door, one unzipped.

“Medical notes say it’s painkiller time, I’m afraid.” He grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it up with water from the tap and places it down besides two white pills. “They’ve given you some sleeping tablets as well, but that’s up to you.”

“Do they stop you dreaming?”

Leon grimaces at your question. “From personal experience, yeah. No dreams.”

You hold out your hand. “Then I’ll take them.”

He nods, shaking another two pills out of a bottle and into his hand, picking up the other two and drops them in your hand. You open your mouth and throw them in, before accepting the glass of water, swallowing it all down.

“So, er, this is gonna be a little bit awkward, but I don’t know what you prefer to sleep in, obviously, but I’m assuming not that.”

“Oh. Yeah, no.”

“So, I pulled out a couple of things.” He nods towards the bedroom, where you can see some items of clothing laying out on the bed. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, the room softly illuminated in a white glow.

“You really are a safe house pro.”

“Ha, yeah.” He grins, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess my question is, do you need a hand with changing? 100% respectful offer, obviously.”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay. After you.”

You walk into the bedroom, Leon keeping his distance this time. There’s an oversized t-shirt in the pile, looks like it will reach your knees. You pick it up with your good hand, clutching it close to your chest and turn to face him.

“Can you help with the sling?”

“Yep.” He nods – professional, unstrapping it with ease and removing it gently. “Afraid medic says you need to sleep with the sling for a week.”

“Mm.” You nod, hanging your arm down loose before turning around. “I guess if you could unzip and I’ll…”

“Got it.” He tugs down the zipper of your dress slowly – if it was some other encounter you’d say he was being a tease. He stops as he reaches the small of your back, just above your underwear. “What can I do now?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but there’s no getting around it now. “Any good at undoing a bra? Professionally.”

“Professionally, yep.” You feel gentle fingers deftly unclasp it with ease.

“I think I’ve got it from now until the sling needs back on, so-”

“Say no more. Just call when you’re ready.”

The door closes behind you and you exhale, trying to compose yourself. It’s more months since a man had helped you out of a dress and this, after everything today and the situation you’re in, unsure if he sees you as victim or villain, shouldn’t be making you feel flustered.

Gingerly, you slip one arm out of the dress, followed by the other, wincing as you do so and allowing it to pool down at your feet. Next comes your bra, and then you gently pull the t-shirt over your head, again flinching as your shoulder smarts.

Decent, or decent enough, you call out. “Leon? I’m ready.”

“Coming in.” He announces, pausing a moment before opening the door and immediately moves to pick up the sling from where he placed it on the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

With practiced hands, he positions your arm into the sling, adjusting it carefully and fastening it in place once more. “There. Feel okay?”

“Yeah.” You look him in the eyes then – beautiful, blue eyes, before fighting back a yawn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “That will be the sleeping pills kicking in. I forgot to mention they’re real heavy duty.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the bed then, a little too heavily, before picking up your discarded dress on the floor. “Could you bin this?”

“Of course.” He takes it from you, no question. “Anything else I can do?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Dove. It’s all right – I told you, part of the job.”

“Still, thank you.” You mumble, head feeling heavy.

“Here,” he pulls back the covers as you scooch yourself back and lean your head back on the pillow, tucking the duvet in over you. “Arm still okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I swear what happened wasn’t anything to do with me. I swear.”

“Shh,” Leon hushes. “I know.” He feels it in his gut, felt it since the moment he lay eyes on you in Hunnigan’s office. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear some updates. But, for now, just sleep. Okay, Dove?”

“Sleep, okay…” You mumble, closing your eyes.

Leon hovers a moment, noting the change in your breathing as the sleeping pills pull you under. He turns off the bedside lamp and leaves the bedroom, quietly, your dress clutched in his hand. He places it in the kitchen bin – there’s an incinerator round the back to erase all trace of their visit, but he’ll do that in the morning.

He makes his way over to the sofa and lies down, not even bothering to remove his boots.

He won’t be sleeping tonight.

-- Do let me know if you'd be interested in a part two! x EDIT: Part two!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader

[mediumgayitalian]

previous

———

“Hm,” Piper says, fingers steepled. She looks very intently at the air in front of her. “Hm.”

Nico scowls impatiently. “Feel free to be helpful at any given time. Now, even, if you’re so inclined.”

“Have you considered that the reason you’re so infatuated with Will is because you may be blessed by Apollo?”

“I’m infatuated with Will because he is the physical manifestation of everything I value in a person,” Nico says automatically. Then he frowns, processing the rest of Piper’s sentence. “Wait, what?”

Nico understands his error as the grin on her face stretches into something truly grotesque. “I was going to make a joke about your drama levels, but thank you for that. I’m really looking forward to telling several dozen people and delighting in the knowledge that you’re going to curl up into a bundle of humiliation under your bunk tonight as you think about it.”

Instead of answering, Nico decides to walk away. Since there is so much blood concentrated in his skull, resting mostly around his face region, he takes two steps and begins to pass out, but luckily Piper has followed him and impedes a head injury by gripping his arm and merrily forcing him forward.

“So,” she says, steering them towards the amphitheatre, “what’s Plan B?”

“Bold of you to assume there was a Plan A.”

“You like Sunny Boy way too much to walk in there blind.”

“…Touché.”

She’s smug enough to be silent, slinging an arm over Nico’s shoulders as they walk. The closer they get, the harder Nico is forced to grapple with just how godsdamn much he’s softened. I want you to be happy, Father had said. Camp will be good for you, Chiron had agreed. You’re a little twit and need socializing, Mr. D had snipped.

Nico needs a better father figure. He wonders if Paul Blofis’ offer is still open.

The amphitheater is not, of course, empty when they arrive, because Nico knows the Fates personally and each of them despises him. The actual training part is empty — unsurprising — but the stands are moderately filled, with people gossiping, braiding hair, and if Nico is not mistaken, a small, pop-up nail painting salon. Mitchel lifts a purple-smeared hand in an absentminded wave as they step onto the packed dirt.

Nico ducks under Piper’s arm, turning to face her. “I need to fight you,” he informs her. “For my own personal pride.”

She nods thoughtfully. “It does indeed need restoring.” He curved, icy blade gleams in the early afternoon sun, mirroring her dangerous smile. “Square up.”

Since honour is for nerds, Nico doesn’t bother waiting. He simply attacks, lunging for the left side Piper always leaves open. Unfortunately for him, her recent meddling in his love life means her mother has blessed her with a little sprinkling of extra verve, and she dodges easily and cheerfully.

He sends a glum mental prayer down to his father.

Anytime you’re feeling generous, Pop, he grumbles, I would love a boost.

There’s an actual rumble to the ground, as his father laughs at him.

“Real kind,” he says out loud. “Dick.”

“I wonder if you would have more success in the wooing department if you had conversations outside of your own head,” Piper says sweetly. She spins her sword in a neat little circle by his face. “All bay brooding makes you look so…broody.”

Nico scoffs at her. “Will seems to like my broodiness. For some reason. So there.”

“And yet…” She trails off, shooting him a teasing look. Nico is unfortunately very easy to tease (thanks, Bianca) (and for that measure thanks, Hazel) (Reyna too, probably) (and honestly Annabeth) (gods, and Percy) (don’t even get him started on Leo) (really, it would be more prudent to name the people who do not take sick pleasure in driving him up the wall) and as such succumbs easily to her tormenting, taking a hard hit to the side when he’s too keyed up to avoid her spinning slash.

“Note to self, don’t let the monsters know about big embarrassing crushes,” she muses. “They make Nico sloppy and will get him killed in battle.”

She mimes writing something down. This, thankfully, leaves her distracted enough that Nico gets his sword levered against hers, twisting until she’s disarmed. She lifts both hands up in surrender when he points a sword at her throat, but remains entirely unaffected by his glare.

“Pride re-instated?” she asks.

Nico huffs. “No.”

…Yes.

“You’re such a grouch,” she says fondly. She tries to ruffle his hair and is forcibly stopped by his jab to her ribs. Unfortunately, Piper McLean takes no shit sitting down, and in a minute they’re on the floor, getting caked in dust, trying to see who can leave the most bruises on the other. Nico would wager that they’re just about tied.

“You have a list,” Piper grunts, muffled as she bites his bicep. He shouts, wrenching his arm away — she is pointy. “I have no idea what you’re all mopey about.”

He digs his knee into the small of her back. “I gave him flowers! He made a poultice out of them!”

“Technically, you made the poultice.”

He elbows her in the stomach. She shrieks and jabs her knuckles right under his eye.

“You’re so annoying!”

“You’re so annoying!”

“Ugh!”

“Ugh!”

Every part of Nico’s body aches. So badly. He’s not sure which one of them won their brawl, if either, but he knows for sure that he is actively turning purple. He feels like the first time his nonna gave him a hammer and a piece of cutlet — he was maybe five years old — and told him to flatten it. (He remembers, now, the look on her face as she wiped pulverized chicken flesh from her eye. Oops.)

“Go to Will and get healed up?”

Nico huffs a laugh, immediately wincing at the strain on his tender ribs.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

The walk is miserable and bruised. And slow, since both of them are limping. Several campers walk by snickering, since apparently Saving The Entire Damn World, For Real And Actually, You Ungrateful Brat, Should I Just Destroy It Again Then earns you no permanent respect.

It’s not too bad, though. Nico would rather chomp on concrete than admit it out loud, but Piper isn’t horrible company, and she hums when she walks. Bianca did the same thing. For once, it’s a pleasant reminder, although he does wonder if Nico will ever be able to look at the women in his life and not think of her.

(In all honesty, probably not. He sees her in the clouds, in the gnarled bark of the trees; feels her in the warmth of the sun; hears her in every snorting laugh. He likes to imagine how much she would love these women, though. If she were alive they would be her friends first. He knows she was happy with the Hunters, however briefly. He thinks he can maybe forgive himself if he thinks of her without weeping.)

“Least it doesn’t look too busy today,” Piper comments. She purses her lips at the Big House, which for once seems quiet. Perhaps Will made good on his threats and finally dosed the Hermes’ table breakfast spread with Benadryl. Nico would be proud. He deserves a day of peace.

“Great. That means we get the full force of Will’s bitching on us alone.”

Piper scoffs. “Please. You like it when he yells at you.”

Nico almost kills her for real. By the time she manages to kick him off of her, still snickering to herself, they both have a new layer of bruises on top of the old ones.

“Gods, di Angelo, you make it so easy —”

“Shut up,” he says hotly. “You are literally the most annoying person in this stupid camp.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He scowls, kicking a rock to avoid kicking her and setting both of them off again. It rolls over the grass, pinging off the side of one of the many braziers and rolling finally to a stop back at his feet. In its new position, it perfectly catches the brightly shining sun, refracting the light in a dandelion-esque burst.

“Huh,” he murmurs.

Wincing at his stiff joints, he crouches, vaguely registering Piper pausing somewhere to the left of him. He scoops the little thing up, bringing it close to his face to inspect.

It’s roughly cut, so it’s not anyone’s jewel or anything. Some of the pieces are textured with tiny little divots, like a regular stone, but some are straight and flat and catch the light. Some kind of crystal, then. It’s dense, about the size of a walnut, and shaped kind of like a brain. It is a very familiar shade of blue.

“Holt Hades, you are sappy.”

Nico flushes, shoving the rock into his pocket. “Nobody asked you, Piper.”

“I asked me! I am always asking me.” She jogs to keep up with his suddenly speedy strides, gripping onto the elbow of his shirt when he tries to move faster. “Is this Plan B? Little gifts.”

“It’s a rock,” he says shortly.

“Diamonds are rocks.”

“I didn’t get him a diamond.” He pauses. “Should I get him a diamond?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. I’m not the one in love with him.”

“Who said anything about —”

“Nico! Piper! Hey!”

“Notice who he called first,” she whispers, right in his ear. She grins over at Will before he can say anything. Or curse her. “Hey, Will! How are you?”

It is unfair for a person to look good in mint scrubs. They don’t even suit him, not really, but he still looks — well, he’s beautiful. His hair is poofier than usual and sticks out like he stuck his finger in a socket, and his beam is so bright Nico has to genuinely squint to look at him, and how is it, honestly, that his freckles look like dappled sunlight? That’s not normal.

“I’m okay.” He waves them inside, not bother to close the door behind them — it’s nice out, and Nico knows he prefers the breeze and sun. “Bored.”

“Not enough ocular surgery to perform?”

Will’s grin turns wry. “Nope.” He reaches out to brush his thumb across Nico’s eye scar. He freezes, holding his breath, hyperaware of those callused fingers as they approach the ever-warming skin of his face, heart galloping in his chest. As soon as Will makes contact — because of course the touch was to get his vitals, c’mon, Nico, head in the game — he frowns.

