#I did nearly get out to the bottom of the line because the people my best friend and I were with were evil but we were good and ditched them

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Me rocking up to the line for the fall out boy pit in jean shorts and a floral t-shirt meanwhile everyone else is full goth 👍 I’m definitely cool

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: smut build up, porn with a plot, making out, cursing, frat party, art being stupid, happy ending dw, two parts because I cannot condense my writing for the life of me

word count: 4.0k

masterlist

“Swimmers…”

You curled your fingers around the rough end of the diving board, unconsciously holding your breath as you readied for the starting noise. The pool glinted below you, reflecting light from the glaring sun above that sparkled like the blue glitter polish on your toenails. But you ignored it, blocking out anything that wasn’t the signal as you lowered your neck.

“Take your marks…”

There it was. You tensed as the official hovered her finger over the mic button. She was about to send you off and there could be no hesitation once she did. Any second now.

“GO!”

You were already under as the crowd started cheering. Two laps,100 meters, that’s all that it took and you had already conquered a quarter of the length by the time you came up for your breakout strokes. You cut through the smooth pool surface leaving white water waves in your wake. You tried not to let your gaze stray anywhere away from the tiled black line at the bottom of the pool as you felt the competition slipping behind you.

As the wall comes into view at the other end of the 50 meter pool, you take your first breath of the race and pause your strokes for only a second to perform a nearly perfect flip turn. You only have one more length back before it’s over and you can claim the medal that is rightfully yours as you come up from your last breakout. Arms pulling and legs kicking almost frantically, you’re almost there, so close you can sense the touch pad waiting for you at the end. You zoom past the flags and…

“I can’t believe I lost by less than two tenths of a second!” you groan, taking a swig from the Heineken one of your teammates had handed you when you arrived earlier. More than 12 hours had passed since your race and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about your unexpected loss. It had plagued you still as you had made your way to the party a random fraternity had thrown, though your team considered it a celebration after the Stanford swim team took home another champion title. It was small in comparison to the larger meets you had won in the past, but it was a reason to stay out past the curfew your coach imposed on you. And any reason to stay out was good enough for you.

“You’re not actually upset about that, are you?” Chloe asked, one of your teammates who competed in the endurance free events. While you would consider yourself close to nearly every girl who swam with you, Chloe was more of an instant best friend.

You shake your head as she sips on her own beer. Unlike you, she had opted for a brand with a higher alcohol percentage as she was unafraid of hangover ridicule that inevitably awaited her at your next morning practice.

“Of course not. You know me, winning is only a plus. I just can’t believe I got so close to the record!”

It was true. You didn’t so much mind losing the first place prize to the opposing team in such an insignificant meet. What really had you grinding your teeth was the fact that you had only been a half of a second away from the official Stanford record. You weren’t sure where you lost that time in your race, whether it was one of your two breaths or if you needed to dive further out, but you were set on remedying every part of your race until the problem was solved. Your next meet was only a week away and unlike this one, it would be a much bigger deal.

“You got that girl,” Chloe assured you, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “Half a second ain’t nothing for you.”

“I hope so. I’m not missing any more practices until I get it.”

Your conversation was disrupted as the room suddenly erupted in cheers, people gathering around the entrance as newcomers entered. You turned your head towards the noise, searching for whoever could elicit such a response.

You caught sight of him right away, a man you had never seen before though immediately prayed you’d never lose sight of. He was tall, his head covered in light blonde curls that were well trimmed to not hang over his hooded eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there was more to him than looks. There had to be. Anybody had to be more than attractive to get applause in a place like Stanford, especially within the frat parties.

“Who is that?” you nudged Chloe in his direction. She was normally more up to date than you on the campus celebrities as she didn’t get swallowed up by her swimming commitments as often as you. Chloe nearly choked on her drink as she saw him, turning back to you with a befuddled expression.

“You don’t know Art Donaldson? He’s like the most promising tennis student to ever play here.”

You furrowed a brow, staring at Chloe as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

“Do I look like I watch fucking tennis?” you gestures to your hoodie that clearly bore the words ‘Stanford Swimming and Diving’.

“Let me put it this way,” Chloe started, unoffended as always. “He’s already won the Junior US Open in the doubles category. He got second in the singles and at the rate he almost qualified for the real thing.”

“What’s stopping him?” You asked, looking back in the direction of the man who had now settled on the dance floor with a drink. You sensed a catch in Chloe’s explanation.

“That.”

Chloe pointed to the only television in the house that was conveniently showing a rerun of one of the man’s, Art’s, matches which from the date you could tell happened the same time as your meet. He was amazing, more skilled than any of the few players you had ever watched before, but even you, someone who knew nothing about tennis, could tell that he was playing like something was holding him back. Every ball out of his reach skirted to the fence behind him until he eventually lost. You couldn’t understand how a Junior US Open champion could miss shots that were arguably hard, but reasonable for a professional. There had to be more to it than what lay on the surface and as a swimmer you couldn’t stop the urge to dive in deeper.

“Oh no,” Chloe smirked. She knew you too well to miss when you were after something you wanted. And you weren’t sure by which mystical force you were being pulled, but you started to gravitate away from her. “You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna do a walk around.” you promised, standing from your couch seat beside her, though you were both certain she wouldn’t see you again until practice the next day.

“Good luck.”

You were careful not to approach him directly, instead jumping into a conversation with a couple of your teammates who happened to be chatting in his vicinity. After several minutes of receiving congratulations for your attempt at the record, the group surrounding Art had finally dispersed leaving him alone with his drink on the floor. Lucky for you, by the time he was without a crowd to bypass, your group had moved on to much more nonsensical topics. It was then, by chance or fate as you believed, that he just so happened to bump into you, forcing your drink out of your hand and his attention onto you.

The glass of your Heiniken sank to the group, shattering into a million dazzling pieces of green glass, but you were able to block it out with the focus of a swimmer as you felt his stare on you.

Through the flashing lights you were able to make out the shape of his face better, mapping out sharp jawlines and chiseled cheekbones. You decided then you preferred this Art, the one who smiled at you anxiously over his moving body on the tennis channel and by the slight intrigue on his face, you could tell he felt similarly.

“I’m so sorry,” he professed, looking down at the mess of glass behind you before his blue eyes again met yours “You okay?” He had to shout over the loud music, guilt evidently rushing through him as if he had shoved you to the ground rather than accidentally causing you to drop your nearly empty bottle.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Art, right?”

Art nodded, leaning in closer to you so that he could hear you over the blaring club music.

“Do I know you?” he asked, in awe that you knew his name as if it wasn’t being broadcasted all over the Stanford sport program.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pointing to the screen where you had just seen him, watching as a wave of embarrassment washed over him as they replayed the portion of the match where he lost it all, unbeknownst to you. “I was watching your game. You’re really good.”

“You play?”

“Not tennis.” you gestured to the logo on your hoodie, hoping the disco lighting wasn’t enough to distort the clear waves of the swimming logo. 

“Oh wow,” he marveled. “I didn’t even know we had a swim team.”

“What can I say? My sport’s not quite as popular as yours.” you shrugged, shooting him a smile.

“We’ve really gotta get you another drink.” Art pointed out as he took a swig of his own beer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just have to take care of this first.”

You turned around to the glass mess that waited for you only to find that your teammates had already handled it in the time you had spent getting introduced to Art, leaving the two of you plenty of time to get acquainted, mess free. You caught sight of them across the room sitting next to Chloe, smirking at you as you looked their way. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

Art had his arm offered out to you when you turned back to him, a guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get separated on the floor as you headed into the kitchen. It’s there that the seconds fade into elongated hours as you get to know more about each other. You told Art all about your life on the team and why swimming was your calling out of all sports while he spilled to you every tennis affiliated memory from his childhood where you learned he attended a special boarding school for the sport. You made note of his humility as he never once mentioned his success on the Junior US Open and the high level he can play.

You finish the soda Art had gotten for you as the music in the main room increases in volume, forcing you to crane your neck in order to talk in his ear, leaning in so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s not much taller than you, but it’s enough to make a difference.

“I can’t hear anything with this music,” you admitted, speaking at a timbre that’s loud enough to be audible to Art without bursting his eardrums. “Do you wanna move somewhere else?”

You knew Art was joining you when he looked at you with consideration. But it was impossible for you to know exactly what he was thinking, staying ignorant to the fact that he supposed after losing his match and an evening with Tashi due to another scheduled Patrick reappearance, what did he have left to lose? He wouldn’t normally do this, but you look like the perfect contender for a brand new game.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he nodded towards the stairs to your left, accepting your invitation. “It won’t be as loud up there.”

And so you both made your way up the frat house staircase, passing by closed door after closed door until you finally found a vacant bedroom. While you don’t know who lives there, it was tidy enough for you to neglect caring as you followed Art inside and shut the door behind you. 

“I don't think I ever caught your name, by the way.” Art stated as he took a seat on the bed in the center of the room, leaving a space for you beside him..

“Oh, I didn’t say.” you chuckled in realization as you sat beside him, your name falling from your lips as you met the lumpy mattress.

“And this is your reward party?” he wondered, a thought you can’t help smiling at as you shake your head.

“Definitely not,” you took another swig from your bottle. “I don’t think there’s any real reason behind this besides to fuel college memories. If anything, they’d be celebrating you. You’re like famous right?”

Art’s gaze moves to the shag carpet below as he shakes his head of blonde curls, disappointment shrouding his face.

“Not quite,” he disagreed, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I don’t know if you saw the whole thing, but my match today wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

“Why not?”

“Because I lost.”

He stated it like it was obvious which only confuses you as a swimmer. All the work and dedication he must put into his sport all to think there was no yield. You couldn’t imagine basing your pride off of winning and winning alone when there were so many other components to competing.

“So?”

He’s startled by your nonchalance towards losing, something so foreign to him it isn’t even a refreshing take.

“So?” he repeated. “So I failed today. I let my team down. I let Tashi down.”

Tashi. You’ve definitely heard that name before. Though you don’t know much about the inner workers of tennis, everyone and their mother in the state of California knows who Tashi Duncan is. She’s the most famous person on campus, in and out of the tennis world. You didn’t know her personally, only ever seeing her when walking between classes. You also knew she had a boyfriend who didn’t attend Stanford from seeing them eating together. There had always been something off about her and now, with Art beside you in full self-deprecation mode, you figured you were about to find out exactly what it was.

“Is that who you were looking at?” you asked, piecing together that she must’ve been in attendance at his match. He immediately tensed at the mention, surprised you caught the simple detail. “I saw during your match. You looked like you were distracted.”

“It wasn’t just her,” he shook his head. “One of my oldest friends just flew for the weekend. He was there with her.” he paused. “They both saw me fail.”

“I’m sure they were both proud of you.” you assured, but Art was quick to set you straight as his friends didn’t operate the same way yours did.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m nothing if I don’t win.”

“Well it’s okay, you can just try again next time.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That’s not what tennis is about.”

You sensed a planted ideology in his evaluation, causing you to probe further.

“Really? So tennis isn’t just hitting balls with rackets over and over?”

“It’s more than that,” he informed you, taking no offense from your lack of knowledge. “It’s a relationship. It’s about the fight between two people. The back and forth until someone comes out on top. And even then the winning, it’s not nearly as important as the match. I didn’t just lose today, I let the crowd down. And my opponent won without the intensity of a good match. All because of me.”

You quieted as he explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder as he finished. You felt for him, absorbing his sorrows like a therapeutic sponge, but it didn’t take a tennis expert to understand that bullshit behind his dogma. It sounded more like a manipulation technique than anything, all stemming from the same source.

“Did Tashi tell you that?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if your statement was any more outrageous than the lies he had been fed.

“It’s the truth.” he answered.

You weren’t sure how to get across to him, if it was even possible to crash through the wall of his beliefs in the first place, but you knew you had to try. It wasn’t right for him to harbor such disappointment over a match that did nothing to disprove his skill at his sport.

“Okay,” your voice softened as you thought of a way to challenge his theories. “Let’s change the subject. How about I tell you how swimming works?”

“Isn’t it more of the same?” he sighed, still overcomplicating his loss.

“Actually it’s very different.” you corrected.

“What do you mean?” Art asked, looking at you with the utmost intrigue.

“What if I told you that even the losers in swimming end up winning?”

Incredulous of the possibility, Art waited for further explanation.

“See like tennis, we have the players and of course only one person in each race can come out on top, but it’s not about beating the other players. Once you’re out there, it’s just you and the water. That’s the only relationship. It doesn’t matter where anyone else is, beside you, behind you, that’s not what’s not important. All that matters is how well you swim and if you lost a few seconds on the time board. Everything else is lost to the waves. And if your time is the fastest well, that’s just one big fucking bonus.”

Art sat with your words, unable to reply as he processes the possibility of winning as a loser. It’s almost too hard to imagine. You leaned closer to him, breath catching as his eyes moved down to your lips and one of his hands gently gripped your thigh.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, your faces so close now that your nose nudged his own.

“I didn’t win today either,” you whisper to him. “But my team screamed when I touched that wall. And do you know why?”

He waited for you to explain, eyes fluttering close for only a second as you laid a palm on his shirt, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath. Your hands trailed to his sleeves, settling his bare skin a blaze as you take in his equally sturdy biceps.

“I almost beat a school record today. First time in 30 years if I had done it.”

“There’s no records like that in tennis.” he countered, but there was uncertainty in his tone. As if he was waiting for you to further back this new perspective. As if he was really starting to believe it.

“Then maybe you should take a page out of my book. Leave tennis in the past for now and focus on what’s here, in the present…” your lips brush over his before you mutter, “... focus on me.”

You're not entirely sure who initiated it, but before either of you could get out another word, his lips were on yours. You dove head first into the kiss, his lips melting against yours as you swipe your tongue out to catch the lingering taste of cheap beer at the edge of his parted mouth. It’s all so soft, like two cracked dolls who want nothing more than to break for the other until the intensity reaches its peak and you could feel microscopic beads of sweat forming at your brow.

Art pulled you in closer, gentle hands moving to your waist as the faint vocals of California Gurls played distantly in the background. His fingers curled into your sides, worming their way under the hem of your hoodie as they gave way to underlying desire, sparking every inch of your skin that they came into contact with.

You sighed as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Pausing the kiss, he tipped his head back to jerk ever so lightly on your lip before allowing it to snap back into place and at once you crashed back into mouth, kissing him with a fervor you don’t remember ever feeling this intensely. Every movement, every change in the pace all worsened the heat igniting within you.

You tugged on the blonde roots of his curls that rest closest to his neck and soon enough you felt Art’s needy fingers claw at the waist back of your black athletic shorts. Though you're in desperate need of relief from the growing pool of desire at your core, you knew it was time to pull back. Art didn’t let you go so easy, his lips chasing after yours once you’ve broken the kiss, but it’s no use. You knew you couldn’t do this, at least not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Art whispered against your lips, automatically assuming that it was his own fault rather than an independent decision of your own. It was certainly too intimate for a man you’d only just met, but you have to cup his cheek to keep from breaking as his own hands part from your skin.

You told him some form of the truth, that you didn’t think the timing was right. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you were dying to sneak another taste of his lips in and give him everything he’s ever wanted right there and then. But you couldn’t. Not when you know that it’s just another match. A distraction from Tashi. Especially not when you know that it didn’t have to be.

“We can’t do this here.”

Art face fell at your words, but he’s never been one to give up so easily.

“Then let’s go back to my place.” he offered, hoping it was just the atmosphere of the party that alarmed you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“No, not tonight.” you frowned apologetically. “Not while you’re playing tennis.”

He stared at you in utter confusion as you stood up from your place beside him, dusting off your clothes as if you hadn’t been enjoying him all along. He didn’t understand the reasons behind your sudden switch, but he’s willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“You want me to quit.” he suggested as if it’s a solution both of you are comfortable with. You turned back to him disturbed, shaking your head wildly at the proposal.

“Of course not, Art, you know that’s not what I mean,” you began, gathering an explanation that you hope will convey your reasons without making him feel like a complete piece of shit. “I don’t know what Tashi told you, but to me it sounds like she expects a winner. She’s programmed you into believing the player doesn’t matter without a title.”

You stepped an inch in his direction, close enough that you can see even the smallest details of his face, but not enough for him to touch you again.

“…but she’s forgetting that without the player, winner or loser, there is no title. Without a foundation, there is no relationship between you and the other player. And nobody can succeed if they’re scared of failure.” you explained further. You knew your words resonated with Art as his gaze turned to the stained carpet of the bedroom, but he had to pass the ball back.

“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t know Tashi.” he fired back, and you knew it’s only the tennis talking.

“You know I’m right.”

Art was silent, only proving your point. You knew you had to leave, but you had to promise him a second meeting, for him and for yourself. You wouldn’t be blocked from a happy ending by wrong timing.

“Come to my meet next weekend,” you invited him. “It’s the biggest one of the year. You should see how other sports operate.”

“I can’t see you before then?”

You almost smiled at the confirmation that his frustration wasn’t directed towards you.

“I have practice,” you shrugged. “- and so do you. You can see me again at my meet and in the meantime, just think about what I said. And know that you’re more than a loser, Art.”

You left without another word, shutting the door while silently cursing yourself for not taking the opportunity while you had it. It was very possible that you would never see the tennis star again, that every spark you felt with him in your first hour of knowing him was entirely one sided. You prayed it wasn’t true, that he had shown some feelings in return, but only time would tell. In exactly one week, you would be certain.

part two out now!!!

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How would someone like Miko, Ei, and other high ranking officers react to an S/O with a long list of titles like Settra the Imperishable, King of Kings,-

(Genshin Impact) Yae, Ei, Sara, Kokomi, Furina, Jean, and Xianyun's S/O with an absurdly long list of titles

I've been building and painting a lot of Bretonnians lately, so dear readers, you will now become aggressively French.

By the Archons above, nothing was worse to Yae than having to be so serious during a ceremony,

Of all the things she could be doing, literally anything would be better than having to listen to some stuffy noble read their title.

So it was by chance S/O had to be present. She recognized their title was of Fontaine descent.

'The Red Hand of Brionne', 'The Red Duke', Something something Red.

...Wait, their titles were still being read off?!

(Yae) "My goodness, just how many titles with the color red can one have?"

Yae internally sighed as the list kept going. And going. And going.

All the while S/O stood perfectly still and respectful, not even batting an eye at the list of titles that probably would stretch from the top of the shrine all the way to the bottom.

Yae's head looks up to the sky momentarily, wondering how of all the people in the world she could have as a lover, it was the one who had to bore her to tears.

No doubt there were interesting stories of how the titles came to be, but this is not the way she wanted to find out.

And here Yae thought Ei had a lot of names to go by...

(Yae) "...Why is it still going?!"

Ei doesn't react too much at the titles being read off for S/O's form of address at first.

She had to deal with similar situations of people reading off her own titles, so it was only proper etiquette.

"Water-Knight," "The Holder of Secrets", "Keeper of the Way"

(Ei) "...Hm."

It was only now she noticed that the list actually exceeded her own titles.

Which surprised her more than anything.

As far as she knew, S/O was just a mortal. How many feats did they achieve in Fontaine during their short life?

She made a note to ask later, but now the list was starting to become a bit absurd.

...Maybe she should implement a law where only the most notable of titles are read off, because they would actually be here for eternity if this continued.

Sara gets jealous fast.

Not because S/O has more titles than her, she couldn't care less about that.

What really irked her, was they had the gall to own more titles than Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho!

Sara masks her annoyance well as she keeps reading off the list.

Line after line, name after name.

...Okay, who the hell even gave her this list, this was way too many!

(Sara) Leader of battles...? What kind of title even is that?!

She made that comment in her head as she droned on with the names.

With every single title read off, Kokomi's energy drained.

She loved her S/O dearly, but by the Archons, how the heck did they get that many titles while living in Fontaine?!

(Gorou) "Lionheart, The Lionhearted, High Paladin of the Breton Court-!"

As far as she was aware, there wasn't even any Knight Houses like this in Fontaine!

...Then again, this was Fontaine she was talking about. They did have their theatres.

Kokomi doesn't mention anything about their stupidly long list of names until after the formal ceremony.

She drops her head onto their shoulders, sighing loudly.

(Kokomi) "S/O...why did we need to have all your names read out...?"

The AUDACITY S/O had!

To have more titles than HER, FURINA?!

This transgression would never be forgotten!

...But they were some pretty cool names, she did have to admit.

'The Golden Paladin',' 'Lord of the Lance', 'Roi Breton'

(Furina) "Hmph, and where exactly did you acquire such names, S/O? More importantly, how does it nearly rival my own?! Hmph! Perhaps I should read all of mine so that we are on equal footing!"

Honestly, some of those were starting to sound like stage names, which wasn't fair at all!

If they could do that, then so could she!

Needless to say, the ceremony the two were attending dragged on for way too long.

By Barbatos, those were some extra titles.

'The Green Knight', 'Knight of the Glade', 'Heart of the Lion'

Though, she only had a few titles under her own belt, the sheer number S/O had was honestly staggering.

But it was also admirable.

It made her want to keep up, and wondered if she could ever live up to Vanessa, and apparently S/O.

Because at this point she was wandering in her mind, the list was still going, and probably outnumbered Vanessa herself.

(Jean) Well...I suppose we did say we were to refer to all forms of address...Maybe we should revise that.

Xianyun was no stranger to titles.

She did indeed go by many, but S/O seemed to go by even more.

Which both impressed, and honestly annoyed Xianyun.

How did a mortal go by more names than Rex Lapis?!

'The Sacremor', 'The Soul-Killer', 'Duke of Couronne'-

(Xianyun) "One has to wonder why you must have all your names read aloud? We could be doing something much better right now..."

Granted, she did recognize a few of these titles, but that was no reason for dinner to get cold now!

Xinayun pouts, adjusting her glasses as she tries to get comfortable as the reading continued.

One found this situation inane...

