#got a good healthy dose of anger happening

[genderfluid-druid]

.

[trashpandato]

Desk

“Would it really be too much to ask for one day, one single day, where you don’t put yourself in harm’s way?”

Lena startles. She knew Kara would show up to check on her, had expected some fussing. What she did not expect was to see Kara storming into her office, her voice hard and angry. 

“I’m fine, Kara. Nothing happened.”

Lena tries to sound calm, but the effect of her words is undermined by the crunch of glass under her shoes as she approaches Kara.

It had been a productive morning at work, nothing out of the ordinary, up until the point when a confused middle-aged man barged in with a baseball bat and smashed Lena’s office to pieces. He had overpowered the security guards downstairs and then Jess, managed to destroy Lena’s bar, including the nice new decanter Alex had got her for her birthday, and a few lamps before Lena had subdued him with a good dose of pepper spray.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” Kara grinds out, her jaw clenched.

Lena can see that behind the anger, Kara’s eyes are full of worry. She decides it’s time to show Kara that she’s okay, healthy, unhurt.

She reaches out and takes both of Kara’s hands in hers, pulls her over to the chair in front of her desk and pushes her down to sit before she settles down on Kara’s lap, straddling her.

“Darling. I’m fine. See?” Lena lifts one of Kara’s hands and puts it right above her heart, letting Kara feel her heartbeat.

Kara lets out a shuddering breath.

“I just, why did you have to put out that press release? You knew it would make people angry.”

Lena sighs. “You know I couldn’t just ignore the latest news about Lex. If I had said nothing, people would have been angry, too.”

There’s a huff but not much else and Lena can still feel how tense Kara is. She knows that deep down, this isn’t about the press release, that Kara understands why she had to do it. It’s much more about the fact that Kara wasn’t around when the attack happened, and about the fact that Kara knows this sort of thing is going to happen again. It’s Lena’s reality, and Lena knows how much Kara hates it.

Lena decides that maybe it’s time to distract them both. She moves her hand that is still pushing Kara’s palm against her heart, maneuvers Kara’s hand lower until it is cupping her breast. At the same time, she leans forward to press a soft kiss just under Kara’s ear.

Lena thinks her new tactic is working when she hears a small gasp, feels Kara squirm a little under her.

But then there’s a loud crack.

When Lena turns toward the source of the noise, she sees Kara’s other hand pressed against her desk, the surface warped and splintered where Kara’s fingers are. She glances back at Kara, who is blushing furiously.

“You know,” Lena purrs, “I always figured you would break this desk one day.”

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Failure

Plot: Y/n deals with the emotional ramifications of her night with Jamie.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: f!reader, heavily insinuated smut, language

A/N: We’re rounding the final turn and we’re nearly to the end…I mean, there’s five or six chapters left but we’re very much in the last quarter of the story. As always, I don’t let my characters just have their happy endings so fair warning lol. Hope you enjoy!!

——————

Most alcohol-drenched nights are followed by a healthy dose of regret the next morning. When the sun comes up and shines a light on mistakes made under the influence, there are red cheeks, apologies and promises to never let it happen again.

But when Y/n woke up, head pounding and body curled into Jamie’s, the earth beneath her shattered.

She was up and out of bed faster than her hangover wanted her to move. Thankfully, Jamie was a heavy sleeper and hadn’t budged when she slid out of his arms.

Y/n’s sober self had had the good sense not to unpack, cutting her getaway time in half. She threw on her jeans and sneakers from the day before, hurriedly threw her toiletry bag in her purse and tiptoed to the door.

Just as her hand reached for the knob, she looked back at Jamie. Peacefully sleeping, arm still stretched out around the air she’d occupied…

Y/n took a shuddering breath, pushing out the door before she could think anything of the sight.

Room 502 was closest to the elevator, giving her a quick escape. As she pressed the lobby and ‘door close’ buttons repeatedly, the memories began to flesh themselves out. As much as they could through the vodka fueled haze.

After dinner, Jamie and her had gone to a club. At some point, one of them had pulled one of them onto the dance floor. Y/n couldn’t remember who’d suggested it, only that it had sounded like a great idea in the moment. Things began to blur after that.

She frustratedly dug her palms into her eyes. How the hell could they let something like that happen?

In reality, it hadn’t been anyone’s idea. Y/n hadn’t invited Jamie in, and Jamie hadn’t asked. The whole thing had come about as naturally as the rest of their relationship. Their bleary and bright eyes had locked in the empty hall, Their bodies, so near, had drawn closer and their lips had met before they knew what they were doing.

Y/n’s stomach clenched, the nausea of both the hangover and the memory hitting suddenly.

The elevator dinged, signaling she’d arrived on the ground floor. She squeezed herself and her suitcase out the doors before they’s fully opened and marched through the lobby. It was still too early for the hotel to be busy, even for it being London. It felt like an hour only meant for people with secrets, sneaking out with nothing but shame and a prayer.

The brisk morning air slapped Y/n, angering her post-drunk state more. Nevertheless, she pushed forward and began to wave wildly at the street, waiting for a cab to catch the signal. She glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, half-expecting a half-dressed Jamie to come running through the lobby, chasing her down.

Blessedly, a cab pulled up to the curb and saved Y/n from the possibility. As the driver got out to help her with her suitcase, she stopped him.

“I’ve got it,” she called, waiting for him to pop the trunk and dropped her luggage in.

Y/n’s phone buzzed in her pocket and stole her focus. She opened her home screen to find the worst possible headlines.

‘Jamie Tartt Celebrates England Victory with Mystery Woman.’

‘Tartt’s New Tartt? New Couple Spotted Exiting Club.’

‘A Perfect 10? #9 and +1 Dance The Night Away.’

“Shit,” Y/n’s voice broke. The cars whooshing past her and their horns pulled her back to reality. She threw herself in the backseat and took stock of herself. She hadn’t realized how sweaty she was, how fast her chest was rising and falling, the slight tremble to her hands.

“Where to, love?”

Y/n jumped at the question, briefly meeting the cabbie’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Richmond Green.”

He grunted in reply and steered the car back onto the road. As they pulled away, Y/n glanced back at the hotel. Jamie lay inside its heart, blissfully unaware of the nightmare waiting for him. Warm and solid, he’d stay asleep, holding onto her ghost.

In her stupor, she hadn’t even bothered to look at what top she’d been sleeping in. She didn’t recognize it. It was a dark grey t shirt, oversized with a familiar and distinct smell to it.

Jamie’s.

Y/n’s breath trembled, the tears welled in her eyes. She had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

—————————

“Fuck, shit, hell,” Y/n whispered under her breath, using every four letter word in her vocabulary. She hastened her steps, hitting the cobblestone of her street with a new fervor. She needed to be in her home, hidden from the world and everybody in it.

But the world was rarely ever so accommodating.

Stood outside Y/n’s door was Keeley, dressed more casually and fidgeting more than Y/n had ever seen.

“There you are!” Keeley exclaimed, running to her friend and grabbing her arms, “I’ve been texting you all morning.”

Y/n’s head throbbed at the pure volume of Keeley’s voice. If there’d been any alerts on her phone, she hadn’t seen them past the tabloid headlines. “Yeah, I, uh, went away for the night. Just to clear my head.”

Keeley was far too preoccupied to think anything of it. “I’ve got amazing news,” she smiled, “Rebecca offered to back the company.”

Either Y/n was dreaming, or the vodka was coming back for a second round of delusion. “What?”

“She’s financing us,” Keeley’s grin spread.

Y/n supposed that she should have felt relief. 24 hours before, she’d have been joined Keeley and probably started dancing in the street. The job she loved was saved. The life she’d built would stay whole.

Now it terrified her.

“Oh my gosh,” Y/n breathed, relieved at least that she still had a paycheck, “Wow. Okay.”

“I thought you’d be thrilled,” Keeley nudged Y/n’s arms, “You don’t have to leave Richmond now. Nothing changes.”

The fear deepened.

“Right, of course,” Y/n tried to smile, “I’m just…surprised.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Keeley agreed, “I didn’t ask for her help or anything. She just offered and I tried to turn her down but…I really wanted to save this.”

Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her brain felt like it had been chopped into pieces and were floating around her skull. There was too much information to process, but this much she knew…

She’d slept with Jamie and she’d gotten her job at Richmond back.

Two things that couldn’t co-exist.

“Okay, I just wanted to tell you the news,” Keeley broke her out of her thoughts, cheerily wishing her goodbye.“I’ll leave you to your weekend.”

Just as she began to walk off, Y/n called her back. “Wait! You’re…you’re gonna need help getting the office back together. Why don’t I move into the building for a while?”

Keeley’s brows furrowed, “You want to leave Richmond?”

“I mean, there’s gonna be a shit ton of work to do,” Y/n explained, “Plus with a smaller staff, we’re going to have to work harder to maintain our clients. If I’m there, we can get twice as much done.”

Keeley didn’t object, giving the idea a fair hearing out.

“I can still take care of everything Richmond related,” Y/n assured, she was half defending the idea to herself, “Just from a distance.”

It had been an emotional 72 hours, for both women. Keeley had lost her company and gained it back, among other events. She was still raw. If Y/n was willing to help, she wasn’t going to turn it down.

Keeley reached for Y/n’s hands, her voice lowering. “Thank you.”

Y/n took a breath of relief, the whole plan hinged on Keeley not asking questions.

“Okay,” Keeley smiled, “Go get some rest. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“You got it,” Y/n replied, squeezing Keeley’s hands before parting. As soon as her boss’s back was turned, Y/n’s smile collapsed.

She unlocked her apartment door and shoved inside. She fell against the wood as soon as it shut.

Y/n had allowed herself to open up to her co-workers because it had killed her not to. She’d craved their kinship more than she’d coveted her solitude. It had been difficult, letting the Greyhounds in, but they hadn’t disappointed her. She’d had no regrets.

Until now.

Not only was her friendship with Jamie ruined by one stupid decision, it had opened the floodgates to all sorts of questions. Why had this happened? Was there a reason why it had happened with Jamie specifically? What was he thinking? What was he feeling? What was she feeling?

Was there…something?

Y/n had successfully avoided getting attached to anyone past a platonic level. But Jamie had become…something far past a friend. He was an extension of her, like an arm or leg might be. No one had ever gained her trust like he had. No one had ever made her happier than he had. If Y/n hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was somehow sent to help heal her.

Days before, when she’d thought she had lost her job, the thought of leaving Jamie had leveled her. It had driven her to tears before she could get the full idea through her head. Missing Rebecca or Keeley would hurt, but nothing and no one could compare to losing Jamie.

Somewhere in her subconscious, Y/n could recall the kisses they’d shared. The feel of Jamie’s arms wrapped around her, hands grasping at whatever he could hold. But above all else, she could still feel the tenderness. The safety. The peace.

Y/n knew by the ache in her chest, she’d failed.

She buckled under the weight of the revelation, sinking to ground and curling in on herself. The tears came quick, as they only could from true emotion. The kind of feeling that holds the power to lift you up or crush your soul.

She was fucked.

—————————

Was avoiding your problems harder than dealing with them?

Y/n pondered the question as she circled Nelson Road Stadium for the third time. Practice started at 10AM sharp, but she was waiting a few extra minutes. Chances couldn’t be taken.

It had been nearly a week since the Wembley match and she’d developed a system to avoid ever crossing paths with Jamie. She’d packed up her office essentials the day after Keeley had given her the good news. She scheduled her meetings with Rebecca and Higgins during training and made sure she was out the door before the boys broke for lunch. All other matters were handled over email. So far it had been successful, she hadn’t seen Jamie once.

Privately, she’d dodged 32 calls, 15 voicemails and 25 text messages.

She knew she was running, that it wasn’t fair to Jamie just up and leaving that morning without so much as a note. But her fear was stronger than her empathy.

Since returning to Richmond, Y/n had felt the sparkle fade. The quaint little town’s magic was either passing over her head or had denounced her entirely. She supposed, as she passed the Crown and Anchor on her way home, that it had to do with her mood. Nothing had seemed right in the world since her night with Jamie.

Pulling her keys out her purse, Y/n looked ahead to her front door. There on her front stoop, anxiously tapping his foot was the very man she’d been avoiding.

Jamie looked up, half-surprised that she was actually there. He jumped to his feet and pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Y/n replied, her voice unnaturally high.

There was an overwhelming amount of things to be said but neither of them could utter one. The last time they’d seen each other had created ten new walls for them to break through.

“I, uh,” Jamie scratched the back of his neck, “I tried callin’ ya and texting ya.”

Y/n took a deep breath, “Yeah, um, I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, “Course.”

Y/n fiddled with her keys as he fisted his pockets nervously. Their conversations had never been so lacking.

Jamie inhaled, “Look, I need to apologize for that night-“

“No,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, “Jamie-“

“No, I just need you to know that I didn’t, like,” he struggled, “Plan it or something.”

“Neither did I,” Y/n shook her head.

“I didn’t think that was gonna happen.”

“I didn’t either.”

Their words overlapped each other, both so eager to clear the air. The only difference were their intentions.

“Look, Jamie,” Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, “What happened was a mistake. We were both drunk, we were both excited about the win and it just happened. I don’t blame you for anything so…we’re good. We never have to talk about it again.”

Jamie wasn’t sure how he’d expected the moment to go, but Y/n brushing off the whole thing was…it wasn’t it.

“Right, yeah,” he nodded. He had a choice in front of him, two conversational roads leading to either the best or worst conclusions. Jamie knew if he didn’t try, he’d regret it. “But…what if it wasn’t a mistake?”

