#making sure that everything links where it needs to be and clearing out old pins that dont serve me anymore

[kindlecorner]

im cleanin up some stuff, which is why youre seeing a few pinned posts 💀

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

https+://www.tumblr.com/miraculouslbcnreactions/+781555779458187264/this-might-be-a-question-long-overdue+-but-i-just

Out of morbid curiosity, what are the sole major fatal flaws with the canon couples (individual or singularly shared amongst them)that bothers you?

(Post that spawned this ask)

In the linked post I said:

I think Juleka and Rose are the only couple I actually ship in canon and that's only because homophobia is keeping the writing from making them an official couple. I'm sure they'd have some major flaw that I'd hate if they became canon because none of the canon teen couples feel healthy. They all have at least one glaring issue.

So let's run through the list and give the fatal flaws for the other teen couples. I'll go in rough order from minor to major in case anyone was curious about that.

Ivan and Mylène

In Confrontation, we see all of the teen characters list off their career plans. This is Ivan's:

Ivan: I'll be a stay-at-home dad! While Mylène saves the world, I'll be taking care of the kids.

There is nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home parent, but that should NOT be your entire life plan at 14-years-old. Is Mylène going to get pregnant as soon as you two turn 18? I hope not in which case what is Ivan planning to do between graduation and parenthood? And what if they break up or can't have kids for some reason? What's his plan then? I don't think that he has one! He's building his whole life around his first girlfriend which is a terrible thing to glorify for the kids at home.

It would have been much better if Ivan left Mylène out of his statement and said something like "I want to be a stay-at-home dad one day, so I'm going into child development! I'll work at helping other people's kids grow up until I'm ready to have a few of my own!"

This is really my only issue with Ivan and Mylène. They're by far the healthiest couple in the show. I just found this line incredibly off-putting and flashed back to codependent couples I knew in high school, none of whom lasted.

To be clear, it's fine if the teen couples stay together, this is a story after all, but the show shouldn't be glorifying teen romance to such an absurd degree. The show should be giving these characters lives and dreams outside of their romantic interests. This kind of thing isn't okay just because they're making a boy be the one pinning everything on romance instead of a girl.

The show has a ton of issues with it's treatment of women, but there is a bizarre subtle trend of acting like it's progressive to put male characters in positions that people complain about female characters being put in as if switching the genders solves the problem. It's wild and shows a severe lack of critical thinking. Adrien is usually the one who suffers from that, but this is a good example of another character hitting the same issue.

Nino and Alya

I discussed these two in depth here, but Nino and Alya are mostly fine. I don't cringe every time I see them, but they are one of the many couples given the insta-love treatment and I'm rarely a fan of that. I think it cheapens their entire romance. That's extra true here since they go from wildly uninterested in each other to dating over the course of about an hour with the audience given no information on why their feelings changed.

There's also the issue of Nino's blabbermouth which is not a great trait for the boyfriend of an aspiring reporter and part-time hero. Alya needs to be able to trust Nino to honor her secrets and canon hasn't made him the type of character who will do that. There are multiple episodes that see him unable to keep his mouth shut! I have no idea why canon did that, especially since Nino is a superhero in his own right!

Marc and Nathaniel

Marc and Nathaniel are fine outside of the episode where they met (Reverser). That doesn't change the fact that I have no idea why Marc ever spoke to Nathaniel again after Reverser. Warning this will be the longest section since I have to break down what was wrong with this episode as the problem is the entire thing and not a specific moment or general trend.

Reverser sees Marc introduced to the art club as a fan of Nathaniel's work. Seconds later, Nathaniel is informed that this shy fanboy could be the script writer Nathaniel has been looking for. Marc freaks out and runs away ending the scene. Marinette chases after Marc, convinces him to let her show his writing to Nathaniel, and then gives that writing to Nathaniel in a weirdly cryptic way:

Marinette: Nate! (puts book down) Someone gave me this for you. Nathaniel: Who's someone? Marinette: I can't tell you who just yet. (whispering) It's a secret. (starts running off, but turns around) Read it and then we'll talk. (starts running again) Nathaniel:(gasps) Diary of Ladybug!? (covers mouth) Is this... for real?

Let's take a moment to appreciate the sheer absurdity of Nathaniel thinking that Ladybug would want him to turn her private diary into a comic. It's especially wild when we remember that this scene is implied to happen the same day that he met Marinette's friend Marc and was told Marc might be a good script writer. How this mistake happened is beyond me.

If this was played for laughs, then it could have fit the show's over-the-top style of humor, but it's not. This is yet another time when the show used an absurdist writing style for a serious story beat and it doesn't work because the show tries to pin the mistake on Marinette, but no reasonable person would blame Marinette. Nathaniel's read is not a logical mistake that Marinette should have seen coming. That makes what happens next feel like Nathaniel's issue and not Marinette's. A fact that is extra true when you remember how Nathaniel reacted to this reveal.

When Nathaniel learns that this was a story written by Marc and not a secret message from Ladybug he destroys Marc's book and yells at him, a wild overreaction that is 100% on Nathaniel:

Nathaniel: You were trying to make a fool of me, weren't you? (Points accusingly towards Marinette) Do you think it's funny to toy with my feelings? Marc: No, not at all! I-I just want.. to make.. a comic book, if you want to, that is. Nathaniel: A comic book? Us!? Together?! Never! (He tears Marc's book in half)

Nathaniel, darling, why the hell would you think that they were making fun of you? Nothing in this episode set that up! Marc is the one who's uncertain about his art. Nathaniel is painted as incredibly self-assured. We also don't see him being bullied in this episode so why did he think that this was Marc and Marinette trying to bully him? Has Marinette bullied him before? Nothing about this tracks.

Writers, just have Nathaniel be embarrassed by his mistake, leading him to throw the book at Marc and run away. But oops, they were beside a fountain and the book falls in the water instead accidentally ruining it! Same story beats, but Nathaniel no longer looks like an asshole who destroyed another artist's passion project in a fit of rage.

Everything about this was a terrible choice if you're going to end the episode by making these two friends. It's an even worse choice if you're going to have them be a couple. Things that are extra true because this episode never sees Nathaniel apologize or otherwise redeem himself in Marc's eyes. The episode doesn't even seem to see Nathaniel as being in the wrong. Instead, Marinette is blamed for this nonsense because of course she is...

Marinette: I'm so relieved you're not mad at me, guys. Nathaniel: In fact, we've dedicated our first issue to you.

That could have worked if the story went the accident route since everything happened because Marinette was needlessly cryptic and Nathaniel wouldn't hold any blame in that setup. No one would, really, but it would make sense for Marinette to feel responsible there. The way canon played it? Hell no! Marinette should not be blamed for Nathaniel's wild and totally unpredictable over reaction!

It's glaringly obvious that canon doesn't want us to view Nathaniel as abusive or having a hair trigger temper, so I think it's fair that people ignore this episode when approaching his character, but it was still a horrible way to make these two partners. Who thought it was okay to take Nathaniel this far without ever addressing his bad behavior??? It's especially concerning when you remember how timid Marc is because is a character like that going to defend himself if things go south?

The love square is obviously unhealthy at this point, but their falling in love moments from Origins are adorable and I don't understand why no other couple gets that kind of treatment. It's all insta-love or BS like this or both which brings us to:

Felix and Kagami

The post that spawned this ask goes over these two in detail, but they're yet another insta-love couple with no substance to their romance. They're also easily the worst insta-love of the bunch because it makes no sense on Kagami's side. Felix only likes Kagami because she's a sentimonster and Kagami only likes Felix because the plot says she needs to. Between kidnapping her and snapping away everyone she loves, she should not see him as a potential romantic interest. I thought dating Adrien gave her standards??? The fact that she falls for Felix is character assassination on the highest level and I will forever headcanon that it's her senti programing forcing her to fall for an Adrien clone.

The Love Square

Unsurprisingly, the couple with the most screen time has the most problems. Between the lies, the season four nonsense, and Marinette's trauma choosing Adrien as it's main target, they just aren't fun anymore. There's way too much toxicity here for any couple, but especially for a teenage couple. They should break up and find someone else to date.

Final Thoughts

I think that's all the canon teen couples? As you can see, not a single one is flaw-free because of course they aren't. Miraculous has systemic writing issues that effect every character and couple. It's just less in-your-face for the side characters and couples.

[foxholewriting]

Hunter

Black/Male Reader - Slice of life/Fluff - Words/ 728

Pronouns - He/Him ; Pet Name(s) - None

Mention - Murder (light murder), Zombie being a zombie

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

“I’m not doing this Black.” Y/N glared at Black and then looked at the poor dude that was tied up with rope, he had appeared a few days previous causing havoc on everyone most recently committing armed robbery. He seemed to have a particular target for younger women. 

“Why not?” He looked down at the man who was worming and wriggling around like a pathetic worm dirt was stirring up making Y/N cough, he was sure that Black would do what he wanted with this man either way but making Y/N watch wasn’t fair. 

“So what you want me to do is release this man so you can hunt him down? Why do you need me here to do that, your arms stop working? Oh wait, maybe they fell off? I was having a cozy night with Grete watching a very strange version of the price is right where people had to fist fight to get to guess the price. I just saw two old ladies dook it out but now i’m out here feeding you like my pet zombie.” Black stared at him as if to say “Are you done yet?” Y/N rolled his eyes and took Black’s pocket knife. 

“Wait until i’m-” Y/N raised his hand to flip him off, this is the same song and dance they’ve had for the last few weeks. 

“I know I know, you need to get into position while I interrogate the guy to find out whatever scraps of information he could possibly have. I swear your brain has rotted through.” Black huffed walking away into the factory already done with Y/N, it’s become a ritual, a silent agreement that not even Crux intrudes on. 

It took several attempts to pin the man down and cut the ropes that were gagging his mouth, he looked at Y/N panicked then looked around as if this was the first time he’s ever been here. 

“Where the hell am I? Where’s my daughter?” Y/N let him panic and get it out of their system, usually when they panic they don’t give clear answers or even a worthy hunt for Black making it a lose lose situation. After a few minutes the man seemed to calm down enough to answer Y/N’s questions. 

“I don’t know where your daughter is, do you know what happened to you?” The man, admitting his name is Colin, had a puzzled look on his face. 

“What happened to me? All I can remember is me having an argument with my daughter over her boyfriend,  her screaming at me to turn around seeing her boyfriend carrying something then everything went dark.” Colin didn’t give any answers beyond that, why he was stealing or why he didn’t even try to look for his daughter. The story didn’t add up, there wasn’t a way to cross reference any news or articles in his past universe to compare notes. 

“What are you? A fucking detective?” Y/N rolled his eyes, okay time to cut this dude loose he was causing a headache and he was giving him the creeps. The ropes gave way easily with small sounds of ripping, Y/N stepped back running somewhere to hide. It took several minutes before the man got up and moved around, he was looking for Y/N but it was hard to coordinate the factory yard to even try to find him. 

This part was usually the more grotesque part of the event, not that Black was grotesque but the act of him feeding was grotesque since he still hadn’t mastered a more neat approach to it. It was like he didn’t act human, it was primal and raw which made it so much harder to stomach. An hour passed before Black came to find Y/N who was currently writing in his journal. 

“Ready?” Y/N looked up and grimaced before using a washed rag to wipe his face, careful to not be too rough as he washed away whatever human by product was stuck to his skin. 

“Feeling better?” Black smiled and nodded. 

“Yes, I don’t think I’ll need to eat for a while.” They both laughed as they walked back to Grete’s house, without either of them saying anything they linked hands and for a moment everything felt okay. Everything felt human again. 

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

@kiiyoooo & @doubledeadstudio

If you want to be tagged in anything please let me know

[chara-hugs]

a/n: Hey! This is my contribution to the Princess Philly Birthday Challenge! Happy birthday, lovey! 💛

Don’t get any ideas though, me writing isn’t going to become a regular thing because I’m preeeetty sure this is hot garbáge.

Here’s a link to the challenge prompt (which is on going, btw).

The prompt I chose was: Jodeci - Freek’n You + Syverson

Warnings for content: SMUT! MDNI 18+ I must make that abundantly clear. You are responsible for your own media consumption, and will encounter: unprotected piv, domestic fluff, auto shop owner!Sy (ig?), a pinch of existential angst, and terrible writing.

Word count: ~1.5k

It had been one of those paperwork days that Sy just fuckin’ hated. He knew they were necessary, but he didn’t like the feeling of being chained to a damn desk. He liked to be moving— go where he wanted, when he wanted, and do as he pleased. He’d spent enough of his life on somebody else’s clock. His facial hair was at the itchy stage of growth and he knew he needed to shave. If it got any longer he’d start seeing someone in the mirror he wasn’t prepared to meet with again just yet. All he could think about was getting home, calling you, and trying to unwind from the day. He sighed, easing his truck into the driveway.

Then he noticed your car.

All his heavy thoughts left him as he made the short walk up the front path, cleared the three steps up the porch, and swung open his front door. The house smelled amazing.

Coming in further, Sy found you sitting on the couch in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of ratty sweats. Your hair was out of your face, covered by the silky scarf you liked to wear when you cooked or lounged around. Your face was bare; dewy from your skin care. You turned your head, smiling at him where he stood in the doorway. You were an angel; a vision. He could swear he was half-hard at the sight.

“Hi, baby!” Your voice was so sweet sounding after a day of grumbling and metal clanging out in the garage. A breath of fresh air. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

He was listening. He promises he was listening. Sy heard everything about you stopping over on your lunch break to get the beef stew going in the crockpot. How you hoped he didn’t mind you using his key, but you wanted to make something comforting tonight because you knew how much “your man of action” hated office days. How you’d made a quick bread when you got home after work. How the stew was just thickening a bit now. He was listening, you were just distracting.

“Babe?” He watched your eyebrows furrow. “Are you feeling alright?”

Sy nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he cleared the living room in four long strides. He braced one of his big paws on the back of the couch, levering himself down to kiss you soundly. Lips cloying and devouring, tongue rolling sinfully against your own. He left you dazed as he drew back.

“I’m gonna fuck you good, then we’ll have dinner. Alright?” His eyes locked on yours with such intensity, you could only nod. He made a pleased rumbling noise in his chest.

Sy grabbed you up by your hips, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, and marched off down the hall to the bedroom.

“Alotta nerve you got. Sittin’ on my couch, makin’ me dinner, lookin’ like ya do,” Sy grumbled, voice and accent thickening. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was upset. His large hands palming the globes of your ass said differently.

“Yeah? My sweatpants doing it for you, baby?” You teased, running your nails lightly over his scalp.

He stops in the middle of the hall, his body pinning yours to the wall as he rolled his hips. You could feel the heat of his hard length as he pressed against your core.

“Sugar, everything you say, everything you do. In silk and lace, or one of my old t-shirts, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sy panted against your temple, his hips rutting against yours made your head tip back.

He plotted kisses over your exposed neck, one hand winding its way over the top of your thigh and into the cradle of your hips. Slipping under your waistband, Sy cupped your mound. Dexterous fingers stroking to find your entrance, wet and desperate. He teased your clit as he sucked on your pulse point. Gratified as you arched into him, exposing more of that elegant neck.

“I dream about you. Your smile, your laugh. How you��re too fucking pretty to be real.” Sy sank two fingers into you with ease. You keened, body feeling electrified.

“Miss Kitty’s so needy for me, ain’t she, pretty girl?” He purred, fingers hooking to rub at that spongey sweet spot. “You gonna let yer man take care’a you?”

You nodded, frantic.

“Good girl.”

~*~

You were face down, ass up, creaming on his cock. You weren’t sure how half the pillows and the duvet wound up on the floor, you were more focused on clinging to the bed sheets. Sy was gifted. He stretched you and stuffed you and fucked you so deep, you could feel the head of his cock kiss your cervix as he pressed himself to the hilt.

You arched your back, pressing your face further into the mattress; desperate to muffle your incoherent babbling. He could get you to promise him anything when he fucked you like this. Working orgasm after orgasm from your body. Sy wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck you good.

His large, callused hands roamed over your back and sides. His fingertips sank into your hips as he ground against you, feeling your walls clench as your body tensed, then drooped to the bed below.

Sy withdrew from your weeping hole carefully, and gently rolled you over. His cock was still hard and beading precum when he settled back on his haunches. Sy splayed your legs how he wanted, and the thrill of being so boneless that your man could move you around however he pleased tickled something at the back of your brain.

He wore the softest look as he stroked the flushed, wet head of his cock through your puffy, glistening folds. Sy was transfixed with each twitch and jolt of your body at his teasing.

“You know the first thing I saw when I got home today? Hmmm?” He asked, his flared head nocking at your entrance. You shook your head. The best reply you could give was a ‘nuh-uh.’ Lost in the feeling of Sy slowly sinking back into you.

“Your car in your spot in the driveway,” his voice was a rumble in his throat. The way he tenderly plotted kisses over your face and neck a contrast to his sharp, punctuating thrusts.

“And I knew you were home.” Kiss. Thrust

“Where you’re ‘posed to be.” Kiss. Thrust.

“With me.” Kiss. Thrust.

Your legs came up to lock around Sy’s waist. Needing to cling to him as his pace picked up. Overstimulated, slightly overwhelmed, but desperate for him to cum.

“Every bad thought left my head,” he swiped a rogue tear off your cheek. Enraptured once again by the beauty of you, and the pleasure he could pull from your body. “Everything was replaced by you.” You keen, back arching as his fingers find your clit to work circuits over it again.

“All I do is think about you,” he grunted, climbing closer to the edge. “How I’d take ya on the hood of a car in the shop, or how you’d look in a weddin’ dress. How good you taste, or how sweet you smile.” His pace was bordering on brutal now, wet skin slapping in time with the bed frame’s creaking. Your limbs tightened around him, cresting one last time; blocking out light, sound, anything that wasn’t the feeling of pleasure and the hot puffs of Sy’s breath against your chest. Did you scream? You weren’t sure. You watched his brow furrow and wiped the sweat from his temples as lucidity began to bleed into your consciousness.

He came with a roar and a gush of sticky, sweet release. Hips grinding down into yours to prolong the feeling of you, stuffed full and shivering around him. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing deeply. Sy shivered at the feeling of your blunt nails tickling the skin of his back.

You basked in the afterglow for a moment. Relishing in the feeling of his heartbeat and sweaty skin against your own.

“You okay, baby?” Sy broke the silence, voice husky and soft.

“I’m perfect,” you reply, craning your neck to kiss Sy.

“Good,” he slipped from you, spent, but was quickly on his feet. He took you in for a moment. Skin dewy again (but for a different reason this time), and prickled by beard burn, pussy stretched and stuffed. “You stay right there and look pretty, I’ll bring dinner back for us.”

“We’ll get breadcrumbs in the bed, babe.” You would have cringed, if you weren’t so blissed out. Sy shrugged.

“Gotta change the sheets anyway, baby.” He threw a laughably bad wink over his shoulder to you, then left the room. You sat there and watched him disappear down the hall toward the kitchen, naked as a jay bird.

(This is insurance so the page break doesn’t eat the end.)