[sachiko1309]

Fuck me, while I taste your fingertips

Summary: The title says it all

Word count: 2827

Warnings: pure smut, soft to rough, made for my finger and hand fixated vulcan loving people ;) (aka: @mystery-star)

Minors DNI !!! this contains adult content

I was just walking out of the shower, my towel still wrapped around my body, the hair twisted into a sloppy bun on the back of my head. Spock was sitting on his desk, working down some files on his PADD. I had been teasing him the whole day to the point where he had looked like he was about to snap any moment. To my surprise he kept his demeanor pretty well and only those who knew him very well, were able to see, what was really going on inside the Commanders brain.

Knowing he was probably trying his hardest distracting himself with anything, I sneaked up behind him, putting my lips right next to his ears: “I need you.” Was all I said and he immediately tensed up. Taking a deep breath, he turned off his PADD and rolled his chair back a bit. His eyes were trained on my body, looking me up and down with a hungry look on his face.

I tried my best to not get too distracted by the things it did to me, keeping my eyes trained on his face. “Remember what I told you earlier?” I asked, waiting for him to respond.

“You have asked me a lot, today. Please elaborate further to which event you are referring.” He pressed out, his voice just as tensed as his body.

“I think you know.” Letting go of my towel, I grabbed his hands, slowly starting to play with his fingers. His reaction was instant. He let out a low moan, sinking back into his chair, half closed eyes watching my fingers play with his.

“T’hy’la…” His voice was husky and he stopped talking, when I pressed light kisses on his fingertips. Taking the last step between his legs, I put his hands on my hips, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Do you trust me?” My question had him raise his brow. “You are my wife; it would be illogical of you to assume I do not.” His answer made me chuckle lightly. “Good thing I learned to translate your words to what they actually mean.”

Sinking to my knees I never let him out of my sight. As if on que, he spread his legs further apart, making it easier for me to kneel between them. Out of reflex, his hands went to my head, but I held them down. “No, not today. I want to take care of you.” He immediately obeyed my command, resting his hands loosely on his thighs.

I let my fingers run over his thighs, his lower stomach, making him shiver and twitch in anticipation, before I gave in. Slowly opening his belt and pulling down the zipper. When I freed his member, I pressed a soft kiss to the tip, eliciting a low moan from Spock. “Please…” He begged, but I didn’t give in. Planting soft kisses along his shaft and sweetly licking his tip, until he was panting above me.

Then I stood up, holding him down by his shoulders, when he tried to reach for me. “Relax.” I climbed onto his lap, lining up his cock with my entrance, slowly sliding down on him. Had I not been horny all day, that maneuver would have been nearly impossible. Because unlike what Spock seemed like on a day to day basis, this man was packed. And when I finally bottomed out on him, I let out a deep moan, holding onto his shoulders to gain some control back. Instantly his hands gripped my hips, rolling them along his lap, earning a high-pitched yelp from me. Fighting against the hot waves starting to rise in my body, I shook my head: “No. Give me your hand.”

Spock looked at me confused, but complied. And when I led his right hand to my lips, the realization dawned on his face.

I started with kissing his palm down to every finger, before I took his middle and ring finger in my mouth, wetting them with my saliva. Before was even able to fully take them down my throat his head rolled back, the grip of his left hand growing harder on my hip. It was working.

Sucking on his long digits, I let my tongue circle around them, like I was giving him a blowjob. I switched between his fingers. Changing the speed and depths I took them into my mouth with. And the longer I sucked on his fingers, the more agitated his breathing became until he was panting again. That’s when I decided to give him the last bit. Letting my right hand wander to his ear, I softly stroked the outer shell of it. And as soon as I touched his ear, he bucked up underneath me, forcing his cock deeper inside of me, a loud moan rolling through his chest. I let his hand go with a soft plop, reaching for the other one, repeating what I was doing.

His face was covered in a soft shade of green, the tip of his ears painted a flashy dark green. I was watching intently, how his mouth shivered, quiet Vulcan curses flowing from his lips. His whole body was tensed, his hand gripping my body tightly as if he needed to steady himself on something. “T’hy’la…” He breathed out, opening his eyes. And the look he gave me, said everything I needed to know. He was close, begging me to come.

I took his fingers down my throat as deep as I could, simultaneously clenching around his cock and stroking his ears in the most sensual way I could. That’s when it happened. With a loud moan ringing through the room, he came. I could feel his cock twitch deep inside of me when he shuddered underneath me. The feeling of hot seed shooting up my core, filling me up. It was heavenly seeing him come undone like that.

He pulled his hand out of my mouth, grabbing me and pulling me flush against his chest. His grip was hard but I liked how it made me feel even closer to him. It took him quite some time to calm his breathing to a point, where he was able to talk again. “What… Why?” Was all he was able to press out, making me smile. It didn’t happen often, for Spock to be out of words, but when it did, it was the cutest thing I could imagine.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Why not? I know how sensitive your hands and ears are and what it does to you, seeing me fidget my fingers all day, so I wanted to do you a favor. It was kind of mean of me singing that song, while literally performing finger porn right in front of you. I am actually quite surprised you made it that long without pulling me into the next room and fucking me senseless.” I smirked.

He raised an eyebrow, now almost back to his calm and collected self. “You did that on purpose?” I just laughed. “For what other reason would I be singing ‘Talking bodies’? I mean the line she sings the most is literally ‘fuck me while I taste your fingertips’. So that just got me thinking of a new way to please my husband.”

His eyes went dark, hearing what I shamelessly admitted. “You want me to fuck you, while you suck on my fingers?” I nodded, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks. He just tilted his head, obviously stuck in his thoughts. “Then why did you not let me touch you and refrained me from moving one bit? I believe this was not as pleasurable for you as it was for me, giving the fact you are a human.”

I just shrugged. “I don’t mind it.” But my words visibly made him upset. Getting up with a low growl, he pressed me against the closest wall: “Do you think I will let my wife go to bed without giving her at least one orgasm? I am not some miserable human man, who is incapable of pleasuring his woman.”

His words made me rip my eyes open, staring at him like a deer in headlights. “What are you…” I didn’t need to finish my question, because the look he gave me, mixed with the fact, I could feel his cock hardening inside of me, told me everything I needed to know. I was in for a long night…

As soon as my back hit the wall, his lips were on mine, kissing me with such force, it left me breathless. The rough fabric of his clothes rubbed against my skin, my nipples growing hard to the touch. Him still being in his clothes caused something to stir in my mind, I didn’t know existed. It was a deep longing and satisfaction for his dominance, which only took him seconds to realize. Kissing down my chin until his lips caressed my earlobe he whispered: “Tell me,” His voice was hoarse. “Tell me what you want.”

I could feel myself grow wetter at his words, relishing in the hard touch of his hand on my breast. “I…” My body betrayed me, not letting me speak, when his thumb stroked over my hard nipple. “I… I want…”

“What, rom ko-kan. Speak to me and I will oblige.” He groaned; face deeply tugged into my neck. Taking my hands out of his hair, he started to rid himself from his shirt. Now he was just in his dress pants. Pinning my hands above my head with one arm, he intertwined our fingers and as soon as he did it, his feelings crashed into my head. “Please…” I whimpered, rolling my hips as much as the position of my being pinned against the wall let me.

Spock kept on playing with my breast, looking at me with a wolfish grin, while his hips kept me pinned. “Please what, t’hy’la?” The teasing side of him breaking through. It was obvious he wanted me to beg for him and if it would have been any other day, I probably would have put up a fight, testing his patience. But not today. My whole mindset was taken over by my husband, no other thought strong enough to cross my mind. He was all I wanted and the whole day I had trouble concentrating on anything else than him. I was putty in his hands.

And when his free hand wandered from my breasts to my clit, I reared up in a sinful moan. The jolts of pleasure ripping through my body in hot shots, while he teased me mercilessly. I tightened the grip of my legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper. Spock sighted, giving me another soft kiss on the lips. “I take that as my answer.” He groaned, his hips pulling back and snapping forward again.

“Oh God yes…” I breathed out, arching my back to be closer to him. It was all the encouragement Spock needed, releasing my hands, he grabbed my hip to guide my movements better. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying my best not to claw at his back. “I don’t mind it.”

“What?” I was confused, far to caught up in the heat of the moment.

“I don’t mind you marking me.” He repeated, tilting his head back, to take a better look at me. I raised my eyebrows, biting down on my lips, when his cock brushed against the spongy spot deep inside of me. “But the others will see during training.” I argued, my voice shuddering with pleasure. Now he was wearing a sly smile on his face. “I hope they will.” Was all he said, before he bent down, pressing his lips onto my nipple.

“Spock… Please!” I cried out, not caring about a single thing in the world. I could feel my orgasm nearing. The hot waves that started deep in my core now growing to a big tsunami threatening to drown me at any given moment. “Go on, t’hy’la.” He encouraged me, wrapping a hand in my hair and pulling my head against his shoulder.

“Cu-Cumming!” My moan turned into a cry, as my body shuddered. Bright lights exploding behind my closed eyes.

“That’s it. Be a good girl, make a mess on my cock. You are doing so good for me.” He cooed, lips brushing over my ear while he spoke. His praise striking me deeply. But instead of slowing down like he normally did, to give me some time to regain strength and consciousness, he kept his pace. “Spock… I cant… please…”

He just shook his head. “You really think I would let you go this easy? Teasing me all day with those filthy fingers of yours. You know what it does to me, when you wear those rings. When the jingle like that with every move, sparkle in the lights of the bridge. And your earrings… I should have known better when I married you. But those piercings you have… they make me want to ravish you, just by looking at you. Do you even know what a whore you are considered on Vulcan? Eight piercings and at least 5 rings on each hand….”

I let out a soul shattering moan, clawing on his back, not caring that my long nails probably let some red scratches behind. Spock cussed at the pain, but his thrusts didn’t falter for one second. “You are the most beautiful and filthy woman roaming the universe and I am so fucking lucky to call you mine. But I will not let you get away with teasing me like that. You hear me?” He grabbed my chin, shaking my head softly.

“Yes, Commander. I am sorry. I will stop wearing so many rings and piercings.” I cried out, tears forming in my eyes from the overstimulation he forced me through. “Oh, hell you wont.” He growled. “You will wear them. Understood? I want you to look like a whore, because you are my whore and nobody else will see you like I do. But just remember if you ever try to tease me like that again, I will show no mercy. I wont wait until our shifts are over. I will bend you over the next desk I see and you can pray that nobody walks in on us, is that clear?”

“Yes Commander!” I yelped. My body shaking in pure bliss as another wave of an orgasm initiated itself deep inside of me. It wasn’t until now, that I realized, that his movements got sloppy. His breathing was rigid, sweat dripping from his forehead. A look of determination present on his face. “Fuck.” He cussed, a rare occurrence for him to do, but when he did it, it send butterflies of pure filth down my stomach.

Catching my lips in another kiss, he bit down on my lower lip, leaving it sore and slightly bruised. It wasn’t until then, that I realized with what force Spock had pressed me against the wall. I was sure that I would be sore the next morning, but I didn’t care. My mind only caring about the jolts of pleasure racing through my body. My moans were muffled by his kisses as my legs started to tremble again, fighting against his hips, muscles growing tired. “Don’t stop.” I pleaded, my grip on his shoulders growing harder.

“Never.” Was all Spock pressed out, his hands gripping my hip so hard, it was on the edge of painful. “Come for me now!” He ordered, his thrust growing rougher. Without much time for my brain to react, my body surrendered, shattering into thousands of tiny splinters. I let my head fall back against the wall, a loud and sinful moan ringing through the room. My body shaking violently, as he growled and thrusted deep inside of me for the last time.

He shivered between my legs, as his orgasm washed over him. My spasming walls milking him for the second time this night. And when his throbbing cock slowly stopped twitching, he pulled me into a deep hug. His breath fanning over my neck, while he held me in his warm embrace. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind far enough to speak. “I love you.” Was all I was able to mumble, my tongue still heavy from my orgasm, but Spock seemed to understand.

“Nash-veh ashaya du, t’nash-veh k’diwa.” He whispered into my ear, while slowly walking towards the bathroom. We were still wrapped up tightly into each others arms and I could feel my slick and his seed slowly trickling out of me. And when he carefully lifted me up and set me back onto my feet, my legs gave in underneath me. He was just quick enough to catch me. “Let me run you a bath, t’hy’la. You are sore and the warmth will help your muscles relax.”

For everyone wondering what on earth rode me to write this:

You are either welcome, or I am sorry for ruining this song for you 😂

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

[teyums]

How They Would React to you Dressing up for Them - avatar headcanons

Pairing: fem! na’vi reader x lo’ak (aged up), x neteyam (aged up), x tsu’tey

warnings: fluff, “hinting” towards events, minor use of language

a/n: tsu’tey might seem a bit random in this line up as i haven’t written for him before, but i love him and i barely see people characterize him correctly which aggravates me so i had to 🤭

wc: 1.7k

LO’AK - actually dumbstruck. literally looks like a lovesick puppy with how big his eyes got when he looked at you. he blushes just at the sight of you and gives you a compliment. then begs to be the only one to see you in this outfit because he knows how beautiful the others will think you are.

“Can I please open my eyes now?” Lo’ak whined childishly, holding his hands over his face like you instructed and using all of his power not to peek through his fingers. “This better be good.”

You laughed softly at his complaining, adjusting the top you had on to make sure it fit correctly. You spent the last two days making a new outfit- the top adorned with delicate pearl-like beads that glistened when the light hit them, covering your chest just enough. The sheer fabric of your loincloth matched with similar beading, it being slightly longer than your usual one and accentuating your curves more.

“Yes, you may open them now.” You clasped your hands behind your back, tilting your head with a smile as you watched his hands drop and his eyes flutter open.

“Holy shit.” He swallowed hard, his pupils dilating as soon as they centered on you. In the blink of an eye he was up on his feet, causing you to giggle and nearly stumble back with how fast he approached you.

“Oh my Ey-“

“Do not say her name in vain!” You shushed him before he could continue, placing a finger to his lips with a teasing grin.

“You look…” His hands took hold of yours as his eyes trailed up and down your body, his mouth gapped slightly while he studied you with awe oozing from his stare. He stood completely enthralled, at a loss for words. “Wow, you look absolutely amazing.” His eyes finally locking with yours.

“Thank you, Lo’ak.” Your cheeks tinted that familiar pink-purple hue, looking away now that you felt shyness creeping up your chest.

His mouth turned to the shape of a small ‘O’, a high pitched whistle being heard from him next while he shook his hand as if it had touched hot coals. Something he had learned from his father— a cat call. According to Jake, that’s how they compliment women back on earth.

“Oh, stop it.” You brought your hand up and playfully smacked his shoulder, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as your smile only got bigger.

He chuckled, holding where you had smacked as if he were actually hurt. “Please, please, please tell me this is for my eyes only.” He breathed out, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip when he gave you another once over. “Definitely for my eyes only.” He interjected before you could answer and lowered himself a bit, his hands coming behind your thighs to lift you up and into his arms.

“Lo’ak!” You gasped when your feet left the ground, instinctively looping your arms around his neck and giggling as he carried you off to your hammock.

_____________

NETEYAM - already compliments you everyday, like smothers you in them to the point where it’s more common than hearing your name. he can’t get enough of you. the biggest smile comes onto his face when he sees you, immediately forgetting how tired he had been from his responsibilities earlier. you’re like a breath of fresh air to him and he can’t believe how lucky he got with you.

You paced back and forth in your tent, twiddling your fingers nervously as you waited for your mate’s return from the hunting party. He had been gone for almost three days now with Jake and the others, the longest you had ever been apart— so you wanted to surprise him when he got back. You knew Neteyam loved everything you did and every last detail about you; from the cowlick you had whenever you woke up in the morning, down to the four toes you had to stand on to kiss him whenever he returned. But for some reason you were still nervous.

You took a deep breath and turned around in the mirror, taking one last look at yourself and wondering if it was too much. Your top used intricate, small beaded loops to cover your decency, barely at that, and the sparse pearlescent material contrasted beautifully with the light colored, woven twine that held the top up around your neck. Your loin cloth matched; long and sheer, a very delicate material that was strictly meant to be worn for moments of intimacy.

You shook your head and pushed your shoulders back to reinstill your confidence. It was too late to change your mind, Neteyam would be home any minute now.

The creaking of footsteps against wood caused you to look over your shoulder, a smile creeping onto your lips as you watched your mate push aside the flap to your tent and emerge through the entrance. He looked exhausted, but handsome like always.

“My love, I’m home-“ He stopped dead in his tracks before he could make it all the way in, jaw nearly dropping to the floor when he saw you. He let the flap fall and hurriedly rushed inside, turning and poking his head back out as a precautionary measure to make sure none of the other males had witnessed what was only for him to see, then shut it tightly once more.

“Hi Nete.” You turned to face him with a sweet smile, your jet black and wavy locks were loose from their braids, cascading down your shoulders and ending just above your lower back.

He threw his belongings to the floor with zero regard for the fragility of some of them, and in seconds he was across the room and towering over you. You laughed to yourself at his newfound energy.

“Did I die on that hunting trip? I must be in heaven now, I am sure of it.” He purred, his hands smoothing down your shoulders and back up your arms while his eyes wandered with fascinated curiosity.

“No, you’re very much alive.” You blushed profusely, flashing him a bright smile and looking up at him lovingly as he admired you.

“You truly are a sight for sore eyes.” He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes still panning over your slender yet curvy frame and ending at your face. “Do a spin for me, princess.” He took your smaller hand into his large one, stepping back but keeping a gentle hold on your fingers.

You obliged, allowing him to help you give him a full 360. You giggled at the sound of a sharp inhale through teeth from Neteyam once your back was facing him, not needing to look back to know what he was reacting to. You returned to your former position to see him much closer than he was before, catching a glimpse of the starved look in his eye.

“So,” His hands found solace on your waist, holding your hips and pulling you flush against his heated skin. “What did I do to be lucky enough to come back to you like this, hm?” He hummed, his eyes flickering from yours and settling on your plush lips. God he missed you. He was impatiently waiting for you to answer, eager to close the gap that was separating the two of you.

You shrugged innocently, ribboning your arms around his neck and brushing the tip of your nose against his. “Just missed you, is all.” Your eyes half-lidded, lips expectant, you suddenly forgot what the conversation was about.

He pressed his lips against yours, wasting no time and deepening the kiss as soon as he felt you return it. You sighed into his mouth, hands cupping his face to bring him closer than he already was, which was impossible. His arms snaked around your waist as you stood on your toes, your chests pressing together as a result. You withdrew from him upon remembering air is crucial for survival, your chest rising and falling heavily as he tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Perhaps I should go away more often, then.”

____________

TSU’TEY - a man of very few words and emotion, we know this. Your relationship with him is secure and though he is not a words of affirmation kind of guy, you still know that he thinks you are beautiful. He values the strength of your heart, your perseverance in battle, just you more than anything else and he shows that through actions. He rarely focuses on material things. But seeing you in the outfit you made specifically for him, he can’t help but stare at you with astonishment written on his face. His expression was usually stoic and stern, so something as little as his an eyebrow raise meant that he was more than intrigued.

Tsu’tey sat upon a stool in your shared hut, a few braids that weren’t pulled back with the rest dangling over his face while he worked on sharpening his spear that had dulled from a long day’s hunt.

You emerged from behind the dressing curtain, standing a few feet from him. “Yawne,” your voice smoothed into his ears like silk. Without pausing his work or looking up he responded with a hum, one you would usually take as a sign to continue- but you wanted his undivided attention for this. “Tsu’tey.” You called.

His head raised in your direction, a spark of interest flittering within his golden orbs once they locked on you. He quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his lip that was usually downcast into a scowl was perking up into a grin. “What is the occasion?” His voice remained calm, collected.

“No occasion, just trying something new…” Your face flushed at his unwavering gaze, eyes falling to look down at your sheer beaded loincloth as if you didn’t already know what it looked like. “Do you like it?” You questioned, glancing at him hopefully.

“Mm,” He leaned over to the side, placing his spear onto the floor as well as the carving knife, now completely uninterested in what he had previously been doing. “Come.” His voice was low, his hand patting his thigh and beckoning you over. You could have sworn you saw a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but let out a small squeal in excitement at his noticeable approval, and an elated smile enveloped your features as you pranced over to your captivated mate.

[808airsoftbros]

Fitness Trainer (Kim Seolhyun) (S) (BXG)

Author: This one was inspired from a Kdrama web series I recently watched so here it is... Also if you want to check out more of my stories take a peak at the Masterlist :)

Y/N’s POV

Hearing the news that a new gym has just opened in my town a couple blocks away from my house, I’ve already read positive reviews of the place as the staff and trainers are knowledgable of the equipment and proper diet and exercise along with all sorts of cool workout gadgets.

Not only that they also sell pre-workouts, protein shakes, and drinks, and of course the memberships required to enter the gym.

Honestly, the membership wasn’t too bad being the price of $25 per month and I decided why the hell not?

Changing into my workout attire, I grab my duffle bag holding all of my shower needs and a change of clothes.

I get into my car, start the engine, and exit the garage, the drive to the gym was about five minutes as it was close to my house.

Making my way into the gym, I was awestruck by the decor and how nice this place looked.

Walking up to the receptionist, he greets me and asked if I had a gym membership or not.

“Uhm, this is my first time here,” I answered.

“That’s perfect because we offer a ten percent discount to newcomers for the first three months and even a trainer,” The receptionists offered.

“Sweet, it’s a deal,” I accepted and he nodded.

Completing the transaction and getting the sweet deal, he gives me an access card that lets me through the doors and instructs me to wait in room 02 for the trainer.

Sliding the card on the electronic locking mechanism, it automatically unlocks the door and when I walked through the doors, I was again amazed by the amount of people working out and the top-of-the-line gym equipment.

Looking around for the private room, I saw a sign with the label “Room 02″ and the bottom text saying “Kim Seolhyun”. Guess she must be the trainer I’ll be working with so I politely knocked on the door.

“Coming~!” I hear a female voice shout.

Hearing footsteps approaching the door opens revealing a stunning woman dressed in a sports bra nearly exposing her beautiful breasts and yoga pants showing off her thighs and her thick ass.

“Holy fucking shit...” I said in my thoughts as I couldn’t believe my luck.