“Why are so many of your capillaries burst?”

Piper smiles guiltily, holding up a hand.

“I beat him up.”

“Wha — you did not!” He turns to Will, indignant. “We beat each other up! She’s lying!”

Will sighs. He glares at them both for a full forty seconds, then turns his face up to the heavens, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like I do not deserve to be surrounded by this kind of dumbassery. Send lightning through the sky if I should let them suffer.

Nico waits. No lightning comes forth.

Will sighs. “Cot, let’s go, y’all know the drill.”

Piper mouths y’all as she sits down. Nico mouths eat dirt back at her.

“Now, I could hum sum’n and —”

“Sum’n,” Piper whispers delightedly. Nico ignores her.

“— get y’all fixed up good, but y’all’ve pissed me off good —”

Nico takes the initiative to pillow-smack Piper in the face while Will’s back is turned. Luckily, it muffles her shriek.

“— so I’m not gonna do all that.” He closes the cupboard with his hip, hands full of vials. “Ain’t even gonna waste ambrosia on y’all, honestly. Y’get some bruise ointment and a Tylenol ‘cause I know y’all were up to shenanigans.”

He puts a lot of emphasis on ‘nan’. Nico knows he is trying very hard to be stern, but he is in fact very cute, and Nico is putting a lot of his brainpower towards memorizing the specific wrinkle pattern that Will’s nose gets when he’s annoyed. If he says that Will looks like a bunny he might actually get shot, no matter how much Will allegedly seems to like him, so he manages to choke down the sentiment. But it is indeed there.

“— and take it easy, y’hear? Bruises don’t heal in a day.”

Gods, his eyes are really, really pretty. He’s almost tired of thinking it, but they match the sky exactly, all the time. Poets write about sparkling eyes and pretty faces all the time, but all of them can choke because all of them are liars. Will Solace has the prettiest eyes of anyone who has ever lived. They are indeed the windows to the soul, and his soul is just —

“This is for you,” Nico blurts. Essentially acting on its own, his hand slips in his pocket and draws out the blue stone, holding it out. “Um. I saw it and —” He glances at Piper, panicked, and she kicks him in encouragement. “Thought of you. So.”

Will stares at the stone for a moment. Nico sweats.

“Nico di Angelo,” he chides, hands on his hips. The panicked look he flits in Piper’s direction grows tenfold. He is not at all comforted by the grimace she sends back. “Do you think I’m so corrupt as to accept a bribe?”

“Um.” Nico hesitates. Piper smacks her face onto her hands, groaning. “That’s not what I —”

“Well, you would be correct.” Quick as a bird, Will darts out and snatches the stone, sliding it into one of his many (many) shorts pockets, nodding in approval. “I don’t have any aventurine. I’ve been looking for it. Good bribe.”

He sets down the ointment and Tylenol, gesturing for Nico to hold out his hands. Nico sighs, then complies.

“I mean, he didn’t destroy it, this time,” Piper whispers as he begins to sing, enveloping Nico’s body in a warm, golden glow. “So…progress?”

“Progress,” Nico agrees. He glances over at Will, eyes squeezed shut in focus, and rolls his eyes fondly. “Who knew it would be so hard to convince someone who already likes me to go out with me.”

———

next

#piper mclean i love u u are so fun #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #i am so so tired #nico di angelo #piper mclean #nico di angelo & piper mclean #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #pining nico di angelo #oblivious will solace #banter #teasing #will/nico #nico/will #fluff and humour #my writing #fic #modern courting #longpost

[cottonlemonade]

That Time I Made My Brother Hide In The Bathroom To Talk To A Girl

word count: 876 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

a/n: this is a continuation of How You Met but can be read as a standalone

____________________________________________

Atsumu was pouting.

Not only had he played one of the best games of his life when he spotted that cute chubby girl from the bus stop in the ranks but during a timeout he had snuck over to your stand and called over the cheering crowd if you‘d wanna grab dinner with him. And you got all bushy again and told him you‘d love to! (Actually, you had only nodded and mouthed “Okay“ but that was a technicality.)

And now this! During the fifth set Bokuto had stumbled when he landed after a spike and crashed into him. Long story short, Atsumu‘s arm was now in a sling and he was stuck in a stupid hospital on this stupid Saturday when he was supposed to wow you with his infinite charm tonight.

Wallowing in self-pity, he threw his head back on the pillow and groaned loudly.

A nurse opened the door, professional concern in her tone.

“Are you in pain, sir?“

“Physically or mentally?“, he asked, eyes still closed.

“Uhm… I see. Well, call if you need anything.“

And she left again.

He wanted to grab his phone to reread your (rather short) chat for the 6th time that day but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Well, ya look like crap.“

“Samu! What‘re ya doin‘ here?“

“I saw yer incredibly subtle Instagram story. How yer feelin‘?“

“Fine.“, Atsumu mumbled but pointed at his right arm, “Just sucks, ya know.“

Then he sniffed the air and his face brightened a little.

“Did ya bring me food?“

Osamu grinned and took off his backpack to produce mountains of Atsumu‘s favorites.

“Yer the best, thank you.“

But just as Osamu was setting up the little food tray next to his bed, Atsumu perked up.

Through the window of the door he spotted a cute chubby figure currently talking with the head nurse at the reception desk, a bundle in her hands that looked suspiciously like food.

“Ya gotta hide.“

Osamu frowned.

“What?“

“Quick, quick! Come on, hide!“

“Why, what‘s goin’ on?“

“Come on, I‘ll explain later. Hide in the bathroom or somethin’.“, Atsumu urged.

Osamu was way too used to his twin‘s antics to question it much further and so headed towards the ensuite but Atsumu hissed, “Take the food with ya, quickly!“

“Ya gotta be kiddin‘…“

But he picked up the tray and as instructed made his way to the bathroom. Not a second too soon.

Atsumu had just put on his best “beaten hero“ face, filled with sorrow and pain, when the door opened a third time and you stepped in. In the reflection of the window he saw how flushed your cheeks were and how awkwardly you held the bundle. You were just too cute. But he closed his eyes and took a deep theatrical breath before turning to face you.

“Oh, y/n. What are ya doing here?“

“I thought you must be disappointed that you couldn‘t finish the game yesterday and… yeah. Plus, we were supposed to see each other today. I‘m sorry if this is too forward, but I brought some food to help you recover.“

Beaten heroes didn‘t squeak. They didn‘t giggle, nor kick their feet.

Atsumu took a deep breath to compose himself. “No no, yer cute. - I mean, this is very sweet of ya, thanks. Have a seat.“

He nodded to the side of his bed.

“Do you have a tray somewhere?“, you asked, looking around.

“Uhm, no, I think the nurses took it after breakfast. A-and“, he added quickly because it looked like you were about to get up to ask for a new one, “I‘m sure I‘ll be fine without one.“

“Alright then.“, you opened the bundle to produce a large square lunch box. When you opened it, steam rose from the fluffy rice, packed neatly next to the eggroll with sausage, grilled meats, pickled vegetables and fruit.

“Looks delicious.“, he said excitedly and tried to pick up the chopsticks with his left hand. When that didn‘t quite work out he swapped to the spoon but even that he could tell must have looked very awkward.

“Could… ya help me out?“, he asked with a small smile and you nodded, taking the spoon from him and scooping up some rice, then adding some meat on top.

When you lifted it to his lips, your hand was shaking so much that it was difficult for him to catch, so he brought up his left and closed it around yours, to keep it steady. Making eye contact for absolutely no reason but his own personal entertainment of seeing you blush, he held your gaze as he closed his mouth around the bite.

“Oh wow.“, he said while chewing, cheeks puffed and eyes widened in surprise, “This is really good!“

You smiled brightly and relaxed, loading up the next spoon.

____________

Meanwhile

Osamu sat on the bathroom floor, working his way through the lavish meal he had prepared for his brother, trying not to gag when he heard Atsumu flirting up a storm in the next room.

At some point he got so bored that he swapped the contents of his brother‘s shampoo and shower gel, making a mental list of all the ways Atsumu owed him for this.

____________________________________________

✨ @coffeesncats ✨

#atsumu x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #msby atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #hq fluff

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 6)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to cheating, illusions to oral sex (f rec), language, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, phone sex, etc

Your phone is lying on your chest when it begins to vibrate. Pretend you weren’t waiting for it all you want, your self-deception is laughable even to you. But isn’t that what you’ve become? A miserable joke who spurns the truth with a smile on her face and untruths in her heart.

Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others, Dostoevsky once said. Wise and brilliant, he was. He also loved someone he shouldn’t have too deeply to let them go.

He is beside you, arm draped across your middle, forehead tucked against your shoulder…so placid and secure in his place next to your wandering mind. So blissfully unaware and peaceful as he dreams of things you don’t care enough to wonder about. But hasn’t he always been? Unaware, that is? He has lived in the dark, oblivious to the fact that he has never truly cradled your heart in his hands.

You are a wicked, black-souled creature, and no one knows that better than yourself. He doesn’t deserve this, and he never did.

Maybe you shouldn’t answer. Maybe. But you will, and you do.

Slipping out of bed like a phantom, you move through the house on silent toes, creeping along until you’re folded into the chair in the far corner of the living room.

“What took you so long?’ His voice drifts out, lazy and quiet, “Hiding from Mr. Wonderful again, are we?”

“You have to stop calling me like this.” You’re quiet, but not like him. Your quiet stems from deceit, and some inexplicable fear of what? Getting caught on the phone? And that’s all this is, right? Just a conversation with an old friend? There’s that self-deception again.

“Stop answering, then.” He counters coolly. Unbothered and wholly aware that that won’t be happening.

“How was the show?” You ask, rather than comment on the ridiculous confidence laced through his tone like sex on his tongue.

“Good.” He sighs, and you can picture his flippant, nearly shy shrug so clearly it grips your heart tightly for a breath. “I may have had a whiskey or three too many. May have tripped. May have fallen. May not have been very rock and roll.”

Your soft giggle tightens his heart just the same, but he doesn’t tell you that. “Did you play through?”

“Of course I played through,” He scoffs with feigned offense. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”

“Then I think that’s very rock and roll, Jake.” The smile won’t leave your voice. “Besides, you misjudged those stairs, don’t blame the whiskey. You should wear your fucking glasses.”

“Oh!” Now he sounds incredibly pleased with himself, dragging the word out like the cat who ate the canary, “Sounds like my sugar caught the show…”

“I may have popped in to peek at a livestream.” You concede, curling down into the chair to get comfy.

“Groupie.”

Pulling the throw off the back, you sling it over your bare legs and shake your head at his nonsense “Miss my Sammy, that’s all.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

“Fuck you, too.” You toss right back, but you both hear the love hidden behind those terrible words.

“You miss my stupid kid brother so much, why don’t you come and see him? I could have you on a plane tonight. How long would it take you to get to the airport?” There’s a sincerity in his offer that makes you long to pack a bag and go.

“Jake…”

“Should I send a car, or do you think Mr. Wonderful would mind driving my girl?”

Little shit.

“Stop calling him that.” You scold with little conviction.

“What should I call him then, baby? Since you won’t tell me his name…”

Fighting to sound steadfast, you square your shoulders and issue a warning you don’t feel a drop of in your bones “I’m gonna hang up.”

“Liar.” There’s that gentle laugh of his that echoes through your mind all hours of your lonely days. “What did you do today, sugar? Tell me.”

“Um,” you pick at the blanket absently and search back through the monotony. “I had a work thing. Then I went to the supermarket. Saw a movie. I smuggled a bottle of water inside in my purse like a criminal.”

“I should alert the authorities, but they’ve probably already got your wires tapped.” He’s teasing, but he suddenly sounds so sad. “Did you go to the movies with him?”

You hesitate, which tells him everything without a word.

“Damn,” he’s so quiet now. “I hate that, sweetheart. I hate that so fucking much.”

It makes no sense, he knows you’ve just crawled out of the bed you share with him, he knows that a ring rests on your finger right now - he knows. So why does he sound so broken-hearted? Why this?

“You just go around doing stuff with him, you know?” He clarifies as though he’s heard your unasked question. “Simple little things. The movies. The market. Dinner with your friends. Bookstores. We never really got to do those things together.”

It surprises you, though you aren’t sure why…he’s always been this way, soft and romantic about the strangest things. “You’d want to go to the grocery store with me?”

He laughs as you verbally poke at him to lighten the mood. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“That’s good. Because I loathe going to the gynecologists alone. Care to attend my Pap smear, Jakey?”

He laughs again, but this time, it’s halting and loud… your favorite of all his laughs, “Absolutely, I do. I’ll steal the stirrups and take them home to use later. The doctor will see you now, sugar.”