[ggukkiereads]

Hello!! Just a few days ago I stumble upon your blog and I'm wondering if you have some recommendations for Hybrid AUs, much appreciated if it is an OT7 and completed, but if so I will still be so thankful. (I just need some cure from the stress that modules brings) Thank You in Advance (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

🌷 Hello! welcome to my mini fic-reading land. I’ve actually received asks for Hybrid AUs (I pinned the requests in the navi) but I just have a very messy draft.

But to help you with your stress, I think I can share a few of my ongoing reads (sorry they won’t be complete but they’re OT7). But, I added completed ones I could remember too (●'◡'●)

*note: will edit this later and organize this per member - maybe add other fics I’ll remember*

Fic Recs | BTS Hybrid AUs

→ A Place Called Home @agustdakasuga -  OT7 x Reader

series [27/27] | 88k | Hybrid AU, Poly AU, Soulmate AU, Romance Humor | Fluff

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

→  If I Can Never Give You Peace @candlewaxandp0lar0ids - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 17.6k+ | Mafia AU, Enemies to Lovers | A (so far)

It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and her father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

🌷ggukkienote: I am so hooked on this (because I am a sucker for Mafia AUs too). This is such a great story and the OC is really different from the usual OCs. Very interesting.

→  Eunoia @wishesunderthestars -  OT7 x Reader

series [15/?] | 100k+ (I just assumed this, masterpost doesn’t have wc but it’s 6k per chapter or more?) | Director!Reader, hurt/comfort | fluff, eventual smut

You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job. You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

→  Restitution @cloudteawrites - OT7 x Reader

series [7/?] | 48k+ | slow burn, poly, mystery, romance

when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is.

→ Lacuna @barbika1508 - Jungkook x Reader

series [42/42] | 324.3k | Hybrid AU, check for TW | Fluff, Angst, Smut

Lacuna - (n.) a blank space, a missing part

Y/N just wanted to go back home, to enjoy her peace and quiet away from problems and people. But typically, her luck strikes as she stumbles upon a horrific scene of two guys mistreating an already beaten down hybrid. Will she take matters into her own hands and help him? Or let someone else help along the way???

🌷 This is on AO3 and I got a recent ask about author’s tumblr.  So if you prefer AO3 you can check their profile

→ A Hundred Percent Human by wrienne- OT7 x Reader

series [12/?] | 88k+ | Hybrid AU, fluff, angst, smut |

In which you (reader) are forced to take care of seven hybrids in a twist of fate. Drunk and down on life, you finally decide to deal with the house and the unsavory business your mother left behind. However, to your shock, you find that seven very different hybrids are included with both the house - and the business. Seven hybrids you never even met before - even less agreed to take care of.

🌷 This is on AO3. I don’t normally reco AO3 since my blog is focused on tumblr fics but someone sent an ask about this so I’m including it

→ Inferiority Complex @starlightauroras-writes - Jimin x Reader

series [10/?] | 88k+ | political themes, themes of abuse (hybrids) | A, S

You had never liked hybrids. You disagreed with their very existence, and you never wanted to have anything to do with them. And then one day, you discovered a hybrid who was more scared of you than you were of him, and everything changed as you realised you were the only hope he had…

→ Sanctuary @chimchimsauce - Jimin x Reader

series [16/16] | 20k |  Wolf Hybrid!Jimin, Barista!OC, feat sanctuary staff Taehyung, hurt/comfort | F, A

YN is a young girl, bright and ambitious, but due to her busy schedule, she's been unable to make any real friends. When an ad for Saint Mary's Sanctuary catches her attention, she never expected her life to be changed by a certain hybrid named Jimin.

→  Summer Nights @marginalmadness - Jungkook x Reader

series [4/4] | 23k | Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance | F, S

A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

→  Risk it All @/httpjeon - Jungkook x Reader

series [5/5] | 8.3k  | hybrid au, alpha wolf!jungkook | A, F, S

ripped from your family, you find yourself in a warehouse filled with predators. just your luck, you’re right across from a caged alpha wolf.

🌷 (I linked Chapter 5 because for some reason others couldn’t find this chapter so they thought it’s still incomplete)

→  Outro Love is Not Over @kiirokero - Hoseok x Reader

series [12/?] |  Daycare Teacher!Hoseok x Single Mom!Reader

You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho.  But you’re a human.  You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can.  So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

→  It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - TaeKook x Reader

two shot [2/2] | 11k | dom/sub themes, heat cycles | S

What’s better than one dogboy lover? Two dogboy lovers. But when Tae and Jungkook seem unusually clingy, it can only mean one thing. That time of the month has snuck up on you and your dogboy lovers do not want to share.

🌷 Also try their other Jungkook hybrid series Out of the Blue

→  Peculiar Park @daydreamindollie -  OT7 x Reader

series [9/?] | 38k+ | imagines, slice of life | Writer!Reader, Psychologist!Reader, imagines | fluff

you’re a successful hybrid writer and psychologist who takes in seven hybrids on one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden

→ Yeouiju @nomseok - Namjoon x Reader

one shot | 33.7k | Mythical AU, Hybrid AU (if you squint), suspense | A, F, S

you find an ancient stone in the middle of the mountains and bring it home with you, oblivious to the consequences of taking a dragon’s yeouiju.

→ Beautiful Stranger @/nomseok - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 19k | circus AU | A, S, F

your dream is to take care of animals for the rest of your life in the big city, making sure that they’re cared for. but you stumble upon a malnourished, rare tiger in your local circus, and you can’t help but want to take care of him.

→ Evolution of You and I @readyplayerhobi - Jimin x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | kind of epistolary (letters), chat, childhood friends | F

For 15 years, Park Jimin has been in your life in some form. From childhood penpal’s to the closest of friends now, you can’t imagine your life without him even if you’ve never actually met him in person. It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen for him, even across the distance that separates you. But what happens when you finally meet up and you discover he’s been keeping something secret?

→  Fish are Friends @httpjeon - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | seahorse hybrid!taehyung | A, S, F

after moving to the seaside, there is a dreadful storm. when all is clear, a man washes up on shore…only he isn’t quite human.

🌷 you know seahorses mate for life and it’s the male that gets pregnant? Interesting huh

→  Pink Panther @gimmesumsuga - Seokjin x Reader

one shot | 13k | boss-employee | F, S

The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are.

→  Ragdoll @ausblack - Jimin x Reader

series [17/17] | Hybrid AU, College AU | F, A

As you were studying to obtain your medical & veterinary degree, your professor came up with the idea of organizing an internship - where you found yourself side by side with a sick hybrid that needed nothing other that complete care.

→  Jagged + Catnap  @opaljm - Jimin x Reader

one shot + sequel | 18k |  jaguar/black panther!jimin, sand dune cat!reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, established relationship (sequel)| S, F, slight A

The pretty little sand cat hybrid Jimin has been in love with for the past year experiences her first heat and Jimin would love nothing more than to be the one to guide her through it and breed her with his kittens.

🌷 there’s also a possible spin-off for Taehyung (Eye of the Tiger)

→  Owner @jessikahathaway - Jungkook x Reader

series [6/?] | 17.4k | Fake Dating AU, Hybrid AU, based on Kimi Wa Petto (Japanese anime) | F, S, A

With your mother hounding on you (no pun intended), you decided to get a little help from a hybrid, who was also in need of assistance.

→ Loving Him Was Red + Somewhere Only We Know @userseok - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 12.8k+ | enemies to lovers, childhood friends (sorta), college au, jock!jungkook, unrequited love (for OC) | S, F, A

you’ve been chasing after jungkook for years. after a harsh verbal altercation between both of you, you decide to leave him alone and pursue a relationship with someone who seems genuinely interested in you, thinking he would never return your feelings.

I would like to recommend the catalog of these writers:

@ditttiii - so I realize I’m following them on AO3 when I realized the fics looked familiar 🤭. They have an ongoing series called Enchanted to Meet You which you might want to check out if you like Soulmate AUs too! I recently reblogged a Jungkook two-shot comfort fic (hybrid au too) so I recommend going through their masterlist!

@aroseforyoongi - who I discovered because of Gossamer (KTH). It was completed but I think it’s up for re-write/re-post? You can try the others:

Navy Blue - Jungkook [completed]

Forever Yours - Yoongi [one shot, prequel to Navy Blue]

Let Me Love You- Jungkook [one shot]

@magicalsalamander - another favorite author of mine I just feel like I’m reading a great tale every time I start on a series or one shot. They have great fics with supernatural themes too

Rabbit on the Moon - Jungkook | if you’re in the mood for police officer Jungkook [6/6]

The Act of Persuasion - Seokjin | if you are in the mood for Single Dad AU x Arranged Marriage too [one shot]

Firefly that Guards the Fox - Taehyung | if you are in the mood for mystery [11/12 - just epilogue left]

Kitten’s Little Flame - Yoongi | if you like BF to Lovers between dragon and a cat [6/6]

There’s more so please check their Masterlist

@hollyhomburg - I just love Of Fire and Love (hello dragon!yoongi and baby!jungkook? 🥺) But you can check:

their masterlist of all their hybrid fics

Dance to This series which I’ve added to fic recs based on an ask about stories that include members/readers with disability.

Don’t care if it Hurts - Jimin | this is probably my favorite (again I’m a sucker for Mafia AUs) , guard dog hybrid!jimin [12/13, just epilogue]

@angelicyoongie - I got hooked after reading their stories on AO3 but they have tumblr too! Check their masterlist for ongoing hybrid fic (Abundance - OT7)  but these are completed ones:

Desolate - Yoongi, grumypy cat hybrid [14/14]

Out of the Woods - Namjoon, wolf hybrid, strangers to lovers [3/3]

@worldwidebt7 - if you like webtoons! I read parts of Jungkook’s webtoon and I think currently we’re on Yoongi’s story. Access it here

@jincherie - One of the first hybrid fics I remember encountering is Inheritance (MYG). Other fics:

Perihelion - Hoseok, college, roommate, enemies [2/?]

Butterfingers - Namjoon, teacher au, this is cuuuute READ IT if you’re looking for something fluffy [one shot]

4 o’ clock - Taehyung, single dad au (I included this in the singel dad fic recs too) [3/?]

Under the Bridge - Jungkook, found jungkook under the bridge [one shot]

@whitesparrows97 - a writer I discovered because of a Yoongi soulmate fic but I found that they also have other hybrid fics:

Cat’s Cradle - Yoongi, bestfriend [5/5]

Underdog - Taehyung, shifter, brought home what she thought a stray dog [5/5]

@foxymoxynoona - and what would my reco be without foxymoxy? So they have tumblr but their works are on AO3. I’ve listed their current works here but I didn’t include their completed works which are must-reads:

Sugar Fairy - Jungkook, mating, adopted hybrids [48/48]

A Sea of Indigo - Jungkook, ex-fighter [48/48] ⭐⭐⭐

@therealmintedmango - They have a whole masterlist of their hybrid!au fics. I recently finished Kingdom Come and I always remember Jimin from King (for some reason)

@joonbird - check their Zodiac Hybrid Masterlist of one shot per member

There are more (usually one shot per member) but I’ll probably put them in another Fic Rec List for Hybrid AUs. Sorry this list is kind of all over the place (not even organized per member 🤭). But good luck with your modules and I hope these help!

(❁´◡`❁)

[starshipsofstarlord]

Not on my boat

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst helping Sam fix his boat, during the midst of its progression, Bucky corners you within the old Wilson heirloom, leaving your friend and future captain, rather disgusted in the both of you.

Warnings | tfatws spoilers, mentions of death, some angst, smut, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bit of choking, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Hearing the waves crash against the side of the boat brought a smile upon your face, as you felt the breeze brush against your face. It was peaceful, fixing something rather than leaving it broken in order to save lives. If you weren’t swarmed with the government on your tail about how you were not allowed to use your powers, you’d be living out a free and happy life with the man you loved.

You were enduring a break from your assistance on the old Wilson vessel, your legs plodded around its platform, as you surveyed every piece that was in progress. Soon it would be in tip top shape, and when Sam and Bucky’s relationship was on par with that, that was when the two of you had planned to leave. There were plenty of things the two of you had to make up for before you could reside in peace; one of those things was that list of his.

It was a ledger of the amends that he had to make, a reminder of all the lives that had either taunted his own, or he had stolen from whilst he was not himself. James did not deserve the grievance that he was pardoned with, he was struggling, that much was clear. He had lost Steve, and then he was forced to watch as the shield had been handed off to some wanna be cap. To say he had been furious at Sam was a deep understatement, but as said, he was making amends.

Sam was a good man, you had learnt that much from the time that you had spent avenging to him. You had yet to tell him, but you weren’t planning on going back to that life after Karli was stopped, you wanted to continue working in the small shot bar slash grill, where Bucky and Youri would visit during your hours for lunch, and remain in that partition of worlds. Having Bucky and normalcy was a fine balance, which was a deep seated structure that you deeply needed.

If you did not have that then you were sure you’d explode, and hurt someone, or break something. That was no longer your duty, the fighting that you had spent most of your life giving into was coming to an end, and you were more than fine with that. A civilian life sounded good enough, and something that you could definitely settle for, though, you weren’t sure that Bucky would do the same, you hoped that he would.

That gleam in his eye was far too noticeable every time that he looked at that star striped shield. It had brought him much pain, but it had been there in the corner of his sight everywhere he had went. And now, Sam Wilson, the man that his best friend had entrusted with it, finally accepted the mantle, holding it in his firm grasp, ready to become the next captain to walk the earth, and both you and him knew that he would do far better than Walker could.

He was already a hero, he’d been fighting the Sam foes as Steve for some time, that was enough to know that he was ready. His hesitancy had been understandable, more so after listening to Isiah, though, it was nice to see Sam take his own path on this one. There were pictures of his younger self assembled upon the wooden walls, he was with his sister Sarah. She seemed like a nice woman, a part of you wished that you get to know her better, but she wasn’t a buyer into the whole superhero get advantages agenda, and nor were you.

From what you could tell, Sam had his advantage right here; his family. Sarah was supportive of him, always aiding him necessary, whilst she simultaneously raised to young boys, that looked admirably up to their uncle, and feeding the kids that they went to school with because their parents had no intention to. If you could, you’d buy a replica of her life, her head was above water, although the boat almost wasn’t.

The boat. It was an heirloom, something that you did not have of your own family. Everyone was gone, the only person you had was Bucky, and thinking of him caused a light chuckle to fall from your lips, he made you endlessly happy. But neither of you could have the picture perfect life, and that was why the pair of you worked, you were each well aware of the restrictions that taunted you both, and had both been down dark roads on more than one occasion.

Things were turning brighter though, as the sun glared through the old glass, casting luminosity to stroke the high points of your face. A gently creak had your head diverting to the door way, where no other than James Barnes was leant up against, his metal arm pressed to the frame as he adoringly swept his oceanic pools over your form, slowly stepping closer.

“What are you thinking about doll?” He asked you, his tone genuine, as you sighed from his words, rubbing your eyelid as you felt a small itch. You puffed your cheeks, as you placed your hands on the super soldier’s waist, rubbing small and vigilant circles through his grey shirt.

“Too much.” It was an honest answer, everything was rattling around like pins in your mind, sinking in and letting loose to their own will. They could not be organised, they would only tumble about again, until the box was empty, though, for now, you had nowhere else to put them.

“Sarah said we could spend the night.” At his words, you hummed, taking note once more of how generous the woman indeed was. “We get the couch, so you best be on your best behaviour baby girl, nothing dirty goes on inside.” A small smirk crept its way onto his handsome face as you gasped at his spoken intention, lightly hitting the vibranium of his arm.

“Why do you blame me for not keeping it in my pants?” You interrogated him, glaring up at the man with a furrow between your brows. “You’re the one that corners me, a lot like this actually, so that you can get your own way and fuck m- oh, that’s exactly what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” You scoffed, crossing your arms and stepping away due to the man’s hormonal impulses. “Why am in not surprised?” You asked yourself, shaking your head at the behaviour of your partner.

“Hey, I’m doing us both a favour. Sex in someone else’s house is not exactly appreciated, and there’s kids, that i would rather not risk getting caught by.” He moved towards you, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand, as he pulled you closer by his grip. “At least then, there’s a chance I can survive the night, without being woken up by you sucking me off, or riding me.”

He was pushing your buttons, and he far well knew that, almost too well. It was his technique to get you riled up, that way, there’d be no dismissal of his current proposal, though, you continued to wear that adorable frown that he loved so much, and so, he gave your ass another firm squeeze, causing you to gasp against his chest. “Fucking on their dead parents’ boat isn’t exactly respectful either.”

“We’re helping fix it, may as well take our break on board, let loose a little, release all that’s clouding your mind.” He shrugged, knowing that his words were tempting you into complying with his lustrous whim, and so, to put another step in to helping his cause, he stepped back, reaching behind him to pull his shirt over the back of his neck, leaving his muscular torso bare, and free for your eyes to roam.

“That’s not fair.” You whined at him, not stopping yourself as you moved closer, and smoothed your hands down his stomach. “You’re such a tease Barnes, why couldn’t you have just fingered me in the public bathroom and waited until tomorrow?” A groan slipped from your mouth, as you peppered kisses over his warm flesh, tasting the sweat on his skin as your tongue swiped over the ridges of his six pack.

“Where would the fun have been in that?” He watched you roll your eyes, but continue to work your way down to his navel, stroking his v line with your fingertips. “We’ve had sex on a plane, might as well add a boat to the list.” Bucky remarked, groaning as you put your weight down onto your knees, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, as you palmed him through the denim of his jeans.

He could feel his cock stirring beneath the material, wanting more, eager to breach the layers that were keeping your tongue from rotating around him. But he remained still, as you swept your hair out from your face, the noise of your pulling down his zipper audible, as you sent him a naughty grin. The man above you licked his lips, breathing a sigh of relief when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, his erection swiftly bouncing up, the leaking tip pointing rudely at your face.

With a quick hand, you grasped his length, rubbing over his veins as you pumped him, spreading the moisture of his precum over his rigid skin, aiding you in your movements. As you proceeded to jerk him within your grip, your mouth moved forwards, your breath fanning over his balls before your tongue slipped out to stroke them, swiping up the droopy skin, as you suckled one into your mouth, contently moaning from the flavour of his skin.

Your eyes had shut as Bucky opened his own, watching you through a hooded gaze as you happily assisted his genitals, sending him into a crusade of pleasure as you used your well adversed skill set upon him. Your bottom lip ran up his shaft, slowly dragging along his reddened skin, until your reached the tip, your hands fleeing down to fondle with his sack, as your mouth stuffed itself full of his cock.

“Baby girl.” He breathed, his chest feeling tight as he stood there, practically naked aboard your friend’s boat. James gritted his teeth, watching as you effortlessly bobbed your head up and down half of him, lazily grinning as gagging sounds eventually emitted from your throat as you had him down the back of your throat, saliva slipping down your chin as you shook your head from side to side with him choking you with his dick.

Though he worried not for your struggle, not as you moaned against him, your lashes fluttering though your eyes were shut. He reached his vibranium hand down, stroking the side of your face with the cool metal, a high whine whistling it’s way out of your nose. Your spare hand reached up, cupping it against you, as you hollowed your cheeks, steadily breathing your nostrils.