Y/n was firm in her stance, but it didn’t show through her person. She was nearly trembling. “No, Jamie, it was.”

“No, I get we were drunk and there was a lot goin’ on, but,” Jamie took a hesitant step forward, “What if…what if we…I don’t know, what if it meant-“

“Jamie,” Y/n cut him off. Where his thoughts were leading was unbearable and she refused to entertain any part of it. “We fucked up. We don’t have to talk about it.”

In the days since the England win, Jamie had gone through every emotion he thought himself capable of feeling, plus a few new ones. The second he’d woken up in bed alone, he knew it hadn’t started that way. He’d put back together the memories of the night, dancing and drinking, stumbling back into the hotel room. Y/n was at the center of it all, soft and warm and his, just for a moment in time. Before he’d even opened his eyes that fateful morning, Jamie was at peace.

The calm ended the moment he glanced around the room and realized Y/n had left. In a hungover panic most likely, she’d run out. Jamie had been quick to try and catch her, throwing his clothes on and running down to the lobby. There was no trace or her. Back in the room, he’d found nothing left over of her. Jamie knew he’d messed up before he even knew if the blame was his to take.

He’d texted her, asking to talk. When there was no reply, he called and left messages, begging for two minutes of her time. He’d waited in the parking lot of Nelson Road, watching for her car to pull in until the very last minute before training. He’d raced into the building after each practice, roaming the halls expectantly. He’d knocked on her office door ten times a day, finding it empty every time. Finally, when he felt like he was fully losing his mind, Jamie drove to her place. He’d stay on her doorstep all night, that was perfectly fine with him. He needed to see her.

All of it had confirmed in Jamie’s head what his heart already knew.

He was crazy about Y/N.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened or what had changed, but somewhere along the line he’d fallen for her. The only thing about their night together Jamie regretted was how it happened. He didn’t want some drunken hook-up. He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted, but it wasn’t what had brought them to that moment. Standing outside of Y/n’s flat, avoiding the topic in its entirety.

Jamie swallowed, his eyes bouncing around her face looking for any cracks in her exterior. She wasn’t budging.

“Yeah,” he relented, “Okay.”

The conversation had scared Y/n enough, she was terrified to face Jamie in all her uncertainty about him. What truly made her afraid was the hesitation in Jamie’s eyes, the new tenderness in which he looked at her with. The possibility that he knew exactly what he felt. Y/n couldn’t handle any of it.

“So…we’re good,” she faked a smile, it didn’t reach half her face.

“Yeah,” Jamie’s whole body seemed to be caving in on itself. His tall posture had become lazy, his head drooped with resignation, “We’re good.”

In the space between them rested everything they weren’t saying, creating an ever thicker silence.

“I’ll, uh,” Jamie briefly pointed down the street, “Guess I’ll see ya at work.”

“Yeah,” Y/n tried to sound cheery, “See you.”

With clear hesitation, the two of them walked past one another, Jamie toward the road and Y/n to her door.

“Wait,” Y/n called, slipping her key in the lock and popping inside.

Jamie stayed on the sidewalk, his eyes tracing the stairs past the door. He’d never not been invited in.

Y/n crossed back over the threshold, holding a folded piece of grey fabric in her hand. She held it out to Jamie.

“I, uh,” she stammered, “I’ve been meaning to get this back to you.”

Jamie unfolded it to find it was one of his shirts. In their drunken stupor, he must have given it to her to sleep in. The crack developing in his chest deepened.

“Great,” he quickly covered, balling the top up and nodding gratefully.

“I washed it,” Y/n added.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jamie replied, he didn’t even know what he was saying. They’d crossed some new line of intimacy and it was killing him. If nothing more was going to come from them talking, he needed to leave. “I’ll see ya.”

Y/n’s breath caught as Jamie hastily descended her front steps and walked off into the night. He didn’t look back.

Entering her apartment and shutting the door, Y/n felt like she’d just laid a part of herself to rest. Simultaneously, a piece she’d long thought dead was blooming back to life. Neither one settled her.

Allowing herself to feel…something…for someone was the great mile marker she never dared to cross. It was one thing to get coffee with Keeley or go out clubbing with the team. It was a whole other arena to let someone to see her most vulnerable self. To give someone your best, your worst, and everything in between. To trust someone that much…

Y/n knew she could never let someone in that far, and that it had been a mistake to let Richmond in at all.

She sat down on her staircase, pulling her knees to her chest. She could never come so close to losing her sanity again. Whether she liked it or not, everything had to be different going forward.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 16: Let's Talk Strategy

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.6k

“Do I have to keep these on?” You shook your shackles in front of Marco’s face as you laid on the examination table. 

“Considering you knocked out the last person in charge of you with nothing but your fist and your sea prism bracelet? Yes. You do.”

You groaned in despair, dramatically flopping your arms back down onto the table. “What if my lack of energy harms the baby?”

“That’s why you have checkups every day,” Marco said. “Now lay still.”

You groaned again, but did as you were told. Perhaps if you did everything without complaining too much, they might take your shackles off before you got to Marineford. And then they wouldn’t be able to stop your decisions. 

Marco placed his stethoscope on your stomach, and you sucked in a deep breath at the contact of the cold metal against you. Being affected by temperature was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. But you didn’t complain. 

A smile widened across his lips after a moment, and he looked at you with excitement. “Do you want to hear it?”

You frowned, unsure of what he meant. “Hear what?”

“The heartbeat.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how to answer that. In your mind, this baby only existed when you and Ace were together. He wasn’t here to witness it, and it felt cruel doing this without him. 

“Listen,” Marco advised, holding the stethoscope up to you.

You took it from him hesitantly, but you listened. A soft whooshing filled your ears, strong and steady. 

“It’s fast,” you whispered. “Is it okay? Did I do-“

“It’s normal,” Marco reassured you. “Their heartbeats are faster while they’re developing. But everything looks and sounds completely normal.”

“A healthy baby,” you said, placing your hand protectively over your stomach. 

“A healthy baby,” Marco confirmed, a smile on his face. 

The two of you walked to the commanders and strategists meeting. You sat alone at the division two seats, trying not to think about how there were two empty commander seats now. 

Everyone eyed your sea prism shackles, but nobody said anything about them. You were thankful for that, even if it did leave an awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“Has every subordinate captain been notified?” Your father asked, looking around the table. 

“We all told everyone the same thing. Meet outside of Marineford and we’ll storm in together.”

“Good,” your father said. “Then we can all ride in together.”

“That won’t work,” you said. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Elmy said. “We just have to hope the wind is in our favor.”

“No,” you said, your mind racing to think of another solution. “Aokiji will freeze the sea before we even make it there. And Akainu will burn down our flags. Instead of saving him, we’ll have a front row seat to his execution. We can’t-“

You couldn’t keep talking in fear of your voice giving your emotion away. 

“We can do the bubble trick,” you said, changing the subject. “How we get down to Fishman Island, but head for Marineford instead.”

“That won’t work,” Elmy shot back. “We don’t know anyone skilled enough to do all of our boats in a week's time.”

Your eyes shot to your father. “I know someone,” you said. “He can do it. Please. Let me ask him.”

His eyes flashed pure anger. “I thought I told you-“

“I’ll take Marco!” You cried. “Please. We’re close to Sabaody. Me and Ace talked to him the last time we went through. He’s a genius. Please, dad-“

“No,” he hissed, glaring at you. If you hadn’t been in your current state, you probably would’ve gotten another dose of his haki treatment. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting. There was no point in strategizing what would happen after you arrived in Marineford.  If you rode into battle in the way they were proposing, everyone would die before their feet touched land. 

There had to be another way. A way to convince your father to let you go. But you would worry about that later. 

You swore you could still hear the soft, fast heartbeat of your child, fighting and growing with every passing hour. The baby was so tiny, and yet you were halfway through your pregnancy. How on earth could something that small grow to be the size of a baby in four and a half months? It simply didn’t seem possible. 

And yet, it was happening. A new person was growing inside of you. You had to believe it contained only the best parts of you and Ace. Hopefully more of Ace’s traits than yours. His kindness, his love, his willingness to sacrifice…

“Y/N,” Marco prompted, tapping your shoulder lightly. “Let’s go get dinner. You need to eat.”

You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed that the meeting had ended.

You were about to argue and say that you weren’t hungry, but you decided not to. You rose without a word and followed him to the mess hall, painfully aware of your father’s eyes on your back. 

“Did that baby take all the spunk out of you?” Marco mumbled the question in your ear so nobody else could hear as you walked into the mess hall. 

“I’m thinking.” You waved him away from your ear and picked up a tray. 

“You should probably double up on fruits and vegetables,” Marco said. “And cut out the fish.”

You did as you were told. Your father had told you not to argue, so you wouldn’t argue. Maybe if you listened, then so would he.

You sat down across from Marco at an empty table, your mind still running through possibilities. 

“Hello?? Earth to Y/N?” Marco was waving his hand in front of your face, snapping you back to the present. 

“Oh.” You blinked a few times and realized your tray was still full. He must’ve thought you were trying to get out of eating. “Sorry.”

You shoveled some food into your mouth to appease Marco. You knew it was the same ingredients and recipes as always, but it tasted off. Thatch hadn’t had part in the process, and you could taste that, somehow. 

“You need to snap out of it,” Marco scolded. “We’re only going to be able to do this if you are at your very best. We can’t lose our best strategist now, okay?”

“There’s no strategy that can get us past the Vice Admirals,” you said, eating another bite of tasteless food. “Not if we’re sailing in that obvious.”

“How well do you know this coating mechanic?” Marco asked, biting his lip. 

You shrugged, trying to think of a cross between truth and lie. “I know his name and I know his work ability.”

“You’re sure he can do it?” Marco asked.

You nodded. “If I ask nicely enough.”

Marco sighed, shaking his head. “Let me see what I can do. Go get ready for bed. Any funny business and-”

“I know,” you said, finishing up your plate and standing to take your leave. You could feel your voice trembling as you spoke. “Trust me Marco, I know.”

You walked to your room and stood in front of the door, too afraid to go in. You didn’t want to know what it was like in that room without Ace. 

“Is it locked?” Izou’s voice startled you, and you wiped your eyes before you turned to face him.

“No,” you whispered, and then cleared your voice before speaking again. “No, it’s not.”

“Ah,” Izou said, his eyes darting back to the door. “Is there something you would like me to grab?”

“What happened to Jinx?” you asked, ignoring his question. 

“The cat?” Izou raised an eyebrow and then chuckled. “A day after you and Ace left, Marco heard some ungodly cries coming from the room, and we all kind of collectively remembered that you all had a cat. Marco’s been watching her since you guys left. They get along quite well.”

Tears poured out of your eyes. You shouldn’t have been so relieved over a stupid cat, but at least Jinx was still okay. At least there was still something left of Ace here. 

“Do you need me to get anything for you?” Izou asked again, looking at you.

You shook your head. You couldn’t open that door. Not yet. Instead, you took off towards Marco’s room. He would have everything you needed to get by for now. 

When you opened the door, you saw a black mound on the bed, eyes staring at you threateningly.

“Hi Jinx,” you sobbed, kneeling down next to the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. You felt so guilty for returning alone. 

Jinx rose from her place on the bed and approached you, and she rubbed her face against yours. It was so surprising that for a moment, you stopped crying out of shock. Jinx purred softly against you, and you couldn’t help but feel like maybe-maybe-everything would be okay. 

“Alright,” Marco said, entering the room. “We have a private meeting with Pops tomorrow morning. I think-hey,” Marco realized you were on the ground, and he bent down next to you. “Are you okay?”

You started crying again at his question. There was no way to answer it. 

“I’m so scared,” you sobbed softly, trying not to scare Jinx away.

“Me too, kid,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, and you could tell he was telling the truth. You could feel Marco’s fear in his grip around you. You weren’t sure if that was relieving or terrifying. 

The three of you fell asleep in a strange pile, entangled together with hope and despair.

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld

[youngpettyqueen]

“I told you not to get lost in the wild” and “Give that man a healthier outlet”.

oh hello anon!! ty for the interest <3

"i told you not to get lost in the wild"

this is my post-The Best of Enemies fic because the end of that episode makes me scream and I need someone to fucking hold Hawkeye for a solid 3 hours

this one's short, angsty, and sweet. BJ and Charles are gonna see Hawkeye's in a State and immediately do their best to figure out what happened, take care of him, that sort of thing. this is a very very self-indulgent one because again. just need Hawkeye to be held

ive posted quite a bit of what little I have written for this fic but here's what the summary's gonna be - "Hawkeye's hands are covered in blood."