You’re laughing now too, likely a bit too loudly “You’re so fucking weird. I feel like I’m talking to Josh.”

“Spending too damn much time with him lately.” He offers by way of excuse, “his shit is rubbing off on me. The other day I briefly considered a perm.”

Your laughter trails off with matching sighs, “I should go.” You say it, but you don’t want it.

“No, you shouldn’t.” He argues quietly, and with a strange tone…he’s fighting something.

“What is it?” You press delicately.

“I just,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts before pouring them out to you. “I just thought you’d be back by now…but you’re still there, with him. And I’m still here.”

“Jake,”

He doesn’t allow for you to finish whatever it was you were about to say that he doesn’t care to hear. “Hush, baby…I know. Do you miss me?”

“Yeah,” you secret into the phone, stealing a glance down the hall. “I miss you very much.”

“Good.” He has quieted to match your whisper. “How much do you miss me? More than Sam?”

“Yeah, I miss you more than Sam,” you see? This is why you’re a bad fucking person. “But like I said, I should go.”

“Why?” There’s that terrible, beautiful rasp again, the one that fails to belie how hard for you he likely already is. “Because you’re afraid you’re going to slide your hands into your pretty panties for me just like you did last night, and the night before, and the night before that?”

It’s a knee jerk reaction that you can’t explain when your finger jabs at your phone to end the call.

He calls back right away, and right away, you answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He taunts into the phone with a grin dripping from his accusation. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. Have you forgotten your manners, little girl?”

“Can’t we ever just talk?” You’re struggling to remain on solid ground, but for what? You want nothing more than to sink into him. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“Other than what?” He counters. “Other than fucking you? Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I think about loving you, and lying beside you like that fuck gets to do. Taking care of you, making you laugh, cooking for you, and drawing you baths, and going to the goddamn movies to watch you smuggle in bottles of water, but you won’t let me have any of that, will you, sugar?”

“I—“ you’re shocked into silence.

“Right.” He agrees, as if you’ve said something poignant. “So forgive me if I indulge where you see fit to allow.”

“Jake, this isn’t right…” oh, don’t you sound righteous? “It has to stop.”

“Isn’t right for who?” He is rife with condescension, “For him? Ask me if I give a fuck about him. Not to ruin the surprise, pretty girl, but I don’t. And maybe you do a little, maybe you do even more than that. Maybe you care more than I’d ever want to know, but you’ll never care enough for it to matter more than you and I.”

No one has ever seen you like Jake sees you…and it is both intoxicating and frightening.

“You want to hang up? Hang up. I won’t call you back tonight.” There’s an edge to his promise, but you know better than to believe it, and you’re thankful it's a lie.

“I don’t want to hang up.” You should want to…but you can’t imagine giving him up right now.

“I love you, sugar.” He breathes, and it’s the loveliest song you’ve ever heard. You want to close your eyes and drift away into it like a symphony. There are cellos and violins in those words, magic and pain more beautiful than anything else you’ve ever known.

“I love you, Jake.” You want him to feel those same things living and breathing inside your own words, but they feel so lacking.

“Do you know what I did this morning?” He questions. You can picture his face so perfectly, and you long to touch it, to simply run the back of your hand down his cheek.

“Hmm?” You hum, still lost in the daydream of being near enough to touch him, to soak in the warmth of his skin.

“I tuned the piano in our front room.”

You know right away that he means the house he visits in the corners of his mind, the place he keeps just for you.

Your gaze has drifted out the window. If you look hard enough, you can almost see the house in the distance, windows glowing golden with light and love “You did?”

“I did. You’re teaching the girls now. I wanted it to be perfect for the four of you.”

“I don’t know how to play the piano, Jakey.” You tease, staring harder still at the mirage of your make believe home.

“Yes, you do. I taught you. You took to it right away, and now you’re better than Sammy, even. You play like an angel. And sometimes, when the girls are asleep, we make love on it and scatter notes around the room in the night.”

Your hand finds its way into your panties all on its own, but it’s innocent somehow, gentle. “We make love on the piano?”

“We make love everywhere, sugar.” He hushes, “I’ve slipped inside of you against the maple tree in the backyard in the Autumn while it drops its leaves at our feet. I’ve nestled my face between your thighs on the porch because you like to watch in the moonlight. Bent you over the kitchen sink so you’ll forget about the dishes, in a closet or two when the girls were too busy to notice, in the dirt in the garden, everywhere.”

A soft moan you attempt to swallow escapes you as your fingers sweep, wet and warm, across your clit.

“What was that, sweetheart?” The smugness in his query is so loving you forget to be annoyed with it, “Are you touching yourself imagining all the places I’ve made you mine? All the places I’ve taken you and made you shake, over and over and over?”

“Tell me,” you beg, slipping your leg over the arm of the chair, opening yourself up for him, offering something he isn’t here to take. “Talk to me. Tell me.”

“That’s my girl,” are you imagining the sound of his zipper through his praise? “What do you want to hear? I’ll talk to you all night, sugar…talk to you forever. Until my voice gives out.”

“The porch,” Another brush against your aching clit, another airy moan you fail to quiet, “Tell me about on the porch.”

“Yeah? You want to hear all about how I lick your pretty pussy on the front porch until you’re dripping down my chin? Want me to tell you about how good you taste, and how sweet you sound when you whine and rock against my mouth?” His voice is like sandpaper smoothing out the frayed edges of your heart. And you most definitely heard his zipper.

“Jake, please…” you would give nearly anything for him to materialize in the room. To listen to his boots clip across the hardwood as he moves, closing in on you until you’re trembling with anticipation.

“Shh, sugar…” he clicks his tongue in mock sympathy, “We wouldn’t want to wake Mr. Wonderful. He doesn’t belong on this porch with us, does he?”

“Tell me.” Your demand falls short through another shaky sigh.

“It’s late, baby,” you can hear it now, the rhythmic, slick slide of his fist along his cock, “and we really should go inside and go to bed, but I can’t take my eyes off of you, you look so fucking stunning in the starlight. You’re curled up next to me in the thinnest, whitest nightie, and I can see the tops of your thighs. So soft and smooth. And I only want to kiss them, but the second I’m on my knees you’re spread open for me like you’ve been waiting for my mouth.”

You’re so wet you can almost pretend your fingers are his tongue drawing tight circles exactly where you need it “And then?”

“Then I slip your panties off, and you give me a little shit about it just for show, but you shut up quick when I start licking along the insides of your thighs. You smell so fucking good, and you taste like heaven, and my cock is so fucking hard for you, but I don’t care about that, all I care about is getting my mouth on you.”

“Do I really taste that good, Jakey?” You pant, arching away from the back of the chair as you slip inside your warmth and fish for compliments.

“You do, baby.” His breath drags in and out of his lungs hard and fast. “You taste so sweet…prettiest, pinkest pussy I’ve ever kissed, you taste like home, you taste like my sugar.”

“Fuck, I’m—“

“Slow down.” He interrupts, sounding gentle in a way he seldom does when he’s hard and throbbing for you. “You just go real slow for me and listen.”

You nod, and though he can’t see you, he seems to feel it all the same.

“I’m on my knees against the porch you helped me strip and sand, and you’re spread open for me on the swing. It creaks every time you move. Your hands are in my hair, but you’re being such a gentle girl, fucking your lovely cunt up into my mouth, begging me softly to suck your spoiled little clit, begging me to make you cum.”

With your fingers fluttering light as air, you can almost imagine it all to be real, and you’re close…so close.

With a choked gasp of your name he pauses, but recovers in a blink, “You’re whining for my fingers, but I want to get you there just like this. I don’t want anything in the way when you finally let go on my tongue. I want to drink you down, baby…every drop. It’s all mine, and I want it. And you let me have you that way, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, writhing in the chair until the blanket falls away, forgotten.

“And you’re going to be such a good girl for me, huh?” That, leading, teasing tone has joined the party, and your stomach is twisting and turning, wringing the lust out of your very soul, “You’re going to be the sweetest little sweetheart and cum right in my mouth because I’m just so fucking thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Jake…” you’ve hardly made a sound, your constricted throat won’t allow for much more, “Say it again.”

He knows what you want, and like always, he gives it to you without question or thought. “Want you to cum in my mouth right here on the porch, you beautiful fucking filthy girl. I want you, sugar…c’mon and make a mess on my tongue.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you’re spread wide and thrusting into your own touch, but it’s Jake you feel…he’s everywhere, all around you, you’re drenched in him.

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” he soothes, sounding near the end himself, “Because you know how badly I want it, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl,” you whimper, desperate for more more more… “I’m your fucking girl, Jakey. I love you…”

“Love you too, sugar,” a growl rumbles out of him low and menacing. “Love you so fucking much. Come on, baby, c’mon…”

With a fist drawn to your mouth and your teeth dug in deeply, you let it happen. Welcoming that sparking, searing, electric bliss only he seems to be capable of gracing you with, no matter how near or far he happens to be.

You’re quiet somehow, but he doesn’t seem to need anything more than your muted gasps to get there with you. Though on his end, he sounds feral and violent…like the beautiful, seedy underbelly of something you shouldn’t want. Pornographic and obscene. Improper. Dirty. Wrong. Perfect.

With the calm of the afterglow, comes the shame. The guilt. The self-hatred. He knows it all too well already, and rather than drawing attention to what has just happened, he shifts focus to help you through.

“I might order room service. If you were here right now, what would you want? That’s what I’ll get.”

“Hmm,” you think it over, kicking the blanket up from the floor to recover a bit of modesty, “Soup sounds good. Broccoli cheddar if they have it.”

“Soup?” There’s that wide open laugh of his again.

“Yes.” You pretend-pout. “And don’t laugh at me. It sounds divine.”

“Soup it is, sugar.” He sounds soft and a little unlike himself. “We’ve got a small break coming up. It’s only a couple of days, but what if I came to see you?”

“Jake,” you’re preparing to wage a loving war, though you want to see him more than you want the air you breathe to quench your lungs.

“I just want to take you to the movies, that’s all,” he holds up his metaphorical hands innocently. “Will you go see a flick with me? No illegal bottles of water necessary.”

“You want to go to the movies?” You laugh at the idea of it all. So PG in a manner so… not Jake.

“Yep.” He sounds positively delighted at the mirth in your response. “Bring Mr. Wonderful, we’ll have a great time.”

You roll your eyes, stretching out your limbs, which have been tense and contorted for far too long, “Oh, don’t be silly, Jacob, like I would ever share you with Mr. Wonderful.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf fic #fanfic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiskza #gvf jake #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake greta van fleet

[holylulusworld]

Alpha daddy

Summary: Dean is overprotective.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o, pregnancy, overprotective alpha, scenting, Dean panics, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, fluff

“Uh-“ Dean immediately jumps up to look you all over as you make an odd noise. You clutch your belly and slowly rub it. “Fuck, that feels odd.”

“Odd? What kind of odd? Does it hurt? Describe the feeling,” your alpha worriedly looks you up and down. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t want to worry Dean. He’s like an overprotective mother hen since you are pregnant. He barely sleeps, afraid someone or rather something that bumps in the night sneaks into the bunker to attack you.

“I’m—” you pant. “Good. It’s just a stomach bug or something.”

“Stomach bug?” He cocks his head. “This doesn’t look like a stomach bug, Y/N. What’s wrong? I need to know if you need help.”

“It feels…odd,” you choke out. “Something is…I don’t know. It feels wrong. I’m scared.” You finally say as it feels like the muscles across your belly are tightening. It’s not painful, but uncomfortable and you’re afraid, something is wrong with your baby.

“That’s it. I’m going to bring you to the hospital,” Dean looks at your belly one last time before he walks toward the bag he placed next to his side of the bed. The one he prepared for the labor. “Give me a minute.”

Dean grabs his shoes, phone, and keys while barking his brother’s name. “SAMMY! We need to go to the hospital!”

“What? I??” Sam pokes his head into your bedroom. “What’s wrong?” He frowns and switches to worried Uncle Sammy modus. “Is she in pain? It’s too early for contractions, right?”

“I-I don’t know,” Dean throws his hands up. "Take the keys and bag. Start the engine. I’ll help Y/N.”

The brothers make quick work. Sam grabs the bag and snatches the keys out of his brother’s hands. Dean turns his attention toward you. 

He grabs a blanket, your favorite pillow before he slings one arm around your middle to help you get up from the bed. 

Being eight months pregnant isn’t easy. Your belly is huge, and you can barely see your feet. Well, Winchesters are huge. It figures that you look like a whale.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We are going to the hospital, and everything is going to be alright,” he softly says to calm you. You nod and smile at him while breathing through the next contraction.