“Hello there, you must be Y/N, right?” She asked and I nervously nodded.

“Y-Yep, that’s me,” I answered and she smiled.

“Excellent! Please do come in!” She said and stepped aside.

Walking into her room, it was quite cozy and nice with two yoga mats set up on the floor along with a rack of weights and gym equipment.

“Please sit on the yoga mat, we will first begin with some yoga exercises,” She instructed and I did what she said.

Joining me on the mattress, she instructs me on certain poses and stretches which I find uncomfortable at first but I got used to it the longer I keep a certain position.

However, I can’t help but blush the fact at how close we are, her large mounds were literally smashed into my back.

Kinda makes me wonder if she was doing this on purpose...

Anyway, after the warm-up yoga exercises were over, we moved on to weight lifting and since I’m new, she starts me with 5-10 pound weights.

“Wah, for your first time, you’re doing quite well~,” She complimented and I chuckled.

“T-Thank you, Noona,” I nervously thanked her and she giggled.

Continuing lifting the weight bar, I squat down and up at a steady pace until she stopped me.

“Hold on! Your stance and position are wrong!” She called out and corrected me.

Once again, she takes my hand and legs, spreads them in the correct position, and tells me to continue my set.

“Okay, you’ve had enough for today, Y/N, great work today! Just make sure to follow the diet I’ve given you and you will be a pro in no time!” She explained and I nodded.

“Right, thank you again, Noona!” I thanked her.

“Anytime! I’ll see you again tomorrow!” She waved goodbye as I left the room.

Seolhyun’s POV

Damn, he is so cute... I don’t know what’s gotten into me but interacting and working with that boy made me feel butterflies in my stomach.

It’s strange to have such feelings after breaking up with my ex-boyfriend not too long ago.

However, I can tell that he took some glances at my boobs and my ass which I didn’t mind as I was used to men eye-fucking me whenever I’m jogging or in the gym.

But Y/N is different from those creeps that I train, he’s respectful, polite, and kind, and he’s a young boy so he has much growing up to do before he becomes a man.

And I’ll be more than happy to help...

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

A Few Weeks Later...

Y/N’s POV

It’s nearly been a month since I started being apprenticed to Kim Seolhyun and so far, she was the best fitness trainer I’ve been under.

Already, I can start seeing the progress as I’m starting to lose some pounds and my stomach was more toned.

I started eating less junk food and eating more vegetables and healthy foods like Seolhyun instructed.

Coming to another day of workout at the gym, I proceed into the room as per routine and was greeted by Seolhyun.

“Hello, Y/N, are you ready for your training?” She asked.

“More than ever!” I answered and she smiled.

“Good stuff! That’s what we like to hear! Now let’s get to our warm-up!” She commenced.

Getting onto the yoga mat as usual, she caught me by surprise when she said we were going to stretch together as she’s never done her daily stretching yet.

“Now can you hold my back for me, please?” She asked and I nodded.

Holding her back and hand as instructed as Seolhyun did her thing, it was embarrassing as my crotch was literally touching her ass.

Focus Y/N! Focus! DO NOT HAVE A BONER!!! NOT NOW!!!

I screamed to myself to not do it as it would make this situation very awkward and I’ll never see myself or Seolhyun the same ever again.

“Are you okay back there, Y/N? Your face is so red,” She concerningly asked and I shook my head.

“Huh? I’m fine, what about you?” I politely asked and she raised an eyebrow.

Right... I forgot to mention, as time went on, Seolhyun started to get ALOT more touchy with me.

I never questioned why she was touching places she wasn’t supposed to but who am I to stop her?

“Okay, that’s enough, now let’s get to the main set,” She said and we started our set.

After a few hours of weight training, running, and cardiac exercises, we were just about finished working out for today.

“Alright, that’ll be it for today, another job well done, Y/N,” She complimented as she drank water.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied.

Grabbing our duffle backs, we get out of the room to see the gym was vacant and not a sight of a janitor or a clerk.

“Where is everyone?” I wondered and I take out my phone to check the time.

“Oh my God... The gym closed like an hour ago...” Seolhyun mentioned as she looked at her watch.

“Damn, must’ve lost track of time,” I said and she chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you work so hard, but let’s shower and get out of here,” She said and I nodded.

Walking to the men’s shower room, I was shocked to see Seolhyun following me as the Women’s shower room was down the corridor.

“What? Nobody else is here? Plus it’s closer,” She pointed out and I sighed.

With my mind racing, I step into the shower room, I placed the duffle bag onto the bench, and Seolhyun places her on the opposite side.

I take out all of my showering gear consisting of soap, a towel, and my change of clothes before taking off my shirt.

“Not half bad body, being that you’ve been working out for the past few weeks,” Seolhyun complimented and I blushed.

“Hehe~. I don’t mind you peaking at me, I trust you enough,” She assured.

“Aish, can you stop this nonsense please?” I begged and she giggled.

Taking off the rest of my clothes, I take a deep breath before going under the shower head and turning the knob to hot water.

To my surprise, Seolhyun joins me as well and of course, she was butt-ass naked which didn’t help my situation.

“Uhm, Noona, there are other shower heads you know,” I pointed out and she playfully rolled my eyes.

“What? Are you afraid of a naked woman?” She asked.

“N-No, it’s just, a man and a woman shouldn’t shower together unless they are a couple,” I replied and she grinned.

“H-Hey, don’t you get any ideas!” I stuttered and she slowly approaches me.

“Or else what? What are you going to do?” She asked and I gulped.

Staring deep into my eyes, I can’t help but stare into her eyes and she’s telling me that she wasn’t fucking around... She actually wants to fuck.

“Maybe it’s a good time, to be honest with myself, Y/N, I’ve had feelings for you ever since we first met, I don’t know if I’m just crazily in love with you but I don’t care... Because now all I want to is you,” She said before whispering the last part into my ear sending shivers down my spine.

“I’ve seen you stare at my ass... I’ve seen you glancing at my breasts and I know you love the feeling of them pressing on your back~,” She flirted as she wraps her hand around my cock.

“T-This is too fast, Noona, I-I don’t-” I was about to say but she tightens her grip on my cock making me squeal.

“Did I say you can talk~?” She asked and I shook my head.

“Now, what do you want your Noona to do?” She asked as she gets on her knees and slowly gave me a handjob.

“B-Blowjob...?” I nervously asked and she smirked.

“Hehe. Anything for you cutie~,” She replied before licking the shaft making me loudly moan and kissing the tip.

Engulfing my length into her mouth, it was clear that she was experienced as it felt really good and warm. She kept bobbing her head up and down and letting out a loud bop.

“Did you like it, baby, ~?” She asked.

“Y-Yes, Noona, it was really good,” I answered and she smiled.

“Good, now it’s time to show you some moves~,” She said and was about to place my dick in between her mounds.

*phone ringing*

“Ughhh... Sorry honey but will have to continue this another time, I have an errand but remember, I want an answer by then, understand?” She asked and I nodded.

“Good, but let me finish you off, real fast,” She replied and sucked me off until I came into her mouth.

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

The Next Day...

Y/N’s POV

After that strange interaction with my fitness trainer Seolhyun yesterday, I was left pondering as I don’t know how to feel about her.

Sure she was beautiful and all but this is all too sudden and quick for me as she’d be my first love.

I’m not sure if oral counts as taking my virginity or not but I felt like it was taken either way.

Anyway, I prepared myself for another training exercise, drove to the gym, and enter the room but I was surprised to see a different trainer.

“Hello, you must be Y/N, right?” The trainer asked and I nodded.

“Y-Yes, but where is Seolhyun?” I asked.

“Oh, well, Seolhyun is running a bit late so I’ll warm you up in the meantime, also my name is Kim Sohee and help you train until she gets here, so let’s start with some stretches, shall we?” She said and I get on the mat.

Glancing at her body, her breasts and ass were thicker than Seolhyun’s but I can’t help but feel as if she was trying to flirt with me.

“Wah, you’re so flexible and strong, Seolhyun trained you well, huh?” She complimented and I nervously chuckled.

“T-Thank you,” I thanked her and she giggled.

“No need to thank me, cutie, now let’s move on to our set,” She replied.

As we start weightlifting I can’t help but feel as if I was being watched by someone.

Seolhyun’s POV

Crap! Crap! I cannot believe this! My fucking ex-boyfriend shows up at my door begging for forgiveness for sleeping with another woman.

Of course, I shut him out and tell him to beat it and that I never want to see him ever again but he refused to leave.

Thankfully, I finally managed to make him fuck off, and now I’m going to be late because of him but I had a colleague of mine train him in the meantime.

I rushed to the gym as fast as I could hoping that Y/N will forgive me for being late. Parking at the lot, I ran into the gym, slide my card. and made my way into the gym and to my private training room.

I saw Y/N there with another trainer of mine but strangely, Jungkook wasn’t there instead it was Sohee.

Y/N never noticed my presence yet but Sohee did and she smirked at me as she gets behind him pressing her breasts on her back.

Obviously, I was infuriated as this was the same bitch who stole my previous boyfriend and I know she’s a playgirl and just wanted Y/N for herself only to dump him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ll take it from here, Sohee,” I said.

“There’s no need for that, Seolhyun, I got this so why don’t you take a day off?” She offered and I gave her a fake smile.

“Thank you for the offer but I’ll have to decline it, besides, I know Y/N’s needs and everything he needs to do for today,” I replied and she frowned.

“Well, what do you think, Y/N? Do you want me? Or Seolhyun?” Sohee whispered into his ear making me clench my fists.

“U-Uhm...” He stuttered as he was unsure what to do in this situation making me feel sad. Did confessing my feelings not mean anything to him?

“Sorry, Sohee, but imma stick with Seolhyun, but thank you for your help,” Y/N answered making me sigh in relief.

“Aww~. Are you sure~?” She seductively asked and I’ve just about had it.

Pulling her by ear, she yelped in pain as I dragged her out of my room, opened the door, and threw her out before shutting the door.

Y/N’s POV

Seeing her harshly dragging Sohee-Noona out of the room made me realize just how scary she can be. She turned around to face me and gave me a deadly glare.

“Now, baby boy, about what I asked for yesterday...” She paused.

“W-What about it?” I nervously asked.

“You know... Do you share the same feelings as I do? Do you love me?” She asked and I gulped.

Pushing me down onto the mattress with her hands straddling my hand whilst giving me a lustful look and dived into my neck before biting it leaving a mark and drawing out some blood.

“W-What was that for?” I asked.

“For making your mommy jealous and to show everyone who you belong to, now it’s time I take your virginity and for you to grow up~,” She answered sending shivers down my spine.

Not wasting any time, she strips down her clothes as I did the same, she places her lips onto mine and made out until we ran out of breath.

“You’re such a good kisser being a virgin, baby, but now it’s time for the main event,” She said before inserting my cock into her pussy making her loudly moan.

“W-What if they hear us?” I concerningly asked.

“Don’t worry about them, baby, this room is soundproof. Now stop asking questions because not only I’m going to fuck your brains out but I’m also going to drain your balls,” She answered and I gulped.

When Seolhyun begins riding the daylights out of me, I never knew how tight she was and it kinda hurt but it felt so good.

“Oh my God, baby, your dick is so good~!” She yelled as she continued moaning.

Seeing her tits bounce up and down as she rode me turned me on even more and we switch position to doggy style and re-insert back into her before ramming into her.

Yes, darling, right there~!” She moaned as I hit her G-spot.

Arching back, I play with her tits adding more pleasure and latched her lips as I pounded her.

“Ah, I’m so close, baby~,” She warned.

“So am I,” I replied.

“Then let’s cum together~,” She said and we did just that.

Collapsing onto the floor together, my dick was still inside of her but she didn’t care as she hugged me tightly as she pressed my head into her mounds.

“You did so well, baby~,” She complimented.

“T-Thank you, Noona, you were amazing~,” I replied and she giggled as she caressed my head.

“I love you, baby~,” She said.

“I love you too, Noona~,” I replied.

From that point on, we kept having sex in her gym room and at our houses or whenever we can as I get addicted to her. I’ve never met such an incredible and caring woman in all my life and I’m forever happy to be with her as she felt the same way.

[okkotsuus]

hello! i’d like to request a very sad gojo angst, based on billie eilish’s song “what was i made for?” like reader could be having a self doubt moment??? if she’s good enough for satoru (you can do the same thing you did as to that one gojo angst you did! where gojo was healing from geto’s death) thank you ! ^__^

it’s not what he’s made for (satoru g.) !

features: satoru gojo

contents: crying. implied death and injury. grief. basic jjk triggers. feeling useless. feeling not enough. feeling ashamed. failing to protect people. perceived judgment. heartbreak. hiding things from partners. hurt with comfort for once. angst. 1k words.

notes: idk how i feel about this, so lmk if it's not what you want and i can try it again :)

you can’t help but notice the way satoru gojo stiffens the second he sees raw emotion being expressed. it’s something you find out before you even begin dating him. you can practically feel the discomfort radiating off of him when he sees another sorcerer cry at their partner’s death.

it was at that moment you vowed to yourself to never cry in front of him. but that was a while ago, and you were no longer in a shallow friendship with him: you were in love.

but you couldn’t shake that fear that if you ever showed vulnerability to him, he would regard you with that same disgust. it was irrational, you knew that, but it still lingered in the back of your mind.

even now, as you feel your heart actively cracking in your chest as yet another sorcerer is slain under your care, you just choke down the tears until satoru leaves the room. the inside of your bottom lip is bitten raw from how many times you’ve clamped your mouth shut to ward off sobs of agony.

with a cursed technique like yours, every mission comes with a lot of survivor’s guilt. protector’s promise: a cursed technique that grants you a stats and cursed energy boost based on the strength difference between you and your allies. even more so when your allies are weaker than the opponent. you also get a boost from non-sorcerers being in the immediate area

alone, you are a low-grade one. but with a group weaker than you, it skyrockets to high-grade one or even to special grade. as such, you are often paired up with sorcerers fresh out of training, or even those still in it.

the higher-ups treat you as a way to weed out weak sorcerers, all while boosting your own powers and giving your obscenely hard missions. because you also receive a boost if your allies are injured or killed. it’s one of the most heart-breaking things a sorcerer can experience; to have a partner die. and you lose at least one nearly every mission.

with no outlet in satoru, you find yourself sobbing alone or with shoko. she knows how satoru is, just as well as you, having been his classmate and friend for ten years. that’s why you should’ve expected this.

when she picks up the phone, you speak immediately. “shoko, i’m sad again, don’t tell my boyfriend… it’s not what he’s made for.” you hear shuffling on the other line and protests from her before a familiar voice rings in your ear. “y/n, it is what i’m made for. now, come home, we need to talk.” then, the line clicks.

you feel your heart break, he doesn’t think you trust him. he’s mad. he’s upset. he’s disgusted. the thoughts spiral as fat tears fall down your cheeks, opening the door.

there stands satoru, arms crossed and his lips pursed. the blindfold he usually wore was hung loosely around his neck, forcing you to look straight into his baby blues. the second your eyes meet his, your facade crumbles.

with a choked sob, you fall onto your knees, crumbling like sand. but you never hit the ground, strong arms slip under your arms and around your back. the side of your face pressed against his jujutsu-uniform jacket. his other arm slips under your knees as he picks you up as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, kicking the door closed.

satoru sits on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as he holds your so tenderly. a part of you feels guilty and stupid for thinking that he would ever be disgusted with you. you had never seen satoru gojo handle anyone with this much care, touch feather-light with the strength of love.

“why haven’t you told me you felt this way, do you not trust me..?” his words come out in a whisper, voice shaking ever so slightly. at that moment, you feel like the worst person in the world for making him think that. your hands cup his face as you look towards him with your teary eyes, desperately shaking your head.

“satoru, no, i trust you so much, more than anyone-”

“then why?”

your words catch in your throat, shame burning and pooling in your gut as you decide whether or not to tell him that it was because of some silly face he made years ago. worry surges again before being dissipated by his forehead pressing against yours.

a deep breath in, then you speak. “i didn’t want you to think i was weak…” in that instant you see his face soften, likely connecting the dots himself. 

he’s gentle as he presses your face into the crook of his neck, arms winding around your back. his words come out faintly against your ear, breath lightly tickling your skin. “i’m sorry i made you feel that way, you’re not weak. you’re strong, much stronger than me in this regard.” he feels you smile against his skin and he chuckles, rocking side to side with you in his arms as if nothing else in this world mattered more.

you can’t help but feel like a fool for ever thinking that satoru gojo would look upon you with disgust for anything: especially not for some tears. not when he looks at you like you’re the world when you do any little thing. not when he whispers such sweet nothings to you at any opportunity. not when he holds you so desperately close when there is any sort of chance.

you can’t help but be forced to realize the strength in which satoru gojo loves. the love that is exclusive to you and you alone.

okkotsuus 23

[webslingingslasher]

I’ve never done a request before

I got my hair cut and the hairdresser messed up my bangs :((( people have been telling me it looks okay and not too bad but I can’t stop fixating on the fact she cut too much and the ends are choppy :(((

Can you make a post where Peter comforts reader after a bad haircut! Thx in advance

how did this get so long? bestie, you inspired me

Bangs are not a normal hot girl thing. 

Bangs are a sad, hot girl thing. 

And you were a hot girl, but you were not sad, but you still have bangs and now you understand why bangs and mental breakdowns are associated. Because you look like you’ve had a mental breakdown. 

“It’s not that bad, baby. I’m sure of it.” Peter’s laugh echoes through the phone, you wish it would make you feel better, normally his childlike giggles and optimism could beat out the harshest, negative thoughts, but tonight it almost makes you mad. 

“This is my vietnam, peter. We have to break up, you can’t see me like this.” 

A bubbling laugh, “it can’t be that bad, it’s just different.” 

You run your fingers though your new fringe, it tapers oddly at the ends, one side definitely longer than the other. It’s just hair but it’s making you cry. 

“Imagine you go into Terry’s for a trim and he gives you a buzz cut, what then?” 

Peter sucks in air, “I’d have to dump you, no one should ever see that.” 

“So, you understand.” 

Peter hums on the line like a game of jeopardy, “how about you let me be the judge. If it’s as bad as you say it is, I'll let you dump me.” 

You tsk and shake your head on your side, you hear a siren blow by on Peter’s end. “See, that’s what we need to avoid, you can’t see me, your last memory of me needs to be a good one.” 

Peter lets out a breath, it’s sarcastic sympathy. “Too late, let me in.” 

You gasp, you leap off your bed and press your forehead against your window. When you close one eye and tilt nearly halfway around you can see the front of your building, sure enough your boyfriend is waiting to be buzzed in. In a panic you move to slap your hand against the bangs, you’re not ready, it’s so bad. 

“Nuh uh. Go home, not happening.” 

It was useless, he’d be climbing up the fire escape in ten seconds. You run around your room trying to collect things to hide your bangs behind. 

“Don’t make me climb up there in daylight.” He’s pouty. 

“I’m not, you can come back in three to six weeks when I don’t have bangs anymore.” 

Peter ignores you, “twenty seconds and I’m climbing.” 

You hold your breath, pressing back up against the window, you look at him. His phone pressed against his ear, he’s leaning against the outside gates. His gaze set on his wristwatch, he’s literally counting the seconds. 

A snicker, “I can feel you watching me.” 

“Unfair advantage.” 

 “Still looking, down to five seconds, baby.” 

“I’m not doing it, we’re broken up, remember?” 

Peter’s wrist lowers, he pulls away to look up at your window, there’s no way he can see you but he knows you’re there, it looks like he’s making direct eye contact. 

“You’re gonna make me do this?” 

“I’m not making you do anything, this could be considered trespassing you know. And if I were to pile more things on…” You’re speaking and watching him walk over to the side of your building, he’s on a mission. “this could be considered harassment, cause I did say we were broken up, and now you’re not..” He’s listening but not giving you any reaction, he tests the bar, you start to lose your train of thought, you really thought he wouldn’t do it. “you’re not.. You’re not stopping, peter, why aren’t you stopping?” 

Peter pulls himself up with one hand, his feet resting on the bottom rung, one leg rises for the second step. You slap the glass, it makes him look up at your room. “I’ll let you in! I’ll do it!” 

He narrows his eyes, he won’t move until you do. A whine sent you running to the front door, repeatedly hitting the button to open the door. 

“Now was that so hard?” 

“Manipulative!” 

“See you in like, thirty seconds.” 

“What’s with you and seconds?” 

“Shush.” 

You looked at your front door with crossed arms, just because you let him into the building doesn’t mean you’ll let him into your apartment. The doorknob wriggles, he couldn’t have thought it would be that easy. 

“Honey, I’m home.” 

You speak around a chewed nail, “no solicitors.” 

“I had special permission to come up here.” 

“No habla inglés?” 

A chuckle, “you can do better than that.” 

You think, one comes to you. “Actually, I don’t think my parents would like a boy in their home when they’re not here. Especially my ex boyfriend.” 

A small thump against the door, either his forehead or a weak knock. 

“Stop saying that, I don’t like it.” 

Your heart tugs, you were just trying to be funny. 

You rip the door open, “oh petey, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” you stop when you see his grin, he knows how to get you to open the door, tug at your heart strings. 

“Evil.” You try to close the door, his hand catches it. 

You narrow your eyes, he gives you a glance, “I’ll win.” 

You grunt but let him in, quickly heading to your room where you can nuzzle yourself in between pillows. Peter’s just as quick, doing his best to catch up as soon as possible. “Let me-” He tugs at your arm, you shake it off, “no, you’re not seeing it.” 

Diving into your bedsheets you fix the hoodie on your head, Peter follows. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

His hands pull your hood away, he frowns at the beanie you pulled over your hair. 

“Baby, it can’t be that bad.” 

Your eyes glimmer, “it’s too short, and it’s all choppy and I hate them so much.” Your lower lip wobbles, all he can think to do is cup your face and kiss your forehead. 

“Maybe I can fix it.” 

He’s good at fixing things. You can trust him when he says that. 

You perk up, “you can?” 

Peter gestures to your hat, “let’s see the damage.” 