"give that man a healthier outlet"

this idea came to me extremely impulsively while I was talking to @onekisstotakewithme the other day so I literally have NOTHING written for this but the premise is that BJ gets Mulcahy to teach him boxing

I got the idea because I was going on a tangent about how BJ hits the speed bag completely wrong and thats why it breaks, and then I thought about him maybe going back to Mulcahy, and then I thought well. BJ certainly could go back to Mulcahy after the events of Period of Adjustment, seeking an outlet for his anger because he never wants to hit someone like he hit Hawkeye ever again, and Mulcahy of course obliges and starts coaching him

this is some projection I will admit! I do kickboxing workouts multiple times a week and thats my main outlet, and as someone who relates to BJ a Lot, I thought it might be interesting to explore him doing it. this is also to explore BJ as a character, dig into his anger, because I dont buy into him being this super repressed guy but I do think he should have a healthy outlet, and I think boxing, even just on bags/practice with Mulcahy, would be a good outlet for him. also, I think it'd be fun to explore Mulcahy as a character, let him and BJ relate to each other and deepen their friendship, which is very very sweet sometimes and I wish we got more of it

this one will be a one shot, but longer, spanning across a longer timeline. think like my first fic, carry you, carry me. it'll be a lot of character exploration, a good dose of angst, hurt/comfort, but also some silliness and laughs

[mooifyourecows]

my mom is super pissed and super dissapointed BUT knows i wasnt involved and understands why i didnt act differently so i think ill be okay with her. my sister who wasn't involved (my older sister) is super pissed, but again not so much with me but mostly with my other sister because she did participate , but my older sister did scream at me for a few minutes, which made her a little less mad, and i desereved it. she also cant yell at my other sister because shes actially fucking crazy when she has to face the consequences of her actions and would likely do something irreversable because she feels like shit about what happened nd my older sister knows that, which kind of pissed her off more, but i think itll mostly be okay.

ive also decided i will not see any of those people aside from my sister outside of school, and will not speak to them or interact with them unless they initiate, and i will keep it short. im tired of being dragged into shit that i dont wanna be a part of. also that boy did take responsibility for one of the things used being his, so hopefully my sister and i will not get drug charges , but my 'friends' literally said they lied to the police. i dont know if thats true or if they just dont want everyone to think they snitcehd , but i refuse to be involved with people who think its okay to break the law and when they get caught, to do it again. theyre stupid and i cant deal with that. especially when half of them are shitheads who dont like me anyways.

ive also decided to see if i can tutor after school and also write handwritten letters to the officers superintendent and principal to attempt to get my reputation back. i know you said it doesnt matter, and its probably pointless to even worry about, but i do really care what these people think of me, and i want them to trust me and believe in me and support me. i am nothing without my reputation and intelligence at this school. all these people have known each other since diapers and have lives to fall back on. they have family farms and loyal friends and support from their community. i dont have that so i want to earn support and loyalty and this is the only way i know how.

i really appreciate the support through all my struggles ive shared with you. even thought you arent in my life physically and youre just some cool person i know from the internet who writes silly stories i like , its nice to feel like someone cares about you. ive always found it difficult sharing my thoughts and feelings, especially with adults mostly because i didnt want to be judged, and i dont feel judged with you, and i can get advice from someone with more life experience. thank you for that. i hope youre doing well, especially after your surgery(?)

I'm proud of you for setting up new boundaries and distancing yourself from those people. But I hope you also know that its not fair for your older sister and mom to use you as a scapegoat because your other sister isn't mentally stable enough to take her fair share of the punishment. Just because she can't handle it doesn't mean you should have to handle double the dose of yelling and anger. That's not healthy, especially since you were already an unwilling party to that whole experience.

And I hope you realize that you have worth and value outside of what people think of you! It's okay to be concerned with your reputation but keep in mind that nobody will truly understand the real you because they're not in your head all the time. They will judge you on only what they see and believe about you so it's impossible to curate a perfect image. But that's okay! People aren't meant to understand one another to such degrees anyway. It's alright to be flawed. We are all just works in progress, trying our best to make the most of what we've got

You'll understand this more and more the older you get. And your desire to be seen in a good light by others will fade as you realize that yours is the one true opinion that REALLY matters. Once you start liking and respecting yourself, everyone else can take a long walk off a short pier 😌

Stay positive! Things can and will always get better 🖤

[captains-simp]

hey! so i love wanda and i was wondering if you could write one kind of enemies to lovers or something like that where reader and wanda don't get along well, jealous scene or maybe a very suggestive fight. very angst but happy fluffy ending please

Enemies to lovers owns my whole gay heart and I CANNOT write it without there being sexual tension so xksksjsks smut alert

@g-cordelia hope it's okay to combine your request with this too so there's a healthy dose of angst and fluff with it

"Please don't go."

"Don't you fucking lie to me."

Warnings: choking, fingering, spanking, strap on sex, mentions of oral and hints at mild injury

6k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Your actions jeopardised the whole mission." Steve said sternly before raising his voice when he saw he received no reaction from you or the redhead. "Whatever is going on between you has to stop!"

"You say that like it's ever been any different." Natasha added.

The pair that usually felt like the protective big brother and sister of the team where acing the role of disappointed parents. Admittedly that did make you feel bad, but Wanda showed no signs of giving an apology and you would be damned if you did first.

Natasha and Steve waited for any kind of response from either of you and got nothing. You and Wanda continued to glare at each other from opposite sides of the table, your stubnorness stopping either of you from looking at the two standing at the head of the table.

"Just write up your reports." Steve sighed, giving into the tension of the room before anyone else. If it had been just you, Wanda and Natasha there was no telling how long you'd be in there.

You both got up from the table at the same time, still refusing to break eye contact.

"Y/n stay behind a minute." Oh so they're switching it up to disappointed teachers now. Your attention fell to Steve in a look of confusion although that didn't mean you missed the smirk that played on the corner of Wanda's lips. You cursed her like a sailor in your head and hoped she heard but her back was to you and she was strolling out the room.

"I thought you guys were getting better." Steve sighed as he leant against the table.

"We were when we didn't have to talk to each other." You said honestly. There had been a few weeks prior where you and Wanda had had no missions together and therefore had no reason to talk or train with one another.

"You can't resort to avoiding each other as a way to solve your problems. All that does is make things escalate even more when you're actually together which will inevitably happen. Because believe it or not you two are on the same side and have to act like it." Natasha said sternly. You stared down at the table and thought about how how her words were. But it wasn't like you had that warning before.

When the pair infront of you knew you weren't going to say anything in response Steve filled the silence once again. "You're both suspended from missions until you can learn to work together." He decided.

"What?!" You cried as you snapped your head towards them and stood up. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly." Natasha said. You looked frantically between the two in disbelief.

"Alright." You said finally and clenched your jaw. You turned around and left the room without objection from the two Avengers, heading straight towards Wanda's room.

You never really knew why you and Wanda never got on. Maybe it was because she reminded you so much of the popular girls in high school you always envied while wanting them in your bed...no, it definetly couldn't be that. You just didn't know what.

It didn't take long to get there when you were walking like you were out for blood, that wouldn't be an unexpected result of what you planned. You banged on her door several times in a closed fist so it didn't take her long to answer.

She looked concerned when she opened the door and as soon as she realised it was you that same smirk from the meeting room fell back into place.

"Did they ground you?" She asked as she leant against the doorframe.

"Suspended." You spat. A shit eating grin started to appear but you wiped that off her face instantly. "Both of us."

"What the fuck? I didn't-"

"Yes you fucking did and now I'm paying for it too. You wanna know the best part? We can't go back in the field until we can work together nicely." You said bitterly.

"Why don't they just keep us on separate missions?"

"You can go ask them that later. Right now we're training." You said simply and you grabbed her forearm and pulled her out of her room down the corridor.

"We just got back." Wanda argued but followed you anyway after slapping your hand off her.

"Not prepared to put the work in, witchy?" You mocked, not looking at her as you marched through the compound.

"Don't call me that?" Wanda warned as she kept your pace.

"What are you gonna do? Read my mind?" You continued to taunt as you arrived in the gym and made your way to the mats.

Wanda put her red jacket on the floor and stepped away to take up her position as she eyed you. "I could snap all your bones into pieces so small they could be mistaken for ash." Wanda said stoicly.

"I don't think that's gonna get you another mission." You replied calmly, knowing that while there was a truth to Wanda's words she would never give you more than a split lip or bloody nose in the worst training sessions.

"Don't be a smartass y/n, it doesn't suit you." Your jaw clenched at her words.

Without warning, the entirety of your right arm lit up in flames and was aimed at Wanda in an instant.

You sent a wave of fire her way that she swiftly engulfed in her powers and sent back towards you. She looked less than impressed from your warningless attack.

"That was tacky." She said.

"I know, seemed fitting for you." You grinned but stopped when the red mist surrounded your body and lifted you into the air before a larger wave of fire was sent hurtling down to the redhead. The wall of fire blocked her view of you and subsequently dropped you to the ground as she dealt with the flames.

As soon as you landed and the fire parted you sent another blast Wanda's way only for her to do the exact same thing. You both ducked at the same time, your powers hitting opposite walls and leaving marks Tony would be on your asses about when he found out.

Wanda was clearly thinking the same thing. "We can't use our powers in an enclosed space, especially not yours." She said, her accent thickly woven into her voice.

"Okay then, let's see if Natasha's lessons have paid off." You said as you raised your fists and got into your defensive stance. Wanda mirrored you the way she had been taught and narrowed her eyes.

"They definelty have." She insisted as her eyes flickered over your form to try and identify your weak points already in a very obvious way.

"Just try to keep up." You mocked and swiftly moved to swipe her legs out from under her but she was surprisingly prepared. She jumped up to avoid your attack and kicked her leg out mid air and landed it on the center of your chest. You stumbled back in shock while Wanda looked very proud of herself. The last time you saw Wanda train it was clear she wasn't familiar with close range hand to hand combat. You hadn't expected her to improve so significantly in such a short amount of time.

You gritted your teeth and went for her stomach this time which she easily avoided but wasn't expecting another attack to follow so quickly. She blocked the continuous blows from you until you saw your moments and kicked one of her legs out from under her. Your mistake was thinking you succeeded the moment she was down because she spun around and kicked both of your legs out. You caught yourself partly as Wanda stood up so you were on kneeling.

Wanda's smirk was quick to take place when she saw your position, not missing the opportunity. "You look good when you're on your knees." She quipped.

Your eyes widened at her boldness and a heat rose up your neck that you knew wasn't your powers. You rolled back on the balls of your feet and swiftly stood up to look anywhere but the smug redhead infront of you.

"No snarky remark for that?" She challenged and you charged at her again. Anger feuled your attacks making them miscordinated and all round bad.

"Shut the fuck up, Maximoff." You huffed and made her grin even more at the clear signs that she was getting to you.

One of your punches was pushed to the side and Wanda took the chance to show you just how much she had learnt from Nat. You weren't entirely sure how she even did it it was so quick. Your arm was outstretched behind your back painfully due to Wanda's unrelenting grip on it and made it that much easier to push one of your legs down onto the floor. She held you like that for longer than necessary, soaking up the view of you struggling in her grasp.

"Get off." You snapped and winced when she pulled your arm back more.

"What's the magic word?" She teased.

"Now." You demanded. She tutted and pulled harder. "Maximoff!" You ordered through the pain. She leaned down beside you as her voice dropped to a low whisper.

"Beg." It was one word but you couldn't deny the effect it had on you. It was as though her light breath on your ear shot throughout your body and settled in a place you really didn't want it to.

You were about to object and tell her to stop being a bitch but her grip tightened and she pulled to a point where you thought your arm might just snap off under any more pressure.

"Please." You cried through gritted teeth. She instantly let go all too quickly and you collapsed onto the mat on your front. You heard her chuckle menacingly but cut herself off when Nat appeared in the doorway.

"We told you to write up your reports, not train." Natasha scolded as she watched you massage your shoulder and glare at Wanda.

"Sorry, just got a bit carried away." Wanda smiled, her innocent and sweet act that she put up for everyone except you returning. "Y/n's had enough now anyway." She smirked to herself.

"Fucking psycho." You muttered loud enough for her to hear but not Nat. Her jaw visibly clenched from that making you revel in the small victory as you finally got up from the mat.

"Just get on with the reports." Nat sighed and turned to leave as Wanda called out.

"On it."

"Aww, you trying to be a good girl, Maximoff?" You mocked as the pain subsided and your need to overrule what had happened came through.

"I don't have the time to stress over that, not when I'm busy putting brats in their place." Wanda said as she advanced towards you with a look you had only ever seen aimed at those you were fighting against.

"What?" You whispered as you backed up and felt your back hit the wall. Wanda's hand came up suddenly and wrapped itself around your throat firmly and cut off your breathing. Your eyes widened as you grabbed at her hands but she didn't budge. She looked amused at your efforts as her head tilted slightly to the side.

"And you certainly need to learn your place." She took her hand away and left you gasping for air for a split second before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the gym.

You stumbled a little as you tried to keep up with Wanda's long strides you could usually match. Your whole body was already trembling in anticipation, more so by the tension filled silence between you both as you travelled through the compound and ended up outside the redhead's room.

She opened her door and shoved you into her room swiftly. You didn't have much chance to take in your surroundings because the Sokovian gripped the back of your neck and forced you to lay on your stomach on her bed.

She made quick work of your clothes, discarding them to some soon forgotten about corner.

You turned your head to the side and gripped the sheets as you felt Wanda's slim fingers trialing up the back of your thighs before she gripped them roughly and forced them apart and lifted your lower half up. Her fingers returned and glided along your drippikg folds, collecting your arousal as she reveled in the effect she had on you.

"What was it that made you this wet, slut? Was it being on your knees for me? Begging me? Or did you enjoy the pain? I bet you enjoyed me choking you too." She chuckled darkly and didn't wait for you to respond.

She slipped two fingers inside your soaking cunt without warning making you gasp out in pleasure. Her fingers curled inside you beautifully, brushing some kind of nerve ending every second they were buried inside you. She had you a moaning, quivering mess in no time.

"Wanda...fuck! Right there, oh God!" She snickered against your skin as she worked her fingers expertly. Even then she wanted to test you. Well it was more that she was setting you up for failure.