If only you could look inside his head right now. He’s scared to hell and back but can’t show it. Dean needs to be strong. For you.

“Thank you,” you sniff as Dean walks you along the hallways toward the garage. “You think everything is going to be alright?”

“I know it will,” he confidentially says. ‘It must, he thinks to himself…

“Doctor!” How is she? Is it labor? It’s too soon, right?” Dean almost tackles the doctor to the ground to get an answer when he leaves the exam room. “Doc?”

“It’s nothing,” the doctor says, earning a huff from you. “Braxton Hicks contractions are normal during pregnancy. Some women feel it, some don’t. Your omega is a little more sensitive.”

Now you roll your eyes. “Dean, let’s go,” you grab your alpha’s hand. “What a dick.” You grunt. “That asshole told me the whole time I shouldn’t make such a fuss.”

“What?” Dean stops in his tracks. “Lemme break his face.” He grunts when you shake your head. “I’ll do it. No one makes my omega feel bad. You were scared and needed advice. Not a douche telling you shit about something he doesn’t understand. That sonofabitch doesn’t even have a uterus.”

You snicker at Dean’s pissed expression. He squares his jaw and dips his head to glance at the doctor. “Dean, I just want to go home.” 

“Can I not punch him a little for talking like that to my omega?” He quirks a brow. “Please.”

“He’s just overworked and it’s late. Maybe he had a long day. Let’s go home. I feel much better knowing it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hmmm…” Dean still looks at the doctor. He bares his teeth when you turn your attention toward Sam and the snacks he got for you. “I see you, bastard.” Your alpha gives the doctor the evil eye. “Wait for it.”

“Alpha, come on. I wanna go home to my nest,” you hide your face in Dean’s chest to inhale his scent deeply. You’re immediately calmer and feel safe. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“That’s my job.” He puffs his chest. “I’m your alpha. I care about my omega and our baby.” Dean kisses your temple. “I’ll bring you home now…”

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags  

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#dean winchester #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o

[aealzx]

The living room was fairly easy to locate, especially since Leon could hear his brothers’ hushed voices along the jangle of a small bell. The back of Raph’s head above the couch was the first part of his brothers that Leon saw, then he quickly caught sight of Lil Mikey swishing a feathered toy through the air between them. Leon was a little surprised to then see a mostly white cat scramble across the floor before leaping after the toy, reaching Lil Mikey’s shoulders easily and earning a series of muffled cheers and coos from the two boys.

“Hey Mikey- woh-,” Leon started as he reached the edge of the couch, breaking off when he noticed there was another figure with them, and said body was fast asleep on the couch next to Raph. “...How is he sleeping through this?” Leon asked, squinting in confusion down as Mikey just snored softly, seemingly oblivious to the playing around him.

“I dunno, but Raphael said we shouldn’t have to worry about waking him,” Raph responded before getting immediately distracted by Lil Mikey leading Pepperjack to jump onto Raph’s lap. Both of his legs were propped up on a square cushioned stool, so it was easy for the cat to perch on his thighs and swat at the feather Lil Mikey was swinging. Leon was pretty sure Raph would start crying with the way his eyes were shining over having the cat perched on him so readily.

“Are you here to play with Pepperjack too? Isn’t she cute? It’s the best name, isn’t it?” Lil Mikey asked in rapid succession, the arm that wasn’t caught in a sling swirling random patterns with the stick.

“Well I am curious why she’s named that, but I’m actually here for you,” Leon admitted with a chuckle, pleased to see Raph and Lil Mikey both doing a lot better than when he’d first found this lair. And Raph was even getting ridiculously spoiled with someone carrying him around and a pet not being afraid of him.

“Me? What’s up?” Lil Mikey asked, pausing in play for only a moment before realizing it probably wasn’t urgent and therefore he didn’t have to stop immediately. Leon was being rather relaxed, so it was probably just a casual request.

“Yeah, Donnie is awake, but he’s in his ‘I hate food’ phase,” Leon explained, wiggling his fingers in quotes and imitating his brother despite not having heard Donnie say that before. “But he also has to eat something considering it’s been like fourteen hours since he fell asleep and he has blood loss to deal with,” Leon rambled, rolling his eyes slightly as flopped his raised hands out into a shrug. “The stew from last night makes him wanna puke. Can you figure something out for him? Preferably with a lot of iron?”

“O’oh… Yeah, let me see what I can do… Or what I can boss you around to do,” Lil Mikey stammered slightly, wiggling the fingers of his injured arm with a mild gesture to it. He wasn’t going to be cooking on his own anytime soon, and he could understand Donnie being in one of his selective moods. He could still remember the rage that had saturated Donnie’s ninpo as he’d mutilated Augustine’s machines. Even under the protective barrier he'd created, the energy had prickled Lil Mikey’s skin. And the way Donnie had spoken to them made it obvious to Lil Mikey that he had been borderline to breaking down screaming. Honestly Lil Mikey was surprised Donnie was even talking at the moment. “What’s got iron in it?” he asked, pushing the memories from his mind for now and passing the feathered toy to Raph before following Leon on the way back to the kitchen.

“Beef. Red meat, spinach…. Uhhhh, “ Leon was quick to answer at first, but then trailed off before fishing his phone out to search the internet for a reminder. “Eggs, shrimp, sweet potatoes, strawberries, beans….”

“Hmmm… that should be easy enough then- Hey Don,” Lil Mikey hummed, thinking over the options pretty quickly, then greeting Don when he saw him at the table.

“Hey Mikey,” Don returned with a slightly sleepy hum around the mug held close to his mouth. Just sitting there smelling the rich scent of coffee was so relaxing. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

“I’m good! My arm isn’t numb anymore, but it also doesn’t hurt,” Lil Mikey chimed, swinging his arm slightly then wincing as the movement earned a twinge of pain in his upper arm. “Unless I move it too much, heheh,” he corrected sheepishly.

Don could only smile thankfully at the response, knowing that Lil Mikey would still be sore if he moved too much and just glad his arm didn’t hurt when it was still. He also knew he couldn’t expect a teenager to keep an injured limb still for long. “Let me know if anything feels unusual,” Don prompted automatically, then glanced at Leon in a sheepish flinch before apologetically adding. “Sorry, habit. You can still go to your brother if you’re more comfortable that way,” he assured, not wanting Leon to feel inferior or replaced in any way, and addressing him next. “Let me know if you can’t find anything you need in the infirmary.”

“...Sure,” Leon responded simply before focusing more on Lil Mikey.

It was a bit of a surprising response, but after a bit of consideration Don realized it was probably just because Leon was concerned about something. Either that or he wasn’t in need of help that only they could offer so was back to being wary of them. Or perhaps it was something else? Don ended up lost in thought about the sudden shift in behavior as Leon opened the fridge again to follow Lil Mikey’s directions. 

“I think he might eat some steak if we cut it thin enough and keep it plain. Looks like they have spinach too, so we can just make sure that’s washed well,” Lil Mikey mused, looking over what ingredients they had in the fridge and latching onto some of the foods Leon had listed.

“Really? Just bland boring steak and raw veggies?” Leon voiced his doubt despite still grabbing the containers Lil Mikey selected.

“Yeah. It’s still hard to predict what won’t bother him. Usually I just default to his flavorless juice, but since he needs more than that I think keeping it simple and something that’s completely within what he would expect would work,” Lil Mikey hummed, doing his best to help with one hand and snatching the bag of carrots before Leon closed the door.

“What if that doesn’t work?” Leon asked, following Lil Mikey’s direction to snap open the package of beef and start cutting it up. He’d never had to help with this issue before, so hadn’t really paid attention. Lil Mikey cooked for them a lot, but other than that they usually tended to feed themselves. And the last time Lil Mikey had been unable to cook for them both Leon and Donnie had been unable to help either.

“Lock him in the kitchen and he’ll eventually piece on enough things to feed himself,” Lil Mikey responded bluntly, earning a snort from Don that caused Leon to glance over at him after giving his own snort.

“Well that explains a lot,” Leon snickered, letting Lil Mikey locate the frying pan and click on the stove.

It was a simple enough meal that it didn’t take long at all to cook, even with Lil Mikey having only one hand available. Watching the two interact and make easy comments to each other earned a fond gaze from Don as it reminded him of several moments he’d had with his own brothers.

“Are you sure that’s cooked enough?” Leon ended up asking when Lil Mikey told him to take the beef strips off the frying pan.

“We’re making steak, not shoe leather,” Lil Mikey shot back, swatting Leon’s hand away and grabbing the tongs to pull the beef off himself. It really was a very plain meal, but Don wasn’t about to comment on it. They knew their brother way better than he did, so he’d just have to trust them to get Donnie fed.

___

After each taking a turn in the small bathroom, April and Donnie had shuffled back to the bed they had woken up on. Donnie’s wary eyes were constantly flicking around the unfamiliar room, and when he had even the slightest suspicion something might touch him he was all for flinching away from it. Especially anything that hinted it might touch his exposed back. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable there, but it wasn’t like he could leave and go somewhere to decompress. Which meant he had both hands gripping April’s hand like a lifeline, his form keeping close to her as she tried to match his pace back to the only established safe spot. Sleeping on a bed for fourteen hours was enough to have it categorized as probably safe in his mind. Safe enough that he was quick to scuttle back onto it and shuffle the blanket up around his shoulders to give some sort of cover to his back. And only after a moment of April sitting on the bed in front of him did he register that she was unnecessarily exposed as well. Which prompted him to wordlessly extend one arm, offering her the option to share the minuscule ward that was the blanket.

April could only snicker slightly at the offer, but nevertheless scooted over to tuck in next to Donnie again. She’d honestly thought Donnie would have been ecstatic about being in another dimension. But something was obviously wrong, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. April didn’t know what exactly had happened, but the minimal information she had gathered from both Raphael and her own observations made it easy for her to jump to undesired conclusions. There was always a fear of what would happen if certain people got a hold of her brothers. And with Raphael saying they had a run in with a scientist, and Donnie was suffering from blood loss yet had no visibly major wounds, April was fairly confident in her thoughts. As much as she hated to think them.

Feeling a little sullen now, April wrapped her arms around Donnie’s upper arm while she leaned against him. They were quiet as they waited for Leon to return, listening to the quiet hum of the infirmary machines. She could be patient. Her brothers were all together in the same home now. There was nothing immediate to worry about.

Apparently Donnie wasn’t as patient though, for after at most ten minutes he shifted uncomfortably. “...Raph is in the living room,” he announced quietly, somewhat abruptly and without explanation for why it was important.

It caught April off guard for only half a second, but she was somewhat used to this kind of behavior from Donnie and hesitantly proposed an action in response to the comment. “Wanna go join him so he isn’t alone?” Donnie hadn’t mentioned anyone else with Raph, so she could only assume Raph was alone, and that might be bothering Donnie at the moment.

It seemed her assumption was correct enough, for Donnie nodded once and gave her a moment to respond, or at least register the response from him, before he started squirming off the bed again.

Snickering slightly once more, April complied and scooted off the bed as well. Donnie insisted on clinging to her and keeping the blanket over them both though, so they ended up shuffling out of the room in an awkward waddle.

The new lair was unexpectedly quiet as they made their way down the walkways, half remotely directed somewhat by Leon, and half just able to see the living room and Raph once they reached the railing. Donnie wordlessly nudged them along, falling a little more quiet as the room they were in was now more open and had more potential for other people to be there. He seemed determined to join Raph though, almost single mindedly pattering towards his big brother. The closer he got the more a small strain of comfort threaded into his tense form.

Until someone new abruptly threw their arm around his shoulders.

____________________

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Well that took freaking forever |D Major holidays are a pain =<= But I guess cutting off all caffeine to try and fix insomnia issues, and then stopping a mood med because I found out it reacts with the stomach meds probably didn't help either.

Anyway X'D I'm really glad you guys like Pepperjack and Onion Ring. It took me like 5 days to think of their names X'D Hopefully Pepper looks okay, drawing animals is always an effort for me, I'm so inexperienced |'D

I can't remember anything else I may have wanted to ramble, so enjoy =3=

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #mikey #cross dimension kidnapping #rise + 2003 crossover #writing #long post #fanfic

[greatooglymooglyyy]

As the anon who requested the angst👀 YOU HAVE FED MY CRAVING GOD BLESSS😩 now i need the pt2👀

Say Goodbye Part Two (Chris Sturniolo)

contains: cussing, angst, breakup emotions, arguing, fluff at the end

a/n: idk if this will be a good series or not or if I should wrap it up with the next one. let me know. love ya

read part one here

One Year Later:

“I can’t believe you’re actually going!” My best friend, Leah, exclaims excitedly. I sigh with exasperation as she beams at me with enough pride for a Nobel Peace Prize win.