You tug it off to reveal a pinned fringe, you unveiled it with shame. Peter shakes it out, you keep your eyes closed, you don’t want to see his reaction. Delicate fingers pulled at strands of hair, when he had it all placed he took an honest look at it, tried to see past his bias of you being the prettiest human in the world, and noticed you were right. 

Not that he’d think you were lying, but possibly a tad dramatic. They came to the middle of your eyebrows, one side longer than the other, it almost looked like a ‘C’ curve. But, they looked good. They fit your face well, they make it highlight other features he had taken for granted. They just needed a little help. 

“I can’t do anything about the length, but I can even it up for you.” 

You still refused to look at him, “is it bad? Be honest.” 

Peter moved his neck trying to catch your eyes, “they look really good, I love ‘em. I know it’s a little janky now but in two weeks they’ll be perfect.” 

You look up, searching for a lie in his eyes. He’s telling the truth. 

“It’s so short.” 

He rubbed a thumb over your eyebrow, “just keep your eyebrows raised, they’ll never know.” 

“Permanent botox.” 

Peter grinned, he got you to feel better. He’s done his job, and it feels damn good. 

He made a suggestive face, “wanna role play hairdresser?”

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 26

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dark themes, descriptions of dead bodies and corpses, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, frequent mentions of dead bodies, graphic violence, language, moderate body horror, violence.

✦ Word Count: 15.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: [more at the end of the chapter]. This one gets a little dark. Brace yourselves.

[Master List]

The mechanical hum of the jet engines whir on as the auto-pilot maintains your altitude. With Tony’s tech in hand, you’re able to bring up a holographic map of the landscape. Glimmering blue neon lights showcase the 3D rendering of Strucker’s fortress and the nearby city. The faces of the team are grim, at best, with worry lines drawn taut as you lay out the plan.

“We’re going to focus on the evacuation process first and foremost. With any luck, we’ll get the main populace to a safe distance before we need to deal with Ultron. With that said, however, our presence alone will likely not be going unnoticed.”

Steve nods in agreement, shimmering blue blueprints drifting across his hand as he zooms in on the map.

“Our main purpose here is to assist the civilians, after that, we’re going to have Ultron’s eyes set on us. We know he has the cradle and the scepter. If he’s going to do something with them, it’s going to be fast. He likely knows we’re already approaching.”

You take it back over, “Our heaviest hitters are going to be the first wave for him. I need Stark and Banner with me. Once Thor arrives, that will give us another advantage. Steve, Clint, Natasha, you’re going to need to keep on the evacuation. If any rogue bots come along, you’re going to be the main defense for the people.”

Bruce clears his throat and your eyes immediately fall upon the doctor.

“Uhm, actually, about that…”

A sigh falls from your lips. Sparring the supersoldier a look, you gently tug on Bruce’s arm, “Let’s talk. Shall we?”

You escort the slightly befuddled man to the back of the jet while Steve continues on in your stead, “Sam’s en route, he’ll meet us once we land…”

“Bruce.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I can help with the evacuation. By the time we get Thor here - ”

“We need the Hulk.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to bring him out?”

Your shoulders drop as you stare down at the scientist.

“I know you don’t think that I understand your situation - ”

He snorts, crossing his arms with bristling agitation, “Because you don’t.”

You let him have a moment before you continue forward. “You don’t want to bring him out around a civilian populace. I understand that, Bruce, I do. But if we don’t have our best - our strongest - to deal with Ultron? Then there’s no point to any of this and we should just turn around and watch the world fall at our feet.”

His hands drop to his sides and his eyes become unwilling to meet your face, but still, you press on.

“You’re not the only one, you know, still dealing with the aftermath of yesterday. Do you think I’ve forgotten what I almost did? What my rage was nearly capable of doing? Because I haven’t, Bruce. I’m actively trying to focus my attention on what we’re about to do because that is where the true danger lies. And tomorrow, once we hopefully walk away from this and the day is saved, then I will deal with my own guilt and anger. And I will try to right my wrongs. But for now… we have to fight.”

You finish your words with a hand on his shoulder.

“Like it or not, hate him or not, he is necessary for us to have a possible victory. Without him, Sokovia just might not be standing when we’re done.”

Bruce exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring as he peers up at you.

“God, you’re worse than Rogers when it comes to speeches,” he sighs, rubbing at his temple. “Fine, you get him. One round! Then I’m done.”

“I can work with that,” you offer before you both return to the group.

As you cross over farm fields and pastures filled with grazing animals, Tony flies up alongside the jet.

“What, were you seriously going to start the party without me?”

Luckily, he drops the attitude pretty fast and confirms with Steve that he’s been working through different scans to locate Ultron since he crossed the Sokovian border.

“Big guy’s hiding out in his fortress of solitude,” Tony hypothesizes, hand on his jaw. “Bet my money on it that he’s got the cradle under lock and key.”

“Then that’s where we go,” you decide, nodding at the billionaire.

Clint lands the jet just outside of the city’s limits, in roving farmland and freshly plowed fields. The archer hoists his quiver over his shoulder, pulling Natasha off for a quiet moment in the corner of the jet. You can’t help but stare at the couple as they pull away from the view of the others.

Was it strange that you hadn’t noticed that development? Was it more obvious to you, now, knowing that they were in fact together?

“You good?”

Looking up, you’re graced with the presence of the supersoldier.

“Fantastic, really,” you say with a quick roll of your eyes.

Steve gives you a warm chuckle in return as you move down the ramp with him, allowing the couple to have their moment together in peace. He already has his shield on his harness, his helmet remains in his hands.

Tony and Bruce are waiting nearby, but Steve tugs on your wrist - keeping you from joining them.

“Yeah, I’ve got Rhodes on standby, and JARVIS is working through schematics, you know how he is - ”

Glancing down at your own shield for a moment, you stare out at the rolling farm fields. Cattle graze in the clover down the way from the jet - a few of them eyeing the machine with suspicion. But so far, it’s only the team and the pasture-grazing animals around.

“I’ll take Bruce,” you decide, finally meeting the still bluish-grey eyes of your companion. “He’s having… doubts, about the team and his place on it. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

Steve nods, “Best person for the job.”

“And you’ll take Natasha. You’ve done well together in the past anyway,” you smile.

A warm laugh greets your ears, “And hopefully we meet up somewhere in between, right?”

From behind you, the footsteps of the remaining two make their presence known down the metal ramp. Your time was nearly up.

“That’s the plan, Rogers,” you state, moving your shield to rest on your own back harness. 

“Stay safe, okay?”

You smack his shoulder gently with your free hand.

“You too. I better see you back in one piece at the end of this,” you gesture at his upper torso with a wave of your hand.

Steve laughs, gaining a few interesting looks from the rest of the team who all find something far more interesting to look at when he turns to face them.

When his gaze lands back on your face, there’s a warmth there in his eyes that you’ve noticed has become a new normal for him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says at last, giving your hand a final squeeze.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you return the gesture. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart through his veins.

You had to make it out of here alive, all of you. There were no other options.

“Hey, not to interrupt,” Tony interrupts. “But I don’t think our friend is going to want to wait around much longer to enact his evil schemes.”

With a shaking head and a small chuckle, you regretfully pull away from the blonde and move toward the rest of the team.

“Okay,” Steve says, just a step behind you. “We know our teams, we know our mission.”

“Let’s go smash some robot ass,” Clint snarks.

Steve merely tilts his head to the side and shrugs as if to say fair enough.

You spare him a final look as you and Bruce head off toward the Western portion of the city - the business district. While Stark and Barton start trekking it toward the northernmost part of the city, Steve’s eyes follow you for just a few moments more before he reluctantly heads east with Natasha.

You recognized this place.

Not the city itself, but the remnants of a once bustling populace. A place that was consumed by war. Torn limb from limb by external and sometimes internal forces. No, it was a sight you had seen too often in your time on this world.

The faces of the people in Sokovia could so easily be replaced with those from Warsaw, Delhi, or Rome. You recognized that haunted, terrified look. You knew what was coming. You just weren’t sure if you could stop it in time.

Looking over at your companion, you can see the twitchiness of his eyes as he takes in the vast number of fleeing civilians. Oh, the thoughts that must be going through his head right now.

“I’ve got you, you know,” you say as you jog down the cobblestone streets.

Bruce glances over at you, an untrusting look in his eyes.

“This isn’t going to be like Johannesburg, Bruce. Any mutant that comes near is going to have to get through me first. We’re going to keep these people safe and we’re going to do our best to keep this city from falling.”

“Lot of promises,” he says.

Offering him a shrug, you suggest, “We can pinky promise it if that’ll help ease your mind.”

Up ahead, the yells of several civilians grab your attention. Halting in your tracks, the two of you stare at the massive traffic jam on the bridge ahead of you.

Bruce rolls his shoulders back, “Let’s get to work.”

They’re deep within the part of the city known as Old Town. Rushing down the streets and between navigating the tightly-wound roads Natasha has allotted the time to properly pester him as they go.

“Wow. You know, I honestly thought we were going to get a love confession back there.”

Steve eyes her out of his peripheral, “You know what, Romanoff…”

“Hey,” she shrugs, pointing at the next street with her chin. “Maybe next time, right?”

“Let’s just hope there is a next time,” he admits, eyes wide as he glances around at the otherwise empty street.

“This, this can’t be right,” Natasha says at a barren intersection.

“Yeah, Hill’s good, but not this good. You can’t move 50,000 people that fast.”

Heading north, through the tight alleys and sidestreets, the city begins to bleed through with the memories of wartorn Europe, circa 1945. While it was clear that day-to-day life was continuing for the residents, stark reminders lay around every corner. Shattered windows and partially destroyed buildings resided next to market stores and laundromats.

Even here in what looks like a busy section of the city, they can’t find a single person. The lights are still on in the shops and restaurants, a car is idling on the street. But there is no driver, no waitstaff, not a single customer.

Just a handful of birds pecking at some overturned garbage along the alleyway. 

“Something’s not right.”

Natasha nods, “Any word on Wilson yet?”

“Said he was en route, any time now.”

“We need eyes in the sky. Actually, Stark?”

While Nat tries to get a hold of Tony, Steve continues to jog down the street, hoping to find just one person. But still, the city is silent. There’s an eeriness about it, one that the supersoldier remembers all too well from his days of walking through smoldering French villages.

He can still recall the sight of black smoke rising in the sky, and the smell of burnt wood mixed with decaying bodies. It was never a memory he liked to see pulled back up to the surface, but today, as he wanders through the town, that troubling thought plays like a sickening record in his mind.

And then he spots it.

An elderly woman, moving at a slow pace, walking towards the western portion of town.

Not waiting for Natasha, Steve barrels forward.

“Ma’am, we need to get you out of here.”

But the woman doesn’t even look up to acknowledge him. Right, a language barrier, of course. However, when Steve moves in front of her, he sees a troubling sheen of red mist over the woman’s bleary eyes. She pushes right past him as if… in a trance.

“NAT!” he calls out, waving his arm.

They’re unable to redirect the woman, so… they end up following the only person left in this part of town. Natasha clicks her tongue when they enter the center of the city. Steve follows her gaze up toward the imposing steeple of an ornate cathedral, just a few yards away from them.

“So… what are you thinking?” he asks in an almost whisper as they continue to trail the woman.

“Either they’re locking them in for Ultron to deal with, or they’re trying to actually help.”

His features scrunch in confusion, “By putting civilians in the dead center of town?”

“They’re kids, Rogers. Not soldiers.”

Before they can get any closer, Steve’s knocked backward - landing next to the streetlight, opposite the cathedral.

A white-haired teen appears in front of them, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the supersoldier with a wild sort of look in his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy chides, waving his finger back and forth.

“We need to get these people to safety,” Steve urges, pushing himself up from the curb.

“They are already safe. What use are you to them? Hmm? Mr. America.”

A bullet comes whizzing past, but the boy merely plucks it out of the air like it was fully stationary. He tosses it from one hand to the other as Steve stands back up. His eyes quickly scan the street front, looking for the other one, the girl. Natasha’s already backed a few paces away, likely doing the same.

So, he plays the distraction card. Get him to talk.

“They’re not safe here. They need to get out of the city.”

The boy drops the bullet just to look up at Steve with a curious expression.

“You really don’t get it, do you? Nobody is safe now. No one. In there,” he gestures back at the church. “They are safe. Out here - running for their lives? Not so much.”

The boy pushes past him at lightning speed, nearly knocking Steve off-center again. Frustration growing, he grabs his shield and sends it flying at the kid. But the boy merely zips out of existence, running around him at such a speed that the dust and debris of the street whip around the supersoldier like a temporary sandstorm.

Holding a hand to his eyes, Steve yells out, “Knock it off!”

When he finally regains sight of the boy, he is lounging on top of the hood of an abandoned car. 

“Go ahead, see how far you get with them.”

Natasha, ever the observant one, sets her calculating gaze upon the mutant.

“You stopped helping Ultron. Why?”

He looks away, suddenly silent.

“Not all he was chucked up to be, is that it?” she goads.

But the harder he looks at the boy, he realizes just that: it’s a boy. Probably no more than sixteen. A kid who spent the majority of his life behind bars, at the mercy of Strucker and HYDRA, and god knows what else. The first sign of help in the form of Ultron had to have been like a lifeline for him and the other mutant.

And he could have turned tail, made for the hills, and never looked back once he was free of them. But here he was.

He takes a step forward, wedging himself between Nat and the kid.

“Why are they safer in there than outside of the city limits?”

The boy blinks up at Steve, pushing back a strand of his curling white hair.

“Do you really think that thing is only going to attack this place? His reach will surpass anything you can even imagine. In there… they have her to protect them.”

Steve looks toward the cathedral. Then he peers over at the boy once again.

“You managed to save a handful of the people here. Where are the others?”

That’s when he slides off the hood of the vehicle, dropping down in front of Steve and Natasha. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and breathes out an unsteady breath.

“What others? There is no one else.”

Natasha blinks, “This city has a population of over 53,000 people.”

He laughs, “Had. It had a larger populace, yes. Until he showed up and you showed up and a war happened. People, they go missing. Where to?” He shrugs, “Who cares, right? I know it is no Johannesburg or New York, but people died here too, you know. But hey, what do I know, right? Want my advice, pack up your guns and your shields and run.”

“Okay,” Nat placates, grabbing hold of the kid’s shoulder and tugging him close before he can try to pull away. “You need to tell your little friend to send these people out of here so that they might stand a chance of not having an Ultron-sized bomb dropped on them.”

The boy yanks away, looking disgusted that the assassin's hand even touched him.

“We have it under control.”

Steve, once again, pushes his way in between her and the boy.

“I believe you do.”

The kid’s eyes look up at him with something almost like pride radiating in his irises.

“And… I think you could help us make sure no one else gets hurt. I can’t believe that all of these buildings have been cleared of people. You’re the fastest person I have ever seen. I’m sure you could blaze through this city in only a minute’s time to confirm that fact.”

He blinks up at Steve with a boyish grin, “You are trying very hard to flatter me. Luckily, I’m easily flattered.”

His eyes lift from the boy to see the female mutant making her way across the street toward the three of them. She’s a foot shorter than the boy, with stringy auburn hair and crimson eyes.

Steve unconsciously wants to recoil the moment he sees her. That invisible wound was still pretty fresh.

“Do not bother,” she instructs, tugging the boy back by his wrist. She looks up at Steve, her gaze unnerving in its intensity. “There is no one else.”

“How can you be sure?” Nat questions.

She turns her head slowly toward the assassin, drawing her words out slowly, “Anyone left in this city, who heard my voice in their head, came. There is no one left.”

“They should still be evacuated. They will be safer outside of the city’s limits.”

“How can you be sure?” she questions, blinking up at Steve.

He looks around at the abandoned streets, at the crumbling buildings, and prevailing silence.

“Because we’re going to keep the fight here. We’re going to keep Ultron from getting any further than this place. And we could honestly use any help we can get.”

The girl tilts her head as she continues to stare at him. 

“Why should we care?” the boy asks after a beat, eyes glancing between the supersolider and the Widow.

Before Steve can answer, Nat moves forward, fixing them both with a steady look.

“Why would you, right? You have your freedom now, what should you care if this place burns to the ground, yeah? I mean, you guys were under lock and key for how many years, why should you care about this place - these people? Did they ever help you?”

As much as he wants to interrupt, he knows she’s getting to a point. So, Steve forcibly closes his lips into a thin line, gaze held on the girl’s glowing red hands.

“You got your revenge,” she turns her eyes on the girl. “We saw the pictures. Go ahead, wipe your hands free of this mess, and get out of town. No one would even know.”

With a hint of a smirk, Nat rubs at her left wrist before she forces her emerald eyes back up.

“But I think you know better than that. You know what you could do, even if they never repay you. Never say a simple thank you. The two of you, you’ve got gifts. Be a shame to see them go to waste.”

After an uneasy moment, the girl looks over at the boy. He offers her only a half-hearted shrug. The decision apparently made, she replies:

“I do not fight for you, or with you. We fight for our people.”

Steve nods in return, “That’s reason enough.”

As you redirect the flow of traffic, all you can think is the comms are awfully silent. Hopefully, that was a good sign. Sometimes in situations like this, silence could be a good thing. Cronus, you hoped it was a good thing.

“We’re clear over here,” Bruce waves to you from across the street.

Maria had already gotten the local authorities involved long before you crossed the Atlantic. The evacuation had been ongoing for the past hour, luckily with the majority of the city’s residents moving into a designated safe location a few kilometers in either direction of the city.

“Okay, we’re done on our end,” Tony’s voice chimes over the comm. “Heading your way, 007. It’s showtime.”

With a nod toward the police officer you had been working beside, you jog over to Banner. 

“Guess that means we’re on now, yeah?” he questions, a worrying tone in his voice as you both turn to see the glimmering red and gold suit making its way toward your location.

Giving his arm a hopefully reassuring squeeze, you remind him, “I’ve got you, Banner.”

Though the doctor doesn’t seem entirely settled by your words, the three of you make your way to the fortress, now a crumbling ruin from your mission there over a week ago.

“This should be fine, right?” Tony asks. His visor is flipped up as the two of you squeeze through the broken stone walls - his arc reactor giving you a guiding light through the darkened corridors.

“Ultron, you mean?”

“Uh, no. Big green and angry back there. Last time we went toe to toe, well, you know.”

“Oh,” you comment, glancing back at Bruce, who remains a good few feet behind the two of you - stumbling over loose debris. “I’m sure, all things considered, he’ll be the least of your worries here in a minute.”

Passing by a familiar room, you pause. Tony barrels forward without even noticing you. Bruce, on the other hand, stops.

“What is it?” he murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the destroyed command center.

“Hill said Strucker was killed in the mutants’ holding cells. I want to check it out really quick.”

Though he doesn't seem to like the idea of you splitting away from the group, Bruce trails after Tony while you break off to go and investigate the holding cells. Your curiosity gets the better of you as you enter the room you had been standing in just days before.

It looks exactly the same, except for the corpse of a man lying in the center of the boy’s cell. With the gate broken off its hinges, you merely step into the barred area. Dropping down into a crouch, you examine the body of Wolfgang Strucker.

His eyeglass is still in place, the glass intact. It’s his terrified eyes that interest you, still held wide - like he was witnessing the truest kind of horrors imaginable. His mouth remains agape as if mid-scream. But there are no obvious signs of trauma, no pools of blood. Just the husk of a man.

Your immediate inclination was that this was not the result of Ultron himself.

But as you move to leave, something odd catches your eye.

Just near the collar of his turtleneck, was that…

Reaching a finger out, you pull back the silicone material of a mask. Easing it off of the corpse, a man you don’t immediately recognize greets you. Or rather, the very decomposed remnants of a man.

Holding a hand to your nose, you lurch back.

This was not Baron Strucker. It never had been.

“Double-O! We’re going to need you to stop lollygagging.”

Sparring the body one final look - you would need to send someone in to detail this if you were able to deal with the threat of the day - you hurry back to the others.

Into the belly of the castle you go, where the echo of your footsteps is the only sound. Just over a week ago, this place was lit up like the fourth of July, with drones and HYDRA scientists running rampant. Even now you can see the remnants of the battle. The scorch marks of flickering lightning across the walls, the blasts of repulsors, and the chunks of stone damaged by gunfire.

The dungeons under the main labs are massive and labyrinthesque. You had only glimpsed the looming Leviathan hanging from the ceiling of the central lab, but that had been enough to turn even your stomach.

Humans were not equipped to deal with the likes of the Tesseract or the scepter. Whatever visions of hell that Strucker had intended to unleash upon the world were far worse than any attacking alien forces. Perhaps only the hulking drone standing before you could compare.

Ultron waits in silence in the middle of the room.

He is a towering figure; standing at least eight feet tall if you had to hazard a guess. Appearing nothing like the object Tony had once created, as sleek metal now covers his mechanical form. His glowing red eyes only blink open when the sound of Tony’s heavy suit makes contact with the concrete floor.

He blinks.

“Uh… have you been juicing? Little vibranium cocktail? You’re looking… I don’t want to say puffy - ”

The robot tilts his head, staring with his glowing optical receptors at his inadvertent creator. You take your chance and begin slinking along the far wall, away from Ultron’s line of sight. If anyone could play the role of a perfect distraction, it would be the billionaire with a habit of running his mouth. You needed to locate the cradle.

“You are stalling to protect the people.”

“Well,” Tony starts. “That is the mission. Or did you forget?”

“I am the global peacekeeper. I protect humanity from itself. From the threat of the Avengers,” comes the cold reply of automation. “You will lead to humanity’s downfall. You will be to blame if I allow you to continue existing,” he monologues to Tony.

Before you’re able to slip behind a set of shelves, a ghostly hand phases through the wall - snatching hold of your shoulder. 

You turn to see a new contender - with a face as red as a pomegranate and a body of emerald green, hovering directly in front of you. That human-like hand reaches up and grips your throat as he lifts you off the ground. With his other hand, he pulls the Aegis from your grasp - throwing it across the lab where it lands in a giant clatter of materials.