A light frown covered your face as you focused on smoothing your tongue on his underside, causing Bucky to throw back his head, his stomach sternly clenching as he felt his balls twitch; and then, before he could fathom it, he was filling your mouth, cumming down your throat, as he pulled out, the last of his seed falling upon your tongue as he manhandled himself, feeling sensitive as he watched you fumble your tongue around your mouth, swallowing the mix of your spittle and his cum.

“Taste so fucking good.” You spoke, laughing lightly as you stared up and saw his dazed expression. Bucky pulled you up, his hand cupping your ass again, as he backed you up against the dash, your back lightly hitting against the window as he pulled at your shorts, whisking then down your legs, rubbing you through your underwear. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting himself as he located your clit, your arms grabbing at his shoulders to push him down, to which he complied.

His noises echoed through your mouth, as he pressed kissed along the top of your thighs, his fingers surpassing the seams of your panties, swiping at your entrance, until his prodding ceased, and he sunk his middle finger into your pussy, feeling you clench around him instantaneously. His teeth bit into your skin, emitting a squeal out of you as you harshly tugged his hair, making him rut his loose cock against nothing but the air.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your skin, as his vibranium snapped the sides of your underwear, letting the damp material fall to the floor, as he licked circles around your clit with his tongue, pulley airy sounds of pleasure of of your lungs. He slipped in another finger, his nose being pressed against your mound as you tugged him even closer, feeling as though you were almost there. Then you came, his fingers quickly exiting you as his tongue plunged in your entrance, cleaning up all your juices.

“Need you to fuck me Buck, please honey”. The man stood, stroking his hard cock as he teased your entrance. He swiped it through your slit a couple of times, before slapping his head against your clit, making your mewl against his lips, as you licked your essence from around his mouth. “James...” His cocky demeanour returned, as he watched you glance down at his cock, pressing your lips together in desire.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck me on the boat.” He sneered dominantly, gripping your throat with his vibranium fist, giving it a tough squeeze, finding it endlessly hot as needy tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. Your lips pouted as you sputtered to speak, but you were just so hungry for him. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take pity on you doll, aren’t I?”

With that,he wedged his way through your folds, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out, gently releasing your throat to paw at your tits through your shirt. “Move baby, move.” You mumbled, your head feeling dizzy as your nails dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that you could place tender and supple kisses across the front of his shoulders.

And so, he began to thrust into you, keeping a grip on your hips as he raised your leg around his waist, driving into you deeper, your head tiredly lulling as you chanted his name in soft and delirious pants. “So damn tight angel.” The soldier muttered, biting down onto your chin as he kissed his way up to your lips, abusing the swollen flesh a little more. The kisses were sloppy and downright needy, his vibranium hand held your chin up so that it would tip in rhythm with his movements, making access to the inside of your mouth easier.

“Buck.” You mumbled against his lips as your eyes rolled, your own hand circling your clit as you jutted against his exceeding administrations, one hand crawling up into his scalp as you let our small screams. You were indefinitely close, and as Bucky swerved his head around your own, moving his lips to nip at your earlobe, you came, coating his cock in your wetness, as he continued to hit his hips against your own.

It wasn’t long until he followed after, your clumsy hands trailing down to roll his balls in your palms being the last thing to push him over the edge. Bucky remained standing between your legs, each of your heads resting over each other’s shoulders as you felt each other, eyes closed, and smelling how the aroma of your sex wafted around you, like a personalised perfume.

“Hell no.” And the peace was broke, as Sam’s voice broke it. He had his hands on his hips as he shifted his gaze away from the two of you, unimpressed by what had happened. “The two of you get a break and you - not on my boat!” He practically screeched like a falcon at the pair of you, his arms flailing about like a bird’s flapping wings.

Although he was maddened, it didn’t settle well with you. You were too far out of it to acknowledge what he must have thought about the on deck dick that you had gotten, you were too lost in Bucky, the feeling of him still inside of you, and the falling of his cum out from beneath you both. “You know what, I’m outta here.” Sam left, quite glad to do so.

“You alright doll face?” Bucky asked as he pulled out, making you wince from the feeling of emptiness. You nodded as he reached for your underwear , leaving them be when he registered he had torn them, and instead opted to picking up just you’d shorts, pulling them onto your legs, redressing himself afterwards.

“I love you Buck.” You smiled tiredly, humming as he pecked your lips a few more times, combing his hands through your sex hair, as he returned the facial expression, seemingly calm. It looked good on him, the pair of you had momentarily forgotten your traumas, and it was bliss.

“Love you too darling.” He pecked your nose, staring lovingly into your eyes as he helped you down, and abled you with support to stand. “Unfortunately I think our breaks over beautiful.” He spoke, his hand upon your waist as the pair of you walked from the scene, going to fetch a bottle of water from Sarah, whom you hoped had not learn of your oversea adventure .

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

My Silent Screams And Our Wildest Dreams

Summary: Reader knows two things, she loves Spencer and Spencer doesn’t love her back. But, she finds herself learning a couple more things that threaten to shake up her world.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.8 K

Warnings: Pregnancy, unhealthy amounts of being obviously in love, guns/gun violence (canon level), hospitals, kissing, the kind of cheesy love confessions that only happen when someone almost dies, oh and near death experience :(

Author’s Note: This is my first fic for @shemarmooresfedora and my 500 follower co-celebration! Be sure to check out her fic too! Everything will be posted to this masterlist, which will remain linked in my pinned post forever & always! I hope that you enjoy reading!! Let me know what you think here

My Silent Screams, Our Wildest Dreams

There aren’t many things in this world that Y/N is sure about. If she has to make a guess she’d say that there are two things she’d bet her life on. The first one being that she’s head over heels in love with the only man on Earth that she shouldn’t be and the second one being that Spencer doesn’t love her back. Even if Y/N could turn back time and return to the night when Spencer turned up to her apartment soaking wet with a bottle of red wine in one hand and Legally Blonde in the other, she wouldn’t dare. She knows it’s selfish to love a man who doesn’t love her back, because there's a rather large, rather hungry part of her that is lit on fire every time Spencer somehow brushes his fingertips against her skin.

But sitting there in the Women’s Restroom, there’s a third thing that Y/N is sure of: she’s pregnant. Y/N grabs a wad of toilet paper and mops up the tears that stream down her face. Motherhood has always been something that she’s thought about in the very distant future, and never with a man who didn’t love her like she loves him. Even if that faceless person did turn out to be Spencer, he’d be spinning her around and kissing her face. She wouldn’t be crying in a dirty stall with day old make-up streaming down her face. Taking a deep breath in, Y/N pulls out her phone and calls the only person she knows that could help her.

“Penny,” Y/N says, not recognizing her own voice, yet hating the way that it cracks.

“Y/N, are you hurt? Where is the team? Is Spencer with you,” Garcia’s questions fly in and Y/N knows that Garcia has no idea, but even mentioning his name wounds Y/N deeply.

“Penelope, I need to talk to you, like right now. And I need to get this out because if I don’t do it right now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out,” Y/N whispers into the phone, scared that JJ or Emily could come looking for her in the bathroom.

“I’m listening, Y/N,” Garcia tells her. Y/N’s eyes flit over the pregnancy test stick that seals her fate, one way or another. Taking another deep breath, she thinks that it’s now or never.

“I’m pregnant. And-and I’m in love with the baby’s father, but I know he doesn’t love me back,” Y/N says, quickly getting it out all in one breath, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s kind of a miracle that I got pregnant at all, Penny. You know what my doctor told me last year,” Y/N think back to the last time she visited her doctor. She told her that it would be very unlikely for her to get pregnant, yet here she was 13 months later pregnant with her and Spencer’s baby.

“Y/N, sweetie, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Can you do that, honey?” Penelope’s voice is clear and strong through the phone, reminding Y/N of why she’s the first person she called in the situation.

“Listen to me now, Y/N. I will support you no matter what. You don’t want to be a mom, I’ll drive you to the nearest clinic the moment you get back and you’ll stay with me till you’re okay again. You want to be a mom, I’ll be the coolest aunt and spoiler that little baby. Hell, Y/N, I’ll even marry you myself and will raise that baby together,” Penelope finishes chuckling lightly.

“Penelope, I love you. I-I just need to get my head together. I’ll call you when we get back to the hotel,” Y/N says, still a little hesitant to end the call.

“Y/N, I mean it. Whatever you want, I’m your biggest cheerleader. And I will marry you and we will be the best moms,” Penelope tells her, causing Y/N to giggle, despite the enormous pressure that rests against her chest.

“But do you think you should at least give the father a chance? Maybe you should tell him that you love him, Y/N. I don’t think you’re-

“Thank you, Penelope,” Y/N whispers as the tears threaten to make a comeback. She hangs up the phone, a little shaken from the call. It seems so foreign to say it aloud. Y/N doesn’t know how she’ll be able to break the news to Spencer, or rather if she ever will.

***

“Y/L/N and Reid, you two will go interview the foster mother. I sent the address to your phone, Y/L/N. You need to look for signs of neglect in the language that she will be using. Anything that could lead us to getting reasonable suspicion of domestic abuse in the formative years for Anderson,” Hotch orders, nodding as he delivers the assignment.

Spencer stands close to Y/N. His fingertips brush against the back of her hand, like he’s reminding her that he’s just as alive as he is. It’s telling her that he wants to hold her hand, but can’t. They’re not a couple, they’re just co-workers who, as much as they’ve tried, can’t keep their hands off each other. The moment Hotch turns around to talk to Emily and Morgan, Spencer quickly squeezes Y/N’s hand. He lets go just as fast as he grabbed it, but the small gesture is enough to send Y/N over the edge.

“Can I drive? You’re the only one that lets me,” Spencer asks, pretending to be simply talking with a coworker.

“Of course, Spence,” Y/N says, walking past him to the doors of the police precinct, “I have the address,” her voice is quieter than usual and she hopes that Spencer doesn’t pick up on it.

“Y/N,” Spencer says, as they walk out into the dry Arizona sun, “what’s wrong, you were in the bathroom for 19 minutes, that’s 14 minutes longer than average,” Spencer says, glancing over at Y/N as they make their way to the parked SUV.

“Spencer, do you seriously calculate my peeing time?” Y/N scoffs, nudging Spencer with her elbow.

“I just want to make sure everything is alright with you. That’s all,” Spencer says, reaching down to grab Y/N’s hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of her palm, then her wrist and starts to kiss each of her fingers before Y/N pulls her hand away.

“Spencer,” she says, “someone could be looking,” Y/N is too preoccupied in hiding her secret from Spencer to notice that Spencer’s smile falters when she drops her hand. He’s as observant as they come, yet Y/N’s suspicious behavior would ring the alarm bells in his brain even if he wasn’t.

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Spencer says, probably repeating the words in his brain till they no longer sound like a word.

“So the foster house we’re going to, what do you think we’re expecting,” Y/N says, trying to steer the subject to something strictly professional. It’s hard though, be professional as Spencer backs out of the parking spot and heads to the house.

“Do you want me to put the navigation on?” Y/N asks, even though she probably knows the answer, she still asks because she’s gotten lost on the Virginia back roads with Spencer one too many times during their monthly weekend off.

“I don’t need a computer to tell me where I need to go, Y/N,” Spencer says, looking around wildly for his next turn, “I know exactly where I am, we just got turn down Maple and then on to Revere,”

“Whatever you say, Spencer,” Y/N says, her words come out a little more annoyed than she intended.

Spencer, who never seems to fail to notice a change in her mood, reaches across the center console to place Y/N’s hand into his. Y/N, though craving the physical connection, can’t help but feel a little guilty at accepting it. Letting Spencer hold her hand like this is taking advantage of him, she thinks. But she can’t deny that Spencer’s thumb rubbing against the back of her hand makes her feel loved. It’s so steady and constant that it almost makes her think that Spencer could love her back. And maybe he could, in some rosy colored alternate reality where she was less “her”. It’s in her wildest dreams where Spencer is spinning her around, kissing her face to show just how happy her being pregnant makes him.

“You know that you really should have both hands on the wheel,” Y/N tells him, once the affection becomes too much that the line between co-workers that hookup every chance they get blurs between co-workers who are together.

“You never seemed to complain about us obeying traffic laws, from what my memory can tell me, darling,” Spencer says smartly, sneaking in a smirk as he turns left.

“Yeah, well. Maybe we should just start following the rules, Reid,” Y/N says, distancing herself from Spencer as she turns her head to face the car window.

Y/N, lost in her thoughts, doesn’t realize that Spencer has made loops around the block until she sees the brightly decorated community library for the third time. Spencer sighs heavily as he turns on the hazards and pulls over.

“Alright, I’m lost,” Spencer says, defeatedly, “you have to use that navigator thing because I don’t have a clue and I hate using it because it means that the-”

“That the government is tracking your location, yes, Spencer,” Y/N says, letting herself for a moment to forget that her and Spencer are in this weird limbo, “I think you forget that you are the government, though,”

“Well, thank goodness I got my girl over here to remind me,” Spencer says, sneaking a kiss on Y/N’s cheek as she mounts her phone to the stand.

“Hey Siri, navigate me to 568 Piedmont Street,” Y/N says, turning up the volume on her phone for Spencer as he drives off in the direction of the foster home.

***

There’s another thing to add to the list of things that Y/N is sure about. One, she loves Spencer. Two, Spencer doesn’t love her back. Three, she is pregnant. And four, Spencer and her are probably going to die.

Anderson stands in the middle of the living room, his arm around Spencer’s neck and his gun pointed at his temple. His eyes are wild, but Y/N notices a pain behind them. It’s the kind of pain that comes from years and years of abuse. She knows that she’s the only person that is able to talk him down, but she still prays silently that Derek and Emily are coming soon.

“Anderson,” she says, her voice calm as she can manage watching Spencer struggle to get loose, “Anderson, look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay, she hurt you. Melissa hurt you, Anderson. And I’m here-we’re her to get her,”

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? You can be just saying that get your partner out of here,” Anderson says, tightening his grip on Spencer.

“Please, Anderson. You just gotta trust me. You got to trust me. Spe-Agent Reid and I are here to help you. I’m here to make sure she can’t hurt you or any other kid ever again,” Y/N says, her fear rising in her throat as she makes eye contact with Spencer.

He’s mouthing something to her, telling her to run when she has the chance. Spencer, with his last breath, is trying to save her from what seems like an inevitable ending.

“I’m not leaving you!” Y/N shouts, more for Spencer than for Anderson, but she quickly changes her demeanor as she reaches a hand out to the unsub.

“I’m so sorry,” Anderson sobs, dropping Spencer to the ground, “I just wanted my dad. No kid should have to grow up without a dad,” he cries, reaching for Y/N’s extended hand.

She accepts it and in the next three seconds, Y/N is sure that her life, for the second time that day, is forever changed. Something must have triggered him, something in the house must have brought back a bad memory because all Y/N can hear is a gunshot, and Spencer screaming.

***

Y/N changes the list. She’s sure of four things. She loves Spencer. Spencer doesn’t love back. She’s pregnant with her and Spencer’s baby. And Spencer is probably going to die, while she lives.

Derek sits next to her, though he is sleeping, Y/N can feel his steady breath that rises and falls. He’s been there the whole night, not leaving Y/N’s side. Hotch and the others went back to the police precinct to deal with Strauss’s calls about Spencer’s accident.

“Your boy is going to be just fine,” Derek mumbles, turning to face Y/N in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital, “please, Y/N we all know. Everyone knows, but you and Spencer,”

“What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Morgan,” Y/N says, trying to pretend she’s just an apathetic co-worker, despite her waiting for nearly five hours for Spencer to get out of emergency surgery.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know that you know that he loves you and you love him. Yet you’re dancing around each other like idiots,” Derek says.

“He doesn’t love me, Derek, not like I love him,” Y/N says, tensely, already guarding herself from thinking about what it would be like to love Spencer freely.

“You know that I heard the whole conversation from in the house, right? Spencer pleading with Anderson to let you go, you screaming when he got shot, you tackling Anderson,” Derek tells her, reminding her of probably the worst moments of her life, “I heard it all, Y/N. And I know what it sounds like,”

“Derek, you can’t be messing with me right now, I couldn’t handle that. I-I he almost died. He almost died thinking that I don’t love him. And God, Derek, I love him so much it hurts to breathe,” Y/N says, her sticky tears traveling down her face and onto her cardigan, that is actually Spencer’s.

It’s funny in a sick way. Y/N realizing just how terribly her and Spencer hid their relationship from the team.

“Family of Spencer Reid,” the doctor in blue surgical scrubs comes through the doors, looking for Spencer’s people, “we’ve got an update on Agent Reid. He’s stable and will be moved to a room until he’s discharged. He’s incredibly lucky that the bullet moved through just three centimeters to the right, anything closer and he wouldn’t have made it off the table,” the doctor says, her eyes moving to Y/N’s stricken face and to Derek’s stoic stare. They’re too scared to be happy and too nervous to pretend that they are out of the woods.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Morgan says, turning to place a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, turning to hug Derek in a tight embrace, “Oh my god, Derek, I really thought he was gone,”

“Our boy is gonna be okay, Y/N. He’s gonna be just fine,” Derek says, into Y/N’s shoulder. She doesn’t say anything as Derek breathes into the cardigan. She wonders if he too is imagining that he’s hugging a healthy and strong Spencer.

***

There are four things that Y/N is sure of. She loves Spencer, Spencer loves her, she’s pregnant with their baby, and Spencer is going to make it through the night. That’s enough to get her through the next couple of hours. Her head rests against Spencer’s bed and the constant beeping from the monitors hooked up to his chest tell her he’s still breathing.

It’s been three hours since Derek went back to the hotel, on Y/N’s insistence that she will be fine by herself. During that time, she counted that Spencer took 2,775 breaths, in and out. Each time he didn’t breath, Y/N felt her heart stop. She felt her world come crashing down the second that she heard those gunshots and she knows that will not be able to bear it again.

Laying her head on the hospital bed, Y/N can feel the cotton blanket against her cheek. Her work pants are tight against her belly and she wishes that she took the chance to change into scrubs. Before her thoughts could wander too far to the idea of needing to buy maternity clothing, Y/N feels a hand brush the hair from her face.

Spencer’s brown eyes meet her and she swears that she’s never seen him more tired. He licks his lips and curves them into a smile. His hand cups Y/N’s cheek tenderly. Y/N thinks that his hands have touched every inch of her body, yet this touch is the most intimate touch she’s ever felt. She wants to give in to him, melt into this hospital bed without a care in the world, as long as Spencer’s arms are wrapped around her body.

“Spencer,” Y/N croaks out, “you, I,” she says, faltering. She doesn’t know what to say to him, words can’t seem to him justice.

“Y/N, let me say this please,” Spencer says, trying to sit up in bed. He holds his hand out for Y/N to grab. She does without hesitation. Something about hiding this from the world seems so superficial, so stupid now that she almost did it for the last time just in the SUV nine hours ago.