“Jesus. Have I really become that much of a hermit? It’s just a bonfire.” I say, turning and rummaging through my closet. I was hoping to find something that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a loser homebody with no friends’, but so far, I'm coming up a bit short.

Leah laughs dryly, hopping off my bed to lean on the wall next to me. “Girl. Half our friend group thinks you moved to Europe or something, and the other half thinks you hate them because you never answer their calls.”

I wince at that, feeling a little bad about how antisocial I’ve been. Heartbreak does that to you, I guess, especially when your heartbreak becomes famous and won’t stop haunting your for you page. Phones just seemed like a lot of work after that.

I finally find a semi-decent fit and throw it on, turning to Leah for approval. She smiles and does her little excited dance before reaching for my hand.

“Have I ever told you, you’re the hottest bitch I know?”

I sigh dramatically, putting my hand to my cheek as if in thought.

“Once or twice, I believe. But tell me again-”

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

I take a deep breath and stare out the window as Leah turns her car off. It’s dark, the only light from a few flashlights, people’s phones, and the blaze of the firepit. There are way more people than I expected and I give Leah an unimpressed look as we meet at the front of the car.

“Did I say kickback? I meant-”

“Shut the hell up,” I say with a laugh, linking my arm with hers as we walk down the path. I spot a few of our friends that I haven’t seen in a while and head towards them. Nate lifts his head and locks eyes with me, giving me a smile that slowly turns into a panicked look. He jogs over to me, arms open and a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi! What the hell? How have you been?” He says, looking around and making my stomach start to knot.

“Nate.”

“Hm?” He says, biting his nail.

“Please tell me, he’s not-”

“Natedog! Do we have any more marshmallows?”

His voice cuts through me like a knife instantly and I can almost feel time slow down. Over Nate’s shoulder, I find him and watch him casually stroll over to us. His hair is so much shorter than it was the last time we spoke, only a few inches peeking out from under his hat. The subtle lining of stubble around his jaw makes my knees weak as I wonder how much else has changed.

He finally clocks me when he’s only a few feet away, halting for a second and blinking slowly. I hold his eye contact, squaring my shoulder, determined to be mature about this. When he finally makes his way over to the three of us, Chris whistles low and slings an arm over Nate’s shoulder. “Damn. Looks like you found a ghost, huh, kid?”

Okay so maybe we’re not going to be mature.

“What are you doing here, Chris?” I say, crossing my arms. He raises an eyebrow and looks around theatrically. “At my best friend's party?”

I shoot a look over at Leah, who very pointedly does not meet my eye. I’ll deal with her later.

“In Boston. Aren't you more of a 90210 type these days?” I say, giving my best valley girl impression.

Chris clenches his jaw, clearly annoyed. “We come home all the time. We’d be here more if it wasn’t for our pod.”

I laugh sarcastically. “Sure. That’s something new to blame. Before Cut the Camera, there were always meetings or merch. I’m just surprised you could tear yourself away.”

“We make it back for what’s important.” He snaps.

I narrow my eyes at him now, stepping closer. “That’s interesting because you could never seem to make it home for me,” I say, throwing all the bitterness I’ve held onto into my words.

Chris snorts, leaning down so we are at eye level. “Guess I’ve always had my priorities straight then, huh?”

Ouch. I press down the hurt that shoots up my body, refusing to let it show on my face, and nod.

“At least you can finally admit it out loud,” I say, spinning on my heel and making my way back to the car.

I hear my name being called behind me but I don’t bother turning around until I feel a hand grab mine. I snatch away and look back, prepared to cuss Chris out, but it’s only Leah.

“I’m so sorry.” She says, reaching into her pocket for her car keys. “I swear Nate didn’t say he’d be here.”

I sigh and swing open the passenger door. “It’s fine. Can we please just go?" She nods and we both get in the car, preparing to drive off. But as soon as she starts to back out, we see Chris running towards the car. Leah hits the break and looks over at me, waiting to see what I want her to do. I sigh and tell her to wait, hoping he’s not coming to pick another fight.

Chris rounds the car, clearly out of breath, and swings open my door. He kneels, studying my profile, as I keep my eyes trained stubbornly out the windshield.

“What, Chris?”

He sighs, bracing his hands against the roof of the car.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be an asshole to you. We said we’d never do this.” I close my eyes at his words and the feeling of him so close.

“Will you look at me, please?” He asks softly. And I do, meeting his eyes and trying my hardest not to melt on the spot. He lifts his hand as if to cup my face but thinks better of it, lowering it awkwardly. I look down at his hand with longing before clearing my throat and giving him a strained smile.

“It’s fine, Chris. We have mutual friends. We’ll keep it casual.” I say with false brightness. He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head.

“No. There’s never going to be anything casual about us.” He replies and my heart aches at the sincerity in his voice. I swallow hard and shrug, turning back toward the front.

Chris laces our fingers together and my breath hitches at the first contact we’ve had in a year. I watch as he brings my hand to his lips and holds it there for a second, the moment stretching on. Leah clears her throat and we both jump, remembering we’re not alone. Not to mention, we’re supposed to be no contact.

Chris places my hand back on my lap, running his thumb over it, before pulling away and standing up.

“I’m going to call you tonight,” He begins, stepping back and placing a hand on the door. “and you’re going to answer.”

I scoff, unable to fully hide my smile at his cockiness.

“What makes you think that?”

He grins and tilts his head, “Because you said you didn’t ever want to hear from me again, but somehow you still know the name of our podcast.”

Well fuck. His smile grows as he shuts the door, waving at Leah and then jogging back down to the beach.

The silence in the car stretches for a minute before Leah puts the car back in reverse.

“So-”

“Don’t say a word, Leah.”

a/n: part three available now

taglist: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @sturnssmuts

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo oneshots #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #maggie b writes #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 3

Part 1|Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Some things will probably be changed for the Ao3 version, this is very much first draft and I want to do a proper rewrite before then.

Jason parked his bike next to the Batmobile. There was a strange air in the Batcave or maybe it was just him being different. He couldn’t tell for sure. He stepped off the bike so he had his back towards Bruce, who sat by the Batcomputer with his cowl off. Jason could still feel his gaze when he looked up. He didn’t know what to feel. Where was he supposed to start?

“Little Wing!” Dick announced happily, suddenly slinging an arm across his shoulder from behind. It was only all his training that stopped him from jumping three feet into the air from the fright and he managed to just tense - but that was normal. Dick would consider that normal. Pull yourself together, Jason, he scolded himself. Normal, act normal, for one long moment he was grasping for what was normal. It definitely wasn’t the urge to lean into his big brother.

“Jay?” Dick asked quietly, worried, thankfully too quiet for anyone to hear. Panic grasped him and he elbowed Dick to get him off. Dick bent over with an oomph. At least elbowing Dick was a normal response, even if it was for the wrong reason.

Ignoring the strange urge to check on Dick, he squared his shoulders, firmly didn’t look back and walked forward towards the Batcomputer, where now that he had arrived the rest of this night’s patrol team gathered. Damian already out of his suit with damp hair and a towel slung around his neck glanced surreptitiously at Jason out the corner of his eyes even as he pretended to look towards Bruce - brat was still worried. Tim was curled up in an office chair doing who knew what with his laptop in a way that did not seem conducive to the healing of the broken ribs he’d been benched for. Bruce himself, paused what he was doing and spun around in his chair. Even sitting he managed to draw everyone’s attention, Tim even closed his laptop.

Jason purposefully crossed his arms and widened his stance. That’s what they expected of him, probably? How did he usually stand? He usually always felt one wrong comment away from a fight when he was here, he should stand like he expected it, right? Defensive.

This was exhausting.

At last Dick walked up to them completing their loose circle. He was rubbing his side and Jason felt a stab of worry and guilt. Had he aggravated an existing wound? Shit. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why was he so worried?

“Oracle,” Bruce spoke, “please start.”

“Thanks to Hood, we now have a better headshot of the thief,” Oracle announced from the computer speakers“The Ghost,” Dick interjected in a sing song voice, “after what happened tonight you can’t disagree.”“Nightwing,” Barbara replied flatly, she didn’t even need to say she thought it was a stupid name. “The thief,” she reiterated in a way that left no room for any other arguments and Dick wisely held his silence. At least Dick knew Barbara well enough when to stop. Finally she pulled two photos up on the large screen. The one on the right was an older/early photo with the green glassed goggles obstructing much of the upper half of the face, a grin was a sharp line of white on the lower half of the face in the blurry photo, the quality was terrible and caught in movement.

The newer photo on the left showed a young man, maybe even late teens, eyes were wide, bright green, not quite glowing and his face beet red in embarrassment, mouth slightly open - this was taken just after he’d pushed away from Jason. His goggles sat at the edge of his messy black hair, just high enough to see the way he was beginning to swell on his forehead where Jason had clocked him.

Jason looked from one picture to the other, something was off to him. The grin was an obvious difference, but these where snapped in very different moments, and he shouldn’t let different emotions cloud his judgment.

“He’s lost weight.” The realization hit him with the certainty of a sledgehammer.

There’s dubious mumbling around him, about the blurriness of the first picture. But Jason is unmoved, there’s a hollowness to the guy’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“We can’t really judge that sort of thing with the quality of the first image,” Barbara cut through the murmurs. Jason knows he right, but he doesn’t feel like arguing.

He doesn’t feel like arguing, it’s another realization that leaves him wrong footed and he’s not listening for a minute. Checking back into the conversation he only caught the tail end of the conversation that was apparently about the Meta’s skills.“-we can now add phase shifting powers-““Like a Ghost.”

Tim groaned and Barbara outright growled - Jason reevaluated his earlier thought that Dick knew Barbara’s limits. Damian had already accepted the logic and Bruce had long since become immune to this sort of Dick antic.

“Back on topic,” was all he said. “Tim.”

Tim opened his laptop back up.

“Yes, so the items the thief-” There was a small beat as everyone waited for Dick to interrupt, Tim was side-eyeing him but continued; “-is stealing are still painting a very alarming picture, and there is a multitude of very dangerous uses, not to mention what kind of world ending horror they could be built into. Luckily he didn’t get the prototype spectral calibrator tonight, and we’ll be keeping it here for the time being and set the project on an indefinite hold at Wayne Enterprise.”Tim looked up at Bruce. “We’ll be needing to monitor Star Labs as they have a similar project, but so far the Ghost has not operated outside of Gotham to our knowledge.”

Bruce nodded, “I’ll arrange something.”

It was a signal for Tim to continue, “we’re still no closer to a way to capture him and the phase shifting is a whole other added concern. We’ll need to figure out if there’s something he can’t phase through, some denser materials perhaps. I just finished looking through tonight’s footage and from what I’m seeing at least the new filter program is holding up; both the audio and visuals have very few glitches now. But we still don’t know how he’s sending out the electromagnetic interference.”

“Ghoooost,” Dick said quietly under his breath.Tim’s left eye twitched dangerously. Jason couldn’t help smiling, it was very good he was wearing the helmet. Bruce once more ignored Dick looking to Damian.The kid straightened imperceptibly at the attention, it really was adorable, but his voice was as haughty as ever. “Blood sample is already being analyzed of course, tt.” Blood sample? Oh, that’s what Bruce had been doing on the roof, when Jason was distracted. A sick feeling rose in his stomach thinking of the blood, was Ghost even alive? He could be bleeding inside the head for all they knew.

“Hood,” Bruce asked quietly, “do you know why the Ghost reacted to you like that?”Jason stiffened. Fear grabbing cold onto his heart. There was no way he could tell them he thought it had to do with the pits. They’d think Jason was being influenced by the Ghost and bench him. He couldn’t let that happen, he needed answers. He didn’t need to fight his family.

“No damn clue,” he scoffed, hoping he sounded nonchalant and none of his panic shone through, “some weird trauma response? He’d just hit his head real good.”

Bruce looked at him dubiously, but he was clearly unwilling to risk pushing. Their truce was a tentative one after all, one they’d come to after many false starts and stops. Jason had never before been so glad for their tattered relationship.

“So to conclude,” Dick drew everyone’s attention off Jason, “the Ghost is still a mystery, we don’t know if he’s just a thief or a supervillain biding his time.”

“He’s not a supervillain.” Jason could have cursed himself, he’d just gotten their attention off him. Now he was forced to elaborate. “He’s not wearing any sort of body armor, just that hoodie.”

And he’d definitely broken some of his ribs landing on him, Jason thought with a pang of guilt.

“Not all villains wear body armor though,” Tim pointed out carefully, and now Tim was worried too, Jason had no clue what had given him away.

“The ones who engage in close combat with us usually do though,” Dick returned, and Jason could have hugged him for bailing him out again (if that had been normal, which it was NOT).