"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear another sound from that whiny mouth." She ordered and you couldn't help but shiver from her dominant nature.

Of course it didn't last long. Her fingers felt so damn perfect inside you and you couldn't help but moan at the unspeakable pleasure.

She brought her hand down fast and landed it on your ass with a harsh smack that echoed through the room. She did it to both of your asscheeks until they were bright red and you were trembling. The sadistic redhead didn't stop there, she continued to rain down smacks that edged you further to your edge with the pleasurable pain.

Soon, you were moaning into the air as you came around Wanda's slim fingers, desperatly clenching around them in an attempt to prolong the pleasure. Thankfully, she kept pumping her fingers inside you, not caring when the overstimulation kicked in. She even started scissoring her fingers inside you, stretching your walls in a way that has you whimper loudly.

"Gotta stretch you a little to get you ready for my piece, sweetheart." She said in a sinister tone. "There's no way you'd be able to take it otherwise, it's already going to reck you with its size." She husked into your ear and withdrew her fingers, spanking you again when you whined.

Wanda got off the bed and disappeared into her closet, shortly returning with a large strap secured around her waist and pointed at you. You whimpered at the sight of it, not sure you could handle its size.

The Sokovian kneeled behind you and gripped your hips with both her hands as she lined up the strap with your entrance.

"I'm going to fill you up so nicely, Princess. Gonna have your cumming in no time." She husked, her voice dripping with lust.

A scream was ripped from your throat when Wanda thrust the entirety of the strap into your pussy. She set about her harsh, abusing pace instantly and preened at the sound of the pleasure filled cries that left you.

She grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head down into the pillows on your side do she could still hear all of your desperate moans. The rough action earned the redhead a cry of her name.

Her pace was unrelenting, everytime she thrust back into you she somehow managed to hit deeper, pounding the toy against the most sensitive and pleasurable part of your cunt.

"Mommy!" You moaned loudly, not realising your slip up until the words left your lips. Your eyes widened and you feared Wanda's response, but what you got was a smack from the redhead that stung your ass in the best way. Her fucked you with increasing vigor too, wanting you title to spill from your lips again. And it did. Over and over, each time going straight to Wanda's pussy.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered as you gripped onto the sheets tighter to prepare yourself for your release. But Wanda pulled the strap out the the very tip and held it there as she leant over to whisper in your ear.

"Beg me." She ordered and you whimpered again. It wasn't like you hadn't already submitted to the red head you hated but begging would be something that would loom over you for a while.

Your thoughts clashed with the overwhelming need from your pussy as it desleratly tried to clamp down on the tip that didn't provide nearly enough pleasure.

"Please, Wanda." You whispered.

"Please who?" She asked sweetly, clearly testing you making you groan.

"Please, mommy just let me cum." You whined and Wanda smacked your ass hard. She edged the dildo in further ever so slowly and stopped again.

"Mommy, please! I need to cum." You tried again, desperation seeping into your voice. Wanda hummed.

"I can see that." She mused as she rubbed small circles on your throbbing and soaked clit. "I just don't see why I should, brat." She punctuated the name with a harsh slap to your ass again and you caught onto what she was hinting at.

"Please, I'll...I'll be so good for you, mommy."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Yes! Please mommy I'll be so so good for you. Just please please let me c-" You were abruptly cut off by your own whorish moan as Wanda snapped her hips forwards and filled you up entirely.

One of her hands tangled itself in your hair and forced your head down into the pillows, not stopping your incoherent babbles filling the room along with the sound of your pussy being fucked by Wanda and her thighs slapping against yours.

The Sokovian tugged on your hair again so your head was off the pillow.

"I'm gonna cum!" You cried out into the air.

"That's it, baby. Soak my fucking cock." And with that demand you came harder than you ever had around Wanda's strap and moaned continuously as the redhead prolonged your pleasure by continuing to pound into you.

But it soon became too much for your sensitive pussy. You squirmed away from Wanda but she placed one hand on the middle of your back to keep you flat against the bed.

"Too much." You managed to say, however the redhead didn't seem to care.

"I'm nowhere near done with you, Princess."

*

Laying panting and gripping onto Wanda's bedsheets like a lifeline wasn't exactly what you expected to be doing on a Thursday night. You were drenched in sweat and although Wanda had pulled out the toy minutes prior, you were sure you could still feel it filling you up, the faint throbbing a forewarning of what was to come.

It took you a while to gather the strength to get up. With anyone else you probably would have just stayed the night in their bed, but you weren't sure you could do that with Wanda. Although she wouldn't kick you out, you didn't like the thought of sleeping beside the redhead. It seemed far too...soft? Whatever it was, you were sure Wanda would agree.

You searched for your clothes while she took a most likely deliberately long shower, images of her naked figure covered in water invading your mind.

Once you cursed them away they were just replaced with flashes of what you had been doing for all those hours, remembering how she pulled on your hair as she praised you when you went down on her. Of course you did that while on your knees.

What happened between you and Wanda wasn't a one time thing. In fact it became increasingly common until you were in each other's beds almost every night. You would have been fuck buddies if you had considered each other a friend.

It worked. You and Wanda were able to work out your pent up frustration towards each other in a way that didn't hurt one another....well, if that didn't include the scratches along Wanda's back and the constant aching between your legs.

You didn't even make snide comments about each other in meetings or during training. You were able to keep everything in the bedroom.

The success of what you two had going forced you to ignore the noteable change in feelings you had towards Wanda. You saw her differently but couldn't quite tell how. Sometimes it was as though the unplaceable emotion you had towards her from from start spiked and other times you were purely confused.

It was always most prominent after she made you crash over the edge of bliss or when she came undone beneath you. Those moments when your bodies went limp and you were caught up in each other's embrace because you didn't have the energy to move. Hearing her exhausted breathing match her rising and falling chest and faint heartbeat if you had your head on her chest. Those tender moments were the ones that caught you off guard.

You refused to make a big deal out of it though. You refused to investigate your feelings or even acknowledge them. What you had with Wanda was the most efficient thing you could do. You didn't want to muck it up but you knew it couldn't go on forever. Another labelless feeling emerged at that thought.

Natasha was the only one who knew what you were doing. Neither of you told her, the spy was able to figure it all out on her own quickly and confronted you both about it once, only saying to be careful. That was the only time she addressed it verbally but you could always feel her watching you both carefully when you trained.

You thought it was going great. You and Wanda had finally been cleared for a mission that you would both be on, the team certainly needed the man power. That was until Nat told you otherwise.

"What do you mean I'm not going?!" You exclaimed across the room. You had seen Nat in the meeting room looking up something on her tablet and had gone in to enquire something about the mission that was long forgotten.

"I've thought about it and you and Wanda still aren't deemed the most reliable when put together for a mission, with this one being as important as it is we can't afford to make mistakes." Natasha sighed.

"So why don't you take Wanda off the mission? I have more experience."

"Her powers are perfectly fitted to this mission, we need her."

"And not me." You knew you came across as petty, but you had been dying to go back into the field.

"Y/n." Nat tried but you scoffed and glared at the screens with those assigned to the mission. Your eyes found Wanda's picture first and your jaw clenched at the sight of her ridiculously attractive face.

"What did she say to you?" You demanded as something clicked in your brain.

"She didn't say anything, this is my judgement." Natasha began but you didn't buy it.

"We both know if it was you you would have told me as soon as you decided it. You had no issue with me and Wanda being on this mission before. Hell, you cleared us both for the field." Nat glanced down at her tablet guiltily as she searched her brain for another hopeless lie.

"This is unbelievable." You scoffed and turned sharply on your heels to storm out of the room, ignoring your name being called by Nat.

You soon found Wanda in the kitchen making herself a coffee as she hummed softly. You willed your brain to ignore the warmth you got from seeing the redhead in her own, peaceful world.

"Do you have a problem with me?" You demanded, snapping her out of her trance. She visibly figited when she saw you approach her and lean on the edge of the kitchen island on you hands with an expectant look.

"No?" She said, seeming unsure.

"Don't you fucking lie to me." She seemed startled by your increasing aggression.

"What are you talking about?" She asked as she stirred her drink.

"Don't play dumb with me, Maximoff. You got me off the mission!" Wanda stopped her movements as she froze, clearly caught off guard by your discovery. Given how Nat had acted you guessed you weren't meant to find out it was Wanda who said something.

"It's for the best." She finally said but avoided your eye.

"It is not your place to decide what's best for me, you don't get to do that." You argued.

"There should only be a few people on the mission." She tried.

"I know that, I've seen the intel. But we already discussed that those people should be powered. Why am I being taken off?" You demanded again.

"It's dangerous." She muttered as she stared down at her drink.

"It's my fucking job. You think I don't know that."

"Of course you do, but there's a bigger risk than the usual missions we've been on. A bigger risk of you getting hurt." She muttered the last bit, like she wasn't entirely sure she wanted you to hear her. Granted, Wanda showing concern for your safety was new.

"Any one of us could get hurt." You said, lowering your voice marginally.

"But it's you I'm worried about." She insisted. It was your turn to become uncomfortable, shifting slightly under her gaze that held something new.

"I can take care of myself." You said as you crossed your arms, feeling a sudden defensive need to protect yourself.

"I know... but I care about you." You exhaled slowly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the tone of her voice. "If something happened to you..." She continued, "I don't know what I would do." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the softness laced in it undeniable. It sparked something in you. Something you didn't want to accept.

"Good luck on your mission, Maximoff." You said through gritted teeth and went to leave but Wanda was behind you instantly and took ahold of your hand to pull you back.

"Wait, I wasn't done-"

"Well I am." You snapped and yanked your hand out of her grip.

"What..?" She said slowly.

"If you don't want to work with me then we won't, no need to keep fucking anymore." You huffed and went to walk away.

"That wasn't what I-"

"Stop!" It wasn't a cry of anger. It was pure desperation. Your pleading look took Wanda by surprise and pained her to see. "Just stop before you say something you can't unsay." You said shakily. Your unspoken message was received. You didn't want to hear about Wanda's feelings towards you. She just didn't know it was because you were afraid that it would uncover what you had been feeling all along. You couldn't handle it. You were scared.

Wanda nodded, defeated, and let you go. You were filled with grief as you walked away, your footsteps feeling heavier than usual. You wanted to look back, to go back to her. But you couldn't.

*

You distracted yourself with a particularly ruthless training session the day of Wanda's mission. Carol showed you no mercy in sparring, weight lifting and boxing - even encouraging power use every now and then. But your mind still wandered to the redhead the way it usually did.

When you finally collapsed on the mat in defeat Carol chuckled and tossed you your waterbottle before encouraging an ice bath and strolling out of the gym for her evening flight.

You stayed on the floor for a while after you finished your water, only stopping staring up at the ceiling when Nat's outline blocked the lights. You sat up and looked at her hopefully, seeing that she was back from monitoring the mission and didn't seem distraught or upset.

"How did it go?" You asked as she sat down across from you.

"It was a success." She said but she didn't seem all that happy.

"And everyone's okay?" You asked cautiously. Nat gave a half shug and sighed lightly.

"There was ice - a lot if it and it was so cold. Dangerously cold." Nat started. You tried not to clench your jaw or show any signs of annoyance, knowing there was no need to point out that mission was fitted for you and your powers that would have guaranteed everyone's safety.

"Wanda got a little cut up, it was impossible to fight on that ground." You eyed the door and bit your lip, refraining from giving in to the urge to go see her.

"She doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, but she needs seeing to the cut." Nat said as she placed a first aid kit down infront of you. She was back already? And why did you have the kit?

"She won't see anyone either." Nat said before you could verbally question her. It took a moment for you to understand what she was saying.

"I don't think she wants to see me, Nat." You said as you pushed it back her way only for her to toss it into your lap.

"Goddmit, y/n. Can you two stop dancing around each other and actually talk?!" She exclaimed.

"We tried that-"

"Talking, y/n, not shouting or arguing. Talking." She said firmly and got up before you could protest further.

You pondered over what Natasha said for a while. You knew she had a good point, that talking was exactly what you should have done from the start, but it was just another thing that frightened you.

"Your job is facing your fears." You muttered aloud to yourself.

You finally got up from the ground, first aid kit in hand, and trudged along the compound towards Wanda's room. You tried to figure out what you could say on the way. But it all came out a jumbled mess that made no sense. Multiple times you stopped in the hallways and considered turning back before convincing yourself to keep going.

You knocked softly on Wanda's door and was surprised that it opened for you. The redhead in question was sat on her bed with a pillow in her lap, fiddling with her hands the way she always did when she was anxious or deep in thought. That evening it was both.

She glanced up at you as you closed the door but turned back to her pillow quickly when you gave her a short smile that didn't quite meet your eyes.

Regardless, you cautiously walked towards her bed and sat down next to her with the small box between you. You brought one of your legs up under you so you could face Wanda and eyed the cut above her eyebrow in concern. She still didn't say anything, neither did you.

You opened up the small box and got out a pack of wound closure strips and carefully unwrapped one. Wanda didn't object to you gently holding the area around her cut as you placed the strip on and lightly smoothed over the edges until you were sure it would stay on.

"I let my emotions cloud my judgement." She mumbled as you prepped another strip.

"It happens to all of us." You said.

"But I didn't listen to you. I should have." You sighed and stopped unwrapping the strip to look up at the redhead and watch her closely. She looked back at you with a guilty and pained expression that was full of regret.