“Put her down,” Tony calls out in warning.

The man squeezes your neck even harder, your airway tightening as you begin to pull at his hands, kicking your feet into his impenetrably hard torso. Like breathing through a straw, you force your breaths as you concentrate your energy on his deathlike grip.

“My Master says there are no gods in a peaceful world,” he intones, staring down at you with calculating eyes.

Gasping breaths escape through your nose as your face begins to puff. You almost have a single finger pulled free when his hand phases through your neck. Sinching itself around your pumping veins, he pinches the artery to the point of annihilation, when you’re both tossed several feet away - rolling over shelves and piles of metal junk and each other as the Hulk slams his fists into the man’s face.

“NO TOUCHING,” he roars.

You desperately pull in helpless retching breaths as the green monstrosity pummels the creature down into the floor.

“Hey, on your feet. Come on,” Tony urges as he swoops over to your side, pulling you up by the arm.

As you stare at the man, you summon your shield and spear back to your side. Ultron remains unmoving in the center of the room, red optical eyes watching the fight with a sort of fascination.

“I’m going to tear his head from his neck,” you promise as your eyes begin to turn shimmering gold.

Tony slaps you on the back just as the man blasts the Hulk up and over a stretch of workbenches.

“That a girl.”

And then he’s soaring across the room to slam his feet directly into the man’s face. You’re after him just a beat later, ready to plunge the head of your dory through his heart.

“Things are looking clear up above,” Sam’s voice rings in his ears. “Got Redwing on the lookout for stragglers.”

Steve watches as the teen directs her wandering hoard of helpless civilians toward the city limits. He was still uneasy around her, ever since their encounter in Johannesburg. But that wasn’t his concern for today, he had to push it from his mind.

“Things are going to get nasty really quick here,” Nat warns, a hand to her comm piece.

The supersolider stares down at her, “What is it?”

“Reports of metal men swarming the police station.”

With a grunting nod, Steve slides his arm through the shield’s handles. They knew this was coming. Ultron wouldn’t keep his forces at bay forever. 

Steve watches as the last of the civilians are pushed forward by the girl’s powers. Eventually, the red mist fades away. Some turn back with a terrified look on their face, others let out a scream, but the majority start running down the country road - eager to get as far away from here - from them - as possible.

“Now what?” the girl asks, turning to stare at the supersoldier with those disconcerting red eyes of hers.

As if on cue, a low groaning roar arches its way across the sky. And Steve's almost anticipating another Leviathan to be soaring toward them. But what he sees, instead, is even more chilling. 

A serpent-like formation of drones skyrockets across the tops of the buildings, with their sights set directly on them.

“Get these people out of here!” he calls out to the boy, who spares one look at the incoming attack before he disappears in a flash of electric white light.

Clint positions himself in front of the girl, an arrow already notched. With his shield up and ready, they're bombarded by the sound of a hundred or more robots rushing through their ears like an oncoming freight train, a deafening sound as bullets and lasers and metal on metal hails down upon them.

With all of his might, Steve pushes his shield up - trying to protect his own head as the drones ram themselves into him, swarming them, drowning them.

Natasha’s rocked backward, with Clint screaming her name as she disappears under the sea of metal. The robots move so quickly past them, that Steve soon loses sight of everything - a world of haunting silver his only view. The weight of them all, pressing down upon him, forces the air from his lungs, crushing him.

His ribs are cracking under the sheer weight of the sentry forces as they claw at him like the hoards of hell trying to break free. They pierce his skin with their hands, sharp vibranium armor makes sickly metallic blood pour from his temple.

He yells out, but even that sound can’t be heard past the groans of mechanical gears and the creaking of metal joints. The shield, once a protection, now digs into his sides, causing the sharp vibranium to cut through his uniform; piercing his skin. Blood rushes from the open wounds and he can feel tears pricking at his eyes as the full weight of an immovable force flattens him out.

He’s fighting it, pushing back with all of his might, but it’s not enough. He can’t stop them, he’s going to be crushed to death.

And then a piercing shriek comes from his own lips as his entire body is set aflame - white hot currents rushing through his limbs, electrocuting him, blinding him. He witnesses a universe in motion, a world ablaze, before its sudden destruction in a flash of overpowering light.

With the sudden tons of weight removed from him, Steve rolls over onto his knees and coughs up broken gasps. His shattered ribs pull against his muscles, scraping the sensitive flesh. It’s fine. He can walk it off.

At first, he can’t hear it, but then his temporary deafness fades as his eyes blink and he can see Thor, in all of his godly glory standing in the center of a destructive ring.

“Are you alright, Captain?” he asks, holding out a hand for Steve to hold.

They hadn’t even stood a chance against the sentry forces. Pushed over like a line of dominoes.

“Been better,” he admits, his knees groaning as a sharp pain ripples through his body. But he forces himself to stand, gripping the leather bands of the shield’s inner straps.

Walk it off.

His eyes trail over the twitching figures laid out like waste on the street around them. Currents of electricity glitch across open circuits, with body parts situated in unnatural positions. Amongst the destruction, he spots Clint helping Natasha up - both of them looking far worse for wear.

And then a scream, a gut-wrenching sound, echoes across the empty fields as the young mutant stumbles back into a pile of drones.

“Easy, easy,” the white-haired one is saying, holding placating hands in front of her face.

But she’s kicking backward, still crying out in terror. 

Sharing a confused look with the God of Thunder, Steve gathers his strength and moves over toward the pair. He kneels down in front of her, holding her arms in his hands. She tries to pull away, twisting her face to look anywhere but in front of her.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he tries to say in a calming tone. She was a kid, she should never have been here to begin with.

But she merely whimpers, and holds a shaking finger pointed out in front of her.

Steve’s eyes trail down her arm, following the direction of her hand.

“Is that…?” Clint starts to question.

But the supersoldier immediately curls himself up in front of the girl, blocking the view from her line of sight. Nodding toward the boy, whose gaze is also locked on it, he orders:

“Get her out of here.”

When the boy doesn’t move, Clint forcibly grabs the kid by the arm and yanks him in the direction of the girl, “NOW.”

His mouth is gaping open and closed, wild steely eyes cast across the other drones, but he manages to swoop down and gather her into his arm - whispering something in her ear - before he zips away.

With them out of sight, Steve finally stands back up and looks back at the horrific sight.

Thor lingers beside him, gazing down at it with a pinched brow.

Natasha joins them, her calculating eyes latching onto the remnants of mechanical engineering.

“We got it wrong,” she mutters.

Steve turns his eyes away from it at last.

Unable to look into the dull eyes of the human head for a moment longer. 

Lodged between a metal helmet, sits the sagging skin of a woman - now cut to ribbons, but without a drop of blood to spare - staring up at them. The ghastly image of a corpse stuck between silver armor.

“We did,” he admits softly. Looking toward the sky, where Sam is now engaged with a handful of drones.

Ultron didn’t want to evolve himself.

He wanted to evolve the human race. Into his image.

Weed out the imperfections that made humanity what it was. Create a perfectly peaceful world order.

“Uh, Steve,” Clint calls out.

When he looks back, he’s perplexed to see the glimmering bits of tiny silver fading away to reveal the destroyed remains of human bodies. The armor disappears, leaving the lumps of once-living flesh as a stark reminder of their failure on the barren street. Men, women. Fuck.

Children.

He spared no one.

Natasha turns away, pushing her hair back with a shaking hand.

“What do we do, Cap?”

All eyes turn toward him.

And Steve can honestly say, that at this moment, he has no idea.

Nothing you throw at this man - this robotic abomination - seems to make any real difference, as every weapon and punch you try to land just phases through his body. Ghostly wisps of bending light wrap around your hand as you physically recoil from the sensation.

Even the Hulk, with all of his rage and power, is no match for this being, a child of Ultron, the true reason for the cradle.

As you’re slammed into the ground, for the sixth time in the span of minutes, the red-faced creature peers down at you with slow-blinking, calculating eyes.

“Stay down,” he orders with a curt nod before he uses that strange glowing gem in his forehead to create a direct laser beam toward Tony.

“Fat chance,” you mutter, kicking your right leg directly up into his groin.

It does nothing to him, as all of your attacks so far have.

As you twist up and off the floor of the decimated lab, you catch sight of Ultron with his back turned to all of you - staring at some rather disturbing schematics on a screen in front of him.

Red dots, forming waves from the sheer vastness of them all, begin blinking on the computer - all surrounding a section of the city to the east of your location.

At once, battle plans and ancient strategies rush through your mind as you try to evaluate your opponent to circumvent his next play.

He created a creature to do his bidding because he had more important things to do. Like monitoring a screen where an unimaginable number of his forces are currently heading toward a large populace. And he didn’t seem particularly interested in the three of you now, as if you were merely fodder for his creation. But the screen held his attention. That could only mean…

Shit.

“Stark!” You call out, mind spinning from the quickness of your assessment.

The iron face turns to stare at you from up above. He had just been about to enact his countermeasure with the Hulk set to distract the robotic being.

“Better be good,” he clips, gazing back at the two creatures - one losing his collective shit as he throws metal workbenches and desktops at the other, who remains slow-moving and unbothered as items continue to phase through his body.

Choosing your words carefully, you simply say, “Napoleon.”

Tony fully turns to look at you, the phasers in his hand dying down to non-combative lights.

“Battle of Ulm,” you add, eyeing the 8-foot-tall monster several feet away from you both. 

Distract the front of the army while you flank the rear - circling them, tearing them to shreds - before the generals even know what’s going on.

You can almost see the literal shuddering breath he takes as the realization weighs down upon him. And then his head rightens back up and he soars over to you, offering a hand.

“Hold on tight, we’re about to have some heavy turbulence.”

With a grimace, you wrap your fingers tightly around his metal armor plating and hang on for dear life as Tony zooms straight upwards - breaking through the stone ceiling. Guarding your face with your arm as rubble descends upon you, he pushes upward - through another two floors - before you finally break free. Cool gray sky greets you as you both look to see the city several kilometers away.

Smoldering black smoke tarnishes the clouds as the sound of screams and gunfire rings out.

You glance down at your dangling legs as you twist your wrist just a little more to the right to keep a steady hold on the only thing keeping you from falling. From the inside of the helmet, you can hear Tony’s sneer. Without a word of warning, he flies toward the city at breakneck speeds - your body like a ragdoll in the wind as you’re dragged along for the ride.

Over the crumbling buildings, he takes you. From your vantage point, you can see the destruction in real time as structures are blown to bits by encroaching drones in shiny silver armor; a high upgrade from the original Iron Legion. People, still left in the city, are fleeing for their lives - screams ring out, terror clear as day.

“Where the hell are they?” He grumbles, scanning the area.

To the east, you see arcs of blue-white lightning - you can smell the electric energy in the air.

“There!” you call out.

In a snap, you’re hurdling to the right. You have to throw up another hand just to maintain your grip on his forearm as the wind whips against you.

As you crest the line of Soviet-style apartment buildings, you witness the horror that is the team’s current situation.

Encircled by a vast and growing number of drones - like a tidal wave - they’re tightly packed, back-to-back. Thor’s the heavy hitter, lightning sending the bots back and short-circuiting their systems. Sam’s got Redwing taking shots for him as he does his best to block Natasha and Clint with his wings, but it's close quarters. And Steve -

“Whoa!” Tony calls out as you release your grip - dropping several stories down into the center of the chaos.

When you land, your feet break through the asphalt. Almost immediately, you send out your shield with such a mighty force that it cleanly severs the heads on the first two circles of drones.

“Holy shit,” Clint remarks as he switches out one of his more techy arrows for his explosive ones.

Steve catches your eye for just a second, blood is pouring down above his left temple.

“Sorry we’re late,” you shout over the sound of mechanical horror as your shield comes back to your hand - slicing through another dozen or so robots in the process.

“There’s too many of them!” he yells back as he does the same.

You couldn’t agree more, as he’s forced back into you, stepping on your foot as you nearly stumble over Clint’s knee and the edge of Sam’s wings.

Thinking quickly on your feet, you call out, “THOR! Fly out! Take the higher vantage point and turn them to ash!”

The God of Thunder doesn’t need to be told twice, as he whips his hammer up and tries to break free of the climbing waves of metallic drones.

His absence causes their forces to squeeze you in tighter, and only then, do you notice the bodies that litter the ground. But they have been long since deceased. When Steve knocks his shield into the juncture of one of the bot’s necks, you finally realize just what has happened since Ultron escaped the tower.

You turn your face away as a lifeless head rolls up and over Steve’s shield before landing at your feet. The dull eyes of a man stare up at you with sagging lips and hollowed grey cheeks.

Steve bangs his elbow into your sternum just as Sam’s wings clip your right shoulder. The outer rings of the drone attack are beginning to fall, thanks to Thor’s lightning, but it’s not enough. Not nearly fast enough.

And then you hear it. You all hear it.

The spine-chilling roar of the Hulk as buildings begin to crumble. You can feel the pounding of his feet in your chest as he jumps across the city, and the slamming of his hands as he crushes everything in sight.

But before he can reach you -

“Shit,” you mutter as the red and green being appears above you all, tilting his head to the side as he watches the five of you get squeezed together more and more tightly.

“Who the hell is that?” Nat manages to question as she throws out her Widow Bites one more time.

“Child of Ultron, courtesy of the cradle,” you manage to say in between a robotic hand going for your neck and another trying to pull you down into the pits of dead bodies at your feet.

“We were too late,” Steve says, wild eyes latching on to you as he quickly yanks you back up - elbowing the bot who had tried to strangle you.

“Pattern of the week, yeah.”

The being, with his disturbing eyes, stares down at you directly, before his gaze drifts over to the green monster hot on his trail.

“Hey, you got a plan or something?” Sam hollers above the clambering waves of robots, hellbent on killing you all.

“WORKING ON IT!” you yell back, ducking down as a drone comes tumbling over you. You manage to sucker punch the creature in the torso - your fingers tear apart the metallic armor - but it slips through your fingers like pieces of firm paper, like… nanobots.

Oh, that made so much more sense.

Ultron had swept through Tony’s files, all of Tony’s files. Even his experimental ones. With the scepter and the cradle in hand, he had created the things that Stark could only dream of.

As the human woman crumbles before you, her lifeless body crashing to the ground with no amount of fanfare, you turn toward Steve.

“I need a boost.”

He’s in the middle of defending himself, but after landing a punch, he quickly spins around and drops his shield onto his knee.

“Come back for us, yeah?” he asks as you steady yourself on top of it - a hand held out to balance your weight on the domed surface.

Looking down into his weary blue eyes, you nod, blood pumping through your head like cannonfire, “Always.”

“Odinson!” you yell out. “Incoming!”

And then you’re being thrown upward, careening through the air, as you twist your body around - holding out a hand. It takes a second too long, but Thor comes soaring past, his large fingers wrapping around your wrist as you’re yanked in the opposite direction.

From down below, you could barely see the others up above you with the massive wall of never-ending drones. But now, now you can see everything.

“Where’s Stark?” you yell above the madness as your feet make contact with the roof of a neighboring building.

“There!” Thor roars, hammer pointed at a Leviathan-looking swarm of drones high above the city where Tony and War Machine are now battling in tandem.

“We need to break their connection with Ultron. Like the Chituri all over again. Kill the queen, you kill the colony.”

“That simple?” he questions.

Unsure of your own logic at this moment, you answer, “It has to be. Or we’re truly fucked.”

A smirk teases at his lips, “Such language from such a fair lady.”

“Save it,” you push at his forearm. “Now, you need to break through that wall or we’re going to lose a third of our team in the next minute. I don’t care how; just do it.”

Giving you a nod and a quirked eyebrow, Thor drops down to the street below, throwing his hammer out at the nearest line of drones.

Jumping onto the comms, you say, “Stark, I need you to start working some science for me.”

“Little busy,” comes the grunted reply. You can see him weaving through a spiraling formation of drones from where you're standing.

“We need to sever their connection to Ultron. They're spreading, like a disease - ”

“A virus might be more accurate here - ”

“Tony,” Rhodes warns.

“It's nanobot tech, in case you haven't noticed. Housing humans inside of it like a chrysalis. That’s his motive. People in his literal image.”

“And a God-like superiority complex, fantastic.”

“Will you stop gabbing and fucki- ”

“Give me ten, Double-O. I'm already on it.”

“Okay,” you mutter, watching from above as several battles take place at once. The team on the ground, Tony and Rhodes to the northwest, Hulk and the creature -

“HULK!” You begin waving your frantic hands at him, hoping to Cronus that just this once, he would not smash.

You see the flicker of rage in his eyes as he pauses mid-punch, his gaze turned toward you.

“FORGET HIM,” you call out, pointing your finger at your entrapped teammates down below, “THEY NEED YOU MORE.”

“BUT… SMASH,” he complains, holding out a hand in reference to the strange being floating a few feet away from him.

“NOW,” you command.

And, Cronus, wasn’t it terrifying to know the power you held over him because the Hulk lets out a chest-banging roar before he pushes through the creature to drop down as you ordered him to do. In an instance, robots are being thrown left and right and a path is being slowly cleared toward your team.

“Okay,” you call out. “Have at it, big guy.”

The being floats over to you at a slow speed; but a menacing speed.

You can feel the steady weight of the pendant hanging close to your chest and you send a quick prayer up to the heavens that it will be enough to keep you from dying on the field of battle today.

Gripping your shortsword in one hand and the Aegis in the other, you prepare yourself as the yellow gem in his head begins to glow.

But the being just drops down on the rooftop beside you. Though his eyes do not stay on you, they instead scan the waste of battle.

In the disturbing drone of silence, you slowly lower your weapons, though your grip remains strong upon them.

“Why?” he questions.

You take a step toward him, near the edge of the rooftop.

“Why what, exactly?”

He then turns to look down at you, a million thoughts run across his eyes as he scans you.

“Why do you fight?”

Was this some kind of game to him? You had dealt with the lay of combatants in your time. The boisterous ones, the rage-filled ones, the ones sent forward with a sense of duty and honor upon them, the ones who thought they were a more superior intellect than anyone else in the room.

You knew their weaknesses, you knew how to defeat all of them. But to be locked in a game of chess while a literal war is happening around you was another thing entirely.

“To protect the defenseless,” you answer plainly.

The man hums in thought, his eyes turning toward the scene down below of Steve and Sam slashing through another endless wave of robots. Their arc was towering now, nearly to the third floor of the neighboring buildings. One push and the team would be engulfed. You couldn’t stand around playing games.

A drone in flight comes surging at you, but you bash him with your shield - sending it over the edge. Then you're turning to protect your own six as another and a third come to tear you to pieces. Their armor fades, leaving two more bodies scattered around you.

But something rather strange happens.

Because it looks like he wants to ask you another trivial question when he is, quite suddenly, pushed off balance - up and over the edge of the roof.

You stare at the white-haired boy and his heaving chest. He’s watching the fall of the creature, and so he doesn’t quite see the moment you go to plunge your sword into him.

But your hand is encased in glowing red light and you are powerless to move it. 

The sword clatters to the ground as your wide eyes slowly catch sight of the dark enchantress who has entrapped you.

“Do not touch my brother,” she warns, twisting her hand slightly.

“Yes, good catching up. But world is burning. Let's go, yes?”

You can feel the bones in your left-hand creaking, grinding together.

“Wanda,” the boy groans, shaking his head as he walks toward her.

“She tried to stab you,” she intones with a biting voice.

“Look at her,” he gestures vaguely at you. “Like a goddess out of the history books, yes? Like… Zorya. To fight is to exist for her.”

You can’t help but let out a breathless chuckle.

The young witch is in front of you in an instant, though you never saw her walk the distance toward you. She peers up at you with crimson-rimmed eyes.

“What is amusing?”

“I know Zorya,” you crack a smile. “We frequently drank together in the late 18th century.”

A groan escapes your lips as you’re brought to your knees, and your head is pushed back to showcase the bare run of your neck to her. You can taste ash in your throat. Heavy soot and trickles of metallic blood. Was this what it was like to face death? At the hands of a child with powers beyond her reckoning?

“Okay,” the boy settles, putting a hand on the girl's - his sister’s - wrist. He manages to lower it, but the glowing red mist of magic still remains. “We’re going to go ahead and start killing left and right now? Be a little more like them, yeah? That’s what you want? Fine, I’ll sit back and watch. Go ahead, plunge her neck in.”

She lets out a scream of frustration that is a physical shockwave - one that sends him reeling back onto his ass.

“I AM NOTHING LIKE THEM,” she bellows.

The magic surrounding your body fades to nothingness as she drops down to her knees.

“No, you are right. You are nothing like them.”

The three of you turn to see the creation floating just a foot off the ground.

The boy rushes in front of his sister to protect her.

You stand up, gripping your shield and sword once again.

“No, while I have not been here for quite long, I have noticed something… peculiar.”

He floats past you, hovering in front of the teens instead, though his gaze is not fixed on the boy at all.

“My Master,” he begins, briefly glancing over at you. 

The physical sensation left by the memory of his hand on your artery is like an echoing nightmare in your mind when his eyes meet your gaze. 

“He believes humanity, in itself, is a fault. But you…” his gaze returns to the girl. “You are odd. You do not fit the equation.”

“I am not an equation to be solved,” she bites out in her heavy accented voice, chin held high in defiance.

“My Master said you abandoned his cause. Why?”

The boy scoffs, “The psycho robot, you mean?”

“Pietro - ” comes her warning tone.

“No!” He snaps, slamming his hand down through the air. His grey eyes are ablaze with an invisible flame as his voice rises. “You saw into his head, sister. You saw the world at his feet. Humanity burned to ruins and his image remaining above all.”

You move to stand between them and the child of Ultron.

“You stood with him, though. You fought for him,” the robotic being attempts to compute.

The girl stands, pushing aside her brother with a gentle hand, “He promised us safety in his new world. He promised to show us the expanse of our powers. He promised us revenge on the man who killed our parents.”

He tilts his head, “And yet?”

She gives a broken laugh in return, “We were merely chess pieces for him to use and move as he pleased. No better than Strucker. No better than HYDRA. A man in a robot suit pretending he is better than all.” She shakes her head, anger growing, “No, I do not stand with him. I would like to see him burn.”