“Y/N, I know we said that we both weren’t looking for a relationship. I know that, Y/N. But I failed, I-I, how could I not? You are my world, Y/N. You have been for some time now. So what I’m trying to tell you is that I-”

“I’m pregnant, Spencer,” Y/N says, interrupting perhaps the only love confession she’ll ever care to hear, “You’re going to be a dad,” Y/N says, watching the way Spencer’s face morphs from confusion to joy.

He brings Y/N’s hands to his lips, kissing her fingers, her palm and the back of her hand. He kisses her through a smile and his smile turns to laughter. Like always, Spencer’s laughter is contagious.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, you were on a roll, but I’m just so glad that you’re alive. I’ve loved you for years, Spencer. I thought you didn’t love me back, I mean, how could you?”

“How could I?” Spencer says, holding Y/N’s hand in his, he brings it back up to his lips, “How could I not, Y/N. You’re beautiful, but that’s the last thing that I notice, you’re kind and you’re funny,” he kisses up her arm, groaning slightly from the pain from his stitches.

“Spencer, be careful, baby,” Y/N warns, but wishes he’ll continue anyway,

“I always wanted to hear you say that,” Spencer says, smiling through the pain. He scoots over in his hospital bed, making room for Y/N to climb.

“Did you ever think that we would end up this way, when we, uh, you know started, um?,” Spencer asks, his voice trailing off towards the end. Even after all they’ve been through, Spencer is still nervous and flustered at mentioning their previously ambiguous relationship.

“Did I ever think we’d ever be having a baby together?” Y/N confirms, nuzzling her nose into the crook of Spencer’s neck. She can feel Spencer nod “yes”.

“Just in my wildest dreams,” Y/N mumbles quietly, into Spencer’s hospital gown.

“You dreamed about me being a dad?” Spencer asks, his voice dripping with a combination of pain medications and love.

“It happened so fast, Spencer. You were always in my dreams. But somewhere along the way my dreams twisted into something that I never thought would come true,”

“But in reality, no because I never thought you’d love me like that,” Y/N tells him, feeling Spencer shift uncomfortably, “I know, it’s kind of silly now that I think about it,”

“I dreamed of you too, Y/N. I always wondered why you stood out more than the others. More than Derek and Penelope. More than anyone I’ve ever met. No matter how hard I tried, you always seemed to occupy my days and haunt my nights. And besides, I don’t think I did a very good job of hiding how much I love you,” Spencer says, breathing in deeply due to the pain.

“I think I was so scared to be vulnerable, scared that you wouldn’t love me back I’m too much sometimes-” Y/N starts, but Spencer twists his body against hers to press his lips to Y/N’s mouth.

It’s strange to kiss him again. To kiss him after knowing that he loves her back, to kiss him without feeling the burn of guilt or worrying about the cold bed that would be left in his wake. Kissing him is like breathing in fresh air, it’s a rebirth that not even in her wildest dreams could Y/N forget. It makes up for all the times that she wanted to tug him by the neck in the middle of the bullpen and kiss him in front of everyone.

Y/N snuggles in close to Spencer, his arm wraps around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. She can feel his heartbeat against her back and his wet kisses against her neck. Spencer rests his other hand in hers and Y/N brings his hand to rest against her belly.

“I wonder what it will be like to hold their hand,” Spencer mumbles into Y/N’s (his) cardigan.

“Least it’s not in our wildest dreams anymore,” Y/N says, kissing the bare spot of Spencer’s skin that is exposed from his gown.

Spencer hums as his breathing goes more steady. He takes his turn to press sweet kisses into Y/N’s temple, whispering to her that he’ll never miss a day when he tells her he loves her. Y/N holds off from sleep until she’s sure that Spencer is asleep.

“I promise, I’ll never not let you hold my hand,” she whispers to Spencer’s sleeping form in the dark, “but thank goodness you have two hands,”

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I really love to here what you thought!

The next fic will be out on Wednesday and I'm very excited to those prompts :)

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@shemarmooresfedora @april-14-blog @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirstine @winifrede @muffin-cup @spencers-dria

[ac3id]

“watch and learn,” | 18+

pairings: incel sakusa x fem!reader x ushijima

summary: sakusa gets tired of watching you take advantage of his friend, so he takes matters into his own hands to teach you a lesson. fortunately for him, ushijima feels the same

warnings: noncon, humiliation, voyeurism, anal, hate fucking. 

a/n: this was high-key inspired by @vermiliren​ ‘s sakusa and ushijima concepts,,, love you <3

wordcount.: 4k+

tagging: @minitaureland, @oikawoahh, @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @sunshine-fangs​ 

dm to be added/ removed!

Sakusa has a problem.

Well, Sakusa has many problems, but this one in particular manages to drive him crazy.

It makes his blood boil and his cock hard, it’s an irritating itch he just can’t scratch which makes him absolutely mad.

One could say such a problem must be nerve-wracking; something which keeps you up all night wondering how you can overcome it. Maybe it’s family, maybe it’s financial. It must be a big deal, right? But luckily for Sakusa, it’s just you.

His problem is you, his teammate’s girlfriend.

It’s weird. Technically, there should be no reason for him to think of his teammate’s girlfriend as anything but just as another girl but his heart tells him another story.

Whenever he thinks of you, he either imagines punching your beautiful face until it’s stained with wine red blood or shoving his cock down all of your holes which he hears you cry in agony. He imagines filling you up with his cum, clearing you of all your filth. There’s really no in-between, but sometimes he imagines doing it both...in the same order.

But hey! Sakusa is a good guy, he would never do such a thing! He respects women and most certainly he respects you. He obviously doesn’t think you’re a whore or anything for talking to a guy who isn’t your boyfriend, Ushijima. But gosh, even you notch it up a lot.

He rarely ever sees you, only when you arrive at bars uninvited with Ushijima or when you come down to the volleyball tournaments for Ushijima or when you wait for Ushijima while he practices in the stadium or….. When you go down to the grocery store where he just happens to be….multiple times.

Maybe you’re getting food for Ushijima, but he’s sure his teammate’s not going to eat half the junk you buy. Ushijima has a body to maintain, his health is very important to him. All of that fast food is not going to work him any favors.

Don’t you cook for him? You know, like a woman should?

You see, Sakusa is a little old fashioned. He likes tradition and sincerely pesters everyone to follow it. So it’s not a big surprise when he expects the same from you or any female in general. In the past, he’s been called an incel; a man who hates women was it? But that’s definitely not him. He loves them. Especially when they are naked on his computer screen, getting pinned down by a man two sizes bigger than themselves.

Sometimes he imagines you and Ushijma in their place and way more often, he imagines him with you over there instead.

So, see? He doesn’t women. He loves them! But… some women get on his nerves.

Some women like you.

He would never admit this, but Sakusa follows you around only because he does not trust you for Ushijima. Even when Ushi’s around, you flirt with other men while he’s sitting right next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. It gets worse when he is away.

He can always hear you make suggestive comments to the cute cashier in the store while he lurks away. He’s disgusted. He can’t understand why Ushijima still chooses to stay with you.

He’s dating a whore, you don’t care about him- you’re just having your fun. You’ll leave him once it gets over, you don’t like him. But you still have him entranced, so madly in love with you. Sukasa think-no, he knows it’s only because you’re good in bed. There’s no other reason for him to keep you around for so long, being a slut you probably know how to make a man feel good.

Sakusa understands that but it still bothers him. Like a good friend he is, he decides to tell Ushijima about you. It starts in the locker room after practice. Both of them stand together changing out of their sports gear, it was a tiring day, and the two men were tired. He’s surprised when Ushijima starts the conversation, midday through changing his shirt, he starts.

“So, what do you think of her?” Sakusa knows who he is talking about, you had come into the stadium that day to watch Ushijima practice, and he had spent the better half of his time glaring daggers and staring at you. Sakusa says your name cluelessly, “Yes, her.” Ushijima replies.

Sakusa clicks his tongue, “I think-” “Cut the bullshit, you’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Ushijima turns to him, his eyes dark and fatal. A frown rests on his face with his fists balled as if to throw a punch. Sakusa panics, not understanding why such an accusation could fall over his head.

“No- I- that’s not true!” he clarifies but Ushijima looks unmoved, “Then why the fuck do you keep looking at her?” the murderous glint in his eyes doesn’t disappear as he just gets angrier. A newfound fear forms within Sakusa, he had always respected Ushijima as a player and a man, he sure as hell didn’t want to start a fight with the green-haired man. He spills everything he knows, everything he’s seen.

The night when he spotted you kissing Atsumu, the relentless flirting, everything. It’s brutal, it breaks Ushijima’s heart but a necessary evil. He watches Ushijima’s spirit break when his eyes turn blank. He stares motionlessly on the floor, thinking. Sakusa feels the rage return, he’s so mad at you- how could you do this to anyone? All of you are the same, all women are the same but….but you are the worst!

Sakusa waits for a moment before speaking, “You can’t let her get away with this,” he starts. Ushijima looks up at him, listening diligently to his plan. “You should take revenge, don’t let her get away with this.” Revenge?

Ushijima’s eyes lit up at the word, many thoughts came into his mind when Sakusa said it. Revenge? Should he also kiss any of your friends behind your back? Should he be cold towards you? The idea of making you realize just how much you hurt him by lettering you experience the pain excited him. He loved you, he did but sometimes drastic measures have to be taken. “What should I do?” he asked impatiently, he wanted to find a way to fix his deteriorating relationship.

Sakusa pauses, his mind racing back to the many porn clips he has fapped to before and settling on which the big boyfriend destroys his little girlfriend’s pussy for cheating on him. “I’ll send a video.”

Later that night Ushijima receives a link from Sakusa, titled ‘boyfriend punishes girlfriend for cheating.’

- 

“Wakatoshi?” you bask in confusion at the man standing next to your boyfriend at the front door. It was late at night and you were almost going to bed. Ushijima had texted you telling he’d be home late that night but you had managed to catch him just in time. You were not expecting his teammate to come along with him, though.

It was awkward, dressed only in some sleep shorts and Ushijima welcoming Sakusa in the house was weird. He never seemed to take his eyes off of you, you were genuinely creeped out. You let the two men talk in the living room while you headed to the kitchen to prepare them a little snack. They said they had already eaten but umm...hospitality? It was fine to both of them, they liked you better in the kitchen anyway.

“Have you tried a threesome before?” Sakusa asked, taking a seat. It was finally the day Ushijima was going to man up and teach you a lesson which you’d never forget. “No, I don’t like to share,” he replied. Sakusa nodded, “understandable.” they stood quiet for a second only for your humming to fill the room. Even though you were in the kitchen, your sweet melody still ringed till the other room. Ushijima threw Sakusa a knowing glance before he made his way to the kitchen to see you. Heading over next to you, he sized down your form.

Ushijima took a step forward, trapping you between the kitchen counter and his huge body. You bring your hands to his chest, keeping him at a distance from you and just feeling his warmth under your palms. You did this often, it wasn’t anything sexual. You just enjoyed feeling him under your fingertips.

“So, what’s his deal?” you ask, your voice low not to alert Sakusa sitting in the living room. It was late, very late. There was no reason for Ushijima to bring a friend over now, but if Sakusa needed a place to spend the night- that was a different story.

“He will go in sometime,” Ushijima answered back, his huge, warm palms caressing your cheeks. You lean into the touch as he looks down at you affectionately with pure innocent eyes until he can’t. The spell you have him under breaks and he remembers why Sakusa is here.

His thumb trails down to your lips, pushing against the soft and pillow-like features. You look at him in confusion, Surprised by his bold actions. Ushijima was a private person, seeing him act so suggestively while another man sat right in the next room shocked you...but you liked it.

You obediently open your mouth letting his digits enter your hot carven. A tingle of a dull, throbbing pull settles on your tongue as you frown. Looking up at Ushijima through your lashes, you watch him glare at you while he pinches your tongue between his two fingers.

You whine out, there was no lie that you like it rough but the unsettling expression on Ushijima's face frightened you.

“Do you remember the last time we went out for drinks with the team?” your eyes widened and your blood ran cold, you knew exactly what he was getting at. “Nod your fucking head, bitch.” his pinch grew tighter making you squeal harder and you hastily nodded. You heard footsteps ring as Sakusa appeared into the room. Turning your eyes to his immediately, asking him for assistance. You hope to see a reaction out of Sakusa, disgust at most- he’d tell you both to cut it out but Sakusa stood still with an unreadable expression. Was he not going to say anything?

Ushijima caught your attention back by pinching your tongue hard, once again. drool pooled in your mouth, slowly leaking past your lips. It was disgusting.

“That night, did you kiss Atsumu?”

He knew. This is why he was doing this, you could understand that, but why was Sakusa just watching?

Your gaze lowered to the floor and Ushijima let his fingers leave you, letting you talk. You kept your head down as you spoke. it was too heartbreaking, you knew you should have told Ushijima but for some reason you never did. you were sacred Ushijima would leave you.

“That night, Atsumu came onto me…. when you left me with him that day, he kissed me- I didn’t want him to..he just…” shaky breaths leave your lips as you recall the dreadful incident. Atsumu was drunk that night, he wasn’t thinking straight. He apologized to you sincerely the next day but the damage was done. you could still feel his uninvited touches roaming all over your body when he tried to grope you.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Ushijima turned to sakusa, the glare which was burning you now directed at him. Ushijima was furious at sakusa for accusing you but sakusa knew what he saw. he frowned at you, he remembers seeing you kissing the blonde back- you’re just lying now, trying to get out of this mess.

“She’s lying, I knew what I saw. don’t trust her,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?”

You scream at him with angry, glassy eyes immediately turning to Ushijima and begging him to not believe the dark-haired man. Sakusa watches you with calculating eyes, revising his next move. He knows he’s not going to let you go so easily, there’s only one reason he’s here tonight. And that’s to put a whore in her place, he’s not leaving until he gets a taste of you.

He starts again, “don’t listen to her, Ushijima. listen to me, I have no reason to lie to you I’m your friend.” He chooses his words carefully to manipulate Ushijima into siding with him.

Ushijima stares at you for a second before grabbing your wrist harshly, “it’ll be okay,” he whispers your name, pulling you along with him. you scream at him, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp as he thrusts your forward.

“Toshi’ stop. seriously, no. stop,” you cry and beg but he shows no mercy. He pulls you into your shared bedroom, throwing you on your shared bed. Sakusa quietly follows, locking the door behind him as he enters. “What should I do now?” Ushijima turns to sakusa who stands next to the door, his eyes run towards you and he watches you cowering on the bed. You curl yourself up, pushing your knees to your chest and burying your head in between. You sit at the edge of the bed, far away from the two men quiring in fear and dread. Sakusa had thought you’d be putting up more of a fight but seems like you knew your place. Besides there was no way you’d manage to win against the two giants, they’d crush you even before you can try.

“Do you not remember the video?” Sakusa asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a porn site. He clicks on the video he had forwarded to Ushijima, the video starts normally; a man talking to his supposed girlfriend but he skips the clip forward to the part he wants to see.

“You seriously want me to do that to her?” Ushijima asks, frowning at the screen. The porn actress is bent over the actor’s lap as he showers her bottom with powerful slaps. Blistering her ass and making her cry.

Sakusa nods. Ushijima looks bad at your quivering form before whispering, “like a child?”

Truth to be told, Sakusa knew Ushijima was a softie and that he cared about your feelings. That was the difference between him and the ace. He loved you and he loved you a little too much, you were the first thing swimming in his mind and it may be defined by some as romantic, Sakusa thought differently.

The thought disgusted him, caring so much about a mere woman; the man has to be crazy. Don’t get it wrong, Sakusa loves women so much he’s cornering you like this but he also firmly believes that women have duties. And by what he can see between you and Ushijima, you’re not fulfilling them at all and Ushijima is too much of a pussy to make you fix your mistakes.

He’s just helping his bro out. xx

Sakusa doesn’t answer him, instead, he looks at him with a fixed glare. Ushijima clicks his tongue, he didn’t want to hit his girlfriend like a child but he didn’t want to disrespect his friend either. He thinks for a moment before turning to you, making up his mind he chooses to spank you. A small smile of satisfaction crosses on Sakusa’s face as he watched Ushijima approach you.

His knee dips down on the bed as he moves forward to get you, “Toshi’ please, I will never, never talk to any guy ever again. You don’t need to do this.” you beg. Your eyes are glassy and your face is flushed from crying. You look up at your boyfriend with pleading eyes, hoping he’d listen to you. Ushijima stops in his tracks, hesitating to get you. He thinks about, maybe he should let you-

“Ushijima.”

Sakusa’s stern voice pulls him back to reality, he clicks his tongue and grabs you by your arm pulling you with him to the opposite edge of the bed. You keep crying and begging but Ushijima doesn’t bat an eye as he pulls you over his lap. He presses his hand against your back to keep you from running away while the other paws at your sleeping shorts.

“Stop screaming,” Sakusa commands, but you never listen to him. “Is this okay?” Ushijima flashes Sakusa a perfect view of your naked ass, your panties, and discarded on the floor. Sakusa walks over, standing in front of Ushijima, he leans in to grab a handful of your ass but Ushijima pushes his hand away. “No touching,” he commands.

As if they put salt on the wound, Ushijima moves along to fondle your ass. Playing with the soft flesh, squeezing them, spreading them all to his liking. A small smile grazes his face and for the first time, he realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. It makes him feel mighty, he loves the power he holds over you right now. The thoughts about what he can do to you flow straight to his cock. You feel his ever-growing bulge poke at your stomach under his pants.

Sakusa picks up your panties from the floor and right over in front of you, he grabs your face with his hands, squishing cheeks before shoving the panties into your mouth shutting you up once and for all. Ushijima throws him a glare but decides to ignore it eventually. His hands roam over your back one last time before he brings it up into the air and slams it down onto your round ass swiftly.

You cry out in pain, your bare ass stinging and burning. You hope for your boyfriend to calm down but he doesn’t give you a break, repeatedly hitting your ass with no sign of mercy. You cry and wither around, mumbling words that get muffled behind the gag making it impossible for any of them to understand.

Sakusa patiently watches the scene in front of him, you’re crying in pain while Ushijima spanks you. It’s kind of like the scenes he always fantasized about, the only difference being it’s him who’s raining down slaps on your naked ass instead of Ushijima.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“What?”

Sakusa wants to touch you, he wants to feel you under him. He’s not going to let himself watch you both doing it all night while he stands at the side with a raging boner and besides, Ushijima wasn’t hitting you hard enough. He pauses, looking up at Sakusa and you sigh in relief.

“You’re hitting her hard enough, at this rate she’ll never fear you,” he taunts and you frown. Your ass was already painfully red and swollen, you couldn't imagine how much longer you’d last.

In a flash, Ushijima pulled you on your feet, holding you by your arm. “You do it. I’m not enjoying this,” Sakusa’s eyes light up and he holds his urge to smile, he does not want to out himself.

“Watch and learn,”

He quietly walks over and changes roles, you squirm in his grip shaking your head no. You did not want to left under Sakusa’s touch at all, you had a feeling he hated you- which he did. He pulled you over his thighs where you could feeling his raging boner hit your stomach and just like Ushijima he started slapping your ass swiftly faster and much harder than your boyfriend.