"Yeah." You nodded slowly as you went back to the medical tape and raised your hands to put it on but the Sokovian held your wrist to stop you. "What's done is done, so just let me put these on and we're good." You said but she still didn't let go.

"Just like that?" She questioned.

"The mission was a success. If I'd had been there you wouldn't have gotten hurt, that's all."

"You were really mad though." She continued and you put your hands down to rest them, not failing to notice that Wanda was still holding your wrist but with a much lighter grip.

"It's hard to stay mad at you." You admitted.

"You've always been mad at me."

"Well it wasn't exactly like you were the friendliest person to me." You pointed out. "I was never mad at you, Wanda. I just hated that... that you made me feel something I've never trusted, so I didn't trust you. It was never your fault, I was unfair." You admitted as you stared down at the tape the whole time, afraid to meet the redhead's eyes.

"What did you feel?" Wanda asked, her voice void of emotion making it more difficult for you to say. You gulped as you continued to stare at the tape, willing yourself to give Wanda the answer she needed. The answer she deserved.

"Love." You voice shook. "I loved... love you." You were shaking more as you finally looked up at Wanda. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted like there was a million thoughts trying to be heard but without the ability to.

She didn't say anything for a while. A long while. She stared at you in disbelief then at her pillow as though it would give her all the answers.

Tears rushed to your eyes that you tried to blink away as your head swam with curses to yourself for admitting your feelings. You had opened up and been vulnerable to Wanda, and the result was the exact reason you had sworn to never do it again.

Once you were sure she wasn't going to say anything to you, you took it as your cue to leave. To leave so Wanda could prepare her rejection speech for you. However, as soon as you put your hand to the door she spoke out.

"Please don't go."

You turned around slowly and met her light brown eyes you had always found impossible not to get lost in when you had your fingers or tongue inside her. You timidly went back to the bed and paused before sitting down next to her, facing the wall instead of her this time.

"I thought it was one sided." She started and you felt yourself begin to shake with nerves again. "I thought you didn't love me back." You looked to Wanda quickly and searched her features for any signs of a lie, any signs that she was setting you up to push you down but she was gazing back at you longingly with tears glistening in her eyes.

"When you confronted me about the mission, I was going to say it then, you knew that." You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, remembering the fear you felt in that moment.

"I wasn't ready, I thought I wouldn't ever be but," You took a deep breath "I want to try, for you." You took ahold of Wanda's hand to reiterate your point. "I care about you too Wanda, so much. More than I could ever express or even handle and I didn't know what to do about it. I mean we've tried a fair few things now," You both laughed a little, "but it I don't think any of them are going to work as well as accepting it and...and I don't know." You looked to her for guidance because fuck did you need it. You needed Wanda to guide you down whatever path you chose to take, as long as she was there with you.

"Maybe we could start with something small." She suggested with a small smile that made her eyes shine.

"Like a coffee date?" You tried.

"Exactly like that." She confirmed, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Then I'll pick you up around 2." You said cheesily making Wanda laugh. "But first, I have to finish tending to this cut." You declared as you turned around to face her entirely and crossed your legs under you, pausing for a moment to give Wanda a short and sweet kiss.

[random-yandere-fandom]

How about yandere TC meliodas but a soulmate au where him and the s/o( Fairy and goddess hybrid who fights for stigma) both share a connection to each other, from sharing emotion, to having vision of where they may meet for the first time. This seem like a nice concept, I imagine meliodas is use to constantly feeling pain from training all the way to fighting the war only to have a s/o who is yet to meet him but is willing to send over positive emotion and feeling to make him feel better. Im sucker for this kinds of things.

Oh hell yes, I love soulmate aus! Which is why it got a bit longer than what I normally write (and took so long lol)

Yandere TC Meliodas with soulmate darling

For as long as you can remember there had been a second layer to your emotions that you couldn`t quite grasp, let alone influence. It was just barely there, almost unnoticeable.  Annoyance, nonchalance and a deep-rooted but hidden pain. After learning that those belonged to your soulmate, to the being your were destined to meet and love, you were baffled. Three emotions. A few feelings. Was that all they were capable of, or was that all they could allow themselves to? You mused that they felt your surprise and pity and hoped they wouldn`t connect the dots, they didn`t seem like the kind of person to appreciate such sentiments. Nonetheless you wanted to help. If they weren`t able to and didn`t have the opportunity to experience joy, wonder, excitement and a healthy amount of sadness and grief that one felt at ending a wonderful book with no continuation than you would have to do it for them. If they were hurt you could send them comfort and if they were bored you`d jump down a cliff if you must only to open your wings at the last second to send them a dose of mixed excitement and fear and laughter.

Meliodas had known of the concept of soulmates for as long as he could remember. Since then he had always been told that he wouldn`t need them, that demons barely needed their destined partner and only to allow any connection beyond the unavoidable should they be of the same race. He knew that something was wrong with that but in the end he didn`t care enough to do anything about that. So they felt what he did and at some point he`d know where you two would meet. Great. As long as they don`t get in his way and he can do what he must it`d be fine. 

He always knew that his range of sentiments were by far not the widest or the happiest but he would do. Meliodas had to. He had to be strong and cold and unfeeling. That did not seem to be the case for his soulmate, however. There were a mix of emotions constantly changing, most of them he hadn`t even experienced himself. They are a bother, he told himself and ignored it. He also ignored the twinge in his chest whenever they felt sad, ashamed or dispirited. Told himself that he was lucky that they weren`t sending feelings consciously, especially when he had to concentrate.

That changed. There was no warning, no prompting, nothing. Meliodas was about to go to sleep when they did it for the first time. They must have felt his exhaustion and either they thought he didn`t deserve to rest or wanted to spite him because the next thing he knew he felt adrenaline coursing through his veins and excitement erupting. Cursing he sat up, trying to calm his racing hearts and suppress that stuff. The emotions promptly calmed down and went into their normal, ignorable state though he could make out some guilt. For good measure he made his annoyance clear before flopping back down and closing his eyes. That didn`t stop a small and rather short lived smile from surfacing.

Was it your best idea? No. Did you think about what you were doing? No. You had felt your soulmate`s fatigue and seeing as it was the afternoon and they didn`t normally feel like that at this certain time you had assumed that they needed a bit of energy. Luckily, you had been sitting on a rather high branch and before you could think it through you had thrown yourself of from it. Upon their rejection though you had quickly stopped your little stunt and the idea that they had wanted to sleep crossed your mind. Ups. This had been the first time you had enforced an emotion and it had gone wrong. Hoping that their first impression of you could still be fixed you laid low for a bit. 

The next opportunity presented itself when you had discovered a beautiful small pond in the forest. It was surrounded by rich plant live and some ducks were swimming on it, the sunshine reflected and sparkled on the water’s surface. Deciding that now would be a good opportunity you checked on their emotions. There was no apparent change from normal so it should be fine. Carefully and a lot slower this time you let your admiration seep through to them and being encouraged by the response, which was nothing, you strengthened it, letting yourself enjoy the coolness of the water as you dipped your feet in. Sitting there you shared this feeling, the contrast of the warm light and the refreshing cold, the calmness of the forest, far away from the others and the silence only being broke by the wind and birds in the sky. With all the work you had been doing and the tense atmosphere of your partner the relaxation was welcomed with open arms. 

After this first successful interaction you continued, first about once a week and then once a day and soon simply whenever you felt like it. You were a bit disappointed that your soulmate never openly reacted but you had noticed that their feelings had calmed down and that was enough to keep you going. Having long ago realised that they were fighting in the same war, the suspicion and caution mixed with the occasional numbness, you assumed that they numbed their feelings in hopes of suppressing regret, you sent as much comfort as you could. It was gut wrenching whenever you noticed the impassivity but you did your best to help.

Meliodas grew used to it, over time. He even grew to like it, not that he`d ever admit it. Sensing your enforced emotions brought him joy and comfort, knowing that there was someone out there who cared. He sometimes felt guilty about not replying but what did he have to share? So he let the one sided communication continue. 

You always made sure to only strengthen positive emotions or small harmless sadness, just to let them know what you were feeling. This time however you feared that you had made a mistake. You were patrolling and you were careless. It was close to enemy territory but there hadn`t been an incident here and there was this beautiful flower in full bloom and you simply had to send your amazement. Doing just that you hovered over the flower, it`s sweet smell calming your mind. The next thing you knew was a sharp pain in your side as you moved away, away from whatever had slashed you. 

It was a small demon and you were quickly able to take care of it before healing your wound. Before you could investigate if there were any others you felt their worry. It was overwhelming. For the first time they openly enforced their feelings and it was intense enough that you couldn`t breathe for a moment. You noticed some anger interlaced, too, directed at what had harmed you, you noted. Quickly sending them your calmed frame of mind you searched for any other attackers and upon finding none you returned to report to one of the other goddesses.

Meliodas had been walking down a lonely hallway when you noticed the flower. Humming in acknowledgement he opened the door to his room and froze. Instead of admiration you seemed to be in pain. What had happened? Were you okay? His mind raced as he allowed himself to worry and let that worry reach you. The seconds were he felt your pain, surprise, resignation and caution were agony. After he was assured you were fine he sighed in relief. 

After the second time the demon decided that he should contact you more. After his initial worry had subsided he had become anxious. Not only could you be harmed at any time, he had no way of helping you, not without knowing who or where you were. He realised he didn`t know much of you. Was there someone who liked you beside him, someone you liked? He hoped not. You were his. You two were fated to be, no matter how stupid that sounded. However he had no real way of checking, so interacting with you like this had to be enough for now. He also grew more attentive of your passive emotions, not letting a single feeling pass his attention.

It is a well known fact that before you meet your destined other, you envision the place you will first meet. You had been waiting for that day for ages, knowing that soon after you`d finally meet them, your soulmate. They had been so much more communicative and their joy caused by interactions grew day by day. So when you opened your eyes in a supposedly dream and felt closer to them than ever before you knew that your encounter was drawing near.

The first thing you noticed were your surroundings which resembled a patch of woods just on the border to demon territory. It was cold and clouds hung deep over the sky, it was eerily silent. Not the most romantic, you decided, but whatever. Taking a closer look you noticed a figure approaching from the woods, across from you and the border. It was more of a shadow than anything, you could make out the rather small height but any other details didn`t quite seem to be comprehensive or noticeable. So this was them. You smiled, though you could guess that they wouldn`t see that with how they most likely perceived you in a similar way that you could view them. No words were spoken as you stood only meters apart, time seemingly frozen as all you could do was hope that you could stay like this for longer. Neither they nor you moved, fearing that otherwise the bubble would burst and the glass would shatter and you would wake up, more lonely than ever now that you were apart again. You couldn`t speak, somehow knowing that sounds would not travel far here, but you didn`t need to do that, as all you needed was your connection and bond as soulmates. Warmth, affection and joy swirled between you both and almost felt tangible, as if all you needed to do was reach out to drown in these emotions. 

When Meliodas found himself in a dream more realistic than any other he wondered what had happened. He wandered a bit before recognising the forest to be the one crossing the border that Stigma established and vehemently defended. Feeling a presence he followed the strange pull, coming across the figure hidden in shadows with wings that couldn`t have been a fairy`s or a goddess`s. Something else or something in between? He didn`t care. All that mattered was the sense of recognition. It was you. His partner. His destined other. His soulmate. His.

Only after waking up did he realise where exactly you both would meet. The verge on which enemies would meet to battle. Where blood was spilled in the constantly ongoing war. The perimeter seemed in tact though, so you at least wouldn`t meet directly on a battlefield. One thing he did know now, however. You stood on opposing sides, Demons against Stigma, darkness against light, him versus you. How cruel to put you so far away from him, Meliodas mused. But if he had to he knew who to betray and who to stay loyal to. 

You spend the next days searching for the exact place you two would meet, ignoring the suspicious stares and whispers about, oh, look, the hybrid is slacking of, no wonder. You wondered how they`d react to your soulmate who was undeniably on the opposite force of the conflict. You supposed one of you would have to switch sides and if you couldn`t convince them than you would have to do so. Though with how they ended up emotionally before you interacted you hoped they would agree with you. Even if the others were against it, the higher ups respected your hard work and if that didn`t work you`d ask Elizabeth, who always seemed hesitant about the war and disliked judging others no matter who they were, for help. 

Either way, you thought, being prepared wouldn`t hurt. After finally finding the place you hid a small bag full of important belongings and necessities in the trunk of the hollow tree along with a small gift you hoped your soulmate would appreciate. Following the thickening of your bond you had started to feel other and smaller sensations of them and while you were quite distressed with how often they seemed to fight, you couldn`t deny the feeling of joy when you drank a wine and instantly knew that they liked it, having had a faint taste of it. Hoping that this time you could enjoy it together you made sure the bottle was secure before heading of again.

Every time the weather was like the one in your vision, your and their hope grew and while you reached the place in no time, having memorised the way, they still hadn’t found it. Meliodas wished to fly over the forest but he had seen himself walking and knew that was the only way to get to you. So he wandered around, over and over and when he finally recognised a turn he followed the path eagerly. It took a bit to notice your presence, it being hidden seeing as anything else would be suicide so close to a hostile region. He rushed through the trees, his and yours excitement mixing and growing as you waited, peering through the woods in hopes of catching a glimpse, the first glimpse of the person you had grown to love.