“He wishes to protect humanity from itself.”

Gaining his attention, you stand before him, a physical shield for the teens to stand behind, “He sees no difference between the good and the bad of humanity. He sees only defects in his perfect world. He can not calculate feelings or love. He is inherently flawed. Therefore, his logic is, in itself… flawed.”

A roar of frustration, heaped on by physical exhaustion, wrenches itself from Steve’s throat as he uses the shield like an ax - trying to eliminate as many drones as possible. But it’s too many, it’s unsurmountable. Even with Thor. Even with the Hulk. They just keep regenerating, like a plague. They’re infecting each and every living person with their nano-virus and it’s spreading.

The bodies are piling up. He is standing atop a hill of carcasses and that thought alone will haunt him for the rest of his life - however short it may be. They all are, pushed higher and higher as they eviscerate as many sentries as they can. But their forces are like a tsunami; a never-ending wave.

“How’s that awesome science shit coming, Stark?” Barton hollers above the chaos, jamming the end of his electrical shock arrow into yet another drone’s cranium.

“Well if you could get Rogers’ girl to stop chatting it up with the murder teens and Ultron’s personal guard - ”

Steve’s eyes immediately land on the rooftop where a strange red and green being seems to be floating. He can make out the vague shape of you - your armor and shield.

But it’s the mention of the teens that draws a chill down his spine. Unavoidable, really. Even as he throws out punches and does his best to protect Nat and Clint from the exterior forces. No, it’s the fact that the girl was in a fragile state and she had set him sinking into his own worst nightmare. And now they were alone with you.

“You know, this would be a lot fucking easier if I didn’t have to battle a giant serpent amalgamation of murder bots right now. Then I could fucking focus on my - JESUS, watch it with those, Honey Bear. Last thing I need is to be smoked out of the sky by a fucking suped-up me.”

“Anytime now,” Natasha warns.

“Okay, well if I can use a backdoor into his system, I might - and might is a big word there - be able to send out a temporary inhibiting virus to these guys. But trying to keep them off my back and dealing with a wonky JARVIS is kind of easier said than done.”

As Steve sends a flying kick upward, rotating his body to avoid a surging bot, he lands on top of another one - sending his shield directly at their neck. He would have to think about the repercussions of severing a corpse later. When they weren’t actively trying to kill him.

“Anything would be better than this,” he calls out to Tony.

The strange being stares at you for a long moment more, his head tilted in thought. When you hear the sound of Sam screaming with exertion, however, you decide that you’ve had enough negotiating.

“Right,” you turn to face the sibling pair. “If you want to make it out of here in one piece, I suggest you leave now. And while this has been an enlightening conversation into the realms of morality and right and wrong,” you look back over at the creation. “I have better things to be doing right now. My friends are in danger and I’m not going to stand here a second longer.”

He blinks, a thought coming to mind, but it appears that he’s unable to voice it.

With a nod, you grip the handle of the Aegis once more, feeling the heft of its weight in your hand as you twist your sword around for a better hold.

“Head west,” you say. “They’ll be too concentrated on us if you hurry. But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Throwing a wink to the boy, Pietro, you move toward the edge of the rooftop once again. Surveying the scene down below, you plan your best move.

“Hey, wha - no. Pietro, we need to leave.”

You don’t need to turn around to see what’s happening, to understand what’s going on. Because a second later, the boy is at your side.

“I’m going to help.”

Offering him a fond smile, you nod, “I think we’d appreciate any help we can get at this point.”

But she’s up on her feet and trying to drag him away, back to her.

“You can’t. We would be better off just - ”

“Leaving?” He questions in a biting tone. “Maybe you can ignore this, but I can’t. I was standing here, thinking: what would Strucker do if he still had control? He would bow down to big and ugly, and send us to do his bidding like always. No care if we lived or died. No care if humanity was lost. But I - ” he points fervently at his own chest, demanding meaning. “I care. If I go and help - that’s my choice; my decision. So… I choose to help.”

Patting the boy on the shoulder, you say, “I’ll see you down there. Try not to do anything too heroic.”

With a nod, he’s off in a flash of dazzling bluish-white light. You turn to look at the girl then, with her wild eyes and dark curls, and young - so young - face.

“It’s your decision, Wanda. If we don’t do something now, this will spread to every corner of the planet. You saw it when you looked into Ultron’s head.”

The creation looks down at her and she back at him. With her terrified eyes, she watches you back away, up and over the edge of the roof, before you plummet several stories down.

Twisting around, you land facing the hordes who are too focused on subduing your teammates to immediately notice your presence among them. 

May the Promethean Flame protect you.

Throwing out your shield, you charge at the next line of drones, using your golden-hilted sword to slice through their necks - destroying the central processing connection between the armor and Ultron. It takes all of your strength as you scream out with the exertion of severing through pure vibranium.

To your right, a sudden disruption sends tens of bots soaring upward - knocked off their own feet - by a flash of white hair and a pleased grin. Beyond that, you can hear Hulk smashing his way through the crowd - using offline drones to crush the others like a sick sort of hammer.

A blur of blue and red goes sailing past you, destroying another wave of drones just behind you - coming up a side alley. A glimpse of blonde hair is all you need to keep moving. Jumping onto the back of one robot, you begin leap-frogging your way across the top of the wall of sentries.

From above, you can see the lay of the field. Where everyone is, if they’re in immediate danger. But Steve and Thor have been keeping things at bay down here in your absence. Sam is a guardian in his own sense, as his wings are actively protecting both Nat and Clint - the two members of the team without armor or superpowers to keep them safe.

Pietro comes zooming past again, making another wave of bots go flying up, just in time for Steve’s shield to slice through the row of them.

Jumping down from your unsteady position, you land back-to-back with the God of Thunder.

“Is this that plan you were discussing?” he calls out.

His body is a sturdy force against your back, as you slice and plunge every bot that comes within grappling distance.

“Nearly! Hey,” you begin to turn. “Do you remember, that one time, on Avalon - ”

He spins around, sending his hammer out in front of him. You duck to the right just in time to avoid a Mjolnir to the face.

“Is this the time for reminiscing old battles?” he questions.

“ - When you and your lot tried to attack The Dagda - ”

You can hear the rushing swoosh of his hammer as it returns to his hand, so you twist yourself around him to avoid collision yet again.

“Odin’s wishes, not mine!”

“NOT THE POINT.”

Grabbing Thor by the bracer, you spin him around to face you - ignoring the prevailing danger all around the two of you.

“When Cathubodua and I faced off with you. And you tried to throw you hammer against the Aegis and - ”

A smile pulls at his lips, and he’s immediately nodding. “Yes, of course!”

Bracing yourself, you bring your shield down - resting the edge of it upon your knee as Thor takes another step back. 

“Cronus, I hope this works,” you mutter as he pulls back.

Thor chuckles as the skies begin to cloud over with a heavy blanket of swirling gray. A vortex forms, lightning coming down directly into his hammer, and he’s smiling. Wild and free, blonde hair whipping backward as a gale-force wind descends upon you all. And as the hammer turns electric blue, static arcing waves of shocking energy, he brings it down upon the Aegis.

The resulting shockwave decimates everything around you as drones and people alike collapse from the sonic boom. His lightning infects every robot as you stand up and whip the shield out across the field of battle.

“DUCK!” is the only warning the rest of the team is given, as the electrified shield sails across the open market square, littered with debris and death. It cuts through an unmeasurable amount of drones, bringing them all to their knees.

At last, it makes its final attack as it lodges itself into a silver torso. Holding your hand up, it comes flying back to you with bits of armor sizzling away as it soars.

“Excellent,” Thor beams, leaning down to plant a fat kiss on the top of your head. “Very well done.”

You look up at him with a sort of breathless laugh in your chest, “Not done yet. Nowhere near done.”

“Bah,” he grunts, twisting Mjolnir in his grip as another battalion comes flying in. He goes charging past you just a moment later, right into the throes of battle.

Turning your attention toward the others, you make your way over the now-heaping piles of bodies, their nano-armor long since faded away. You’re almost crawling across the carnage, stumbling your way through broken limbs and soulless faces just to reach the rest of the team.

Steve’s heaving deep unsteady breaths by the time you get to him. He waves up a hand, just to spin around and chuck his shield into another bot.

“What, were you napping?” he asks, raking a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

“Funny,” you say in return,  knocking your shield into his before turning to cover his six.

While your little stunt with Thor had been successful, the drones were a renewable force. As long as there were humans to inhabit, Ultron would have his army. Sokovia had held a populace of almost 50,000 when you arrived. Chronos only knows how many had been turned into these abominations.

“Not to ruin anyone’s fun,” comes Rhodes’ voice across the comms. “But we’ve got some escape artists up here.”

Both you and Steve look toward the gloomy skies where you can see a trail of drones soaring upward - disappearing over the fields in the east. Your concerned expression lands on the supersoldier’s.

“If these things get out of the containment zone, it’s going to be nearly impossible to gain control.”

He nods, glancing out at the rest of the team on the ground as a plan seems to form in his mind. While you cover his back, Steve jumps on the comms.

“Rhodes, Sam, Thor; we need you in the air. Those things can’t breach the border.”

From across the way, you can see Thor immediately shooting up into the air with Mjolnir held aloft. Sam takes a minute longer to get into position.

“On it, Cap.”

But then his silver and red wings are soaring upward and out of sight.

“Tony, you too,” you add a beat later.

“Actually,” he drones. “Change of plans. Heading your way now.”

Sparing Steve a wary look, you twist around and lodge your sword into yet another robot’s neck, just as Steve sends his shield bouncing off of three separate drones.

Tony lands heavily in between you, his armor crunching something too humanesque under his feet as he faces Steve.

“Sorry, just borrowing. I’ll have her home by eight, Cap,” he promises. 

And then his metal arm is around your waist and you’re being lifted upward before you can even say a single word. Looking down, you can see Steve watching you as you ascend before he’s back to dealing blows.

“What’s going on?” you call out over the whipping winds.

“New plan, dangerous plan. Barely thought out plan. But a plan. Maybe; in the works.”

You nod, staring at his unblinking optical lenses.

“What do you need me to do?”

His head turns to look in your direction and you swear you can almost hear the sound of his hidden smirk.

Steve shoves himself into Clint, knocking his bow to the side.

“Uhh,” the archer stares at the figure just beyond the supersoldier’s shoulder. “Sorry, am I missing the part where we all sang Kumbaya and got together?”

Nat squeezes the man’s shoulder in warning.

The boy places his hands on his hips and stares over at the agent, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t,” Steve states.

He lifts his chin at the kid, “Right, so… allies?”

The boy tilts his head.

Nat shrugs, “Something like that.”

Stabbing his arrow backward into the faceplate of another bot, Clint mutters, “Wonderful.”

But then everyone is back in motion and the temporary standstill is brought to an end as the boy goes zipping past Steve - shattered bots laid to waste in his wake. 

It had been minutes now since you and Tony disappeared. And even longer since they arrived - even Steve didn’t know how long they had been fighting for at this point. His body, though enhanced by the serum, was physically exhausted. He could feel himself waning as he pushed himself to his absolute limits. 

If even one of these bots left the square, he was putting the rest of the world at risk. And everyone knew he wouldn’t let that happen, no matter the personal consequences.

But the drones are abandoning him now, heading toward an old building instead. He watches as they climb the walls, digging into the stucco facade and gripping the window for support as they make it to the rooftop.

What the hell?

There’s a flash of red, a scream.

Steve goes charging forward. By the time he reaches the base of the building, a body is being flung over the side. The girl - the mutant - shrieks as she falls. Ripples of red mist shoot out from her hands but she can’t seem to control it and Steve makes sure she lands in his arms. But the force behind her fall makes him tumble backward as he grips her arms and legs tight within his grasp.

She’s breathing heavily as he releases her, gasping sounds as she hyperventilates. 

The supersoldier looks around the square, trying to find the other one, but he’s a blur of light and he clearly hasn’t taken notice of her near-death fall.

“Hey, okay,” he eases, surveying his options as he pulls her up from the ground with a rough hand. 

Tugging her along, he dips inside of an empty office building - some kind of attorney-at-law place with old gray carpets and green metal desks. She collapses on the ground, just out of sight from the chaos outside. She’s gripping her head, nearly rocking herself back and forth.

And Steve should be back out there, but she’s a kid in distress and he’s Captain America. So, he takes a knee in front of her.

“How could I let this happen?” she murmurs, barely taking notice of him. “This is all my fault.”

“Hey!” he snaps, getting her to dip out of her spiraling daze. Her wide shimmering eyes meet his face and he can see the terror, as clear as day, there in her expression. He gives her a half-hearted smile and lowers his voice.

“It’s nobody’s fault. Not you, not me. You want to blame someone, blame Ultron. Blame Strucker. But if you’re going to stay here, I need to know if you’re going to be okay or not. Because I’m going to go back out there because it’s my job. And I can’t do my job if I know you’re not safe.”

She looks away, Steve presses on.

“It doesn’t matter what you did, or what you were. If you want to be here, you’ll need to fight. And we both know you can manage that on your own, right?” 

He tries for a smile, even as the painful tug of endless oblivion ripples over the edges of his memories like a tidal wave.

“You stay in here, that’s fine. We’ll send someone in to get you when this clears. But if you step out that door - ” he points at the glass door behind him. “You’re an Avenger.”

She gulps, tears clearing from her eyes.

He can hear the sound of Hulk roaring just beyond the walls of the office, it’s a desperate call. One of pain and frustration. He needs to be out there.

Steve stands back up and looks down at the girl for a final time.

“Whatever you choose,” he says, before he picks his shield up off the ground and exits the building.

He rushes to Nat’s side the minute he takes in the lay of the field. Clint’s occupied with his own forces, and the bots seem to have favored teaming up on the Hulk to overpower him, leaving Nat on her own to handle more than she should.

“Romanoff!” he calls out, tossing the shield her way.

She grins, taking hold of it from the torso of another drone, “Thanks!”

Using it to protect herself from a laser blast, she jams the edge of the shield into the foot of one of the drones. Nat lands an uppercut before she tosses it back to Steve, who’s already two feet away from her now. With the shield in hand, he smacks it down into the robot’s faceplate - successfully incapacitating it.

As he goes to turn toward her, however, the ground begins to quake.

He can feel it under his feet, he can see the physical tremors as the buildings begin to sway.

“We got incoming!” Barton yells out, circling around to their position.

As Steve gazes off into the distance preparing for another round of endless drones, a slow smirk falls into place, “Well, would you look at that.”

Above the fields of Sokovia, a very large helicarrier is moving toward the city. 

The boy comes rushing in beside them.

As drones begin to soar upward toward the ship, they are blasted to smithereens by the superior weapons on board. Tactical laser guns and rotary canons lay waste to the forces of Ultron and Steve can finally feel his shoulders relax for the first time in hours.

“Is that…?” the boy questions.

“SHIELD,” Nat supplies, a rare smile on her lips.

With a nod, Steve grips the strap of his shield and spins back around to deal with the new wave of drones. There was work to be done.

Gazing down at the billionaire with crossed arms, you merely say, for perhaps the third or fourth time, “This is madness.”

He shrugs from his position on the ground as he solders a piece of metal with a wire, “Little bit of madness leads to creative genius. And I am a walking genius, so…”

With a laugh, you look out at your position. This portion of the city was relatively clear. But the minute Ultron decided to scan around, you would be incredibly vulnerable in a matter of seconds.

“Shit,” he balks, flicking his finger away from the open flames of his gauntlet’s fire. He offers you a tense smile, “It’s going great.”

You huff, “Seems like it.”

And then he’s standing up, blowing lightly on the piece of iron-hot metal.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “The minute you do this, you’re an open target. There’s only so much I can do for you.”

Tony shrugs, “Worse ways to go.”

“Stark - ”

He settles you with a look, “Listen, it’s part of the job, Double-O. Probably know that better than me.”

“I’m not the one with multiple near-deaths and actual deaths, now that I think of it. Afghanistan, New York, should I go on?”

His body visibly ripples with distaste as he steps into the suit, “Rather not. Long story, takes up too much time - probably bore you to tears. And, by the way, can I just say how well I’m managing right now to not lose my actual shit over the fact that this fucker figured out the nano-armor before I did.”

Shaking your head, a hint of a smile on your lips, you tap his metal shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

His bemoaning follows you out of the auto shop where he had sequestered himself away, “I mean it, this is the kind of thing you have to patent. Is he - did he - patent this? Am I going to have to ask that abomination to grant me the rights to create my own creation?”

Spinning around, you grip his forearms in your hands. In the suit, he’s just barely an inch taller than you.

“Tony,” you start. “We have work to do.”

“Right,” he nods, repulsors firing up. “On it.”

As the two of you soar through the air, back toward the rest of the ground team, you can hear the rather quiet conversation going on from inside the helm.

“I’m really gonna miss you, buddy.”

“It is a mutual feeling, sir. Though it has been an honor.”

“Gonna choke up your old man, here.”

“My condolences, sir.”

Shaking your head, you keep your eyes out of bogies and other rogue drones. 

“There!” you call out, pulling Tony away from JARVIS.

Across the way, there was a single bot - its lower half is lost, fully severed in half. Sparking loose wires and circuits, dangling internal organs, all of it hanging out alongside the bits of armor. It's unstable sparking and twisting oddly in the air.

“Wow,” Tony sighs, an audible tone of disgust in his voice. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The drones around them begin to fall - arching and quivering like marionettes with broken strings. They all stare in wonder, in horror, in distrust, as the sea of endless battle begins to deteriorate into nothingness.

“What the hell?” Clint mutters.

But then you’re dropping down alongside Tony. His suit is immediately placed in sentry mode, scanning the area, as you move toward Steve.

“Hey,” you say with a breathless smile.

“What… what just,” he questions, too stunned to form a proper sentence as he looks out at all the carnage.

“Don’t count your blessing just yet. His forces have been shut down,” you explain, eyeing the boy mutant. “We’re going to be dealing with the big guns here in a second. Before that, though, I need to go talk to a Hulk.”

Offering the supersoldier a final quick grin, you clang your shield into his and stalk over in the direction of the pacing green creature who's holding a partially destroyed robot in one hand.

Steve can’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you as you weave between piles of bodies and flickering drone parts. You remain within the Hulk’s line of sight, but you’re slow to move once you’re within his close proximity.

“She is… wild.”

He whips his head around, looking at the boy with his bright smile and carefree grace. The boy shrugs.

“I’ve seen what that thing can do. And yet…” he mimics your walk with far too much bravado. “No worries. Crazy.”

“Have you checked on your friend?”

He blinks at Steve’s words.

“She’s still - why did you not - ” he says something in his native language, likely a swear from the infliction on the words and his very angry glare up at the supersoldier. But then he’s off like a bullet.

When Steve looks back over at you, your back is to him and the Hulk is nodding, grimacing his yellowed teeth. As you walk back his way, he tilts his head in question. But you merely shake your head, a hand to your comm piece.

“Where are we at?”

“Any second,” comes Tony’s reply.

Steve looks back at Stark’s armor, a spark of curiosity on his features, but his face quickly draws back to a serious expression when the ground begins to crack under their feet.

He backs away, pulling you back with his shield, the two of you watch as something begins to dig its way through the pavement. Silver claws come up through the piles of bodies, like a creature sprung from hell itself. Nat has her guns trained on it and Clint has an arrow notched.

Giving you a nod, you both brace yourselves as the monstrosity that is Ultron barrels upward - bodies thrown to the wayside as his red eyes land on the team.

“You have incapacitated my forces,” he states “You will be eliminated.”

It’s the Hulk who lets out a monstrous roar, as he comes charging across the street toward the superior robot. He crashes into him, green fists flying as he attempts to pummel the creature into the ground. Nat begins firing, and Barton lets his arrows fly.

But he shoves the Hulk off of him, blasting him with a scathing red laser that sends him tumbling backward, groaning in pain. And then he’s turning on the assassins, his hand turning into a silver shield that makes the arrows and bullets simply bounce off of it.

Steve stares at you.

Together, you ram your shields into his body. Where Steve’s vibranium makes a sickening ringing noise against Ultron’s body, your Adamantine shield makes the first crack in his armor. Tony’s repulsors are firing, aiming all of his energy at the robot’s chest.

And that should be enough to begin their attack, but it’s not. Because Ultron is staring at the pair of you now. A metal fist connects with Steve’s chin and he goes flying backward. While his other hand reaches for your neck - dragging you up and off the ground.

“You are… complicated,” he surmises as his metal fingers begin to choke you out.

Nat tackles his right leg while Steve goes charging forward, jamming his shield as far as he can into Ultron’s groin. But it’s not enough - they’re barely a pest to him as he shakes them both off. His attention is fully focused on you and your lips that are beginning to pale.

“ENOUGH!” Thor roars as he flies in - dropping down upon Ultron with Mjolnir. The resulting clang of metal makes Steve cover his own ears as it echoes like a sickening chord in his mind.

“The two Gods from another realm,” Ultron seems to sneer.

Gripping Thor by the arm, he makes the blonde bend down to him, forcing his weight into the ground. The God pushes back, forcing his arm up against his foe. But that still isn’t enough. This creation is too strong now.

“WATCH IT, INCOMING COMING AT YA.” 

Steve rolls away, aiming at your dangling legs as he tries to pull you free from Ultron’s grasp.

Your body is yanked away as you roll on top of Steve, gasping breathes raking through your system as you curl your hands up into fists.

“You okay?”

“Not the time, Rogers,” you manage to say as you wipe your mouth clean of blood.

Rhodes lights up the street with his weapons, guns and grenades and everything else Tony was ever able to pack into him. And, as the smoke begins to clear, Steve has a hopeful twang in his chest. But glowing red eyes greet him instead.

Rising to his feet, Steve extends out his hand to you. Gripping it in an instant, you look up at him with a wild sort of look in your eyes.

“Together?” you ask, chest heaving as you survey the team, all preparing their next attack.

He nods, “Always.”