“He could just not be a very good villain?”

“Or he’s just banking on the fact that he’s very good at dodging,” Barbara interjected with annoyance before the discussion got out of hand, “or did you all just forget you’ve been chasing this guy for weeks without landing a substantial hit on him?” She could always be counted on to be the voice of reason.

Dick scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Tim looked down at his computer. Damian scoffed, trying to look unaffected but that was definitely almost a pout.

Bruce’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he stood up and was that almost a smile? How was this happening? It felt… His fingers dug into his arms. It felt like all the things Jason had convinced himself had never really been there. And there was Bruce’s hand landing on Damian’s shoulder; a silent comfort-encouragement, because Bruce was terrible with words but his touches always spoke volumes. And as the small smile bloomed on Damian’s face and he quickly looked away to hide it, Jason remembered exactly how that felt. Shit.

“Oracle, that’s all for tonight, we’re not getting anywhere without more information.”

“You got it, B, Oracle out.”

Jason spun and stalked towards his bike, before he did something, he didn’t know what exactly.

“Jay?”

Bruce’s voice stopped him in place. He glanced over his shoulder to see them all watching him. Don’t give anything away, he scolded himself.

“What is it, old man?” Jason asked trying to interject as much annoyance into his voice as he could, but it was so hard dredging up any of that when they looked at him worried like that, and his chest ached and he just sounded tired.

“It’s late,” Bruce said with a small unconscious wave of his hand as if anyone could tell the time of day from within the cave, “you could stay the night?”

After a beat he added, “Alfred would love to see you.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. Alfred would, but that’s not what Bruce was really saying, he was saying he would love to have him stay, but didn’t think Jason would be receptive to that and so he brought out the Alfred card. It was plain as day and how had Jason never seen that? Seen the longing on his dad’s face? His chest ached, he knew why. He was always so busy reading everything Bruce did as him trying to control him, every interaction tinted in green. His chest ached. Every inch of his body wanted to stay, to take a step back, see where this could lead, but he couldn’t.

He had to act normal. Normal Jason would never. Normal Jason could be back tomorrow for all he knew. He couldn’t do that to any of them, to himself.

With great difficulty he tore his gaze away from his family and walked the last steps over to his bike.

“Tell Alfred I’ll be coming over for tea on Tuesday,” he said loudly over the noise of his bike, not looking, because he didn’t want to see any of their reactions, then he tore out of there.

This was better for everyone.

Poor Jay really is having the time of it, maybe next part he'll get to actually enjoy not being angry.

next Masterpost for subscription link

#dead on main #poor Jason has no idea how to act #when he's not perpetually angry #also he just really wants a hug from his dad #but that would be WEIRD #bruce is a good dad #Missed connections #Jason is catnip to Danny #thought sadly no Danny this snippet #probably next time though

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene I: you guys into roleplay or what? | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: There was a party at the old castle ruins which raised the talk of an old urban legend. As the lore goes, upon the strike of midnight, for one whole minute, the arch, which used to be the entrance to the castle gates, would be a portal back to the height of the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, that complete and utter rubbish.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, crackfic, typos. etc.

A/N: The lore of this is actually based off an urban legend from the high school i went to, which is like 400+ years old, thus the ruins and portal back in time HAHAHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @fan-goddess @daemons-kelitsos

The truth is, maybe I was a little too drunk to remember exactly what happened between the grinding in front of the DJ booth and game of dare or die, but I do know for a fact that I was incredibly lost. I recognized none of the landmarks that I stored in my head, and by the looks of it, I had wandered so far from the party I was now at the renaissance fair in town. Fucking Libby.

I pull out my phone from my tiny, glittery clutch bag and sling its gold chain around my shoulder. I go through my contacts and begin to ring Libby, heaving as I walked through the square.

The sound of the bustling people filled my ears. The night market was very much alive; it both gave me comfort and great anxiousness.

A bunch of people holler at me, calling me princess and my lady. I ignore them and continue in silence.

There was suddenly a wet squelching sound that snapped me out of my focus. I freeze in my spot, "fuck." I let out a groan and pull up the flare of my pants, "ohh fuckkkk."

These hot pink gogo boots were brand new! And now they were hot mess gogos, caked in fucking mud.

I tug up my shimmery and equally pink bell bottoms, doing my best to evade the rest of the mud in the area. I tread carefully, not wanting to further ruin my clothes or slip and fall on my ass.

I blow my hair out of my face. They really just had to add mud for the authenticity, huh? I comb through my silver hair after I get through the brown sludge.

Where the fuck is Libby?

I feel another wave of anxiousness creep up on me as I grow acutely aware of the people staring. I stand by the side of the street and stare at my phone. I release a breath and feel an ominous atmosphere thicken around me. I look around, catching a bunch of eyes staring back at me, and shift uncomfortably. I furrow my brows and clutch my purse and phone tightly, deciding I did not feel safe in this area. I begin to walk again.

I curse my phone when I see the no signal notification and cautiously put it back in my rhinestone bag. I adjust my leather jacket and wrap my arms around myself.

"Fucking hell, Libby," I mutter to myself as I muster courage to make it though the crowd so I can eventually get out of it.

I brush my locks back and wipe the sweat building at my nape.

I reach a less congested place and stand by a pillar next to a building. I observe the people in their old timey clothes and costumes, not a single other person dressed in modern clothing. I figure it was cause it was pretty late and they must be closing up their booths any time now.

I tug the collar of my silver halter top and turn to the side. Immediately, I spot a butch man, clad in armor and a cloak. I stare at him for a moment and think, wow, that's a really good costume. I find myself deciding he was pretty good looking too. I instantly look away when he catches me starting.

I clear my throat, wrapping my arms around myself. My jacket tightens around my arms. I clutch my bag in my chest again.

Wait, if he's dressed like that, does that mean he's, like, a guard or something? Maybe I can ask for his help to look for Libby.

I clear my throat and steal a look again, and to my horror, the man is making his way towards me.

In my panic, I shift and face the opposite direction. My flight response kicks in, but before I could bolt, he comes to my side and speaks.

"Speak your name and business, stranger."

I pull my head back and look to the man. He stares at me as brush my bangs away from my face. Why's he coming off so strong, "what?"

The man looks at me through his stupid helmet and furrows his brows, "speak your name and business," says he, rather threateningly.

Hold on. Is he for real? If this was supposed to be part of his weird-ass dialogue for his roleplay thing-- or, heaven forbid, a pickup line, dear gods, it was not about to work on me.

My initial response was to be extremely hostile, but after taking a deep breath I decide against it. I hit him with an uno reverse as raise a brow, "what's your name and business, soldier?"

His dark brow quirks at that. He says nothing for a moment.

His over-the-top golden cloak flows back, as does my platinum hair when a gush of wind blows. I make a face when I catch a whiff of something rank. I rub my nose and push my curls back behind my ear. I re-pin one of my golden clips to keep my tresses in place.

The solider shifts in his spot. "I am not a solider--" ok, not a soldier, "I am an officer of the city watch," he shakes his head, "Ser Harwin Strong," he raises his nose, "and my business is your business."

I pull my head back. My jaw slacks.

I clear my throat.

Why he kinda-

I sniffle, very much not at all expecting that response. Well, I guess maybe his pickup line kinda works... And well, I mean, he kinda cute so-

I tell him my name and then tell him I lost my friend after a round of dare or die and now I'm looking for her.

"Dare or die," he repeats rather seriously.

I shrug and shake my head, "it's just a stupid game."

He hums, "and your friend, she is as... strangely dressed as you?"

I raise a brow again, tightening my crossed arms, "says the man in armor and a gold cape."

Harwin makes a face.

I chuckle softly. Not expecting that, were ya?

I huff. Ok, my bad. I know these renaissance people really get into it, and, yeah, I mean, he was right. I was in a glittery silver halter top, hot pink bellbottoms and gogo boots with a leather jacket and a bedazzled clutch. I was an LSD trip. He had his schtick and I had mine.

"Yeah, no, eh," I look around, "she's in black skinny jeans and a fuchsia, like, off-shoulder situation. It's pretty hard to miss her, which is why I have no idea why I can't find her anywhere."

"Off shoulder?"

I turn to him as he mutters this.

I give him a look then motion, "yeah... like, it's cropped here," I move my hand by my shoulders, "and it has ruffles and-- OH! Also she has blue hair!" I raise a finger, "it's really, really hard to miss her."

Harwin looks at me like I just told him my friend was secretly Hannah Montana.

I am about to respond when suddenly we snap to the side as someone calls out, "Lord Strong." A man in a grey cloak nods at Harwin and turns to me, "you're looking for someone, yes?"

I blink at the man with a hood, trying to get a better look of his shadowy face. Immediate no.

I slowly nod though after he stares too long. I don't like the fact I can't make out his face.

Hood man tilts his head and walks off.

I stand still in my spot as he makes his way down an alley.

What the fuck was that? Tsch. Am I a dog? Did he honestly think I'd suddenly follow him just cause he tilted his head to the side?

I turn to Harwin and with a sour look. He looks back at me and tilts his head to the side. Not him too!

I huff in disbelief, "you want me to follow him?"

Harwin makes a face, "it would be wise if you do."

"Why?! What, is he-- does he work here?"

"In the marketplace," he looks around and shakes his head, "no."

I think for a second. I huff, "is he one of those people that do the lost and found things. Can he help-"

"OI!" a voice cuts me off. We turn to the side again and hood man is back. He quips, "do you want to find your friend or not?!"

Well why didn't he just say so?

I nod and shrug simultaneously, finding myself following after him this time around. The things I do for love. I mean, it's a renaissance fair! They... they're just a bunch of weird nerd guys that have never felt the touch of a woman.

I gulp. Okay, maybe not the soundest explanation as to why I think I won't get kidnapped.

For someone who wants to be followed, he sure moved like he wanted to lose me. I jog up behind him and grab his arm, "slow down! I've been on my feet for hours."

He slows then stops. He looks at the arm I was clutching.

I release a sigh, "do you have a name, manager?"

He turns from his arm to me with a scowl, "what?"

He pulls away just as I release him. I clarify, "do you work at, like, HR?"

He stares at me for a moment. I stare back, vaguely seeing his face from the shadow of his hood. He somehow looks familiar, like... like a less hot version of Matt Smith. He turns front and walks off again, "and what would HR be?"

I huff and follow after him. The whole in-character thing was really getting on my nerves. I rack my brain for what HR's equivalent would be in this day and age. I shake my head, "I don't know... public servitude? Public Relations? Okay, no, that's PR-"

Hood man eyes me, "PR..."

I slow my pace as I think. He rolls his eyes and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me as he takes us off to wherever it was we were headed.

"Good government?" I said questioningly.

He snorts, "good governance, you say?"

I look up at him and find a small smirk on his lips, "well, actually, I said-"

He mutters, "I am certainly not one of those."

"... okay... ... Mr. Edgelord."

He shoots me a look but does not respond.

He takes me to a dark backstreet and for some reason, I didn't think it strange up until we entered. The place, I kid you not, was a brothel. From the moment we stepped in, there were people making out and getting way further than second base in front of my very pure, unwilling eyes.

This was it, wasn't it? Would it be in bad taste to say at least I died in a cute outfit? No, wait, you're right. It would be in great taste. Purr.

Immediately, my hand goes to my eyes and I choke out a squeak, "oh dear fuck, is this legal?!"

Hood man turns to me and stops for a moment. He drags me again, "are pleasures illegal where you're from?"

I peak through my fingers, finding that we were headed for a flight of stairs. "For fucks sake, this is the dangerous type of pleasures, sir," I struggle as I try to keep my eyes closed and opened all at once.

"How dull," he looks over to me once as we go up the stairs, "danger is a form of respite."

I make a face, "yeah well-" I gasp when I nearly miss a step. Hood man yanks me up so that I don't fall. I sheepishly look up at him and was about to thank him, up until I see a bunch of dudes going at it on the second floor. I cringe, continuing my train of thought, "--tell that to STDs."

"STD..." he mutters under his breath.

Hood man takes us to a room that is empty, save for a woman with long dark hair. She looks at us as we enter, then turns to our joined hands. Upon catching this, I pull my hand away.

Hood man turns to me then to her, "show her the girl."

The dark haired woman side steps and immediately I gasp, "Libby!"

I run up to the low bed she was laid upon. I brush her damp bangs back and she immediately groans.

"Your friend was drunk and nearly attacked by some men," the woman explained, "they backed off when I told them she was one of mine."

"Homaygosh," I look over my shoulder and pant, "I- thank you for helping her."

Her expression softens a fraction. She mentally notes the reaction.

I look back to Libby and adjust her pink top. "She's a ditzy drunk," I sigh, brushing her damn awful blue hair, "which was why I followed after her. I didn't expect her to come this far."