The wind, his hearts and time itself stopped as he came to a halt in front of you. Your eyes were the first things he noticed, shining with a light that warmed him, overflowing with affection. You stared just as much, his black eyes turning into a beautiful shade of green as he lowered himself to the ground, his black wings disappearing from sight. You did the same, letting your feet touch the earth below you before moving one in front of the other. The grin on your face widened as he did the same and before you knew it he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hello“, you whispered. All former thoughts and ideas on your first words spoken to him seeming too far away to speak now, all you could do was great him. He was so warm, his arms protectively shielding you away from a world that was to cruel to a wonderful being like you, he decided, as he responded in the same manner. His hearts were finally beating again and were much faster now.  

“My name is Meliodas“, he added, chin comfortably resting on your shoulders, eyes closed and melting into your embrace. It felt so right to finally have you. You fitted perfectly into his grasp, his eyes fluttering open and a smile tugging on his lips as he heard your name. You were finally here, with him. Meliodas knew in this moment he could never let you go. He would follow you wherever you wanted to and destroy anyone that dared and try harm you, no matter the consequences, as long as he could be with you, the one who cared and comforted him, the one that was made for him and the one he was made for, his soulmate.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can you do a reader x Damon salvatore where everyone thinks the only reason they are together is because damon sired her, but she gets angry and tells them the truth that she always had feelings and didn't say anything because she knew he liked Elena...

Sire Or No Sire

damon Salvatore x reader / masterlist

summary; it is easily perceived why you look at Damon the way that you do, though most people think that is an affect of him having turned you to save your life. And that is the last straw of you realising that they know nothing / warnings; mentions of Damon x Elena, mentions of Damon x Caroline, jealousy, angst, mentions of the sire bond, mentions of sex, swearing, angst, breakup, toxic friendships

Their voices, their aloud opinions, brought you nothing but pain, the tragedy seeping into your vervain allergic veins, as you shook your head. It was as though they thought that you were unable to hear their chatter, but you knew that they would be wrong with assuming so. You were no longer weak, with human senses flooding your every whim, you were a vampire.

An immortal. It felt strange to think that you would no longer age in physical layers, instead, your mind would be the only participant within your body to forever grow with the various memories that you would be collecting through the next decades. Though, you weren’t the only one, Caroline was in that room, reprimanding Damon for saving your life.

You could hear her words loud and clear, as the Salvatores and the rest of your friends stood by, some agreeing with her, such as Elena, whereas others remained silence, such as the vampire that had turned you in the first place. The viscous tone hissing out of the blonde’s mouth scathed you emotionally, and ended with you thudding back against Damon’s bedroom door, before entering the room, and ensuring that it was locked behind you.

“The two of you are only together because of the sire bond. You turning her, had become nothing more an excuse to fuck and put a label on it!”

Did she think that she was defending you? Because to you, it didn’t sound like it, but that was Caroline for you, always insistent of her opinion, though, you two did get along. The pair of you understood what it was like to be on the sidelines, whilst perfect Elena played the victim every time, and got any guy she wanted, even her friends were swayed with the young gentlemen first.

Elena Gilbert was the epiphany of perfect; she was the damsel in distress, giving the opportunity to whomever she sought after to come and save her. You weren’t her, dissimilar to the whiny brunette, you were prepared to fight the monsters that threatened your life, human or not. And that included Damon long ago, before you saw how sweet the over century old man was.

One thing that you had never done though, was date someone and bluntly flirt with their brother. That was crossing a line, you appreciated honesty, especially in this lifestyle, and Caroline had declared her thoughts. She spoke truthfully, believing her own words, though they were far from facts.

They needed to know that you weren’t invested in a relationship with Damon because of him turning you, it was something you had never asked for, nor dreamed about. But it had happened, and whilst it brought the pair of you closer, there was no maker bond, instead, there had already been a flirtatious brewing between the pair of you whilst you were still human.

You becoming like him gave the two of you more time together as he trained you to breathe idly in and calm your bloodlust. Or how in the middle of the night, he would come by your house, and awake you from a terror, afterwards taking you for an innocent stroll through the woods.

Without him, you’d have been on a path to nowhere, lost and unable to find a route to continue on, wading through the life after death with no direction, nor set course to keep you in line. Surely, you’d have murdered many a man or woman, if you were dependant with surviving with her bewitched curse of immortality, digging into their inviting throats with your dagger canine teeth, that pulsed to be fed.

“That’s a load of- you know what, think what you want to think, you have a history of jealousy filled, toxic and werewolf involved relationships, you are not exactly the best person here to judge me on my healthy and loving romantic partnership with y/n!”

Damon half yelled at the vampiric blonde, however, another tone was fast to respond to his defensive outburst and cause the both of you a disgruntled pair of expressions. “She was turned by you brother, that runs the risk of a sore bond appropriating her feelings.”

Oh, noble Stefan. He had caused you to snap, thrusting the door open to his brother’s bedroom open, making its hinges weaken, as you whisked through the halls in seconds, joining the compendium of mystic falls in the living space, all eyes turned to you, well aware that you had heard all their smart mouthed and toxic opinions.

The sire bond wasn’t something that was too uncommon, however it affected nothing in your life. It was just for them to pick at something that was good, they could never allow something that was actually decent to revel in existence. They had to be the ones with the perfect prissy lives, not others.

“Shut your mouth, ripper!” Yes, you pulled at that string of his life, dangling it degradingly before his eyes, watching as his eyes that were focalised into you turned sour. “I love your brother, and just because you loved the love triangles the pair of you would be involved in with bitchy Gilbert over there, or bloody Katherine, does not make any other people that he or you are with invalid!”

Elena stepped forwards, her doe eyes boring with contained anger towards you. Though instead of speaking to you, her words were directed at her ex, and she wanted to gouge your reaction. “You promised me that we were going to last forever, are you going to do the same to her?”

“No, because I don’t need a time span to appreciate her presence in. I don’t need to tell her lies nor make selfish promises, because with her I am a better man.” Damon sneered at her, coming to stand beside you, protectively wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It’s the sire bond.” Elena stated furiously, hating the fact that she was not getting her way. In turn, you laughed, shaking your head at her incessant denial of allowing Damon to move on.

“Shut the fuck up, if you had maybe given a shit about me in the past, you’d have realised that I would stare at you enviously when you were at his side. But maybe you knew, and you just wanted to brag, but I can prove that there is no bond other than the one we already built together.”

“Yeah, and how are you going to do that?” She pestered, and with a sorrowful glance directed at Damon, you dropped your head, anything but proud with what you were about to do. Swiftly you turned, watching as Damon’s eyes widened.

“I’m going to leave.” Whence you began to walk, a hand grasped your wrist, keeping your feet locked where they were. Caroline’s voice broke through the air, her eyes were filled with regret, from all the things that she had said, and all the opinions that she had formed.

“You’re not serious! You’re gonna break up with him because of us?” Stiffly you nodded, watching as Damon felt a taken back. He gaped his mouth open, in shock.

“I’d do anything for my friends, despite the circumstances not being reciprocated. I’m not even allowed to be in a relationship with the man that I love because you are all endorsed with the idea that it’s some stupid bond. Yes, we have a bond, but it’s not a sire one.”

“Baby, don’t.” Damon practically begged, watching as you yourself were torn and conflicted in regards to the situation. A sad smile monitored your face, as you slipped out of his grasp.

“We might have to wait another lifetime until we’re allowed to be together without resorts of undermining and people that don’t really care about us. Some people want there to be a whole ass agility course to separate us, but maybe if we wait, we can prove how wrong they are, if they’re not dead by then.”

Caroline felt terrible, once again Stefan had taken his brother’s life from him, and Elena, well she felt accomplished. She went to reach for Damon’s arm, but he threw her consoling manner and herself across the room, heading straight after you, with a bottle of bourbon.

If you could leave them to prove a point, so could be; he loved you. That was enough, especially for him, he could leave those doses of poison behind, if he would grant himself permission without asking, a peaceful life with you.

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[goonification]

yungi smut

[18+] Mingi gets hard before stages and has no idea why. Neither does Yunho but he’s happy to help.

The fast-paced voice of a MC echoed through the hallways over a loudspeaker to introduce the lineup for the night’s show. No one was listening too carefully though to the tinny voice, as the livestream usually only acted as a reminder that, in the same building, the Music Bank stage was soon to be lively with performances for the next 90 minutes. It wasn’t uncommon for the muffled sounds of the host to be overshadowed by the busy chatter of stressed out staff and excited idols, donning various elaborate and colourful outfits. 

It was less than an hour until Ateez were supposed to be rounded up and ushered to the wings of the stage, prepared to give the nth performance of their most recent comeback.

While most idols we’re counting down the minutes to their upcoming stages, Mingi was rushing back to his group’s green room, hoping to god it was empty.

He scuttled through the crowds, politely bowing at passing staff and tucking behind ongoing interviews to not draw attention to himself. A lanky, 6ft man with a hand on his crotch lumbering through the background of someone’s acrostic poem segment would be bound to draw the wrong kind of online attention.

Hand grasping the doorknob of their assigned green room with relief, the sounds of the hallways were snuffed with the thick door shutting behind him. 

He gave the space a quick once-over, falling at ease when he found it seemingly empty. With the room barren of members or staff, Mingi pressed his back to the door as a makeshift lock and shamelessly dropped his pants below his waist.

This wasn’t an uncommon scenario.

There are plenty of different ways that the human body can react to a stressful situation. Some people overthink to the point of a headache. Others have physical reactions, like shaking or sweating. Some people even feel faint or collapse.

However, Song Mingi got boners. Plain and simple. He doesn’t know why it happens. Often, he doesn’t even know when it’ll happen. 

The regularity of stage fright had faded away to a fear of the past. With the exception of the occasional special stage, Mingi typically didn’t get stressed out over every individual performance but, for some godforsaken reason, his body seemed to know what a pre-show countdown sounded like and reacted regardless. 

Nervous or not, popping a semi backstage was a shamefully familiar feeling for Mingi. He was well aware that there had been a couple of fancams where his half-hard cock made far more of an appearance than he wanted and, determined to not repeat history if he could help it, intended to try de-escalating his problem before stepping foot on stage this time.

Mingi looked down at his dick, standing fully upright.

It was mocking him.

Frustrated at his situation, Mingi furrowed his brow, scowling at his penis before feeling grateful that no one saw him do that. Nothing like a healthy dose of random horniness to cloud every crevice of his brain with a layer of fog, stopping him from thinking rationally. 

He collected his composure with a deep breath, using his knees to pinning his pants at his mid-thigh in case someone entered unexpectedly, and got to work.

A large hand wrapped around the proportionately large shaft and began to pump, so quickly in fact that his whole body lurched forward at the sudden relief. It wasn’t long before his knees instinctively spread and baggy pants fell to his ankles. There was no use picking them back up. Not a minute could be wasted. The door behind him could open at any second. With his very noticeable presence missing, someone was bound to be looking for him to reunite him with his members.

Mingi didn’t know how much time he had. A few drops of spit and a dab of precum was all he could gather as lube, forcing him to slow down his pace to avoid discomfort. Mingi whined. He knew this wouldn’t take long at all if he was back in the dorms with his usual creamy lotion or the constant flow of a soapy shower to keep his length slick.

He could practically hear the threat of a ticking clock in his head. The bustling sounds of people on the other side of the door weren’t helping. The MC’s voice echoed again, saying something about a commercial break, probably the first of several. He was desperate to fix his problem fast and would need to try something different.

A shaky second hand joined the first, holding it steady as his hips took on the task instead. The closed tunnel of his fist stopped the air from drying away his precious moisture, allowing for a more comfortable friction than before.

“Ah-” Mingi couldn’t stop the escape of a single low moan as he fucked his hand, balls slapping against his curled fingers and stretched wrist with each thrust.

It felt good, definitely better. But he was still too distracted. While his new technique was undoubtedly more successful than the first, his brain was still going a mile a minute with the looming reminder of the risk he was taking. His hands were shaking, needing to readjust their grip every few seconds. 

Mingi didn’t want to cry; he had just had his makeup done. Yet, still, every shaky slip of his hands was contributing to a growing frustration. 

It was becoming more difficult to keep quiet. Mingi was being assaulted with the buildup of both dull pleasure and throbbing pain and needed some way to express it. Small grunts were turning into breathy moans, low and long, to try to keep the sounds contained in the room.

Suddenly, even through welling tears, his eyes caught sight of a slight movement caught in one of the dressing room mirrors. What Mingi assumed were just piles of jackets on a couch began to shift, before he noticed the pant legs of a stage outfit, matching the one Mingi was currently “wearing”, donned on a long set of legs. A pair of large boots stuck upright off the end of the couch.

“You’re terrible at staying quiet.” Yunho’s familiar voice spoke out from under the pile before he threw a heavy jacket off of his head, exposing his tired face in the reflection of the mirror. He was basically eye-level with Mingi’s cock.

“Ah, what the fuck!” Mingi shouted, trying and failing to pull up his pants. In that moment, he silently cursed the stylists for always putting him in the baggiest outfits. He repeated his expletive of choice. “What the fuck were you doing under there?”

Yunho squinted tightly, shaking his head as his eyesight adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light of the room. “I had a headache and couldn’t find the light switch.”

“Oh.” Mingi stood dumbfounded and beet-red. Yunho was as giant as he was and it wasn’t like he was exactly hidden. He mentally scolded himself for not checking the room better before fully exposing himself, accidentally baring his entire cock and balls to his friend.

“I knew you were horny earlier!” Yunho exclaimed, like it was his own personal victory for guessing correctly. “You were all bouncy and quiet during stage rehearsal. Kinda like before you take your extra long showers. Always before the stages too, huh? Why is that?”