They come without any warnings one after the other. You feel yourself tapping out now and then but a swift, harsh pull to your hair did just fine in waking you back into the nightmare. After Sakusa was done with abusing your ass, he started rubbing and playing with you. He squeezed your cheeks making you wince, spreading it open staring at your pulsing hole. His fingers even slipped down lower, dangerously close to your cunt.

“Sakusa,” Ushijima’s heavy voice cut through and Sakusa immediately lifted his hands off you. He pushed you down on the bed and removed the panties he had stuffed into your mouth. You coughed, your throat hoarse and your body exhausted.

Your bottom was numb, you could not feel a thing and your body was on fire. Ushijima called out to you, caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?” Ushijima felt bad. In all honesty, he did not want to hurt you but hearing the things Sakusa had said to him about you and what you did when he was not around made him feel like a small man, a man with no pride. It bothered him so he listens to Sakusa. He seemed to know what he was doing but now he sat filled with regrets.

Sakusa slapped Ushijima’s hand away from your face, “She’s fine. We aren’t done yet.”

Sakusa pulled you closer to him and ripped your shirt off your body, squeezing your tits and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. Ushijima dragged you back to him, at this point both the men were using you like a rag doll, literally. “I’m fucking her pussy.” he declared. You whined as he made you sit down on the bed but quickly switched positions so that you were straddling his thigh. You could see the dent in his jeans propped up, begging to be released. “What? Am I supposed to take her ass? That’s gross.” “You can use her mouth too,”

That was even grosser, Sakusa wanted to fuck your pussy. No doubt he’d love to ruin your ass and your mouth but today he wanted your pussy. He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately speechless when he saw Ushijima making out with you. He kisses you so passionately, your lips molding together, his tongue going down your throat. For a moment it felt like he wasn’t going to rape you here and now. Hell, maybe you are even enjoying this.

He scoffs, unbuckling his belt he walks behind you, settling for your ass. He feels like a third wheel, watching Ushijima kiss you so lovingly; licking your neck and biting down your tits making you moan.

He lifts you, spreading your cheeks, presenting your gaping hole to Sakusa. “You can go first,” he offers. Your start squirming around once again trying to free yourself from him. “Please, Wakatoshi no it will hurt. Please don’t-” “Shut up, bitch” Sakusa comes behind you, his hands closing around your petit neck. He squeezes around the soft flesh, effectively shutting you up. Out of desperation, you look up at Ushijima with watery eyes only to see him glaring at Sakusa. He slaps away Sakusa’s hand away from your neck, “Careful, she’s not yours’ bro.” his voice is filled with sarcasm. Sakusa scoffs moving back, “is she yours though? Sucking up to every guy ever who gives her an ounce of attention? Hate break it to you but your girl’s a whore, dude.” Sakusa returns. Sitting in the room with a hard-on, they glare at each other. Co-operating with Ushijima was harder than Sakusa thought and Ushijima much more possessive than he seemed.

The longer he stared with Sakusa with murderous intentions, the more fragile his grip on you became. Once you spotted it was weak enough, you broke out of it made for a run.

‘Fuck!” Ushijima screamed and chased after you with Sakusa following. You don’t get far, they catch you in the corridor. Ushijima pushes you against the wall, his hand coming up to grab your jaw making you look at him. ‘One fucking thing [y/n]. I told you it’ll be over fucking soon, didn’t I?” he slaps your face once. “It’s all your fault anyway. If it weren’t for you whoring out there like a fucking slut you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he slaps you twice, ouch. You plead guilty, promising him you’d never do it again but after repeated denials, you change your request. You choke back sobs as you try to calm your uneven breathing, “You can do anything you want to me but...just not him, please.” you turn to Sakusa shaking like a leaf. You didn’t want that man to be near you, nevertheless, touch you.

Ushijima thinks for a moment, turning to Sakusa. He thinks long and hard before answering, “It will be okay.” he says before pushing you against Sakusa. He didn’t want to give you up but you know what they say...Bros before Hos. Sakusa catches you roughly and pins you against his chest. He wraps his arm around your waist, letting the other pulls his pants down and pull his throbbing cock out of his briefs. It stands tall, not as thick as Ushijima but he’s big. With the red tip leaking with pre, he gives it a pump.

“Hold her legs,” he commands. Ushijima walks up to the two of you with his huge cock out and leaking, he wastes no time in grabbing one of your legs and pushing it up.

He lines his tip with your dry hole, “that’s enough foreplay, now,” he slowly truths inside, breaching past your cute cunt, splitting you into two. A burning pain flashes through you, slowly getting replaced by pleasure. Your tight cunt sucks up around his cock, salivating as he hits deeper and deeper. Sakusa gets tired of watching as he pushes his tips past your rim making you scream out. The intrusion is weird and unfamiliar, the deeper he goes the more evident it becomes. Sakusa decides to show you some mercy when he flicks down your little clit, pulsing with need. All of a sudden you start withering with pleasure, completely forgetting about the compromising position you are in.

“Fuck.” Ushijima mutters, your moans a melody to his ears. “Fuckin whore likes this,” Sakusa wanted you to shut up, your moans were turning him off. Sakusa felt he was close. Your walls hugging him snuggly, trying to milk him for all he’s worth but he doesn’t want to give up yet. There's an unspoken competition between the two men; whoever can last longer and his pride won’t let him loose. He holds himself together for a little longer, hoping for Ushijima to come before him.

“Don’t cum inside,” the green-haired man commands. He is close, his thrusts hit sloppy and uneven. He bits down on your neck as he shoots his thick, white load into your womb cumming with a loud grunt. Sakusa follows soon after, his length twitching he pulls it out of you. He jerks his cock over and cums all over your back.

He lets go of you, and you fall onto Ushijima, your boyfriend's strong arms wrapping around you to steady you up. “You should leave,” he suggests. He pulls his dick back into his pants and walks to the door, throwing a glance behind his shoulder; he sees Ushi stripping out his shirt and dressing you with him. He scoffs and turns around, feeling disgusted he can’t wait to go back to his own home and take a fucking shower. Even though he finally gets what he had wanted, he can’t help but feel unsatisfied. It would have been much better if it was just him and you minus the possessive freak, maybe….he can come again when Ushijima is not around….What’s the worst which could possibly happen?

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Humans? Up MY Beanstalk? It's More Likely Than You Think!

AO3 Link

Danny's back on her bullshit and here to make everyone suffer with another WIP that's part of a fic trade with my beloved @hiddendreamer67 <3

Summary: I mean, Jack made it all sound so easy! Climb up the beanstalk a few times, steal enough riches to last himself ten life times, and live happily ever after as a heroic giant slayer with absolutely no repercussions.

Seriously, how hard can it be?

Aiden was no stranger to life events going from bad to worse at the drop of a hat, but more often than not he was able to go with the turbulent flow just enough to keep his head above water and out of any serious trouble. Such a feat was most evident in his adaptation to living within the labyrinth-like walls of the oversized castle he had foolishly sought refuge in weeks prior. Had it been weeks? Months, perhaps, or maybe only a handful of days. The passage of time was just as foreign to him as these massive surroundings, these massive people , and he didn’t have the gall to weasel his way towards an opening near the outside to gauge how high or low the sun was sitting in the strangely pink sky.

The irony was almost funny; where was that fool hearted bravery he had been swimming in when he first started his ascension up the winding stalk that sprouted who knows how many decades ago to reach its impressive height? He knew the stories of young boys trading cows for beans and getting far more than they bargained for. He knew it was down right suicidal to scale the plant in general given he hadn’t a lick of training when it came to climbing anything other than a ladder. The opportunity to live within a legend was too good to pass up, unfortunately. The flimsy promise of riches and adventure beyond his wildest dream outweighed the need to even consider how he was going to get back down from the towering growth when he was inevitably disappointed by the lack of golden eggs.

But he didn’t succumb to the thin air or fall to his death, and he wasn’t disappointed. If anything, he was given everything he envisioned. Almost everything. When he broke through the cloud line, he discovered the vine had tapered off in favor of clinging to a cliff side he was unaware even existed from below. Green tendrils served as almost a ladder to aid his climb up the mysterious rock formation until he was able to pull himself, huffing and panting and muscles tingling from overuse, over the edge to collapse on horizontal land. So the fabled kingdom of riches didn’t actually rest on the clouds, it seemed. A small let down, but hardly anything worth dampening the mood as Aiden took in his new world view.

He felt as if he had switched places with a weevil seeing how the small patch of grass he was in came up to his chest rather than swishing against his ankles. The euphoria of this great new discovery once again drowned out the more rational side of him, favoring exploration over potential survival. The logistics of returning home could be dealt with later, after he had slayed a giant and stolen only a penny of its wealth that would no doubt provide for him for the rest of his life. Naive. Gullible. Fool hearted.

Aiden had only trekked for a few hours before nearly getting swallowed up by a winged beast he likened to a bat, washing away over the edge of the cliff in a stream, and getting trampled by hulking soldiers doing their rounds. Each close call he survived by the skin of his teeth, luck and adrenaline driving him blindly to find a moment of safety. However, with each incident his bravery withered away into trepidation, especially the closer he came to the giants that roamed the lands. None of them had noticed him yet and part of him wondered if they would ever notice something as miniature as him scurrying around, but he wasn’t feeling bold enough to stay out in the open just for their reaction. No, once he had slipped into the fortress of metal and stone, out of sight from any predator's eyes, the will to venture back out had faded into near nothingness.

If he had it his way, he doubted he would ever again have the gung ho to leave the confines of his newfound sanctuary, not even for the bittersweet desire of returning home. He had made his bed in his haste to seek glory out of tall tales and now he must lie in it. Though his heart ached with anxiety and his hands ceased to tremble, his traitorous stomach refused to let him continue a life of solitude amongst the dusty beams. A weaker part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it to live with the gnawing pain until it eventually overtook him. A fitting end, would it not, to starve to death like a rat in the walls? Alas, he was weak, but not weak enough to endure such aggressive cramping by the end of the second day, and so he mustered all the strength and courage he could just to snatch a few stale breadcrumbs long forgotten behind what he assumed was a cast iron stove.

Aiden truly was living up to his new rodent lifestyle, wasn’t he.

It was disgusting, but it was food, and though it made him ill the remainder of the night it had at least provided him with enough energy to go back out the next night in an effort to find something an inch more sustainable. By the end of the week, his newly discovered drive to live had him exploring every corner of the expansive kitchen during the wee hours of the night, when no giants hurried back and forth between the counters and the galley to serve platters of meals that could have fed his own village for months at a time. The rich smell of hot breads and meats made him dizzy, even more so now that he was getting accustomed to surviving off of dusty scraps he found on the floor. He needed to play it safe, he reminded himself as he watched one of the chef’s throw out an entire pan of fresh loaves because there’s too many chives in this! It’s too bitter for his tastes! , hardly resisting the urge to dive into the bins after the wasted food.

But...if they were so keen as to throw away an entire batch of fully prepared food over the fact that it was unsuitable for one person’s palette...surely there was no harm in taking what would be considered a nibble. Not when it was unwanted.

There it was again, that fool hearted bravery. If only Aiden had used it to find a way out of this unofficial prisoner rather than fuel his greed. He couldn’t be happy with the bare minimum he was given, could he? Always had to push the boundaries when he knew exactly where they lied, always run headfirst towards danger and then act surprised when it would bite him in the ass moments later. At least this time around he had the forethought to formulate some type of a plan, as flimsy as it was. Having become quite familiar with the inner structures of the fortress, he was able to determine the abode he was in was something along the lines of a castle. It was certainly sprawling enough, decorated with dark colors and glittering riches and constantly bustling with workers ranging from lowly servants to chittering socialites. Whether or not this was indeed a house for royalty he was unsure, having never been able to pinpoint which of the ambling lords or ladies might be the esteemed ruler of the lands. Assuming monarchies even existed this high, that is. Perhaps this was merely the norm of their society’s standards. It was unlikely, but it wasn’t as if he had many outside resources to compare this way of life to, not even in the way of his own village.

In theory, the heist should have been easy. In theory . All he had to do was wait until the dead of night for the bustling kitchen to fall silent as it normally did and he could slip out from the crevice closest to the scraps bin. Scaling in and out of the bin might prove trickier than he anticipated, but that remained a problem for future Aiden. The most important part of his newfound mission was being able to fill his stomach up with day-old bread and cold meats before they were discarded for good. If all went well, this could easily become a nightly routine of his, a way to feast like a king whilst living like a rat within the true royalty’s walls. He knew he was getting ahead of himself with that kind of fantasizing, perhaps that was even the beginning of his downfall, but he had so little to look forward to these days that he dared to get his hopes up for a semi-decent meal.

He hadn’t even made it halfway across the counter before he was spotted and subsequently captured.

But he had been so careful , he lamented to himself when the air was roughly knocked from his lungs after a massive hand slammed on top of him, pinning any squirms. True, he reflected as the stars cleared his vision, he never actually bothered to see if the kitchen remained vacant all night given that he was asleep...but he just assumed! Who in the world would be up during this hour!? Someone else sneaking a snack, maybe, just as he was. He could use that to his advantage, try and gain a few sympathy points by connecting with the giant on that level, convince them that all he needed was just a fraction of whatever they were probably getting for themselves and he would be on his way for good. A lie, of course, but the giant didn’t need to know that.

Once more, that short lived plan would never be put to use when Aiden felt himself being lifted in the air within a bone crushing grip, metal and leather digging into him in various places from the glove the giant wore. His eyes barely adjusted from the dizzying movements and dim kitchen before they were blown open at the sight, constricted breathing still entirely for a heartbeat. This was no ordinary giant, not like the ones he had grown accustomed to glancing at from the nooks and crannies. At first glance, however, it did fit the bill for the most part -- biped, guard’s armor, a human face -- but...did these giants typically have glowing purple eyes? He couldn’t recall for certain, yet the more he looked the more he found that appeared off. The outline of the guard’s figure seemed...fuzzy, like they were blurred rather than a solid defining line. His face, harsh and scrutinizing, was greyer than a corpse. He was otherworldly, and it was at that moment Aiden was painfully reminded he was in another world, one he didn’t belong in. One he knew he would be leaving quickly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the guard rumbled, his voice grating more like static than a growl.

“N-no…” Aiden agreed. Anything to get on his good side. “I’ll go, I’ll l-leave!”

Though he had found his voice, he had yet to find the strength to attempt any kind of struggle, not that he thought he’d be able to budge the massive fingers in the slightest. However, if he showed just how eager he was to depart from this situation, maybe the giant would believe him and grant him that small mercy. Instead, he was given another rough squeeze that made his spine pop, the fist clenching him raising higher so that he was more at eye level with his captor.

“How did you get in here, human? ” The guard spat. Good news was that humans were a known creature, at least. Bad news was that humans, apparently, were not known for any pleasant reason.

Aiden panted, trying to suck in a much needed breath after all of his were forced out. “I-I don’t know…” He squealed in discomfort when the fingers tightened again, refusing to let up until he gave a more satisfactory answer. “Th-the walls! I came through the walls! ”

The guard snorted and slackened his grip to allow an inch of breathing room, “Of course you did. Little pest that you and your kind are.”

“Wh...what are you…?” A bold question, but since he was sure it was to be one of his last, Aiden saw no reason not to ask.

He wasn’t given an answer, the giant instead lowering him slightly to exit the kitchen and pace down the halls. The scenery whizzed by so fast that it made his head spin, catching a few looks at other giants that were loitering about. Just like the guard, they were similar to the ones he would see in the daytime but...different. The two guards they passed looked to be of the same race of whatever the one holding him was, a noblewoman in a shimmering capelet eyed him suspiciously and he could have sworn her ‘capelet’ flittered before settling back down her shoulders. How had he never seen any of these attributes in the day? Then again, he often viewed the giants in the fortress at a distance and never for very long, they could have all been magically endowed for all he knew. Or, another theory, the ones he was coming across now were merely nocturnal and their more...normal housemates were sound asleep as he typically was while these creatures did their rounds and had their fun.

The wonderment was short lived when the giant shoved his way through a heavy wooden door at the very end of a lesser used corridor. With each step down the spiraling stone staircase, Aiden felt his heart sink just a little lower. The long shadows casting against the walls from the torches mounted to them gave the dank atmosphere an even more sinister vibe, leaving too many unknown things able to hide in the darkness. Even the guard, who did not appear to be an overly friendly fellow to begin with, looked twice as menacing with how the shadows concealed the few human features he did have. Aiden swallowed thickly, unsure of where they were heading but already knowing it wasn’t good.

His hunch was confirmed when the guard entered another hall, one lined with cramped cells that were partially occupied. He tried not to look at them and their fates, not wanting to see what might be awaiting him as well. Likely not, though. He was far too small to shackle and imprison. A different punishment would have to be in store for him. Further down the hall, the dungeon changed its holding cells from ones with iron bars to ones with solid steel doors instead, obscuring whatever poor bastard was locked within. Was that considered a crueler punishment? Perhaps that was where the torturing took place, if such types of creatures indulged in those acts. He saw no reason why they wouldn’t and as a result could very easily imagine himself being thrown in there next.

Fortunately, or not, the guard instead opened another wooden door that was adjacent to several of the isolated cells, coming to stand before another giant sitting at a table. Aiden couldn’t tell what was on the desk or what this new giant was using these unknown things for, but from the jist of it he must have been busy.

“Sir,” the guard holding him said while raising him higher for the presumably important one to see better. “A human has been found within the perimeter.”

The guard, a captain if Aiden were to guess, frowned. “Any others?”

“None that I could sense in the immediate area.”

He sighed and waved his hand. “We’ll do a sweep before daybreak. Who knows the amount of damage it’s done...what it’s taken, what it’s told.” He fixed Aiden with an icy glare that made the poor human try to shrink in on himself.

He wished he could have found a way to defend himself, plead his case, but his voice was nowhere to be found now. All cowardliness and no self preservation.

“And how shall I dispose of this one, sir?” The guard asked and Aiden paled. Dispose!?

The one in charge shrugged a shoulder and resumed what he was doing previously, fiddling with tools and books and papers for one reason or another. “Put it on lunch duty. Give the lizard another rat to keep him busy.”

Aiden didn’t quite follow the logic of the order. Lunch duty didn’t sound half as bad as being disposed of. The ‘lizard’ was news to him, but regardless the guard nodded at his order and left the office back down the corridor of steel doors. He wasn’t sure if he should speak up and ask for clarification while he mulled over his rather lenient sentencing, doubtful the giant would even regard him. From the looks of disgust and distrust he had been given numerous times in the short span of time he had been discovered, he could gather that his presence was an unwelcome one, though why he was still unsure. Evidently, he was going to be put to work and he could most certainly live with that. Earn his keep, he reasoned. Give rats to lizards or something. Would these rats and lizards be the same kind as the ones back on his homeworld down below or would they be to scale with the giants? Another question he should probably speak aloud before he got in over his head.