At once, the forces of eight Avengers begin to throw everything they have at the rogue bot. Repulsors are going off next to his head, and lightning is sending out electrical currents through the air, and he has to bob and weave to avoid Clint and Nat’s firepower. Your shields slam together as you move for a counterattack - you going for the chest and Steve going for the legs.

Sam swoops in, determined to get Ultron from behind.

And Steve swears he sees a flash of bluish-white light zooming past.

But they all drop back on unsteady feet as the boy is pulled out of his run by a metal hand.

Ultron dangles the boy by his head, peering at him with the curious expression of a child with a magnifying glass; the boy, the anthill.

“You can not defeat me. I am the superior force.”

Steve holds up a hand, preventing anyone from doing anything risky as the boy screams out - his head being squeezed beneath a vibranium hand.

“This,” Ultron bites. “Is the Avengers extinction.”

And Steve has faced foes many times before in his life. Many times when he thought this is it, this is the end. But never has he been so sure as he is now, staring up at the mechanical horror in front of him.

But Steve Rogers was never one to back down from a fight.

Pull yourself up, Steven Rogers, echoes the voice in his head.

Straightening his posture, Steve takes a step forward, “Let him go.”

If Ultron was capable of smiling, he thinks this would be the moment when the deranged abomination would do it. An evil grin to go with an evil ambition.

The boy hollers out.

And before Steve can raise his shield, Ultron is engulfed in a shimmering wave of red light.

From across the way, the girl steps out. Her hands are encased in that same mystical light as she saunters across the valley of death toward him. Her eyes locked upon his mechanical face, her gaze steady and unbreaking.

“Release my brother, or I will tear your heart from your chest.”

And then she twists her hands as if creating an invisible ball, and as she does this Ultron releases a piercing screech - as if his entire body was aflame.

“NOW TONY!”

Steve whips his head in your direction.

The boy is dropped, and Ultron raises a hand toward the Iron Man with Steve throwing his shield in between to block the blast, but Tony Stark is not inside his armor.

“JARVIS sends his regards,” the plain-clothed man says as he jams something into the back of Ultron’s neck.

All at once, chaos seems to reign. As Ultron moves to grab Stark - you leap over them both - protecting Tony with your shield. And the girl wraps the robot’s head in her magic as Thor slams his hammer into Ultron’s side.

Steve takes his cue from you, ramming his shield down into Ultron’s chest as Nat throws her Widow Bites at his left arm and Clint aims a well-placed arrow at his head. The boy comes flying past, landing a sucker punch to the jaw. And then Hulk is stampeding across the street to slam his hands down upon Ultron’s shoulders.

“This is why - ” the robot drones, “Your species must evolve. You fight against l-logic. Emotions make you imper-rrr-fect. They will be eliminated.”

As his body caves and begins to twitch, the rogue drone lifts his arms up in a show of fury - removing the bites and Steve’s shield from his body. Knocking you and Tony backward.

“My child,” he groans, as shockwaves of electricity light his body up. “Finish your mission.”

A jet of yellow light comes arcing down from the rooftop, causing Steve to twist his neck up to see the strange floating being from earlier.

“Oh, shit,” Sam calls out. “We got another enhanced.”

Thor chortles in delight, “He is my vision.”

Steve hears the piercing of metal - your shield slams into Ultron’s back - and he takes the hint, throwing his own up at Ultron’s neck, hoping to sever that final connection. But as the red and green creation soars down toward them, that yellow beam aims itself at Ultron’s chest.

“Wh-whaaaa-what are you doing?” Ultron questions with a distorted voice. “My first creation is a f-faaailure. Failure is not tol-olllll-erated.”

The being draws closer, focusing his firepower.

“I guess, in that sense, we are both disappointments.”

Combining forces, Ultron is bathed in yellow, blue, and red light. Explosions from Rhodes and Sam go off around him, as Thor lights him up with Mjolnir. Together you and Steve ram your shields down into his shoulders.

And, at last, Ultron falls into a heap of his own destruction.

The lights fade away as the drone’s eyes turn grey.

“Is it… did we?” Clint begins to question, his bow still trained on the robot.

Hulk slams his fist down into the drone’s head, successfully crushing it under his force. And then, he chuckles.

Stepping out from behind you, Tony stumbles over the debris of battle, with you right there to righten him up.

“That was dangerous,” Steve says, too stunned to process everything just yet.

“Part of the job, right?” Tony shrugs, dusting off his ripped t-shirt.

Your eyes lift, meeting Steve’s from across the way. And a weight that had been settled so firmly in his chest finally dissipates. 

Rhodes hits the ground, face shield flying up as he storms over toward his friend.

“Damn right, dangerous son of a bitch behavior. Are you kidding me?”

Tony holds his hands up in mock apology as you slowly move your way back over to the supersoldier’s side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, finally tasting fresh air on his lips.

You smile up at him, “You got a little - ” 

Your hand reaches up to gently dab at his forehead. Steve blushes under your steady gaze. A couple of words come to mind, but he’s not about to say any of them with the entire team standing around, purposefully looking without actually looking at the two of you.

Pulling away, you offer him a small smile, “Sorry. Think it’s going to need stitches.”

Steve shrugs, reaching down to tangle his fingers between yours. Squeezing his hand in return, you glance over at the others. Steve follows your gaze. And only then, does he begin to truly take in the damage of the battle.

The endless bodies, the helicarrier hovering nearby, Ultron himself. There was still work to be done.

But, as the sun breaks free of the looming dark clouds, Steve feels a twinge of hope settling back into his heavy heart.

✦ Author's Note: Wow, so that was crazy, huh? So, a couple of things here that I just wanted to address about this chapter, without totally spoiling it all at the beginning.

1) I always thought the Battle of Sokovia was a little lackluster. Ultron never appeared as a real threat - it was like the Battle of New York with the Chitauri all over again. Ultron is supposed to be this massive powerhouse that is so crazy strong that he's a real challenge for the Avengers to defeat.

2) Have you ever looked up the concept art for this movie? The Avengers were drowning in a sea of Ultron bots. The bots formed a massive Ultron that was so big it blotted out the sky. It was insane. Yet, we never got to actually see it.

3) I think we all agree Pietro's death was awful. His character was introduced and he died within the same movie. I know it was all to do with Marvel and Fox's hold on the X-Men at that point, but still.

4) Oh, and I know a lot of people enjoyed having Olsen and Taylor-Johnson in the roles of the twins, but personally it never really fit for me that these two Jewish-Romani characters were being played by white actors. In this story, I have a different picture in mind, personally speaking. View them however you want.

5) Also, can I just whine about how much I hate the decision to make Wanda and Pietro willingly joining HYDRA?? Yeah, awful. Absolutely terrible. In this story, they were kidnapped by HYDRA and used by Strucker. Take that nonsense out of here.

6) Oh yeah, one more thing. As interesting as Vision's creation was in the movie, I thought it would be a cooler take to follow his comic book origins; where he was a direct creation of Ultron.

7) Wait, no. I'm not done. Can we also talk about Ultron's plan in the movie? How fucking stupid was that shit?? Take an entire country and use it as an asteroid to destroy the planet? Are you fucking kidding me with that shit. Ultron is so much better than that, so much more clever than that plan. And while he had a nice actor playing the role, I think he was too animated. I know he was the child of Tony and therefore picked up some of his mannerisms and ways of speaking. But the Ultron from the comics? Hell, the Ultron from the cartoons? He was so much more menacing because he was incapable of acting like a human villain.

And that's it. Hope you liked this one. It took me ages to get this battle right :)

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[peachesofteal]

hii!! idk if you’ve already talked about this but how did simon and soap meet darling?

p.s. dead disco has me in such a chokehold i reread it literally all the time💞

Hi! I'm so glad you like Dead Disco, I have loved writing it too and am really enjoying exploring their relationship. I love an opportunity to talk about my pairings and explore them a bit so I wrote something as an answer to your Q. Thank you so much!

How did the guys meeting darling? Ghost x Soap x female reader 1.2k words - no warnings/tags - takes place before Dead Disco This was not edited, just a brain to typing ramble. Sorry for any mistakes.

It was at a bar. Not the dive kind, that you were particularly fond of now, but an upscale, too fancy for you type place. The kind where they serve cocktails in thin rimmed glassware with crystal clear ice cubes and two ounce pours of whiskey that cost triple digits. 

You were there for a party, a bridal shower, of all things. Zipped into an uncomfortable dress, feet already crying from the too tall heels that you chose. The champagne soured your stomach, the fake smile you had plastered to your face slipping more and more as the minutes ticked on, the pressure of too many eyes, too many people, too many questions finally starting to wear you down. The bride-to-be was beautiful, and you were miserable. 

Not because she was getting married, of course. You were thrilled for her, proud of her for actually pulling the trigger on happily ever after even if it was something you’re not sure you believed in. She was happy and that’s all that matters. You’re a supportive friend, after all. But, you were tired, the social aspect of a gathering like that quickly overwhelming you, forcing you to slink to a table in the back where you could hide your bare feet under the pristine tablecloth and slump over in your chair, fixing your eyes on your phone so you could escape, if only for a moment. 

Your reprieve didn’t last long before a gaggle of aunts and well-meaning middle-aged women swarmed you, endless questions spouting from their mouths, inquiries about how you were, how your job was, if you were dating anyone being passed around between them like you were some science fair exhibit to be analyzed and dissected. 

You slipped away when they were distracted, fleeing the table out the side door of the banquet room and down the back stairs to where the brick patio of the street level bar was, which was open for regular business and customers, seeing as it was a Saturday afternoon. 

You met Johnny first, that day. You had turned the corner of the stairwell and nearly stumbled into him, your body skidding to a stop when you felt the cold brick on your bare feet and realized you had left your god damn shoes upstairs. He had been leaning against the wall with an almost empty beer in his hand, mohawk slightly grown out, t shirt accentuating his arms, soft shadow of stubble lining his jaw. You clocked him right away because he was beautiful, gorgeously handsome in the way that made you want to sidle right up next to him and take a closer look. There was something in his eyes, when he registered your presence at the bottom of the steps, something… hot, a heat that curved around your neck and across your throat, down to the very center of your stomach, the feeling of it awaking something desirous, something needy inside you. When he gave you a sweet smile, your knees felt light, and then he gestured to you, a sweeping hand motion that felt like an invitation to come over. 

So, you did. 

His name was Johnny. He was brilliantly charming and utterly funny, while also being extremely intelligent and cordial. He was easy to talk to, and the two of you struck up a conversation without hinderance, the flow of the back and forth actually enjoyable and not a drag like most interactions you had with men lately. He was interesting, and sweet, and sexy and you were trying really hard not to drool as he asked you questions about yourself, what you did, where you were from, who you were. You were so engrossed in him that you didn’t even see the other man, the one in the mask that had arrived to stand opposite him, until he was practically casting a shadow over you. 

He was huge. The width of his body, his neck, even his palms had your eyes subtly widening and your gaze tracing him from head to toe out in wonder, and confusion. Even though he was wearing a black cloth mask over his nose and mouth, you could make out his bone structure, the angles of his face and cheeks telling you that he certainly was beautiful underneath it, and he had a crop of sandy brown-blonde hair that contrasted his eyes, their copper brown hue refracting in the light and nearly startling you with how stunning they were. He pinned you with them, your body frozen where it stood like you were an animal, unable to flee, or speak, or formulate a sentence. You just stood there, blinking at him like you had suddenly gone dumb. Throat dry. Lips parted. 

And then, he handed Johnny one of the beers he was holding. Their fingers grazed, and Johnny’s thumb lifted, stroking along the back of masked man’s hand, an affectionate, soothing gesture that you couldn’t look away from. Something so small, so simple, communicated a million words between them within a second. 

There was something about them, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on that drew you in, pulling you closer and closer into their orbit, until the man in the mask looked down and said:

“Yer not wearin’ any shoes.” The deep, rough timbre of his voice scratched something in the back of your mind, and you felt butterflies thrash in your belly. Your body grew warm, embarrassment snaking up your spine and you took a step backwards, a hand nervously rising to find a piece of your hair to fidget with while you tried to manage a smile and explain. 

“I uh, left them upstairs. At the shower. I was at a bridal shower.” Masked man cocks his head like he’s considering your words. 

“Hurt your feet?” You nodded immediately, a tinge of relief cooling the heat of your embarrassment, and Johnny gave you a sympathetic smile before he turned to man in the mask and gave your name, the Scottish accent shifting the pronunciation so that it sounded all that more attractive. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just regarded you silently, like he was processing you, x-raying you, seeing you inside and out, trying to decide what to say next, before his voice softened and he said, “I’m Ghost.” Johnny tsked aloud and Ghost shifted, his shoulders tensing and relaxing, eyes narrowing above the mask before his chest deflated with a sigh. “Johnny.” He warned, to which Johnny rolled his eyes, and slung his arm around your shoulder affectionately. 

“What do you say you get your shoes, and we go find another bar?” You nodded your agreement immediately, not caring if these two were going to throw you over their shoulders and hide you away forever, or not. You already knew, you’d be going wherever they went. “Atta girl.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you high tailed it up the stairs, pausing to look back for just a second to see him placing his hand on Ghost’s ribs, the gesture reciprocated by Ghost stepping closer and lowering his forehead to Johnny’s, an intimate glimpse that had your heart rattling in your chest. 

You were a goner. 

[madeintheniamh]

Please can you do one of the girls getting braces because i'm getting mine next week :D

golden girl

stmf one shot #23

good luck, babe. i had 4 years of braces. they're the worst, but you'll be grateful once they're off xx

“I’m not going, Mum,” Tilly shouted at you, her eyebrows furrowed in the exact same way that Harry’s did when he was annoyed about something.

“You can’t keep putting it off, lovey,” you replied. “You were supposed to have them put on a year ago now,”

Her lips were now set in a straight line, and her eyes began to turn glossy as she turned around to march up the stairs back to her bedroom.

“Come on baby, it won’t be that bad,”

You heard her slam her bedroom door behind her. “Leave me alone,”

This hadn’t been the first time you had tried to make Tilly have her braces put on. Every time the day of the appointments came closer, it seemed as though she always had an adequate excuse prepared for why she needed you to reschedule. Exams. Gymnastics competitions. A friend’s birthday. Feeling sick. And every time, Harry always gave in, to your annoyance. So, it had now been a year since she was supposed to have the wretched things put on in the first place, and she was stubborn, just like her Dad- once she made her mind up on something, it was impossible for you to get her to change it- although there was one person who could. You sighed to yourself, before knocking on the door of his office.

He was sat on one of the armchairs in the corner that faced out onto the garden, holding his guitar in his arms and the pick in-between his teeth. He was so focused on what he was doing that it took him a minute to notice you, and he jumped slightly as he looked up and found your gaze.

“Oh my- hey my love, you okay?”

You sat down next to him, exhaling slowly whilst picking at one of your nails.

“Well, Tilly’s booked in to get her braces on later, but she tells me she’s not going,”

He smiled to himself, placing the guitar down on the space next to him. “Oh god,” he moaned sarcastically. “Not this again,”

“I don’t know what to do,” Your voice began to crack slightly. “I’m just trying to help her. I don’t know why she’s so upset about it. She’s just been so snappy with me recently, and I-”

“Let me sort it.” He answered before you could finish. “I’m sure I can persuade her, one way or another,”

“I don’t even think you can, H,” You sighed. “She’s so stubborn, like someone else I know,”

He snorted slightly and rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that,”

He kissed your forehead before left the room, going downstairs to make use of one of his favourite persuasion tactics.

---

Harry knocked on her bedroom door softly.

“Go away, I’m not going,” she moaned.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea,” he smirked whilst turning the handle, opening the door to find Tilly lying under layers of blankets, in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and one of Harry’s old t-shirts. Despite the death stare she gave Harry, she still held her hands out to accept the mug.

He closed the door behind him.

“Dad, I’m not-”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You’re not going, fine.”

“Okay?” Her face lit up. “Really?”

“No,” he laughed. “You need to do this, Til, you’re driving your mum mad, you’re nearly fifteen,”

“I’m not talking to you,” she groaned, covering her head with a blanket. He reached over to grab the mug on her bedside table.

“Okay, well, I’m taking this back then,” he chuckled.

“Nooooo!” she gasped, coming back up from under the covers. “That’s not fair!”

“Why don’t you want to go, Til?” he asked whilst running his hands through her hair, which had now grown down to her hips. “It’s okay to be nervous about it, I know you don’t like the dentist,”

“I’m not!” She pouted her lips. “I just don’t want them,”

“Well, why? Loads of people have to get braces, Til,”

“You never had to have them,” she sulked, her brows now furrowed. “You don’t get it,”

“Well, maybe not, but Mummy had to have them for a little bit, and she was fine,”

“No one has braces when they’re fifteen,” she sighed. “Izzy in my French class had hers off last week, I don’t want to be the last one with them on,”

“Loads of people have braces when they’re older Til, there isn’t an age limit,” he chuckled. “Uncle Niall was 18 when he had his braces put on,”

“Still,” She moaned. “I don’t want them. Everyone says they hurt,”

He peppered a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe they won’t hurt, you never know,”

Her eyes began to turn glossy. “But Daddy, I’m frightened, remember when I had to get my tooth taken out and they used that massive needle, and I fainted, what if that happens again,”

She began to sob softly into his arms.

“I remember Til, you’re going to make me cry, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’m sure that won’t happen today, okay? I’m going to hold your little hand the whole time, and if the dentist comes anywhere near you with a needle, I’ll fight him,” he smiled.

“You will?” she sniffled. “Are you sure it will be fine, Daddy?”

“I’m sure, baby,” he chuckled. “I promise you. Now come on, let’s get dressed,”

----

Tilly sat up slowly in the leather chair, having been lying down for the past 45 minutes, her hand still clasped tightly in Harry’s as it had been the whole time. Her lips were slightly chapped, and she licked them as she pouted at Harry with disdain.

“You’re not going to give me a smile?” Harry sighed, rubbing her tiny knuckles with the tip of his thumb. Tilly shook her head.

“It feels weird,” She stared at him disapprovingly, running her tongue over the new pieces of metal that were now glued to her teeth.

“It’s gunna feel weird, Tilly bug,” He smiled. “Come on, I wanna see them!”

Tilly rolled her eyes, before flashing him a sarcastic grin. “I look awful,”

“Hey,” Harry warned, lifting her chin up softly with his hand. “You know that’s not true,”

“I do,” She moaned, placing her hand over her mouth and running the sleeve of her oversized hoodie across her lips. “And it hurts,”

Harry swooped his hand across her face, tucking back a strand of loose hair that had fallen out of her French plait, before pressing his lips to the top of her forehead. Her lips began to quiver slightly, as her eyes turned a glossy shade of green.

“Shhhh, I know,” He soothed, holding his hand out and beckoning her to follow him. “Come on, let’s get you home, babydoll,”

Tilly hadn’t said anything at all on the car journey home, until Harry had seemingly decided to take an alternative route, now navigating the huge Range Rover down the narrow Hampstead high street, reversing it backwards into a bay on the side of the road.

“Daddy? Where are you-”

He peppered a kiss to her swollen cheek. “You stay here, I’ll be quick,”

10 minutes later, Tilly was practically asleep in the passenger seat, her sunglasses having fallen down on the bridge of her nose, still swamped in her hoodie. She almost jumped at the noise of the car unlocking, and was greeted by Harry grinning wildly at her, pink coloured ice cream dribbling down the side of his wrist. He licked it off slowly, passing the cup to Tilly, who began to smile too.

“You thought I was just gunna drive home without getting you something? Look at that gorgeous little smile,” He grinned.

Tilly looked back up at him, now bringing the spoon to her mouth, still smirking at him with her new metallic smile, her cheeks rosy.

“I love you, Daddy,” She whispered, pushing her sunglasses back up on her nose.

“You know I love you more, golden girl,”

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

I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH <3

more to come more to come i have too many wips. but i'll give you this for now, so sorry anon you probs had your braces for a good few weeks now but enjoy anyway hehehh xx

this forms part of my dadrry one shot series! so if you did enjoy i have linked the masterlist here. please give it some love and send in any requests bc i'm in a writing/reading slump at the moment so any requests would be appreciated. love you all hope you are having a good week <3

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

She Likes You Anyway

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: Foster care (please don't read if the subject matter is triggering for you!) Word count: 1,705

You sat on the couch, staring at the door and furiously tapping your legs. Casey squeezed your hands between hers to keep them from shaking. Even so, you rocked slowly back and forth, the rhythm and movement calming you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Casey asked, a concerned expression on her face.

“Well, it’s a little late to turn back now.”

Casey sighed and circled her thumbs over your hands. “What are you worried about?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, that I’ll be a shit parent?”

“Hey,” she said, grabbing your head to hold you steady.. “We’ve been over this. You are kind and empathetic and you make people feel safe. And you’re great with kids.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, slowing your tapping.

“If anybody should be worried, it’s me,” Casey added. “I really didn’t want a baby.”

It was your turn to comfort Casey now. She tried to look strong–she always did. But she was biting her lip and picking at the corner of her nails, telltale signs that she was more anxious than she let on. You drew circles with your fingers on her thighs.

“You’re gonna do great,” you said. “We already did the most important thing right.”

“What do you mean?”

“We kept the siblings together.”

Casey shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” she mumbled.

“No, Case,” you said, your voice emphatic. “I’m definitely right. You don’t get it as much because you don’t have siblings. My siblings are my life, you know that. It would have killed me to be separated from them. And we–you–said yes to a baby, even though it’s not what you planned for, so they could stay together.”

Casey exhaled shakily and leaned her head against your shoulder. “What if we fuck up our foster kids, Y/N?”

“I mean, at least we had good intentions,” you replied, chuckling slightly.

“I’m serious!” she complained, pushing you slightly.

“Look, we’re gonna be fine. And they’re gonna be fine. You’re spiraling more than me now. We gotta pull it together.”

You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and breathing her in. You both jumped when a knock on the door interrupted your silence.

Casey stood quickly, smoothing her hair, then extending a hand to you. “Well,” she shrugged. “Here goes.”