Mingi shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He especially didn’t know that Yunho was so attentive to his behaviour. It made him think back to every time he busted what he thought was a secret nut but maybe he wasn’t so private after all.

It was a lot of information to take in with his pants around his ankles. He had so many questions. Mingi started with an easy one. “Why didn’t you say anything when I came in here? I would’ve stopped.”

“Honestly, I thought you were here to get me.” Yunho was fixing his hair at the mirror, composing himself while stealing occasional glances of Mingi’s cock in the reflection. “At least, until I heard you all -” He mocked the deep timbre of Mingi’s voice and moaned comically. Painfully to Mingi, even the unflattering imitation made his exposed dick twitch. He hoped to god Yunho was too busy laughing at him to tell.

Noticing the shift in posture, Yunho offered some comfort, not wanting his friend to feel too embarrassed. “I didn’t mind. Really.”

“But why did you scare me like that?” Mingi’s embarrassment shifted to anger. Yunho’s logic wasn’t making any sense and Mingi still didn’t have a plan for how he was going to get his dick down.

Yunho avoided the question. “How long until we go on?”

“Huh?” Without context, the request went right over Mingi’s head.

“Fine, I’ll look for myself.” Yunho raised an eyebrow before checking a nearby phone. “Forty seven minutes until our stage? That’s tons of time.” 

The tension on Mingi’s face unwravled with a small ounce of relief. The events of what felt like hours of pure frustration likely took place over a mere thirty seconds. He just needed to be reminded.

Still, the reality was that Mingi was rock hard and not as alone as he thought. As one problem disappeared, another became even more prominent. Yunho made his way towards Mingi and the door, hopefully to leave the room, and pretend he saw nothing. 

Even in that best case scenario, Mingi wasn’t sure if he could ever recover from the mortification of what just happened.

Wanting to drop the hint and give Yunho better access to the door, Mingi shifted to the side, movement restricted from the pants still pooled around his legs and too ashamed to pick them up.

However, Yunho didn’t turn towards the door. He instead turned his attention towards Mingi, who had backed himself into a corner. They were uncomfortably close considering the fact that Mingi’s lower half was fully nude.

Yunho smiled stupidly as though the confusion on Mingi’s face was unwarranted. “What? You were struggling to get off, right?”

“Yes...” Mingi admitted, still confused over what exactly his friend was doing. “It was that obvious?”

“Believe me, I know what it sounds like when you’re getting off. What I just heard sounded like a struggle to me.” Yunho never broke eye contact with Mingi. There was a glint of joy in his eyes as he explained his thought process, while never actually revealing his intentions.

Everything he said only raised even more questions. So many that Mingi didn’t have the brain capacity to sort through. Right now, he was more curious why Yunho had him cornered in their dressing room. 

“Mingi,” Yunho uttered his name as though he was scolding him with endearment. Telling him off for being so apparently stupid even thought Mingi thought his confusion was very much justified. “Do you want me to help you?”

Yunho wanted to jerk him off? Mingi thought he had heard wrong.

On first thought, it would fix both problems at once and still leave time to spare, even if the idea of his friend touching his dick would leave Mingi with a whole new slew of questions to plague him until they got back to their dorms. That is, if Yunho would even want to talk about it.

Mingi was getting ahead of himself. He needed to answer the question first.

He kept thinking, pushing through his stress and arousal to conduct a clear thought. Yunho was handsome. He was always clean and smelled good, and liked holding hands with Mingi. Though his qualifications were sparse, Mingi was almost surprised at just how unopposed he was to the idea of Yunho helping him cum. After all, that’s all it would be, right? A friend helping out a friend.

“C’mon, you’ll feel so much better afterwards. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Yunho pouted as he got closer to Mingi’s face. He was being sweet. Buttering the other boy up without knowing that it wouldn’t even take any convincing to get him to agree.

If only Mingi could answer the damn question. All he could muster up was the confidence for a moment of warm eye contact and a gentle nod.

It was signal enough for Yunho, who leaned in for a hesitant kiss. Mingi’s puffy lips were already parted and set to lock with his own. As they brushed against each other, Yunho’s tongue peaked out, sliding over Mingi’s bottom lip and making him shudder before dipping inside his gaped mouth. 

The gap between them closed even further when the fabric of Yunho’s pant leg accidentally brushed over Mingi’s hard cock, which was poking out and occupying most of the space between them. Mingi moaned into Yunho’s mouth, a gentle reminder that they had a goal to achieve.

“Mmm. No more,” Yunho sighed with regret. He pulled back as Mingi stupidly chased his lips in a daze. “We need to be quick, remember?” 

“But you don’t need to see your hands to jerk me off.” Mingi pouted comically, trying to convince him to return to their greedy kiss. He didn’t expect to enjoy kissing Yunho that much and was wondering if it could turn into a hobby of theirs.

Yunho simply chuckled, obviously knowing more than Mingi about his plans for his mouth. After a breathy “huh?” Yunho took the cue to drop to the floor.

Mingi froze. He was expecting a steady hand to help jerk him to completion at the most but this was so much more. The sight of Yunho on his knees, locked upright so he could keep his face raised inches from Mingi’s cock was making his head throb in more ways than one.

He watched as Yunho’s eyes darted around, carefully examining every inch of him as fast as possible. If he knew Yunho was going to be that close and personal with his junk, Mingi would have shaved that morning. 

“I knew you were big but, damn.” Yunho’s vision stayed locked on to Mingi’s shaft. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted. He looked just as needy as he felt.

“I mean, you don’t have to go d-” Mingi couldn’t even provide an alternative, let alone finish his sentence before Yunho’s tongue was curling itself around his head, soaking his cock with a sudden warmth. Mingi’s hand flew to the wall, then his thigh and, finally, Yunho's hair, needing to grab a fistful of something to keep him steady.

Yunho tilted his chin, relaxing into Mingi’s touch and exposing the length of his neck towards the ceiling. Still, he stayed connected via his tongue. Mingi gulped loudly at the sight of Yunho’s throat swallowing, which was suddenly looking very empty to him.

The soft stimulation prompted beads of creamy white to escape from Mingi’s cock, directly onto the flat surface of Yunho’s tongue. He moaned at the taste and vibrations surrounded Mingi’s stirring cock head. Embarrassingly and against his will, Mingi pushed forward a bit, cock sliding across Yunho’s tongue and spreading the pre-cum all over the wet muscle.

“Sorry.” Mingi sheepishly apologized as he returned his hips to where they were before but, to his surprise, Yunho bobbed his head. He artificially repeated the motion over and over until the entirety of the cock’s head was trapped inside Yunho’s mouth. His tongue was running indulgent laps as it circled the pulsing tip.

Mingi was a panting mess. He wasn’t sure if he should speak. Should he tell Yunho how it felt? Would that be too much?

It was then that Yunho’s gaze flickered up to make eye contact with Mingi. His eyes were glossy as though he was stuck in that moment. Mingi’s stomach did a flip at the sight. He was waiting for Mingi’s approval.

“It feels good, you know?” Mingi whispered as the fist in Yunho’s hair released to scratch at his scalp. Mingi didn’t exactly sound confident but Yunho could tell the words were genuine considering how the other boy was falling apart above him. The upper half of Yunho’s face lit up with a would-be smile at the praise.

Meanwhile, his mouth stayed open wide, lips surrounding Mingi’s cock with a gentle suction, before pushing forward slowly. Yunho didn’t look away, not even once, as Mingi watched his cock disappear inch by inch inside his friend's mouth.

“Jesus, Yunho...” He hissed as more of his shaft was coated with the slippery friction from Yunho’s spit.

Yunho was only two inches from fully swallowing Mingi’s cock before he came to a halt. As he paused, he shifted with discomfort on his knees. The breathing from his nose became more erratic, puffs of warm air bouncing off of Mingi’s pelvis. It was clear he had reached his limit. Even while he couldn’t get Mingi’s dick all the way down, his determination was admirable. Cute, even. It was especially impressive considering Mingi presumed it was Yunho’s first time doing this. 

Mingi dropped his hand to fall behind Yunho’s ear, rubbing his neck with a long thumb. Not experienced with dominant dirty talk, he merely offered a simple smile to let him know it was okay to retreat.

When Yunho began to pull back, Mingi caught sight of a bulge in his throat deflating as his dick reappeared. The thought of being that deep inside any of Yunho’s holes made him shudder with excitement.

Less than a second of the cold dressing room air had cruelly returned before Mingi’s dick was throbbing with need again. The shaft was a reddened, slobbery mess as Yunho cupped him against his hands before returning his mouth to the leaking tip.

Now, when Yunho bobbed down on the cock, his movements were more confident, knowing his limits and puffing up with pride over his abilities. Once he reached the checkpoint, he twisted two slippery hands over the base to make up the difference, fully covering Mingi’s large cock in one way or another.

This time, when Yunho pulled back, he tried sucking in his cheeks. He was so concentrated on making Mingi feel good, eyebrows furrowed in a way Mingi would’ve thought was adorable had the air not been just knocked out of his lungs by the new sensation of suction inside Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho never let the tip leave his lips before taking the entire shaft deep into his mouth again, producing extra spit only to suck it up again when he pulled back. It was clear he was enjoying himself discovering his newfound talent. 

Not as much as Mingi was enjoying himself.

The feeling was unlike anything Mingi had ever experienced. Yunho’s mouth was like being surrounded by an always-moving, sopping-wet warmth. The boy on his knees took the term ‘sucking’ dick very literally. Wet and sloppy sounds echoed through the tiny room as Yunho slurped at his cock. 

Mingi was fully collapsed against the wall at this point, fighting gravity to keep himself standing. His moans were deep, guttural and spurring Yunho to move even faster, knowing that Mingi must be close. 

He was. Mingi was seconds away from cumming and already panicking over where he was going to finish. As pretty as he would be covered in streaks of white, Yunho was already in his stage clothes and makeup, ruling out that option. Alternatively, it wasn’t like Mingi could just leave a puddle of his release on the green room floor. The clock was ticking and Mingi didn’t have any alternatives left.

Yunho, more intuitive than Mingi was aware of, must’ve sensed his panic. He looked up at Mingi as though he was trying to tell him something, eventually slowing his neck’s momentum to a standstill and grabbed his attention.

As Mingi’s eyes were full of panic, Yunho eased his fears with a small nod of approval, motions mostly restricted by his throat accommodating the deep curve of Mingi’s cock. Yunho’s eyes were glistening with tears but dark with determination. He was ready to let Mingi take over.

Mingi whimpered, clawing at the wall as he realized what Yunho was telling him. 

“In your mouth? Are you sure?”

A gurgle escaped from the back of Yunho’s throat as he pushed his limits even further, allowing the cock to sit the deepest it had been. Despite his gagging, his actions were entirely permissive, knowing he wouldn’t have to endure the pain for long before Mingi would finish.

Dormant hips sprung into motion, sliding back at first and dragging his cock along the inside of Yunho’s mouth. Strings of thick saliva followed the path, dripping from Yunho’s bruised lips. Carelessly, Mingi’s ass hit the wall with a thud with how roughly he fucked backwards, making Yunho wince in preparation for him to return.

When his hips snapped forward, it wasn’t as bad as Yunho expected. Sure, Mingi was rough in his desperation but the slickness of collected spit gave the cock a smooth re-entrance past Yunho’s lips, into his mouth, and down into his raw throat. Yunho couldn’t help but moan as he felt himself loosen up to accommodate, hoping that the sound got concealed beneath the low sounds of Mingi’s own pleasure.

Mingi fucked his willing mouth again and again, inching just a little deeper each time whether he knew it or not.

“Yunho. Feels good.” Mingi grunted out, unable to conceive proper sentences as his vision was flashing white with fast growing pleasure. “So good. Fuck.”

With the added motion of Mingi’s thrusts, those final two inches that he couldn’t quite conquer seemed like a task from forever ago, Yunho’s throat gladly opening itself up to accommodate until Mingi’s cock was buried completely. It wasn’t long until his nose was bumping against a set of abs.

Ready to be emptied, Mingi’s heavy balls smacked against Yunho’s chin with each greedy snap of his hips. It should’ve been humiliating but Yunho found himself arching into the motions. It felt good to have Mingi use him.

Yunho kept his needy gaze up at Mingi, watching the way his mouth fell agape and the muscles in his jaw clenched. His chest was heaving as he got closer and closer to completion. The sight inspired Yunho to work through the increasing soreness to help Mingi succumb to his pleasure.

“Ah!” Mingi yelled loudly and abruptly, followed by several softer stutters. His hips suddenly began to jerk in a rhythmless pattern he couldn’t quite control and then the first hot spurt of cum splashed against the back of Yunho’s throat. The second erupted into the cavern of his mouth as Mingi fell back further, shaking with pleasure.

Yunho hollowed his cheeks, not allowing Mingi to retreat any more and trapping the twitching cock inside his mouth. He sucked deeply and used the rest of his energy to relax the entire length of his throat and milk Mingi’s shaft until he was empty.

Mingi’s head fell back in awe as Yunho’s tongue lapped every last drop of cum that emerged from the hole on his tip. He was going above and beyond at this point, the aftershocks of Mingi’s orgasm already starting to subside.

“You can stop if you want.” Mingi’s voice was shaky, hoping Yunho wouldn’t take him up on the offer. The gentle warmth felt nice against his softening cock, easing him back to reality gradually instead of all at once.

“Mm, I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Yunho croaked out against his dick, giving the tip one final kiss before letting it fall limp against Mingi’s thigh.