"Far you say. Where are you from?" the man asks.

"We came from the party in the old castle ruins."

"Party?" she says just as he says, "ruins?"

I turn to them and stand, "yeah, the old castle up the cliff," I point to nowhere. I look between them and huff when they look at me wordlessly.

The woman turns to hood man. They speak to each other telepathically it seems.

I release a breath, "okay. I get it. You guys are into roleplay. It was a-- celebration dance... event."

They turn back to me.

"Thank you again for helping her," I turn to Libby, back to the woman, "what were your names?"

I offer a smile to hood man as I introduce myself.

He does not offer me the same courtesy.

Hmp.

The woman places her hands in front of her, "I am Mysaria," she says and I smile at her. She smiles back then turns to him. We both look at him for a hot second.

Hood man does not respond.

"Okay then..." I shift awkwardly in my spot, "well, thank you, Mysaria and... sir...."

"What house do you belong to?" he utters.

"What," I pull my head back, "house?"

He does not clarify but looks at me expectantly.

I make a face and think for a moment. What does he mean? I am hit by a sudden realization. But surely he doesn't mean this? "Uhm... ... ... Gryffindor?"

"Gryffindor?" his face contorts in thought.

I nod slowly, "that is what you mean, right?"

Mysaria crosses her arms, "where does house Gryffindor hail?"

What?

My eyes pinch in confusion. I raise a finger, "like... which part of Hogwarts do they stay?" What the- "I don't know! This is entirely too nerdy for me to understand. Also, I was never really a potterhead."

"Potter head?" hood guy asks.

I roll my eyes and sigh, "okay," I wave my hands, "since we've already broken the forth wall and you've broken characters-"

"Characters-" he mutters.

"-can I borrow a phone? Mine says no service," I lean towards Libby and begin to shake her awake, "or if any of you are heading back to the city, can we just hitch a ride?"

Libby groans as I shake her.

I hiss, "girl, get your ass up."

The man scoffs then chuckles. He walks over to me, "girl, I think you are sorely mistaken."

I straighten up and involuntarily squeak when I find him right next to me. He is so close that I finally see the color of his eyes, even though the room was quite dim.

"OCA4," I blabber.

He knits his blonde brows, "what?"

I step back, cursing myself for remembering that stupid fact from grade 6 biology, "you- you have violet eyes," I gulp, "it's a recessive trait."

The man blankly stares at me for a second.

Great. I've really done it now.

He narrows his eyes then looks me once over. "Issi ao doru-borto?" he mutters. Are you stupid?

"Hey!" I raise a brow, "I am not."

His expression slips. He is evidently shocked, "you know High Valyrian?"

Mysaria's eyes widen.

I place a hand on my hip, "I'll have you know, I took High Valyrian as an elective, but everyone knows what doru-borto is."

I turn back to shake Libby again, but instead, I am snagged by the arm. Hood man yanks me towards him and mutters, "gūrogon nyke naejot se pryjata."

I twitch as alarms go off in my head. Instead of shaking him off though, my mind buffers at the barely recognizable words. I try to make sense of it and slowly translate, "take me... ?"

He tilts his head and completes it, "take me to the ruins."

I pull my head and arm back. He does not release me. I clench my jaw at this. I huff, "you can't miss it. Just go up th-"

"I want you to take me there."

I begin to get increasingly agitated, defensive, and tired, "look, sir," I place my hand on his iron grip and push him off me, "I really appreciate your help, but we should get goi-"

"You will not go anywhere with your companion unless you take me to the ruins which you speak."

I freeze at his words. I stare at him, taking in his stoic expression. His look was as serious as explosive diarrhea. I feel my entire body flush with dread. I look to Mysaria for help, but it was instantly clear by her expression that if there were sides, she was on his.

I shudder and pull the hand I had atop his, finding no point in trying to free myself from his clutch, "so what?"

His brows furrow. A challenge?

"I take you there," I word carefully, "and then I come back, and you let us go?"

He takes in my expression. He scans my hair as it slips from my shoulder. He looks at the golden pins by the top of my head then releases me. I rub my arm as he brings his hands in front of him. He shifts on his leg.

I clench my jaw, "well?"

"So be it," he retorts.

"So be it?" I scoff, "swear it."

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. His lips curve slightly, "what?"

"I need to hear you say you will not harm her," I add, turning to Mysaria as I say this, "please."

Mysaria's face softens though she knits her brows. Hood man laughs and it makes me glare at him. Mysaria looks to the man as he says, "I swear."

"On your life," I quip mindlessly with an air of fake confidence though my heart was pounding. I was well aware that if he intended to do us ill, no amount of words would save us. Still, it was good to hear it.

In all honesty, I am surprised when he retorts with, "on my life and my honor."

I find myself shaking my head, "okay then."

"OK..." he repeats slowly.

I do as he says, since I don't really have much of a choice.

I lead the man, or rather he leads me out of the grimy establishment (my poor eyes), and then I lead him up to the ruins.

The walk is silent, as I am no longer keen on fostering any type of relationship with him.

He stays a few paces behind me but I can very much feel his lingering presence.

As I do my best to retrace my steps, I slower each passing 'landmark', or lack thereof. We pass a church that was way smaller in my memory, and the large oak tree I was looking for was nonexistent.

Eventually, I come to terms with the fact I was lost and just try my best not to show it as I navigate the landscape through instinct.

When I was about to fess up, I glanced upon a building I knew for sure had scaffolding when I passed it earlier today. See, aint no way they finished the renovations that quickly.

I pick up the pace, following the directions I remember taking and my breath hitches. My jaw drops and my eyes widen at the sight of the full blown fortress before me. What the fuck.

I let out a breath to calm myself but I can no longer mask my panic.

"Who are you really?" hood man mutters.

I snap to my side and clutch my chest as the man steps closer. He pulls me toward him by ripping at my dangling purse. I helplessly topple forward.

"Are you a dreamer?" he reaches out to my face and brushes my silver hair back, "emagon ao rēbās rȳ jēda?" Have you walked through time?

I pull away from him and swat his hand off, "don't touch me!"

He recoils as I glare at him and catch my breath. He pushes his hood down, revealing his face and long, alabaster hair tucked behind his cloak, "and why wouldn't I? Blood of my blood."

What? I pull my head back and wrap my arms around me as I step away. This man is insane.

"Ēza iā nādrēsy hen ñuha lentor issare āzma isse Gryffindor?" Has a bastard of my house been born in Gryffindor.

My body flinches when bells begin to toll.

He takes my panic to his advantage. He grabs me by my arms and forces me close. My boots skid as I come to an abrupt halt. My hands dart to his chest, "I-I don't know what you're saying."

He presses closer to me, uncaring of how my palms repel against him. The bells ringing put me further on edge.

"Where were you born, little dove?" he mumbles softly but I find malice in it.

I feel my eyes begin to water as my breath strains. I don't know why he asks me this, and I don't know why I answer, "K-King's Landing."

He lets out a deep chuckle and nods, "how many years after the Conquest?"

"What?" I shake my head, "why do I have to-"

"Kesrio syt aōha dārilaros epagon." Because your prince asks.

"Dārilaros?" I mutter lowly.

The bells stop ringing. Suddenly, I remember that stupid urban legend about the castle arch. Wait. I look at the man's face and risk looking over to my shoulder. As I turn my head, I see the locked gate with the same motif of the arch I went through as I chased after Libby when she was dared to go through the stupid thing.

I chuckle manically. No. NO. That's fucking insane. Realistically speaking, portals that open at midnight are not real! It's stupid! Nonsensical!

And also, yeah, if people say the ruins has an arch that'll take you back two thousand years, maybe don't go through it. I mean I didn't! I- I was following Libby! I-

He hums and nods, "kessa, dōna run, iksan aōha dārilaros," he brushes my hair back. Yes, sweet thing, I am your prince.

My eyes widen. Is he being for real? Be so fucking for real right now.

I open my mouth but I do not respond. Suddenly, it's like I'm back in high school, giggling with my seatmate over the pictures of the Rogue Prince. What the fuck.

He takes in my expression and smirks.

"D-Daemon?"

He howls in laughter, "very good-"

"What the fuck?!"

"-you know me even where you're from," he smirks.

"You're a really good cosplayer!" I wrangle out of his grip, "and this- this is a really elaborate set!"

Daemon the cosplayer lets me break away and I wipe my face as I snap some sense to myself, "I must be dreaming-"

"Mmm, a flattering thought," he laughs

"-I'm fucking roofied!"

"But, I assure you, I am very real."

I shudder as I pant and pace around. This can't be real. I look up to the wall. But this fucking castle is so fucking real. I grunt and walk over to it. I hiss and pull my hand back when I touch the stone; it was as if it burned me.

No. No. No! This is a renaissance fair! A- a medieval cosplay event! A fucking- a fucking-

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters, grabbing arm.

I turn to him as I brush my hair back in frustration. I whimper, "what?"

"Calm down," he strokes my arm, looking at the clip that slipped off my head, "I will not harm you."

I raise my brows at his words.

"After all," he grabs my clip and readjusts it in my hair, "what kind of forbearer would I be if I harmed my sweet little girl?"

I hang like a pirated CD, "I beg your pardon?"

He chuckles, stroking my cheek.

I feel an immense heat crawl up my face in realization, "y-you think--" I'm a Targaryen?!

Aint no fucking way.

I laugh nervously, "right."

That's why he's been helping me?!

"I must say, I am happy to know the princess lives in excess," he brings his hands to the collar of jacket and pushes it away. He takes in the glitter of my halter top and smiles when finds the skin of my shoulders, "very good."

I shriek and shove him off.

He chuckles as he recoils, raising his hands in surrender.

I wrap my arms around myself as he takes in the rest of my outfit. Oh my gosh, man doesn't know about plastic.

When his eyes dart back to my face, I realize he must think my golden clips were actual gold. I mean, thank you?

"I took you to the place," I quickly sputter, "I'm going back and leaving with Libby now."

He gives a lopsided grin, "I see no ruins before me, princess."

I shiver. I'm in danger.

Suddenly, I think about how Daemon was said to be misunderstood, that most of the things he did, historically, were out of love. He wasn't actually a bad person-

"You said you weren't going to hurt me," I mutter.

"No," he chuckles, "what I want to do to you doesn't have to hurt."

My eyes widen. I raise my hands, "Prince Daemon, please-"

"All in good time," he smirks and undoes the ties of his cloak by his collar.

My heart races, "no- please-"

"Shhh," he shakes his head and throws his cloak over my shoulders, "on my life and my honor," he ties the string around my neck, "no one shall touch a hair on your head," he smirks, "none but I."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x modern!reader #hotd time travel au #hotd au

[inuyashaluver]

ok so i don’t know how u would feel but would u wanna write for sam kerr maybe? 😶 im desperate for fics abt her

biggest fan - sam kerr

sam kerr x reader

description: in which you are quite literally your girlfriends biggest fan, something she loves more than anyone

warnings: swearing

a/n: it’s sammy! i had no idea what to do at first for this legend but here it is, thanks for the request, lovely! enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, sam had a relatively cliché start to your relationship. it was a classic case of being in love with your sister’s best friend. your older sister, caitlin was extremely protective of you, she was two years older and never let you forget it.

when caitlin started football, you followed along, completely unaware of the status the foord sisters would later in the future. but back to square one, when you and caitlin played in the australian u17’s team, caitlin had been called up first. that’s where she met sam, forming a quick friendship. caitlin always bragged to you about the girl, funnily enough you hadn’t met.

it was until you got called up a year after, you finally met the girl your sister talked about so highly. caitlin dragged you around the change room on your first day, introducing you to your new teammates dutifully. and when she got to sam, your cheeks turned pink.

“sam, this is my sister, (y/n), sister this is sam” sam gives you a bright smile, extending her hand out to you, before you could ever reciprocate, caitlin gave you a shove forward, clearly underestimating her strength behind it. you completely lose your footing, stumbling slightly forward and landing in the arms of sam.

both of you look at each other with wide eyes, two warm hands held you at the hip, catching you before you fell. “you alright?” sam questions with a little giggle, you quickly separate yourself from the embrace, your face growing warm. “yeah, sorry” you smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“sorry, sissy, didn’t realise you couldn’t stand straight” caitlin lets out a bright laugh, clapping your shoulder somewhat apologetically, “fuck off” you mumble, giving her a little shove.