Or, at least, he would have asked, had a wad of cloth not been jammed into mouth hard enough to make his jaw click uncomfortably. He gagged, trying to shove the offending material out with his tongue, but it was packed into his cheeks too tightly to budge. A different material, a thin rope, was quickly wound around his chest to pin his arms to his sides before wrapping further down to bind his ankles. It had happened in the flash, the guard giving him no warning or reasoning for the sudden confinement, but it wasn’t as if Aiden could offer up much protest now that it was all said and done. He was completely immobile, spun up like a fly in a spider’s web. The guard had done it with such efficiency that it must be something similar to a routine for him by now which did not bode well. In a last ditch effort to save his hide from whatever...this was, he looked up at his captor with wide, pleading eyes, begging for just a shred of sympathy or at the very least an explanation of what was about to happen.

All he was met with was the same cold, violet eyes as all the other giants he had come to pass. Equally cruel and indifferent. And it was then he understood, as he was being roughly shoved through a hand slot at the base of one of the sturdy metal cell doors, that he was not the one who was meant to be delivering the meals during “lunch duty”. He was the meal. He was the rat, which meant the lizard was…

Aiden wriggled as best he could manage in his position until he was able to roll onto his back and get a good look around the cell. It was massive to him, but compared to the size of the giants he could tell it was rather cramped. Dark and depressing, much like one would expect a lonely prison cell to be, with the scattering of tiny bones and grime along the stone walls. His breathing quickened as he tried to tell just what type of origin the gnawed remains had been, however it was too difficult to tell at this distance in such gloom lighting. Perhaps that was for the best, giving his brain a little boost of reassurance that maybe they weren’t all human bones, that this wasn’t a common fate most of his kind befell when they made the same foolish mistake of invading where they clearly did not belong.

Trying to avoid the glare of bones only worsened his situation tenfold when he turned his head and was met with what was, obviously, the lizard as previously mentioned. Well, partially a lizard? More human-looking than lizard just going off a quick glance which led Aiden to believe the nickname was meant to be a derogatory term for whatever species it was. It...he? Yeah, he was kneeling on the floor, not by choice, but rather due to the shackles that bound him at the wrist and was tethered to the floor with a pitifully short chain. The clothes he wore reminded him of something he might have caught a few nobles wear given the level of craftsmanship and hand woven designs. It was a shame they were soiled now in what he could only assume was sweat and dirt, how he hoped that was dirt. The prisoner picked his head up when he heard the food slot screech open and shut, waiting for any other sound before sighing at the responding silence.

The chain jingled as he shifted to reposition himself into something a little more comfortable, Aiden now catching sight of the black nails that blended into scales littering the back of his hand when he flexed his fingers. A tail briefly flicked into view before concealing itself behind him once again. As the human let his gaze trail further up his face, fully prepared to see another hateful glare burning a hole through his weak soul, he couldn’t help but notice another spattering of black scales along his cheekbones and down his neck, presumably up to his eyes as well, but...well, he couldn’t tell. Not when there was a tattered, red cloth tied around his head, effectively blinding the sense. He wondered if this was an ailment the giant already had or if this was another part of his punishment, curious if he even had any eyes still in their sockets beneath the shoddy wrappings. Whatever the case was, the “lizard” obviously couldn’t see him and Aiden was unable to alert him to his presence with the gag shoved down his throat, leaving them at an awkward stalemate.

A stalemate that lasted all of two seconds before the giant wrinkled his nose and frowned. “The hell kind of rodent is this…? ” he muttered to himself.

So much for not knowing he was there. With great effort, Aiden twisted his body until he was able to turn on his side, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. He froze when the giant started to move as well, pointed ears twitching in response to the light scuffling he was making against the floor to pinpoint his location. Despite one of his senses being dulled, it was evident his remaining ones were still working in perfect order, maybe even heightened to compensate for the lack of vision.

“Another live one,” he sighed, fingers flexing again, “Sorry about this little buddy. I don’t like live prey any more than you like being it, I’m sure, but, well…”

That was the only warning Aiden had before the giant lunged, teeth snapping an inch in front of his frozen body. From this close, he could see the needle-thin fangs previously hidden behind a grimace and instantly wanted to be far, far away from them. His only saving grace was the short lead the other had on his cuffs, preventing him from pushing off any closer and cutting him off just shy of his prize for the time being. He growled in annoyance at having missed the offered prey, pulling back to realign himself for a better pounce.

“Come on, just make this easy for the both of us,” the giant huffed.

Oh, absolutely not. No, no, no. No, this was not how Aiden wanted his adventure in the skies to end. Fuck the adventure, he wanted to go home and he wanted to do so alive and in one piece. Being ripped to shreds was not a fate he ever envisioned for himself. He wasn’t going to die like some...some rat!

The giant was inching closer, moving along the side as much as the chain would allow to get a better angle. It didn’t matter whether he ensnared the tiny between his claws or teeth or even batted its little corpse within reaching distance with his tail, so long as he was able to get a hold on its fresh flesh one way or another. Desperately, Aiden began to rock back and forth to shimmy his body across the floor, painstakingly putting centimeters of distance between them that the giant was able to make up in a single shuffle. When the chain pulled taunt again, the human rolled to the side and narrowly missed the clamp of teeth once more, hot breath blowing against his back and covering his body in goosebumps. Undeterred, however, the giant followed his scent that was so tantalizingly close and moved his body in unison with Aiden’s. With another bite, he was able to find purchase on the ropes that burned against his arms and sunk his fangs in what he supposed was meant to be an animal's tender flesh.

Aiden had tried to avoid the attack but simply could not scramble away quick enough, his only luck being that he was just far enough that the gnashing teeth only managed to puncture through the fibers of rope rather than his actual skin. He was lifted into the air when the giant pulled back, kicking and thrashing to the best of his ability against the hold. The humid air blowing on the back of his head made him nauseous now, only able to envision how the feeling would quickly be enveloping him entirely when he was thrown back and swallowed down the creature’s gullet. With one, final twist, Aiden prayed his limited strength would be enough to somehow dislodge himself from the giant’s maw and give him another chance at playing this unbalanced game of chase.

And then the rope snapped.

Having already been sawed and frayed in several places from the giant’s fangs, Aiden’s pull was all it needed to rip apart entirely, sending the human sprawling onto the cold ground. His vision clouded when his head smacked against the stone, ironically thankful for the wad of cloth in his mouth or he most certainly would have lost a few teeth. Without a doubt, he was going to have a nasty bruise coloring the majority of his right side in the near future, the ache still pulsing with every wheezing breath he tried to gain back. While the stars faded from his eyes, he watched distantly as the giant curiously grinded the material in his mouth before dropping it. He pursed his lips in confusion, expecting raw meat and the rush of blood rather than some scratchy coils of what almost tasted like hide.

“Gods, what even is this,” he cringed.

Me , Aiden wanted to cry out, it’s me, it’s a human!

The giant’s hang up with his unusual meal faded into resignation much sooner than Aiden would have liked. He was hardly to blame, though, if he had been given nothing but live pests to blindly hunt down without the use of his full mobility for an undetermined amount of time. They were in a similar boat, really. Creatures trapped in a home they had no business being in, trying to survive on what little scraps were thrown their way. The human sorely wished he hadn’t been relegated into the scraps category, but there was little he could do about that now. Knowing his prey had a pretty straight forward drop, he moved again with an open mouth to seal the foreign creature’s fate.

The sight of teeth rushing to greet him was exactly the adrenaline rush Aiden’s body needed to get moving again, much more successfully this time now that he had arms to push up with and legs to carry him a greater distance. As much as he would have loved to have sprinted to the other side of the cell, even find another crack to slip through if fate would feel the desire to be so kind to him today, he only managed to stumble a few feet out of the immediate danger zone before tripping over himself. His right leg screamed in agony from the second fall, a sign of something being sprained somewhere he was sure. He wanted to scream out loud as well had it not been for the gag. The gag he realized he could take out now. Unsure of how useful his last words would even be, the human ripped the wad of cloth out of his mouth in a frenzy while the giant prepped himself for another attack. If anything, at least Aiden could find catharsis in leaving some sort of statement about himself behind for someone to hear, even if it was just confirmation of his fool heartedness.

“Stop!” Aiden yelled, voice raw and itching his throat like it hadn’t been used in ages rather than half an hour. “Please, stop! G-get away! ”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the giant to do as a result, but one thing was clear and it was that he most certainly wasn’t expecting his meal to say anything. He reeled back like he had been physically struck by those words, if his eyes were visible he was sure they would be as wide as serving platters. It was almost comical how he stumbled back, the menacing creature suddenly so fearful of a tiny vermin it was trying to consume moments prior, mouth agape as he tried to process what was going on without being able to actually see it.

“You...did you just, oh my gods,” he gasped. While he was glad he was being spared for the time being, the giant’s nervousness did little to quell the anxiety that had been brewing in Aiden’s heart since the moment he came upon this accursed land.

“Ple-please…” Aiden whimpered, suddenly drained physically and emotionally from the whole ordeal and settling to just drag himself any extra distance he could away from his unofficial death penalty. It was a pathetic display, but on the bright side, one he wouldn’t be mocked for. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The giant shifted again, hesitant, closer , and Aiden braced himself for the final bite to end it all.

“You can talk!? ”

[rmnamjoons]

Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

I.

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat.  You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

V.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

X.

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you plead Loki’s case. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Besides this being a miniseries, all the chapters are pretty short too! Hope you enjoy all the same :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Swiping into Avengers Tower made you feel important, more so than swiping into a SHIELD base. You weren’t exactly sure why, though. Perhaps it was because SHIELD was a secret, and no one knew. Here, the passerby on the street looked on in awe. Or maybe it was because the Tower was so elite. Because so select few got to enter. But really, it probably wasn’t that you got to enter so much as why you got to enter.

True, since your first day on the job, word got around that you were the best in your field. Fast as lightning, you’d risen through the ranks to be Fury’s top tracker, a position all but secured when he brought you on for this case. A case, you knew, that intrigued you far more than it should have.

Just like everyone else had on that day a little over three months ago, you watched the TV with rapt attention as gods and superheroes made themselves known to the world. And, you supposed, supervillains too. Not that you’d told anyone, but something didn’t quite sit right with you in the weeks after when news anchors and colleagues alike were referring to the raven haired god as such.

For the next three days, you’d pored over books of Norse Mythology and a number of studies. Most of the latter coming from one Dr. Jane Foster, who you soon came to link with Thor. But even there you found a disconnect between the god of legends and the bloodied man on your screen. He never really did have malicious intent before. He was a trickster, yes, but he’d not even come close to doing something this drastic before! Ok, yes, there was his involvement in Ragnarök in the myths, but even for that you’d found multiple sources that could debunk it. Besides, it certainly didn’t seem like Asgard had even faced the end times yet.

Alas, you figured Thor knew his brother, and you had your own case to work on, so you let be the mystery that was Loki.

And then you were called into Fury’s office a week ago and asked to begin tracking the god. A bit too eagerly, you’d agreed to take the case. You’d dealt with villains before, truly evil people, and your search only further proved what deep down you already knew; Loki was not one. Everywhere you followed his trail, a mysterious savior was stopping bank robberies and saving people from burning buildings and runaway trains. Not to mention there were multiple descriptions of said savior using green magic. It seemed a wonder that the tracker in the case before you hadn’t noticed. Then again, people tend to only see what they want to.

Regardless, you made your way to the elevators, heading toward the conference room on one of the upper floors. You tapped your foot as it ascended, impatient to share your findings. As the lift stopped and you got out, you tugged on your leather jacket. It was ever so slightly too big, but it was on sale. Plus, you felt like it looked pretty cool, considering your job and all. Subconsciously, you puffed up your chest a bit too. Regardless of actual size, you felt like a petite little thing, stepping into a room of now renowned heroes. Strange, you thought, how so much could change in just three months.

“You know, I got to get me one of those,” said the man suddenly keeping pace next to you. You quickly identified him as Tony Stark.

“I... Pardon?” you replied, slightly startled.

“Your jacket,” he said, pointing at it. “I feel like the leather will match the whole rugged good-guy, vibe. Besides, I think Capsicle’s got one.”

You chuckled at that. “Maybe we should just make it the team uniform then.”

“Team, huh? So you must be that new tracker kid we’re working with.”

“I’d hardly call myself a kid,” you scoffed.

“When you get to be as rich as I am, you get to call everyone a kid,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure that’s how it works, but whatever you say, I guess,” you chuckled again.

“See, now if everyone would just adopt that mindset, we’d get stuff done a lot faster around here.” He quickly signed something that was brought up to him on a clipboard, never stopping. You wondered how long he could keep up like this before collapsing. “Besides, take it as a compliment. That last tracker was some fuddy-duddy old guy.”

“Fuddy-duddy?” you guffawed. “Maybe you’re the old one, after all.”

Tony feigned like he’d been struck in the heart. But before you could keep up the banter, you reached the conference room, and Steve was waving you inside.

“Stark,” he said with a nod. “Are you ready to begin or are you going to keep distracting our new teammate?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a little salute. “Reporting for duty.”

You mouthed a sorry as you followed Stark into the room. Even if the rest of them turned out to be hard-asses, at least Tony was fun. And having one ally was better than none, you figured. As you took your seat across from your new friend, you flipped through the file that had been left for you. It wasn’t really anything new, so you glanced at your teammates again. Nat and Clint both nodded at you, recognizing you from a couple other missions you’d interacted during. There wasn’t really any time to talk, however, before Captain Rogers was walking to the head of the long table.

“Alright, team. Before we get started, I think it’s worth mentioning we have a new member on the team,” Steve said, before welcoming you by name. “I think we’re all caught up on the situation here, so let’s dive right in. A new trend has shown up in the Tower’s data mining.”

“Data analysis,” Tony butt in. “It sounds more ethical that way.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the program showed that wherever Loki goes, there’s a spike in activity of an organization calling themselves AIM. At first glance they seem innocent, but after some digging, we’ve found they’re anything but. We’ve determined Loki is working with them, perhaps even masterminding some of their more underground projects. Agent? Can we assume you found the same things?”

“Uh, yeah, no. Actually, my data shows the opposite,” you cleared your throat. Standing, you slid the information from your tablet onto the room’s TV screen. “See, it seems that he’s actually doing good deeds. There are multiple accounts of a man fitting Loki’s description performing heroic works.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What about AIM then? You think it’s a coincidence.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll admit, I haven’t found anything about them yet. But... maybe, just maybe, Loki’s showing up where they are because he’s trying to stop them.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but that does not sound like the Loki I know at all,” Thor laughed. “A wonderful joke, though.”

Now you were getting mad. You shouldn’t be, but you saw something worth defending in Loki. A lot, actually. There was something about that look in his eye that you couldn’t quite read, but it was telling you something was wrong all the same.

“That’s not fair! Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. Look at this,” you said, swiping to show a side by side of Loki during and after the fight. “You can see it by the look on his face; something was seriously wrong during the battle. Plus, I’ve seen videos of him when he first came; he was not alright. Afflicted with severe anxiety and what looks like burn marks, I’d say. He needed help.”

“With all due respect,” Clint chimed in, “aren’t your a tracker, not a psychologist?”

“Yes, but as such I’ve been trained to look at all the details. Not just what’s convenient.”

“Listen,” Steve sighed before things got any more heated. “It’s a great theory and all, but you read Thor’s account of everything that happened before this. So, until we get some solid evidence proving otherwise, we’re going to have to stick with what we already know. We’ll put a pin in the AIM thing until you can take a look, though. Ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, defeatedly taking your seat again.

You looked around the table. Natasha and Bruce, the only two who hadn’t said anything, both looked kind of pensive. Alright, maybe bewildered was the better word for Bruce. He was smart, no doubt about it, but you got the impression he wasn’t very good in social settings. Then there was Clint and Thor, both who seemed a little skeptical of you. At least Thor seemed to be considering his brother’s innocence at least a little. Steve was a bit more unreadable as he continued to prattle on about what you already “knew” for the case. And then there was Tony, who seemed more impressed than anything else. He, at least, had seemed to genuinely consider what you said. Perhaps he still was.

“The best way to solve this,” Steve closed his spiel, “is to bring him in. Agent, have you located him yet?”

You sighed. Deeply. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to present your findings. You’d had no trouble speaking on his behalf. Yet a part of you—an alarmingly large part, you realized—didn’t want to turn him in. But who were you to ignore direct orders?

“Yup,” you conceded, pulling up a map with a blinking red dot, marking Loki’s location.

“Well then, team,” Steve said to the group. “Let’s roll out.”

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

[writer-ish]

in the lambent light

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 2.4K words | rating: T (language)

summary: On the rooftop of the Warehouse, Grace and Mason have an honest conversation about sexuality, small towns, and love (sort of), with the revelry and light of Unit Bravo’s first Wayhaven Pride in the background.

For Week 1, Day 1 of @wayhavensummer: First Pride + #wsfchallenge “belonging”.

*

She finds him on the roof of the warehouse, of course, kicking his feet idly as they dangle over the edge, a thin wisp of smoke coming up steadily from his cigarette.

When he sees her, he puts it out and links his fingers together, eyes following her as she comes to sit beside him.

They're high up – too high; if she looks down she feels a bit dizzy – and he grunts, his eyes narrowing as she dangles her legs, too. She looks at her colourful socks - one purple, one pink - as she tries not to think about how steep the drop would be if she lost her balance or even just shuffled forward a bit.

She wonders if maybe he'll put his hand out to hold her steady, or force her to sit back.

(He does neither.)

"You don't have to do that, you know." She gestures belatedly to the ash of his crumpled cigarette still smoking lightly on the concrete. "I know I gave you a hard time before, but really, I don't want you to stop on account of me."

He shrugs. "It's fine. I don't even know why I still do it when I don’t even really need it anymore. Habit, I guess."

She opens her mouth to insist, say how she doesn't want him, doesn't need him to change for her – but her mouth clicks shut instead. It's easier to let it slide. To not delve too deeply into why he doesn't need it anymore.

They sit in silence for a bit, the evening breeze settling on them.

The sounds of revelry in the town square continue. Grace can hear the celebrations, the music, can feel the general aura of happiness radiating from below.

When she’d left to seek out Mason, Tina had been painting a rainbow on Adam’s sharp cheekbone as he sat very still, giving the situation a gravitas that it perhaps didn’t deserve, but was still heartwarming to see nonetheless.

Eric and Verda had been watching indulgently as their girls got spoiled with treats provided by Nate, who had been doing his very best to succeed at the task of “enjoying his first Pride”.

(When he’d asked if he was “doing it right”, Grace couldn’t help but give him an impromptu hug.

“You’re doing perfectly,” she’d said warmly and he had smiled down at her, eyes sparkling.)

Felix, for his part, had been bouncing around, examining the stalls set up to highlight the queer-owned business in Wayhaven, coming back to hand Nate a new trinket or snack or pin he’d purchased, and then bounding off again, the excitement practically vibrating off of him.

She smiles wistfully at the memory of how the town embraced Unit Bravo as their own, as she regards it all from a distance now, a bloom of warmth in her chest – a collection of the happiness and pride that she feels towards her little town for coming together in this way year after year. To celebrate its people; the people who make Wayhaven what it is.