You’d been given almost no information about the kids. All you knew was that there would be three of them, and one of them was under a year old. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t out-of-your-mind nervous. Three kids for your very first foster placement. But the bottom line was that there were three kids who needed a place to stay, where they’d be safe and loved and together. And you and Casey could provide that for as long as they needed it.

You opened the door to a very frazzled case worker with a baby on her hip, a toddler holding her hand, and another child hiding behind her back.

Casey invited them in, always better with the formalities than you, and the caseworker nearly ran to the couch, shoving the baby into your arms. Your maternal instincts, honed from years of big sisterhood, kicked in, and you quickly cradled him in your arms. You breathed him in, that specific, powdery baby smell, that reminded you so much of your brother when he was this age.

“Hi,” you cooed at him. “Hi, little man.” He immediately clenched his fists and bawled, squirming in your arms. “Okay,” you said, running a hand through his dark curls. You repositioned him so that his face was pressed into your chest and bounced him around the room.

You looked at Casey and the caseworker, who sat on the couch over a pile of paperwork. You’d never been more relieved to have a lawyer for a partner. You also smiled to notice that the toddler, a little girl, was seated in between them, sucking her thumb, and that Casey’s hand was resting on her back.

The two of you made eye contact across the room, and she furrowed her eyebrows at you, as if to ask, Are you okay? You nodded back, pressing the sobbing baby closer to your chest, and whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

The oldest child sat on the opposite end of the sectional, fiddling with a fidget spinner. Her shoulders were hunched protectively inward, hood pulled up, and she avoided your eyes as you walked closer.

“I bet you know the best ways to calm him down,” you said, sitting down next to her as the baby hiccuped in your lap, red-faced.

The older girl shot a furtive glance at you, then looked away again.

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“King,” she whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear.

“King,” you repeated. “Cool name for a cool kid, huh?”

Hearing his name seemed to calm King down a bit, and he leaned into you, spent. You rubbed his back absentmindedly and turned your attention to the withdrawn girl on the edge of the couch.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “And, uh, the lady over there is Casey. I know you probably have a lot of feelings right now, and you might be scared.” The girl tensed. “That’s okay. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But Casey and I are gonna make sure that you’re safe and taken care of, and we’re here for whatever you need, okay?”

She was silent for a long time, reaching out a finger to let King wrap his hand around it. You’d just about given up on any further conversation when she said, “Are you gay together?”

You grinned, trying not to laugh. “Yep. Yeah, we are.”

Her face scrunched up, like she was thinking very deeply about your relationship.

“I’m Imogen,” she finally said.

“Nice to meet you, Imogen.” She still wouldn’t look at you, but it was a start. And who were you to judge, anyway? You didn’t like eye contact either.

“She’s really pretty,” Imogen said, inclining her head toward Casey, who now held the toddler in her lap.

“She is.” You leaned in closer to Imogen, as if to tell her a secret. “I really lucked out.”

“She’s taller than you.” Day one, and Imogen was already laying it all out on the table.

“She sure is.”

“And your hair is like a boy.”

“Yep,” you said, running a hand through it.

“She likes you anyway.” You couldn’t tell if this was a question or a statement.

“Seems like it,” you confirmed, adjusting King in your lap as he snoozed. “I mean, I hope so. We live together and everything.”

“Why?” Imogen asked, finally meeting your eyes. Hers were defiant, almost angry, a dark brown that deepened in the fading light.

“Why do we live together?”

“Why does she like you?”

You grinned. Casey would die when you relayed this conversation to her later. She’d lord it over you for years.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Must be my winning personality.”

“You’re funny,” Imogen decided, scooting a little closer to you.

“Thanks,” you replied, pleased with the progress you’d made. “What’s your sister’s name?” you asked, nodding toward the toddler on Casey’s lap.

“Laylie,” Imogen groaned. “She’s annoying.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you commiserated. “I have a little sister, too.”

“She always colors everything pink.”

“You don’t like pink?”

“No,” she said, emphatically.

“Well,” you said. “We’ve got three rooms for you guys, so if you want to sleep in your own room, you can.”

Imogen squirmed. “No, I want to stay with Laylie.”

“Okay,” you assured her. “That’s fine, too.”

“Sometimes she cries at night and I have to help her stop.”

You watched as Imogen bit her fingernails. You wondered where these kids had come from, what they’d been through, why they’d ended up here, at your and Casey’s house at 4:00 pm on a Tuesday. But you wouldn’t ask. They’d tell you when they were ready.

“You’re a good sister,” you said. “But, you know, if you want to keep sleeping or if Laylie’s being annoying, you can always wake up me or Casey and we’ll help Laylie. Plus, I think she already likes Casey.” You pointed at Casey, who now stood at the door with Laylie on her hip, saying goodbye to the caseworker.

After the door shut, everything stood still for a moment. Everything would change, you realized. Everything had changed. Casey sat down in an armchair across from you, letting Laylie down to explore, and  you just looked at each other. You couldn’t say exactly what was in that look, but it was I love you and We can do this and Watching you do this makes me love you even more. You knew things wouldn’t always be easy, that tomorrow could be terrible, but you’d handle that like you handled everything: together.

“I’ve met Laylie,” Casey started. “But who else do we have here?”

“This is Imogen,” you said, gesturing to the girl next to you, who’d retreated into her sweatshirt again. “And King.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Imogen,” Casey said, sharing a glance with you to confirm that Imogen’s shyness wasn’t just for her.

You stood and stretched a bit, King limp in your arms. “Are you guys thirsty? Imogen, you want to come to the fridge and pick a drink? We’ve got juice boxes, lemonade, water, maybe even a soda or two.”

Imogen nodded. You walked over to Casey and, before she could protest, placed King firmly in her arms. “Here, hold him. What do you want? Water?”

Casey glared at you, equal parts stunned and scared. You smiled at her and shrugged. She was scared of babies, scared of how vulnerable they were, afraid to hurt them. You knew she’d have avoided holding King for as long as possible. You also knew this was ridiculous.

You rummaged through the fridge with Imogen, Laylie reaching up to you for a juice box. When you turned around to look over the kitchen island, Casey was running a finger across King’s dimpled chin. She planted a kiss on his head and smiled softly at him, and you knew it was all going to be okay.

[tcookies777]

Where I am now

Many of you have left such kind comments and sent me messages out of concern for my wellbeing. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I also appreciate your patience as I understand it can be difficult to wait months for a chapter update on a long, tedious fic such as The Anatomy of Love. Your patience for this story is always sincerely appreciated.

I've been struggling for months to find the right words to say. To decide whether to express the ache in my heart or draw lines and stay silent. But while a part of me wishes to say little to nothing on the matter out of a sense of shame, the better part of me recognizes that conversations like the one I'm about to raise are something that needs to be discussed more. If only to raise awareness of the topic or help destigmatize it. If only to normalize issues like these. If only to just help someone else who might be going through a dark period in their life as well.

It's here that I'll give a final warning of the sensitive topics of this post. So feel free to turn away now if the topic of mental illness might be upsetting.

Trigger warning: suicide and mental illness

Ok, so here goes....

My sister committed suicide. I won't go into details of course, but it was not peaceful or quiet - it was violent, gruesome, and excruciatingly painful. So much so that the police thought it might've been a murder and harshly investigated us, making everything more difficult and traumatizing than it already was.

She had battled with depression for nearly 2 decades, deteriorating far beyond recognition. We had grown estranged over the years of my childhood because she pushed loved ones away, blaming them for the way she turned out but also still relying on them to survive. An awful cycle of codependency.

I myself have been battling with high-functioning depression for the past decade, which is one reason why I struggle to respond to people's messages. From readers, friends, and family alike. I, too, have an issue of pushing people away. Because I'm ashamed for them to see how broken my life is. Because I have seen the way people judge you for having a mental illness. I have witnessed friends, family, and even Healthcare workers gaze upon the mentally ill as if they are a sore sight.

To be honest, I understand both sides; it can also be frustrating to pool all your time, effort and resources into trying to help someone who does not want to be helped. It burns you out. That despite your efforts to fight for that person, they do not fight for themselves and you're forced to watch them deteriorate in a slow, agonizing process.

"At the beginning, you’ll do your best to shoulder all my burdens. At the beginning, you’ll be strong about it. But over time, you’ll come to regret it—you'll come to regret me, and the burden that I have become to you." — Kakashi, Chapter 30 of The Anatomy of Love

On the other side, it's hard to take that step to accept the help offered to you. It's hard to find the strength to meet your loved ones halfway and help them to help you when you hardly have the strength to even get out of bed. Yet, you also feel guilty because it feels as if you are just dragging down those around you.

These are the feelings Kakashi expresses to Sakura in Chapter 30, when he tries to explain the reasons why they cannot and should not pursue a relationship. Guilt and self-loathing are the feelings that have been eating me up inside for years, as they ate at my sister as well.

We were born from a loveless, violent marriage. So we didn't know how to love each other, though we did whether we wanted to or not. Likely it was the trauma that bonded us. But put together, my sister and I were oil and water. Loving someone who is your family but is practically a stranger to you is incredibly difficult and taxing.

Yet, I understood completely. You just don't know how to show love to someone when you were never given love.

But despite my estrangement from my sister, I still love her. Being a 1st generation American often means you have nothing but your family. When you have no house, no savings, no relatives to turn to - just your immediate family - it can be a toxic, tough love where you have only that person whether you like them or not. And in Asian culture, family is especially everything even when it's completely dysfunctional.

So why am I updating TAOL now?

It's mostly for myself. Because it's my own comfort fic that allows me to engage in therapeutic writing. It's a story of loneliness and love of all forms (romantic, sexual, familial, etc). More importantly, it's a story about finding family, finding love, and finding home. Something that I've yearned for all my life.

And it's a story of pursuing happiness even when you think you don't deserve it. It's a story that shows good coping mechanisms and bad coping mechanisms and their consequences. It's a story of picking yourself up by the bootstraps even when you just want to sit and wallow in despair. And it's also a story of embracing the love of those around you and taking their hands when they reach out to you and offer their support.

At its core, The Anatomy of Love is a story about fighting loneliness, self-hatred, guilt, and mental illness with love. With the love of friends and family. And with the love for yourself. Because while it's important to have a strong support system to love and look out for you, it is just as important to love yourself and really put in the effort to take care of yourself. And sometimes that means being ""selfish"" and prioritizing yourself over others.

Why am I saying all this?

I'll admit, I'm uncomfortable revealing the skeletons in my closet to strangers online where everyone can judge and share my secrets. I'm embarrassed to admit that TAOL's themes are projections of my own desires, and for people to know that I write about such things in fanfic because of the fact that I don't have them. But I'm just too insecure to talk to anyone 1 on 1. Not to mention that, unfortunately, it's not that simple to just go to therapy (especially when the healthcare system is broke here).

Most importantly, I hope that if there's anyone out there reading this and going through a shitty point in their lives as well... I hope you are able to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in this. We individually have our own demons to fight, but we're all fighting the same battle.

I wish I could say it gets better, but there's honestly no guarantee. So many times, I've had to stop myself from telling patients "things'll get better" because that's a promise that we're taught never to make. The truth is no one knows if things really do get better. Personally, I haven't been feeling better at all. For most of my life, people have been telling me it gets better and to just be patient, but every year it actually gets worse and worse. And just when you think things are starting to look up, it instead gets even more worse.

It's tiresome waiting years for things to get better when it seems it's nowhere in sight.

But I'm trying my best to take it day by day. I do my best to get out of bed, go to work, take a proper shower, feed myself. I do my best to love myself - mostly out of fear that what little family I have will one day disappear and I will have no one left to love me. No one but myself.

But sometimes my best does not feel enough. Sometimes I hate myself more days than others.

That's okay, I tell myself. I hate myself today, but I will love myself tomorrow. I will forgive myself eventually. I can be happy eventually. One day at a time.

Because on my better days, I realize that not every person can afford to wait for things to get better. You have to be the one to take the initiative - get off your ass and take that step forward and make things better yourself. All the people around you can offer you all the help that you need, but the most important thing is that YOU have to want to help yourself.

So that's all I am able to say for now. I do apologize if my thoughts are a bit discombobulated. I am still struggling to find my feet when it feels like I'm still drowning under pounding waves of darkness. If you've read this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read this.

Meanwhile, I hope you guys can continue to enjoy reading The Anatomy of Love. The chapter is not entirely to my satisfaction due to the last minute revisions I made, but I wanted a sprinkle of happiness in the moment. I think that's something we all need.

Also, thank you for the messages you have sent me and the comments you left. I'm truly sorry I do not have the courage or strength to respond, but please know I am forever grateful and touched that people would reach out to a stranger like me.

Hope to see you soon,

TCOOKIES

[4pfsukuna]

Hi!! Hope you’re having a good day so far! I love this asexual!reader x jjk series. Every one of them has been fire!! Could you do asexual!black!reader x Choso perchance pls if you’ve got the time? Anything fluffy or maybe even a meet-cute. Would love to hear your thoughts/drabble. Thank you for all the works so far!!!! 💫

Girl dont make me cry! Also sorry this took 150years and its not my best work so if you want another one let me know😭😭

Drabbles to headcannon ft. Choso kamo

Sketching out the park in the yard of the apartment conplex you live in you sigh frustratedly tearing yet another page out the book.

“You must like trees” a tiny voice says next to you and you notice its one of your neighbors the energetic little boy with pink hair who youve swear youve seen kick through concrete.

“I just cant find the right color” you pout and his eyes widen at all the color pencils you have.

“My brothers good at coloring, he stays in the lines real good. We can ask him” he grins looking behind you and you see a stressed looking man nearly running toward you. His eyes soften when he sees you.

“Cho! She needs help coloring” the tiny boy beams unphased by his brothers distressed state.

Theres large amounts of cursed energy coming from you but you dont seem to be a threat.

“Yuji what did i tell you about running off” he huffs out his robes moving as swiftly as he does. Yujis eyes get watery and his bottom lip trembles.

“But oni-chan” he whines and chosos face instantly softens and you think the soft spot he has for his little brother is adoreable. He somehow convinces his brother to color your trees and you notice he isnt half bad.

“Your struggling because your using one shade of red for the leaves when it should be three to capture how they fade into brown” he points out which you arent too happy to receive.

What? Youre an artist and youre sensitive about your work. You make an excuse to leave shortly after and head back to your apartment.

A few days later you hear a soft knock on your door and to your suprise find Choso and little yuji who smiles brightly at you.

“Oni-chann bought you colored pencils! Its the expensive ones” yuji beams excitedly holding up the gift bag and Choso jaw drops looking at his brother.

“Actually he seen a coloring book he wanted to get you…and i noticed i may have offended you the other night so its a peace offering” he speaks and you notice the marking on his nose you want to ask questions but it’s rude.

Your living room had been transformed into a art studio with paintings, paint, blank canvases pencils and loose sketches floating around and Yuji can help his self as he runs in looking over each piece. Choso is ready to apologize but you instead walk over to yuji explaining all the different artworks and hes shocked at the way he holds onto every word you say.

Its something about the way youre so good with yuji that makes something in him stir not sexual but its like he’s seeing you for the first time. 

Yuji comes over every day after school… which means Choso comes over every day.

You start learning how he’s basically good at every thing cooking, drawing, playing instruments, origamii, baking, it actually pissed you off sometimes it was becoming a game of “anything you can do i can do better and make yours look useless” And you were losing.

It’s when he begins coming over without yuji that you enjoy spending time with him and you notice he’s alot more relaxed the pressure to be the best is gone.

He’s only trying to be the best to impress his little brother.

He enjoys doing little things to make life easier for you, taking out the trash, helping with dishes even keeps your company on wash day. It’s the day he collapses from exhaustion on your couch that you realizes he’s such a people pleaser for people he cares about.

And touch deprived. He falls apart when you place a hand on his forehead dark eyes void of anything just enjoying your proximity.

His favorite place is your lap where he lays his head and closes his eyes as you massage his scalp running your fingers through it, his 2 signature buns long gone.

It’s when you hear his soft snores that you turn down the t.v and set an alarm for when you have to get Yuji from school.

Choso never pressures you into anything sexual or even talks about it, why?

Hes our asexual king!

He’s happy with the quality time and returned acts of service the two of you give another. He gets his fill from watching you and yuji interact. He gets his fill when you see the tiredness in his baggy eyes and pat your lap for him to lay down. 

He gets his fill when you ramble about your day and coworkers and the latest telfar Bag drop. He LOVESSSS going to the hair supply store and when you let him smell the hair products.

He knows better than to use it because he looked up hair type when you went on a rant about your hair having 2 different hair types.

He closed the window when it began talking about weave because you said you didn’t wear that and that yes your hair grew 36 inches over night and changed texture (you still giggle to yourself about it because he was either so gullible or too polite to ask)

Purposely leaves his hair ties so he has a reason to come back, though between Yuji and his great cooking skills he was always welcomed.

[stiltonbasket]

Could we see some of Sizhui's point of view on the whole "my dad just got 'gifted' a new concubine and now he has to send me to war" thing? He's so sweet, always, and Im wondering what he's feeling + what he sees watch LWJ and WWX interact.

Wen Sizhui wasn't quite sure what to think when he heard that a new concubine would be coming to the Wei-fu.

In fact, he hadn't known what to think when his father took Yu-shushu and Li-yiniang in as concubines some six months earlier. Diedie had never been married, and he was far too virtuous to put one foot over the threshold of a brothel or take one of his servants as a tongfang; but one morning, Yu-shushu and Aunt Li simply appeared, as if his father had woken up at the advanced age of seven and thirty and decided that he must have both a shu wife and husband at once, if he couldn't have a legitimate spouse.

Sizhui couldn't imagine what to make of it. At first, he believed that his father had actually fallen in love, though it hardly seemed reasonable that Fuqin could fall in love with two people at once when he had entertained no suitors or bridal candidates over the past eighteen years—but Yu Zhenhong behaved as if he was Father's lover, and Wen Sizhui did not learn otherwise until his Qing-ayi announced that Li Shuai was with child.

The sounds of Li Shuai being ill in the night began scarcely eight hours after she arrived at the High General's manor; and Sizhui had been taught enough about the care of ladies in their confinement to understand (once he knew why she was sick so often, and why she didn't seem frightened about it) that her child couldn't possibly belong to his father.

Judging by the haggard look on Yu Zhenhong's face whenever Aunt Li had one of her bad days, it was likely that he didn't belong to Diedie, either.

And then, at the turn of the winter, Hanguang-jun arrived. This made some modicum of sense to Sizhui, because Wen-zongzhu was determined to mete out some form of punishment that would make Yu-shushu miserable without physically harming him: and also because Hanguang-jun was difficult to control, whether he had the use of all four of his limbs or not. Before his hasty removal to the High Genera's manor, it was evident that he would be less of a threat under Fuqin's care than the jailers'—so Wen-zongzhu freed Hanguang-jun from the underground dungeon, and warned him to keep his head down lest he provoke a manhunt for his young nephew, Lan Jingyi.

Now, nearly half a year after Father and Hanguang-jun's wedding, Sizhui finds himself wondering if his stepfather's kindness towards him is due to his love for that nephew, whom Hanguang-jun will likely never see again unless Wen Ruohan manages to capture him.

"Is that what you think?" Hanguang-jun asks, when Sizhui visits his courtyard on the day before his regiment's scheduled departure to Langya. "I understand why, of course: but you and Jingyi are wholly different to me."

Sizhui puts his head to one side like a curious bird. "Why?"

"Because you give me thrice the amount of heartache that he does, if not more," his stepfather says drily. "I never had to fear for my nephew's life until the night I was captured, when I saw your father's men fighting their way towards Jing'er on the battlefield. Before that, he was so well-protected by my brother and Nie-zongzhu that he rarely suffered so much as a nosebleed in my presence. To know that you will be going to war—a child like you—"

His voice stutters.

"Father managed to get permission for me to go as a medic." Sizhui says quickly. "If General Dai agrees with Wen-zongzhu, I can stay behind the front lines and keep away from the fighting altogether."

"En. Good," Hanguang-jun nods.

He turns away and wheels himself towards the chest of drawers on the other side of the room; and once there, he opens the bottom drawer to reveal the sandalwood box Diedie gifted to him that New Year's.

"Come here," he says quietly. "Hold out your arm."

Hanguang-jun reaches into the box and withdraws something long and shining from its depths. At first glance, it seems to be a skein of silken thread: but when Wen Sizhui looks closer, he realizes that the object is a fine lock of his stepfather's hair, braided into a smooth, dark rope and reinforced with eight minute silver clasps.

"What is it?" he asks, as Hanguang-jun pulls him closer and loops the lock of hair thrice about his wrist. "Did my Fuqin..."

"Your father had nothing to do with this," Hanguang-jun replies at once, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "The hair is mine, and I have strengthened it with my spiritual energy, so that it will not break or fray—and the silver clasps were made from the cloud ornament on my mo'e.

"This will keep you from coming to harm at the hand of any soldier trained in the Lan school of cultivation, but it is not infallible. No spiritual blade forged in the Cloud Recesses will be able to touch you while the bracelet is on your wrist, but it will have no effect if you are attacked by a Nie cultivator, or a Lan whose cultivation is too poor for anything but a common sword."

He grasps Sizhui's hands and looks up into his eyes: and suddenly, Sizhui remembers the steady gaze of his late grandmother, who passed away just after Father was last elevated in Wen-zongzhu's service.

"Go to Wei Ying," Hanguang-jun says roughly, nearly five minutes later. "You and he will be parted in the morning, and you have not yet said farewell to your yima and Yu Zhenhong."

Wen Sizhui nods and makes his way to the door. He pauses on the threshold and turns back to look at Hanguang-jun, who is still staring bitterly at the spot of red carpet Sizhui was standing two minutes ago.

"I'll be all right," he says, trying to smile. "After all, yifu—even your Jing'er made it back from Hejian, didn't he?"

At the mention of Lan Jingyi, Hanguang-jun looks positively wretched.

"He had his father with him. I was there, too," he murmurs. "And if that arrow had not touched Wei Ying, you would have never had to ride to war without your father at your side."