“we’ll see you around sammy” caitlin slings her arm around your shoulder, dragging you to your cubby which was thankfully next to hers.

as time progressed, both you and sam can’t help but develop little crushes on each other. when you get changed, both you and sam steal glances at each other. and throughout training. and through matches. the amount of times you looked at each other should have been clear indications for both of you - but clearly not.

you were shy, something that your teammates discovered quite quickly during the beginning. though, you began to break free from your shell, with almost everyone except sam. she was convinced you didn’t like her and she needed to do something about it. she was completely entranced by you.

so, she approached caitlin, pulling her aside after training. “hey, does your sister not like me or something? she never talks to me” caitlin eyebrow quirks, “uh, not that i’ve heard of, that girl idolises you” caitlin lets out a laugh, you’d always ask caitlin about sam at any chance you got.

sam is visibly confused, shifting her weight between her legs. her eyes drift to where you stood with alanna, alanna was talking to you about something but your eyes were trained on your sister and your little crush.

when sam makes eye contact with you, you immediately turn red and look away. she watches as alanna teases you for getting caught. this confuses her more. “what do you mean?” sam focuses her attention back in caitlin, “(y/n) talks about you all the time” caitlin groans, “she literally never stops, even if i beg” caitlin laughs again, sam smiles at this, her cheeks going slightly pink.

as sam and caitlin laugh, caitlin’s face suddenly drops. she came to a realisation. “that little shit” caitlin says under her breath. she knew - you liked her best friend. caitlin walks away from sam, rushing off to walk to where you were with alanna. she ignores the protests of sam coming from behind her.

you turn when alanna slaps your wrist, her eyes focused on the incoming storm cloud that was your sister. suddenly, you’re on the ground, caitlin on top of you while she tickles you, one of your biggest weaknesses.

“caitlin” you breathe out, attempting to push her off but she was extremely strong. “why didn’t you tell me?” caitlin continues her relentless tickle attack, “tell you what?” you exclaim breathlessly, “that you like her!” caitlin stops for a moment, both of you just staring at each other. she had an unreadable expression on her face and it scared you. you swallow the lump in your throat and your eyes glance over at sam before refocusing back on your sister.

sam and alanna watch you both helplessly, looking at each other in disbelief before focusing back on the duo on the floor. “i was scared” you whisper, caitlin slightly softens at this, getting off you and helping you up. “scared of what?” caitlin speaks lowly, her eyes tracing over your face. “of you” you laugh, giving her a light shove. she cracks a little smile before returning back to a stern expression.

“are you serious about it?” you nod immediately, she looks right into your eyes, looking for any indications of a lie but finding absolutely nothing. you really did like her.

“okay” caitlin says simply, you look at her in shock. “okay?” you repeat, she nods “okay” she giggles, flicking your forehead and gaining an immediate wince from you. caitlin parts from you, turning to sam, “i know it hasn’t happened yet, but it will, hurt my sister, i hurt you, got it?” caitlin smiles, her hand squeezing sam’s shoulder as she spoke, walking away with a grin.

sam was seriously confused now. she looks at you for an answer, seeing your pink cheeks and nervous body language said everything. you and sam started dating 5 months later.

—

now in present times, you and sam both represent australia and you followed her to play for chelsea. something your sister couldn’t fathom but she still loved you, you think. the woso community labelled you and sam as a favourite couple. you’d both been dating for so long, everyone loving how genuine and special your love was.

and something that everyone noticed, you were obsessed with your girlfriend, exactly the same as all those years ago. it was seen at almost every moment possible.

for instance, during a chelsea match, sam got a goal from your assist. the roar of the crowd for your girlfriend was one of your favourite sounds ever. when she bolts over to you to lift you up in celebration, you look at her with absolute lovesick eyes as she hoists you on her waist. “let’s go, baby!” she exclaims happily, giving you a squeeze and a quick kiss on your lips. the pink dusting your cheeks has your girlfriend smiling uncontrollably.

“perfect goal” you boast, “perfect assist” she says cheekily, placing you back on the pitch with a kiss to your forehead. at the end of the match, you were doing your lap of photos and signatures until you see a sign. ‘(y/l/n) let’s swap shirts!’ you smile, completely intrigued, walking up to the girl and ripping off your jersey, in return she places a simple white t-shirt into your hand.

you unfold it to see ‘i love my girlfriend’ with sam’s face printed on it. you thank the girl profusely, laughing brightly and immediately slipping it on. everyone takes photos of you and your proud grin.

you quickly turn to try and find your girlfriend, spotting her signing someone’s shirt on the other side of the pitch. you thank the fan one more time and tell everyone you’ll be back, all of them laughing at you and your reaction.

you sprint to sam, tapping her on the back with the brightest smile ever. she turns in confusion, smiling at your face “you’re smiley” she giggles, assuming your happy from the win, her eyes then trail to your chest and she lets out a bright laugh.

grabbing your biceps to hold you while she took in the shirt and your grin. she’s smiling so brightly, her cheeks hurt. “baby, oh my god!” she laughs, you just smile at her, “new favourite shirt” you say cheekily, wiggling your eyebrows at her with a smirk.

she laughs harder, kissing you quickly on your lips. you feel her smiling into the kiss, both of you unable to contain your grins. she pulls away and you kiss her cheek quickly. she shakes her head amusingly at the amount of phones filming you, slinging her arm around your shoulder and taking you back to where the fan gave you the shirt.

you smile at all the fans, ready to resume your photos and signatures. sam kisses your cheek and sneakily smacks your backside before running off to where she was before. throwing you a wink and bright smile as she ran off. you shake your head at her with a laugh.

you didn’t take the shirt off when you got into the change room. the girls were teasing you relentlessly. “oh my god, (y/n), you sap!” millie screeches when you walk into the room. you just smile and nod your head, doing a hair flip motion over your shoulder, everyone laughs at your proud expression.

sam gleams from her cubby, looking at you with so much love. you move across the change room, getting playfully shoved by your teammates before settling on your girlfriend’s lap. her hands instinctively go on your waist and your thigh “hello, sammy baby” you breathe out, kissing her cheek again and wrapping your arms around her neck. “hi, pretty girl” she returns the favour, kissing your cheek repeatedly and making you giggle. she smiles into you, her favourite sound was your giggle, especially when she was the one who prompted it.

she moves to whisper in your ear, “i’m a little offended by this shirt, baby” her lips graze your ear and blood rushes to your cheeks. “why?” you whisper back, running your nails over the back of her neck. “i want one too” she smiles, pulling away to face your flushed face. you smile softly, kissing her lips gently and she quickly grasps the back of your head to deepen it. she slips her tongue into your mouth and squeezes your thigh, your breath hitches, humming into her mouth and leaning into her. she clearly loved the shirt just as much as you did.

she pulls away, your swollen lips spurring a smirk on her face. “you’re cute” she remarks, moving to hug you tightly. she tucks her head into the crook of your neck and places a little kiss there, “enough, love birds, please, or i’m calling caitlin!” millie exclaims, moving to grab you off sam’s lap and lifting you in her arms. you laugh when she spins you around.

“you don’t even have her number,” you say challengingly, “oh yes i do” millie smirks, pulling her phone out and showing her contact information to you. your eyes widen and millie places you on the ground. you run over to sam, she stands up to hug you and flips millie off over your shoulder, kissing your temple affectionately.

—

sam did end up getting a shirt like yours, showing it to you proudly when she received it. you wore your shirt all the time, happily showing off your pride for your girlfriend, not even caring about the teasing anymore. you were your girlfriend’s biggest fan, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by mbrighty04 and 44,233 others

samanthakerr20: she never takes this shirt off

view all comments

yourname: my favourite shirt FOREVER

↳ samanthakerr20: you’re cute

↳ yourname: you’re hot

↳ samanthakerr20: you’re hot

↳ caitlinfoord: ENOUGH PLEASE

mbrighty04: GROSS

↳ caitlinfoord: i second that

↳ yourname: caitlin!

↳ caitlinfoord: i love you?

matildas: parents

chelseafcw: parents

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #sam kerr #sam kerr x reader

[ceruleancattail]

Stray Cat Au

File:Heartsabyul

Ace

A crooked smile, hat tipped to the side. Ace’s often found on the streets, newspaper tucked underneath his arm. His eyes gleam with mischief, a heart painted on his eye. It wiggles as he laughs, beating with every chuckle.

The local newsboy, he always seems to be drawn to you. Arm slinging around your shoulders, pulling you towards him. Warmth surges into your skin, a comforting feeling.

Where are you going in such a hurry, detective? Is the game afoot?

Ace mocks, but he’s genuinely curious. After all, it’s not everyday you get to talk to a detective. More often then not, he’s tagging along for your cases. He’ll come up with a hundred excuses.

Oh, he needs to boarden his selling area! Business, y’know?

There wasn’t anything to do, so he decided to follow you around.

Even with all his bluster, you can’t help but feel a little relieved. As snarky as Ace can be, he’s loyal. Whenever you confront the culprits, Ace’s hand is pressed against the small of your back, encouragingly. Whenever you falter, he’s right there by your side, winking slyly.

It’s a comfort to know that someone’s got your back. Especially if it’s Ace.

Deuce

You’ll find him in the town square, waving around sheets of newspapers. He’s hollering like a salesman, shouting the day’s headlines. His hat is straight on his head, locks of deep navy blue tucked under. A spade is painted over his eye, delicate curves highlighting the blue within his pupils.

He greets you with a smile, beaming brighter then the sun. You’ve made it a habit to get two coffees everyday. One for yourself, and one for him. Sometimes, your fingers brush against his when you pass the cup to him. It’s an odd, tingly feeling that has Deuce’s cheeks glowing a faint pink.

He’s a rather reliable person. Day and night, working as hard as ever. Anyone in the town would eventually come across him. Which is why Deuce’s a gold mine for information… when he remembers stuff.

You drag him on cases. Your reasoning? An eye witness would help in identifying the criminals, and make your life easier. Although, you notice that you seem to seek out Deuce even if there aren’t cases to solve.

There’s a certain… warmth, that comes with his company. You can’t say you don’t enjoy that feeling.

Trey

As the editor of The Heartsabyul Times, he’s rather busy. You can find him in the Heartsabyul office, manuscript in hand. Pencil tucked behind his ear, glasses resting on the top of his head.

Yet no matter how weary he is, Trey always seems to have a smile just for you. Whenever you step into the office, Trey’s lips slip up ever so slightly. He’s clearing the table, pulling out boxes of pastries. Trey bakes them himself, although he gets… carried away sometimes.

Nudging them towards you, Trey tells you to help yourself. Although you can’t help but notice that they’re all your favourites…

Sometimes, when you’re stuck on a particular case, you come over to the office to seek his help. Trey looks forward to these visits. Anything is a welcome break from checking drafts. Pouring over cold cases with you, laughing at the more ridiculous theories both of you come up with… it’s a rather pleasant experience.

And he does look forward to seeing you, detective.

Do pop on by more often,hm?

He’ll have a fresh box of pastries, just for you.

Cater

The bright, impressionable journalist of The Heartsabyul Times. A social butterfly that has his fingers in a million pies, no one’s more suited for fieldwork then him. Cater’s quite literally the life of the party, buzzing around for the next big, bold headline.

It’ll make sense why he hones onto you. A detective, slowly rising in fame. Clicking his pen, he’s trailing after you, chirping away. Cater pokes and pries, trying to get some tidbits of information away from those pretty lips of yours.

Aw, come on! Just let him interview you for awhile? He’ll make it worth your while~

As a journalist, he has certain connections that could be the key of cracking your cases right open. The most prestigious business events? With a snap of his fingers, Cater has two invites printed and ready to use.

So just come to him if you need anything, detective. Cater would gladly assist you… well, if The Heartsabyul Times gets exclusive rights to your story, that is.

Heck, drop on by anytime!

It’s always a joy to chat with you.

Riddle

The head of the Heartsabyul Times. The tyrant of the news world, ruling over the town with an iron fist. With all the rumours about how strict Riddle can be, it’s a surprise that he treats you so warmly.

Inviting you in for a cup of tea, nimbly setting down cups of twinkling porcelain for your use. Riddle knows that information is give and take. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, so to speak. So when a detective comes knocking on his door, he’ll make full use of this opportunity.

He never expected you. The way you smiled, introducing yourself with a firm handshake. You didn’t bother beating around the bush, before launching into a relay of questions.

Riddle could hear the passion in your voice, that steely glow in your eyes. The way you were ever so determined to find the truth, regardless of how devastating it could be.

Well, looks like the local detective wasn’t a force to be trifled with. He has to admire that courage, to be able to question the head of Heartsabyul himself that boldly.

Question away, detective. Although you’ll pardon him for asking some questions of his own.

You intrigue him, truly.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater x reader #cater #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle #Trey clover #Trey clover x reader #Trey x reader #Trey #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #twst ace #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #deuce #deuce x reader #stray cat au #stray cat #lucky charm🔷