To celebrate love.

She turns to Mason, spontaneously dropping a hand to his knee. He looks down swiftly and then back up at her, silver-grey eyes meeting her own.

"Was it all too much for you?" She nods in the direction of light, laughter, colour, and music. "Down there?"

He shrugs. "I respect the idea behind the celebration and I'm glad the others are happy and having fun. But yeah. It's not really my thing."

She nods slowly, going quiet again. He idly begins to play with her fingers, splayed out on his thigh. Tracing them with his own, up and down.

"You know it's not—"

"You know that we—"

They both go to speak at the same time, their voices stuttering to a stop as they realize.

"You go," Mason says eventually, the side of his lips quirked up in a small smirk. "You do most of the talking for us anyway."

"Hey!" Grace squeaks out indignantly. "I do not. Most people say I don't talk enough."

Mason snorts. "People who don't know you, maybe."

Her cheeks grow warm with pleasure at the unspoken confirmation. It feels like what he really said was: "People who don't know you the way I do."

And he's right.

"I was just going to say, Wayhaven has been doing this for years now. Decades even. We used to come when I was a kid.” She laughs in reminiscence. “There’s this picture of me – maybe eighteen months old or something – on Rook’s shoulders, watching the parade as my mom smiles up at us both.”

She feels her own smile go soft, like the edges of that faded cherished photograph. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs of nostalgia before turning to him again. He’s regarding her in a way that can only be construed as fondness and her heart twists, ever so slightly.

“I’m glad you guys got to be here for your first Pride,” she continues, steering the conversation back to the present. To safer territory. “You hear all these things about the intolerance of small towns, and lord knows it’s true in some cases, but I dunno." She shrugs, a small smile gracing her lips once more. "It feels nice to be part of one of the good ones."

He's quiet and she turns to look at him after a moment of prolonged silence. He's still staring at her, this time a more inscrutable expression on his face. She can't tell what's going through his mind, whether it's concern or agreement or even anger. His fingers have stilled overtop hers and his large palm rests on her hand, warm and steady.

It takes another beat before he clears his throat and breaks eye contact, moving his hand off of hers. The cool air rushes to the spot where his hand used to be and she finds herself missing its warmth and comfort.

"It's true," he says finally. "It is one of the good ones." He looks at her carefully. "And you’re right. They aren't all like that."

There’s a wealth of meaning in his simple statement and it’s her turn to stare at him now, processing his words and trying to formulate an appropriate response.

"Have you…" She hesitates, trying to parse her words carefully. "Have you experienced… bad ones?"

He lets out a sigh. The very human sound, probably borne from a habit he could never quite kick, sends a tender pang straight to her heart.

"Listen, sweetheart." He leans back and looks up at the quickly dimming sky, the summer heat dwindling to a more tolerable mildness, the breeze picking up slightly and bringing with it the sweet scent of the magnolias below them. "It's no secret that I am not what people would call…"

He smirks and shoots her a side-long glance, his mischievous look belied by the glint of a single fang. "Discerning."

She stays quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve never seen value in—” He pauses, appearing to search for the right word. “—In curbing my desires to fit into a certain mold. I like what I like, I like who I like, and no real external factors – like gender or appearance or the shape of your tits or your bits – have ever really come into play.” He shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, fiddling with it without lighting it. “Some people have a problem with that and some places like to make it known more than others.”

Something about his final sentence causes her pulse to quicken, her thoughts jangling in her head. She tries to gather them up before she speaks.

“Do you think…” She hesitates. “Do you somehow think that I… have a problem with that? That I don’t understand?”

“Do you understand?” He looks straight at her then, his eyes sharp and intense. Not intimidating or cruel, but as though he’s looking for something – perhaps the honest answer to a question he’s not sure he’s even asked properly.

“I mean—” She feels indignant slightly, even though she tries to tamp it down. “If you think I somehow have an opinion on who people love and the circumstances around that, then I feel like maybe you don’t know me that well.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up, unlit cigarette still between two fingers, lip curling slightly. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about who I decide to fuck.”

That one stings. She purses her lips and looks away, trying not to let him see just how much, inhaling deeply as she tries to get her feelings under control.

“Yes, yes,” she says finally, looking away with a wave of her hand. “Fuck, love, whatever.” She turns to him again, eyes narrowed. “I might not understand in the way that you do, through lived experience, but I care enough to try. And I certainly don’t judge.”

“I never said you judged, Gracie.” His voice is soft and the way he says her nickname – so rare from his lips – makes her breath catch in her throat. He flicks the cigarette between his fingers now, back and forth. “I just want everything to be out there between you and me. So that there’s never any—” He hesitates. “—Surprises.”

“Oh, you mean like finding out you’re a centuries-old vampire?” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed.

He barks out a laugh. “Watch who you’re calling centuries old, sweetheart.”

She chuckles along with him, before getting serious once more.

“The least surprising thing about you, Mason, is the fact that you have no qualms about who you choose to be with. I’ve never met a more accepting and open person.” He looks like he’s about to argue with her, so she holds up a hand to stop him. “And just because we aren’t—exactly the same, in that regard—” She looks down, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. “—Doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Or respect it.” She shrugs, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I find it hard to believe you’re interested in my boring ass, to be honest.”

“Your ass is the least boring thing about you, Detective.” For that comment, he’s rewarded with a light whack on the leg. He laughs and wraps his arm around her. “C’mere.”

Putting the cigarette behind his ear, he tugs her closer. He holds her tightly against him, thighs touching and feet brushing against each other.

“I’m going to say something cheesy as fuck and you’re going to listen. And then you’re never going to repeat it again. Got it?”

She nods quickly, eyes widening in anticipation.

“I see people—not for what they look like or any of that shit, but for what’s in here.” He taps gently, right above her left breast. “Yeah, I don’t get mixed up in all that love stuff, and attraction does play a big role in who I seek out and why, but it’s not an attraction to physical things. I just get this—sense of who a person is, I guess. And if I like what I sense, I follow through. If I don’t, I move on.” He gives her a squeeze. “You understand?”

She bites her lip, breath growing shallow as the impact of his words infiltrates her blood stream and causes her heart to flutter painfully.

He smiles slowly, a cheshire grin, and she curses his ability to hear the increase in her pulse.

“And guess what, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave now, mouth close to her ear.

“What?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“I like what you’ve got in here.” Another tap, same spot. “And I’m not ready to move on.”

As far as grand romantic statements go, Grace knows this one won’t make anyone’s top ten list. But for Mason, it’s a lot. And for her, for right now—it’s everything.

She leans forward and kisses him softly, sweetly, on the lips. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, but neither makes a move to deepen the kiss in any way, keeping it gentle and close-mouthed; an affirmation rather than the initiation of anything more. Pulling away, she looks at him, feeling the softness she sees in his face reflected in her own.

Giving him one more brief kiss, she scooches back and stands up carefully, dusting off the bottom of her blue shorts.

She catches him watching the action intently and he catches her catching him. They share a smirk that turns into a laugh and it feels comfortable and fun. It feels like an inside joke.

Like belonging.

“Let’s go, hot shot.” She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, swinging his legs around and standing up, his full height enough that she needs to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Think you can manage to rejoin the party?” she asks, her hand still in his as she tugs him to the door that will lead them back through the warehouse. “We’ll stick to the quieter corners. I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” she adds, smiling up at him, her tone cajoling, teasing.

There’s something about summer in Wayhaven, something about Pride in Wayhaven – the air feels lighter, sweeter. Grace feels lighter. Bolstered by love and friendship, warmth and comfort. All the good things about her little town seem to be highlighted during this time.

All the good things about her little life, she thinks, glancing at their joined hands.

Mason snorts and looks down at her, amused, before giving her hand a squeeze.

She squeezes back, feeling happier than she can remember ever feeling before.

“I’ll even buy you a snow cone without the syrup,” she offers as they leave, bumping his shoulder with hers.

He grunts and then stops short. “Isn’t that just ice?”

She bites back a smile, feeling laughter in her throat, and nods.

There’s a pause. He blinks once. Twice. Then—he bursts into loud laughter. The sound is so free, so surprising yet pleasant, that she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. And when he pulls her even closer and presses a kiss to the top of her head—well. She’s not sure that smile will ever go away now.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” he murmurs, keeping her close to him.

And she does.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

some rojascorp mayhaps??

Once upon time, Andrea Rojas would've been the first person she would call about this. Ask her if it would really be a good idea to drop everything and just leave. In her mind's eye, she can already see what Andrea would've said. She would say, yes. And most possibly even tell Lena she'd drop everything too and fly right along with her.

You jump. I jump.

She was sure of it. After all, they did it once before.

So, really it wasn't a surprise when she opens the door and sees Andrea on the doorstep.

"Andrea." The door opens wider and Lena lets her in. "What are you doing here?"

Even though based on the unreadable expression on her face, Lena already has an inkling.

"I overheard my emp-" she clears her throat, waits for Lena to turn and face her. "I overheard Nia and Kara today," Andrea speaks slowly, "You're going to Ireland."

Lena merely raises a questioning brow.

"I-" Andrea fidgets and that's the first time Lena sees that there is something in her hands. A folded piece of paper, it looks like.

Andrea catches her eyes, and says, almost a whisper, "I have something to confess."

Lena inhales deep, crosses her arms.

"Well, let's hear it then."

Andrea takes a step forward, debates putting a hand on Lena but settles for fidgeting with the paper again.

Now upon closer inspection, Lena notices its yellow color, an old parchment and if the inky bleeds are any indication, Lena's suspects it to be some old letter.

This rattles the heart in her chest, for reasons she would not dare name.

Andrea starts to speak again and Lena tears her gaze away from the letter.

"I-I've been investigating Lex," Andrea tells her.

"Seems like that's what everybody is doing these days, or so I heard." Lena's stalling she knows, but who wouldn't? Andrea's serious yet sincere gaze is terrifying. It has been so long since that's been directed at her, and Lena does not want to fall victim again.

Andrea ignores her, continues on, her voice now more sure, most likely the effect of noting Lena's reaction. Andrea knows all too well what she can do after all.

"And in order to do that," she explains, "I had to infiltrate the Luthor Mansion."

As Acrata, Lena adds in her head. She remains as stoic as possible and what Andrea does next almost knocks her.

"Lena," she says, "I really think we should sit down for this."

The rattling has now become pure chaos inside her.

Lena says nothing in response, just turns around again for Andrea to follow. She guides her to the enormous couch. She crosses her legs and Andrea does the same next to her. Lena pointedly avoiding the thing in Andrea's hands.

"So?" Lena prods.

Andrea inhales, swallows, "I went to Lionel's study."

The room springs clear in Lena's mind.

The rows of books; the smell of cigar and grease when Lionel brings his projects home; Lex's diploma framed and hung, Lena's report card pinned next to it. A single family picture. The stiffest Lena has ever felt for the camera.

"And I- I found something."

Lena snaps back to the present.

"It's from your mother."

Andrea looks regal in the open moonlight of her apartment, and God, she thinks, it truly would never be over, would it?

"N-not Lillian." Why Andrea felt the need to clarify that, she wouldn't know. When she's the first person Lena had confided to about how Lillian was never a mother to her.

"A letter," Lena states, her voice is quiet and calm, the opposite of the tempest deep inside.

"Yes," she confirms, "here." Andrea starts to hand her the letter-

"Can you please-" she blurts out suddenly, Andrea halting mid-way.

"Can you please hold my hand? While I-" she inhales deep, "While I read it? Please?"

Andrea only nods, reaches for Lena's hand, wraps around it tightly.

It's the anchor Lena needs, but she would never admit that. It looks like she doesn't need to though. Andrea already knows she's afraid of drowning.

Lena takes the paper gently, afraid that it will crumple the dust the moment her fingers touch it.

The paper is old and yellow. The ink blurred at some parts, drops of something Lena suspects to be alcohol, marring the words. He imagines Lionel reading it for the first time in his study. Did he feel the same churning in his stomach as Lena did now? Was he too drunk to even read it?

God, Lena so badly wishes she was drunk right now.

Andrea squeezes her hand and drags her back.

The writing isn't anything like hers. Each word in capital letters, which should've made it look a bit robotic and too uniform, yet to Lena's eyes it looks elegant. As if the hand that had written took great care in laying down the words.

She reads the first line.

"To my dearest Lionel,

I am sending this directly to the mansion, I apologize in advance. I tried calling. But your assistant, I have to commend her--she gets creative with those excuses--never fails to inform me that you're unavailable. I've also tried your various emails, to no avail. And well, this is my last resort.

All this to say, I know when I'm not wanted anymore. But I do just need to send you this one last letter. If you don't want me in your life anymore, well, who am I to stop you? You're Lionel Luthor.

But I do think you might want to know about your daughter, our daughter. Lionel, we never did make any good decisions together, but I think, our daughter, she's the one good thing to ever come out of this mess.

She's turning two on the 24th. She's perhaps the best thing that could have happened to my life. She's a menace, she started walking early and I've babyproofed the house yet I'm still afraid she'd knock her head somewhere. She's a babbler, and a smart one at that. She's going to do great things, Lionel. I just know it. I'm so proud of her already. She has your eyes. Always green. Always bright. I miss you, I'm not going to lie. Yet, when I hear her laugh, it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

Her name is Lena, in case you've already forgotten. Don't worry, her birth certificate doesn't say Luthor. Lena Kieran, I've decided, would be the safest for her. She will be untraceable. Nobody will manage to link her to you.

Then why name her Lena at all? If she'll never be a Luthor, right? Naming her with an L seems a bit sentimental, I admit. A selfish part of me, I think, is still hoping for you to come back. To see you hold Lena for the first time, matching eyes lighting up. Maybe give her your name.

Someday.

She's the love of my life, Lionel. I would do anything for her. I keep wondering if you would do the same if you met her. If you will ever meet her. I'm afraid, you know? I'm terrified of the day she'll come asking for you. I'm terrified that even though I love her fiercely, it would never be enough. Will my love ever be enough? It never was for you.

But well, I never was one to dwell on sad things, so I'm afraid I have to end it here, Lena will wake soon. And how such a small thing can make so much noise, I don't know.

Goodbye, my love.

If you ever have a change of heart, you know where to find us.

Yours..."

And that was it, Lena realizes, that was the end. It wasn't signed. She turns the paper over frantically, searching for any clue, anything, any sign.

A signature, a name, an initial.

Nothing. There's nothing.

"Where's the- there's no-"

She doesn't realize she's sobbing till Andrea's tearing the paper away from her hands and pulling her close; doesn't realize she's hyperventilating till Andrea's squeezing her tight, tight, tight.

"Lena, you have to breathe. Lena, breathe."

She lets herself be carried away by Andrea, heaving gasps coming out of her lungs.

She's the love of my life.

I would do anything for her.

She'll never be a Luthor.

I'm terrified-

"Lena, Lena," somebody's calling her.

"Lena, you have to look at me. Look at me."

Her eyes focus and Andrea is there, soft and strong and here.

Lena's fully in her lap, one arm wrapped around her, one hand cupping her face.

"Lena, Lena," she keeps saying her name, her palm warm on Lena's cheek, and all Lena can do is nod. Tears are still streaming down her face and if she opens her mouth, she's afraid of what will come out.

So, she nods. She nods and she tries to breathe, tries to follow Andrea's counting.

Her breathing settle, and she can feel the whoosh of relief from Andrea.

"There we go, just breathe, just breathe," she coos, running her fingers through Lena's hair.

"I'm sorry," Andrea tells her, "God, Lena. I'm so sorry, I should not have sprung it on you like that. I'm so stupid. So, so stupid. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She says sorry over and over. pressing it to Lena's hair, to Lena's forehead, anywhere within reach.

"T-there's no signature," Lena manages to say, she feels Andrea tense beneath her. "No name. I don't know why- I don't know why I can't remember her name."

Her lips move against Andrea's exposed collarbone, and she wonders if that's the reason something is drumming loud beneath the skin Lena's pressed to.

"She couldn't sign it, I think."

"I think so, too," Andrea agrees quietly.

She was the other woman, of course, she couldn't sign it. It was already an act of bravery to send it to a place where Lillian Luthor resides. Signing it would've meant more than danger.

"You were a kid," Andrea whispers, "You were a kid, Lena. It's okay if you don't remember."

But it's not. Because, because her mother loved her so much and Lena can't even remember her name.

"She said, I wasn't going to be a Luthor, in the letter, she said."

And that, that must mean something, right? That must mean that everyone else is wrong, she's not just a Luthor. She wasn't supposed to be one anyway.

Kieran.

"I'm so sorry, Lena," Andrea says again and Lena's unsure what she's still apologizing for.

"Kieran, Andrea. Kieran. I don't think that's supposed to be my middle name." She pulls away from her place on Andrea's chest to look at her.

She turns around, reaches for the letter discarded on the table. Her hands doesn't tremble much this time.

"Look, there, see," she points at the line, "She said, Lena Kieran. I think, I think that's a surname."

A clue.

A thread to pull on.

A part of her that connects them together.

Andrea stares at her silently, "I think you might be right."

Lena's mind is going a mile a minute now, she would have to research. She would need Brainy's help, a database, she needs access to a database, lists of orphanages, records that Lillian might have hidden about her.

"Lena," Andrea calls, "Slow down."

"I- I wasn't-" A blush rises to her cheeks, "I wasn't doing anything."

"Yes, you were. I can hear you thinking."

She doesn't answer, just slumps back into Andrea again, buries her red face out of sight.

"I'll help you," Andrea murmurs, "I'll help you. You don't have to do it alone. Not anymore."

"Okay," she says, dares to kiss at Andrea's jaw. "Thank you," she breathes against her skin.

There's so much to unpack, so much to do, so much to say.

But it can wait, it can wait.

"You jump, I jump."

[knightsimp]

Recovery (2/2)

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Summery: You were right; that was not Percival Graves. So, what are you going to do about it?

Genre: Angst + fluff (I think it’s a sweet ending :D)

Word Count: 2600+

Date Posted: February 14, 2021 (Happy Valentine’s Day!)

Note: None

Part One: Link

“How do you think she is doing, Teenie?” Queenie found herself asking as she and Tina made their way to (Y/N)’s apartment. 

“I’m not sure, but I regret not staying with her for a couple of days.” The girls had no idea what (Y/N) was up to; she had not turned up for work, understandably, for the last five days. Now that it was Friday, they were able to check up on her. 

The sisters looked at each other before Tina knocked on (Y/N)’s door. They chose not to apparate to avoid scaring her. 

“It’s open!” (Y/N)’s muffled voice came through the door. When they entered the apartment, they did not expect such a mess.

The kitchen was a mess, first of all. Pots and pans everywhere, and unwashed dishes piled the sink. 

“In here!” (Y/N) called from the room at the end of the corridor: the bedroom. The bedroom was not any better than the kitchen. From what can be seen by just looking through the bedroom door, (Y/N)’s bed was not made and a couple garments were dumped onto it. Miscellaneous things, such as her hairbrush and a few pieces of clothing, were piling onto her bedside table.

Tina and Queenie were not prepared to see a spew of papers near the wall which was facing the bed. Tina had not known about (Y/N)’s investigation at all, but Queenie knew and did not realize it would get this far and this bad. The small patch of papers that were pinned on the wall, which had been connected together with red string, had taken over the square-ish area and had started to crawl onto the ceiling. 

“Oh my god.” Tina mumbled, looking up at one of the moving snippets from The Daily Prophet. 

“Tina! Queenie!” (Y/N) was at the wall where this collection started. “How are you?” It looked as if (Y/N) just rolled out of bed and got to work. And that was exactly what has been happening the last several days.

“We’re doing alright, (Y/N).” Queenie hesitated for a moment. “How are you?” (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

“Tired mostly. I haven’t slept in a couple days, but look! I have made so much progress!” Queenie looked around and found two empty mugs which were, no doubt, once filled with coffee. Tina snapped out of her memorization of the ceiling. 

“Progress?” Tina asked, raising an eyebrow. She slowly put the pieces together. “(Y/N),” pause, “are you trying to figure out where Mr. Graves is?” (Y/N) smile dropped for a moment while she averted her gaze downward. Her enthusiastic smile became a sad one as she fiddled with the delicate gold charm that Percival had gifted to her for a birthday. 

“Well, of course.” (Y/N) looked back at them, speaking softly. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“First, you need to go take a shower.” Tina went behind (Y/N) and pushed her shoulders out of the bedroom to the nearby bathroom. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you really do stink. We can smell you from across the room and it is a long room.” 

“Tina’s right!” Queenie agreed, looking at them. “You need to take care of yourself, (Y/N). You are not going to make much progress when you are unconscious from a lack of sleep and proper food.” Before (Y/N) could say anything, Queenie added, “And yes, regardless of what you think, you do need a little freshening up.” With a little more arguing, (Y/N) agreed to at least take a shower. Queenie handed (Y/N) some clothes to change into before she entered her bathroom.

Tina continued to awe at (Y/N)’s investigating. She knew (Y/N) was a brilliant detective, but this was beyond what she thought. She followed it down from the ceiling to the original wall. In the middle of the wall was where everything was connecting to; a photo of (Y/N) and Percival at the Blind Pig. After being constantly reprimanded by Percival, who was really Grindelwald, when he was around, it surprised her that she did not notice the differences between him and the real Percival sooner. Percival was very intimidating and dominating, yes, but he still cared about his subordinates. Grindelwald could not care less unless it was meddling his involvement in MACUSA.

As Tina looked closer into the snippets of newspaper, she noticed how (Y/N) had been investigating all over the city. No doubt she was going to all of these locations. Once a location was visited, it seemed like (Y/N) would pin or make notes on the snippet. 

“No way.”

“Possible, but not probable”

These were only the very general notes being made. It looked like (Y/N) was also communicating with Theseus Scamander in London to make some inquiries in Europe, but nothing came of that.

Tina did not realize how long she was gawking at (Y/N)’s work until she heard the shower stop.

(Y/N) looked as if she was in deep thought when she exited the bathroom. She definitely looked, and smelled, fresher than before.

“(Y/N)?” Tina tried to call out to her. “Are you okay?”

“(Y/N), are you sure?” Queenie came around the corner, overhearing (Y/N) thoughts. “Is that a likely place?”

“What is a likely place?” (Y/N) looked up at Tina. 

“You know how while you take shower or a bath, it is easy to let your mind wander?” Tina nodded. “I think...” She trailed off, again seemingly trying to make sense of her thoughts.

“You think Mr. Graves is at MACUSA!” Queenie gasped. 

“What?” Tina exclaimed. “Explain!”

“There is nowhere else he can be, Tina!” (Y/N) was right, but also sounded like she was grasping at straws. “I have scavenged the city for signs. I even had someone in London make secret inquiries for me. And it is absolutely something Grindelwald would do. If anyone was going to look for the real Percival, they were not going to search MACUSA, a place swarming with talented aurors. And it makes it easier to get ingredients for the Polyjuice potion. No one is going to question Percival Graves if they spot him walking through the building.”

“That is actually genius.” Tina mumbled before clearing her throat. “But where would he be? Like you said, MACUSA always has aurors in the building.”

“MACUSA is big and has been running for decades! There has to be some abandoned areas that are no longer required for work.”

“We can always check.” Queenie suggested. “All three of us work in that building.”

“Though, depending on how large the search area is, we may need help from Picquery.” (Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek. Might as well.

The sun was starting to set when the three women arrived at MACUSA.

“You two stay out here.” (Y/N) told the sisters. “I can’t have you two getting in trouble, especially you, Tina; you just got your job back as an auror.”

(Y/N) stormed into President Picquery’s office. She did not mean to, but her adrenaline took over. The President was clearly in the middle of some sort of meeting. She looked peeved, to say the least.

“Miss (L/N),” she started sternly. “I am glad to see you are feeling better, that being said-”

“Madame President-”

“-I am in the middle of something-”

“I may have figured out where Percival Graves is, ma’am.” The room went silent. “The real Percival Graves.” Picquery’s expression turned from annoyed to serious. 

“Gentlemen, we can reschedule, but I must talk with Miss (L/N) this instant.” The two men in suits left and closed the door behind them, leaving (Y/N) to Seraphina’s mercy. “Miss (L/N).” She let a bit of silence go by. “I’m listening.”

“I believe Percival may be in this building.” Seraphina leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“And what is your proof?”

“The lack of any. Madame President, when I tell you that I have scoured the whole city looking for him, I mean it; that is not an exaggeration. I have been making inquiries in Europe and no one has found anything.” Seraphina continued to stare at her. “Please, at least humor me.”

“And where would he be, (Y/N), if he is in fact here?”

“That is the big question, ma’am; that is why I am here in your office.” She purposefully kept Tina and Queenie out of it to avoid any repercussions they may face if she is wrong. “In my investigation into this theory, I wondered if there are any abandoned areas here in MACUSA. A building and organization this old cannot still be using all of it’s floors.” Then, the realization seemed to hit Seraphina.  

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but you may be onto something, (L/N).” She stood up from her chair and went to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “Some of the lowest floors have not been used in a long time. At least five or six floors. No one goes down there anymore; there is no need.” She led (Y/N) to the door. “I am sending five people to each floor immediately. You and the Goldstein's gather two more aurors and start the search.” (Y/N) wanted to ask how she knew the Goldstein sisters were involved, but quickly shut her mouth. “If you’re wrong, this is a waste of a lot of manpower. People are finishing up their shifts and will be very upset to be searching a good portion of our building when they could be going home.”

“Then, let's hope that I’m not wrong.” Seraphina nodded before heading off to the main floor. Tina and Queenie came closer, seeing as the coast was clear. 

“Miss Goldstein-”

“Find two other aurors and we’ll meet you at the elevator.” Queenie glanced at both the president and (Y/N) before leaving Tina with (Y/N). 

“(Y/N)?” Tina put a hand on her shoulder to stop her for a moment. (Y/N) explained the plan as they made their way to the elevator. 

“We don’t know what or who is down here.” Tina warned, talking to everyone, but keeping her eyes on (Y/N). “Stay alert.” The five of them split up, wands in hand, but stayed close enough to see each other in case of an ambush.

The bottom floor of the building, way under sea level, had definitely been abandoned. The remaining desks down there were dusty and untouched. Whatever else they had down there was the same.

After about half-an-hour, (Y/N) was losing hope; she was hanging on to the thought of finding Percival and it was the only thing keeping her going, but her grip was slipping.

In the relatively silent bottom floor of MACUSA, they could hear the echoing of someone yelling. They can barely make it out, but the words which were projected were very clear: “we found him!”

(Y/N) heart dropped to her stomach. She almost did not believe what she heard. Tina and Queenie caught up to (Y/N) as she ran to the cage elevator, though the elevator was way above where she was, giving her ample space to look up.

“Give me a floor!” (Y/N)’s voice cracked as she yelled up the shaft, trying to get through all of the noise. She got responses for many of the aurors, but she got a general answer: three from the bottom. Percival was supposedly only two floors above where she was. Her breathing was getting a little heavy. 

She looked at the floor before apparating to it. Her team followed. 

“(L/N)!” One of the aurors on the floor called her over. “He’s over here!” (Y/N) almost tripped with how quickly she ran, following the auror. The heels of her shoes made a loud clack every time her feet pummeled onto the floor. 

Her heart was pounding, but it really started hitting hard against her ribs when she saw her first glimpses of him. Her running had come to a halt and she slid on her knees in front of him.

The poor man had been through so much. Whatever skin was showing outside of his torn dress pants and ruffled dress shirt was bruised and his face was home to a black eye. His hair and facial hair had grown way past what he would have tolerated if he was in control of it. He stank of blood, sweat, and dirt.

He was not in a cage or cell; he was, instead, shackled to a support beam by his wrists.

“Percy!” (Y/N) gasped out, holding his almost unconscious face in her shaking hands. It looked like he may have been sleeping to pass the time. “Get medical down here!” A couple of aurors nodded and left to get personal from the medical wing. “Percival, please open your eyes.” 

Slowly, with whatever energy he had, he opened his eyes. He could believe (Y/N) was sitting in front of him, holding his face so gently. The light coming in from behind her made her look oh-so angelic. 

“(Y/N)?” Her name barely passed his lips. 

“Percy! Yes, yes! It’s me!” She could not care less that she was crying; hearing his voice again, the real him, brought her to tears. She let a sob escape. “Oh Merlin, I found you! I finally found you!” In her happiness, she planted tender kisses all over his face. She did not notice when Percival mumbled something to her. 

“Make way!” The healers had arrived with a gurney, ready to take Percival up to the medical wing. (Y/N) was reluctant to let go of him, but did so. She watched as he was taken away from her. 

Queenie, from (Y/N)’s side, gave her a reassuring hug, which the crying auror returned and finally let out her whimpers. 

He was found.

This was the real Percival.

He was alive.

And he was going to be okay.

It took about a full day for Percival to become coherent. He was so void of nutrients and fluids; the man was on the brink of dying. 

What had happened was clear: once Grindelwald was found out, Percival was no longer needed and he was left down there to die. It was horrifying to think what would have happened if (Y/N) had not had that miscellaneous thought in the shower.

When he awoke, (Y/N) was right there, gently holding onto his bruised hand so as to not hurt him further.

“You’re safe now, Percival,” was the first thing she said to him. “Everything will be alright.” Once again, the light coming from behind her made her look ethereal, as if she was an angel. 

His angel.

“I said, I love you.” Percival got out. (Y/N) blinked, thinking she misheard him.

“Percy?”

“I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I’m not going to let another day pass where I regret telling you that.” (Y/N) looked away, bashful. 

“You need to rest.”

“I mean it-”

She pressed a sweet kiss on the corner of his lips, ignoring the irritation from his beard, before sitting back in her seat. “I know you do. You are not a very flowery man.” He looked at her, a little confused. She gave him a soft chuckle, knowing what he was thinking. “I’m not going anywhere, Percival. I made that mistake once, and look at what happened. I am staying right here.”

[thethirdamell]

Problems

I wanted to do something for the 2021 Handers Gift Exchange (@handers-time - Thank you for setting this up.) so I wrote a tiny one-shot as an extra gift for @un-shit-yourself about Werewolf Hawke. I hope you like it! Ao3 Link

—

Hawke made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders didn’t think about it at first.

He mentioned, off-handedly, that Gallard had been giving him problems. A game of Wicked Grace gone wrong. Sure, maybe betting his ear hadn’t been the brightest idea, but Anders had more body parts than coin most days, so what else was he supposed to bet? He’d had a good hand - no, scratch that, he’d had a great hand - but Gallard had better, because Gallard cheated, and Anders knew Gallard cheated, but he’d played with Gallard anyway.

So, the ear. Anders rather liked his ears. They were where he kept his earrings, after all, and maybe it was greedy of him to want to keep both of them, but no one had ever accused him of being generous. No one except for Hawke, in that damned flirtatious way of his, smirking with one too many teeth about how if Anders was going to keep giving things away to refugees he could sure use a shirt just like the one Anders was wearing now if he wanted to take it off.

Anders wasn’t sure how that conversation had swung back around to Gallard, but swung it had, and Hawke had made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders was sure they’d kept talking, but the rest of the conversation was wind. He was too distracted by the sheer wildness that came out whenever Hawke was passionate about something. It manifested in the way he moved, powerful hands doing all of his talking for him while Anders imagined all the other things those hands could have been doing. Fisting in his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat for Hawke to worship, holding him against the wall aaaaand Hawke was gone.

Sigh.

Hawke took his hands with him when he left. Anders wondered if he could get him to bet them in a game of Wicked Grace. Now there was a bet Anders would have been more than happy to match. Hawke could have his hands, and his cock, and flames take him, Hawke could have the rest of him while he was at it. Gallard though. Gallard was not his type and Gallard could not have his ears and Anders was just going to have to set that expectation the next time he came knocking, but Gallard never did.

He just vanished.

Which was nice. It was nice that he vanished, but the thought of him popping up again was not so nice, and Anders was not looking forward to that happening, so it was even nicer when he stumbled across Gallard’s corpse. Someone had stuffed it down a coal chute, and someone else had opened said coal chute, and that poor someone was him. Gallard, or what was left of him, came flopping out, half-rotten from a week of decay and covered in soot.

Anders stumbled back, gagging, but there was no mistaking the elf. Anders would recognize those reflective eyes anywhere. They were a shade like old moss, an expression of abject terror on Gallard’s face over whatever he’d seen just before he’d died. Anders didn’t doubt it was horrifying - considering it had eaten him. Just a little. Just his ears, crunched off both sides of his skull, so Anders didn’t think about it.

It seemed like a hate crime. Hate crimes happened in Kirkwall, but then it happened again. Anders mentioned, off-handedly again, that guardsman Orwald had been giving him problems too. Badgering the refugees. Demanding protection money and destroying shelters when he didn’t get it and confiscating their belongings in the process. Aveline promised to look into it - the same sort of way she promised to look into everything - but Hawke had made that face.

Guardsman Orwald stopped showing up for duty. Guardsman Orwald started showing up around the undercity. A hand here. A foot there. A conspicuously gnawed upon torso and a chewed up thigh. Guardsman Orwald kept showing up around the undercity for a whole month before they finally found all of him - or all that was left of him - and Anders finally started thinking about it.

He mentioned, maybe not so off-handedly, that Ser Mettin had been giving him more problems. Harassing the Mage’s Collective. Knocking down the doors of mages and mage sympathizers and outright killing them without even trying to capture them, and Hawke made that face. Anders followed him that evening, and Hawke followed Ser Mettin, out of the Hanged Man and down one of Lowtown’s many alleys, but Hawke wasn’t dressed for a fight.

He was wearing what Hawke always wore: a cheap pair of trousers and a cheaper tunic. The kind of clothes that would be lucky to last one fortnight and fell apart in two. He didn’t even have a weapon outside of his knuckles, but he spent plenty of time cracking each one when he cornered Mettin in the alleyway. “I heard you have a problem with mages,” Hawke growled.

“You’re going to have a problem if you don’t keep walking, serah,” Ser Mettin shot back, a hand to the hilt of his sword, and damned if Hawke wasn’t outmatched. Ser Mettin was in full armor, iron cuirass emblazoned with the flames of Andraste’s pyre and the sword Hessarian used to run her through when she burned on it. Anders hated the heraldry. It said everything it needed to say about how templars treated mages. About what templars did to them.

They called it mercy.

They called it justice.

They should have called it murder.

A surge of righteous anger burned through him, like the Veil tore inside him, and hands of molten lyrium were trying to claw their way out of the Fade. Anders took a deep breath - and then another - trying to calm down, to force it back, to shut the door, to keep from becoming what he knew he was meant to be. Not here. Anders couldn’t lose it here - but apparently Hawke could.

“I like problems,” Hawke smirked. “I like causing them.”

Hawke-...

Hawke changed.

His body warped and contorted, the crack of bones and snapping of tendons like something out of Anders’ nightmares. Maker, he looked like a man possessed, ripping apart his shirt as his shoulders expanded past it. Claws tore through his fingers and toes, ripping apart his cheap leather shoes, and he changed. He changed into Rage. It had to have been Rage - and Hawke had to have embraced it - but Rage burned. This-...

This howled. Hair - no, fur - claimed every inch of Hawke’s skin, and all at once, he wasn’t Hawke. He was-...

He was a wolf.

He was a bloody werewolf.

“Demon!” Ser Mettin screamed, wrenching his sword from his scabbard only for Hawke to swat it aside with a vicious swipe of one massive hand - paw? - that shredded Ser Mettin’s gauntlets and took off three of his fingers. They bounced across the street like scraps of meat thrown to the floor of a banquet hall to be swallowed up by the sort of slathering mabari Hawke seemed to have become.

Hawke dove on him, powerful claws tearing through iron and flesh and painting the wall with Ser Mettin’s blood when Hawke pinned him to it. Ser Mettin drew a dagger from his hip with the only hand he had left, driving it into Hawke’s shoulder again and again, but he might have been using a feather for all Hawke seemed to notice. Bloodied claws dug into Ser Mettin’s shoulders, and before he could even scream, Hawke’s fangs were in his throat.

Chunks of flesh and veins caught in his teeth, and mingled with drool the longer Hawke kept his death grip on the wailing templar. Ser Mettin’s grip on his dagger went slack, his attempts to fight Hawke off growing weaker and weaker as he bled out, until the life finally fled from his eyes. Hawke kept hold of him, seemingly lost to the ecstasy of his kill, a satisfied rumble from somewhere deep in his chest filling the silence of the night with the steady drip of Mettin’s blood.

Hawke swallowed whatever was left of Mettin in his mouth, and dropped him in the process. He ran his paws - hands? - over his head and through his midnight fur, the color so dark it absorbed any traces of blood before licking his muzzle clean. Anders watched - frozen, fascinated - when Hawke turned and noticed him.

Starlight glinted off his golden eyes, as gorgeous in this form as any other, and for one miserable moment Anders was terrified he’d lost him. That Hawke had given into this form the way so many mages gave into their own demons. That he was just Rage and there was no getting him back and Anders had lost him the way he’d lost Karl and-

And he was fine.

And he was naked.

Hawke clamped his hands over his crotch - as wide-eyed and panicked as if Anders had just walked in on him in the wash. He spun in a fast circle and snatched up a blood-drenched bit of cloth that made as poor a loincloth as it had a tunic.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Hawke said.

“It looks like you’re a werewolf,” Anders said.

“Okay…” Hawke cleared his throat. “I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Anders demanded, picking his way across the bloody abattoir Hawke had made of the alleyway to his side.

“Now?” Hawke decided.

“Now would be good,” Anders reached out to wipe some of the blood from his face. Hawke turned a shade of red to match it, apparently more concerned by the fact that Anders had seen him naked than the fact that Anders had seen him transform, but after watching him kill a templar, Anders honestly couldn’t say which sight was more appealing.

“I’m a werewolf,” Hawke said. “Is that-... Is that a problem?”

Anders grinned, “I like problems.”