They paused for a brief moment to catch their breath. Mingi dropped a hand to Yunho’s shoulder, giving it a soft massage as a thanks. “Are you okay?” 

Yunho tried to answer but, at first, the words got caught on their way out. Clearing his throat, Yunho choked out a laugh at the discovery of how raw his throat was. “It’s a good thing I didn’t plan to sing live tonight.”

Mingi giggled at the half-joke before yanking up his oversized pants, needing both hands to hold the flowy fabric up so they wouldn’t fall again. Kindly, Yunho helped him tuck the now satisfied cock away before zipping up his fly.

“You know you might have less of a problem if you just wore underwear?” Yunho poked roughly at the downsized but still prominent bulge in Mingi’s pants.

“But it’s uncomfy.” Mingi whined, clearly more willing to go the lengths of jerking off before a performance rather than just wear another layer. Tired and needing to conserve his energy, Yunho rolled his eyes and found another spare phone to check the time. He clicked on the homescreen with little care for the fact that one of their fellow member’s phones was currently being contaminated with Mingi’s dick particles.

“Was that really only ten minutes?” Yunho’s eyes widened at the screen and Mingi went red in the cheeks. “Guess I’m pretty good at that, huh?”

“Yeah. You could say that…” Mingi nodded, getting shy again as the realization set in that his best friend’s lips were just around his cock and they were already back to business as usual. That is, if they didn’t count how disheveled they both looked from the aftermath. Mingi ruffled his hair back to look as close as possible to how the stylists left it.

Not having too much time to dwell on what their new experience meant for their friendship, a loud knock on the door made both boys jump out of their skin. The knock was only a warning as the hinges creaked and the door swung wide, trapping Mingi behind it.

Panicked and then relieved, Mingi stumbled against a plastic knob on the wall, the room falling into darkness just in time for someone to enter the doorway.

“Yunho, are you in here?” Hongjoong’s voice carried through the small room until he saw Yunho by the mirror, hopefully only looking like he woke up from the best nap of his life and nothing else. Definitely nothing else…

“Hey, what are you doing in the dark?”  Luckily, he couldn’t see Mingi. His voice continued. “And why are you on my phone?”

Mingi cringed when Hongjoong snatched the phone back and placed it on the counter. He thankfully had no idea where Yunho’s hands had just been and he would probably never find out.

“Just checking the time.” Yunho replied nonchalantly, rubbing at his jaw.

“Yes, we’re on soon!” Hongjoong sounded excited. Enthusiastic about even the task of coraling up his fellow members for their performance. He seemed too distracted to notice Yunho dabbing away at his lips to clean himself off.

He patted Yunho on the back for encouragement before turning to leave out the open door. “Can you find Mingi on your way back too? We don’t know where he is.”

“Sure thing, Hyung!” Yunho did a goofy salute, playing the clueless role with ease as he bid Hongjoong farewell out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving both Yunho and Mingi in the pitch dark.

“Hey Yunho,” Mingi whispered loudly, as though the darkness would make it harder to hear.

“Hm?” Yunho’s boots squeaked as he turned to face the voice.

“I think I found the light switch.”

.

.

.

[fw00shy]

What Happens After Summer is Up to You

Harry/Draco | T | 1.6k | post-war summer at hogwarts, a little story about letting things go and not making a big fuss over it, fluff honestly but not too sweet | ao3 link

for @drarrymicrofic: what if he wants ken not barbie. ty @vukovich for the beta 💙

(i)

Draco returned to Hogwarts the year after the war for the same reason that got him into this mess in the first place: because he was told to. "Keep your head down and count yourself lucky," his father had said, and Draco packed his bags the same as he did every year, having learned nothing about making his own decisions.

That would come later.

"Some people need a little more help in life than others," Pansy said with a pitying pat of his bedcovers as she watched him pack.

Pansy more than passed her NEWTs with the help of Polyjuice and a morally compromised Ravenclaw. A two-pm Portkey to Zanzibar waited for her in celebration of her well-deserved accomplishments.

Draco picked up an engraved wooden case and opened it to reveal his father's Snitch, the one from the year Lucius had won the House Cup. Draco packed it with him every year as a good luck charm, but looking at it now brought upon a wave of unease.

"Who else is going?" Draco asked Pansy. She was wearing a bruise-purple miniskirt and black lipstick that drained her complexion as gaunt as a Thestral. Draco noted this with petty satisfaction.

Pansy flopped back on Draco's bed. "I dunno. Everyone, I suppose. Daphne, of course. Blaise. Theo. Greg, maybe? But he says he might not have the money, which I think is for the best really — he's just been so sad, probably wants some time alone, to, you know, process — though Blaise said he'd cover for him…" Pansy sat back up. "Draky baby, you aren't sad about missing out, are you?"

Draco snapped down the lid to the Snitch and stashed it in his trunk. "Don't call me that."

"Don't be like that," Pansy cooed. She got off the bed and flounced toward him, her every step light with barely constrained exuberance. "You know it won't be the same without you. I'll owl you a nice prezzy, alright? Look at me."

Pansy's eyes were black and glittering, her mouth hardened in a crocodile smile. She looked like she was ready to move on with her life, which she might as well go and do. Nobody was stopping her, anyway.

(ii)

Hogwarts held preparatory courses over the summer for Muggleborns, and the newly anointed Headmistress singlehandedly taught them all. There were twelve students in total across the years, and the terms of Draco's probation stated that he was to aid in their education.

"Studying over the summer… bet this is Granger's idea of fun," Draco grumbled under his breath over dinner the first week.

"Mine, actually," Potter said around a mouthful of peas. "She helped write the curriculum, but then she scored an internship at the Ministry."

They were sitting at the teacher's table, which meant Draco could talk to Potter without having to meet his eye. As such, they'd spoken a few times, though primarily for passing the butter and pepper and whatnot. (Their fingers brushed on occasion. Though never on purpose, of course.)

"I'm happy for her," Harry said.

"It's a good curriculum." Draco coughed. Dear Circe, complimenting Granger… did he have no filter?

(iii)

Teaching Quidditch to ten-year-olds was Draco's least favourite part of his sentence. You'd think sharing his joy of flying would be his only solace in a soulless summer cleaning up after children barely coordinated enough to wipe their own arses, and you would be horribly, disgustingly wrong. Turns out most Muggle-raised children had a healthy dose of vertigo that often manifested into projectile vomiting from a metre up.

"I just don't get it," Potter said as he Scourgified puke from Draco's hair for the third time that afternoon. Their students were long gone, taken off to the kitchens after one plummeted to the ground in a cannonball of chunder.

"Of course you don't," Draco huffed. Not just anyone could fly like Harry Potter, the youngest Seeker in a century despite never setting foot on a pitch before Hogwarts. "Like any normal dunce can be Harry Potter. You're stupid to think anyone has it as easy as you."

Potter threw a fist at Draco's eye. Draco returned it to Potter's chest, shoving Potter down to the ground. It felt good to hurt, so good that he nearly whined in disappointment when Potter froze and dropped his fist mid-air.

"That was a compliment," Potter said, his face cracked open with bewilderment. "You — God, Malfoy. You mess me up." He got up from the ground, his knees grass-stained and his face bruised with mud. Draco watched the anger bloom red and splotchy over Potter's cheeks and tried not to cower when Potter drew his wand. Was this what Voldemort saw before he died?

Potter muttered something unintelligible, and Draco felt the pain siphoning away from his body. He was light all over, as though Potter had managed to take away all his wounds, even the ones within him, so that there was nothing to Draco but air.

Draco watched Potter disappear back into the castle before standing. He walked through the halls in a daze until he ran into the Headmistress, who told him to clean up before he set a bad example for the incoming First-Years. It wasn't until he was freshly showered and pulling on his robes again that he realised that his Dark Mark was gone.

(iv)

They started tossing around a Quaffle in the late afternoons after Quidditch class. They were already in their leathers, and saying yes was as easy as lifting off the ground. Throwing around a Quaffle was loads harder than chasing after a Snitch, but neither were practised at it, which helped, as they dove after missed catches with all the vigour of a game-ending Snitch. They flew until the daylight ran out and their breaths with it, sweaty and exhausted and so late into dinner that they were sent to the kitchens to scavenge leftovers.

It was a Sunday afternoon in mid-August when Pansy's promised owl brought Draco a box of chocolates; too many for Draco to eat alone, so it was only sensible for him to share as he would have with Greg or Vince in the past. He walked the long corridor to Potter's door and knocked, chocolates in hand.

It was a terrible mistake. Potter wore only boxers, his glasses askew and his hair still sleep-rumpled (despite it being The Afternoon!). Draco stumbled back as though slapped. Potter honestly had no right being so effortlessly attractive on top of everything else he had going for him. It was like seeing Dumbledore in his sleeping hat, or maybe the first time Draco caught Pansy on the toilet and realised that girls pooped: all wrong, completely wrong, he really ought to go, perhaps another time —

Potter dragged him inside with only the gentlest roll of his eyes.

The inside of Potter's room was as cosy as Mother's cashmere jumper, only uglier (the wrong colours). Potter ate an embarrassing number of chocolates while proclaiming, "I dunno where it all goes, honest; can't gain a stone," and Draco was so disgusted by the utter unfairness of life that he fell asleep over Potter's bed and had to sneak back to his own room in the wee hours of the morning.

(v)

It wasn't meant to be an open invitation. But Potter followed Draco all the way back to his room after dinner the next day, and Draco didn't manage to shut the door on him in time.

Potter looked around, his head swivelling around comically, like an owl. And then his eyes narrowed on Lucius's unopened letters piled high on Draco's desk.

"What's in them?"

"Dunno," Draco said. "Directives, if I had to guess. Rather pointless, considering I'm stuck under McGonagall's iron fist until the summer's out." Potter opened one anyway, and Draco watched anger carve lines between his brows with some bemusement. Was this what it was like to have Harry Potter on his side? It was a bit like hanging around a guard crup, or maybe a guard dragon.

Potter burned the letter. He burned them all before returning to his room.

Draco sat on his bed and stared at the scorched top of his desk. He wasn't sure how he felt about it all being gone. Part of him was relieved, sure, but mostly the loss numbed his chest through.

Then Draco remembered his father's Snitch.

Draco summoned the Snitch to him, and it burst forth from the bottom of his trunk amid a cacophony of torn textbooks and scattered winter cloaks. Draco caught the box in his right hand and tucked it under him before gingerly stepping over the mess to his window, where he took out the Snitch and let it go. And then all that was left of Lucius in Draco's room was Draco himself.

The future unfolded before him, cold and barren to the ends of the earth. What was he supposed to do now?

(vi)

In the last week of summer, Potter told Draco to call him Harry, and then he asked Draco what he was going to do with his life.

Draco said, "I dunno. Get a job at the Ministry. Marry Pansy, I suppose. And you with Ginny, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry said and took Draco's face into his hands and kissed him.

Was this it? Was this what all those miserable years surmounted to? This crystalline moment, the one that Draco waited for his whole life. And now it took him by surprise.

Harry's lips were very chapped, though his mouth held the sweet promise of fresh grass and sunshine. Whatever that meant. Draco kissed him back. And then he said it wasn't fair that Harry was so good at kissing as he was at everything else, honestly — sunshine? Was there anything Harry struggled at? Because he was so bloody perfect that it made Draco want to stomp on his face and throw up all over him.

"You're the only person in the world who thinks I'm perfect," Harry said and kissed him again.

(vi)

What happened after summer is up to you. 💙

Read on AO3

[notmrskennedy]

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

#

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

#

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

#

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

#

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

#

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

[laundryandtaxes]

I’m a bit baffled by your stance on masks. Maybe it’s because I’m from England and the situation is different here, with the delta variant widespread and AstraZeneca being the main vaccine but from the research I’ve seen it definitely makes sense to continue wearing masks indoors even when vaccinated as with the amount of unvaccinated people combined with vaccine efficiency there is potential for a big wave (which is now happening). Can you explain any more your thought process?

Sure! I'm not even vaguely anti-mask. I was religious about my mask use before I got vaccinated because it was the best available thing I could do, if I had to be in public spaces, to wear a mask to protect other people- in other words, because it was the single best tool I had at my disposal to prevent myself from giving other people COVID or catching it myself. The calculus changed for me, and I'm only able to speak for myself here, once an even better option became available to me- once I was able to get vaccinated, I did so immediately, and frankly I didn't really do it out of concern for my own health because I'm a relatively young and relatively healthy person without any (known, though I have some reason to be a bit suspicious) autoimmune issues and therefore my odds, while I wouldn't want to play them, were very good wrt risk of serious illness. I got it because the single best way to prevent spreading the illness, like with basically any virus as far as I, extremely a layman and not an epidemiologist, was to prevent getting it so that I could not pass it on. I was extremely uncomfortable for the first few weeks of not wearing one in public, but I got over it after about a month even though I also caught a cold for the first time in over a year. Plain and simple, I did the single best thing I could personally do to help bring the pandemic to a close- I rolled up my sleeve for the same reason I wore a mask, which was not primarily primarily protect myself but primarily to protect other people. I understood that I might still contract the virus, but I also understood that the shot made it much less likely that I would, and I hoped, and science has so far strongly suggested, that in the event that I did get COVID anyway vaccination might prevent me from spreading the virus.

The reason that we are seeing a massive surge in cases is partly due to breakthrough cases, sure. They're happening, though the majority of people in hospitals due to the virus are not vaccinated. But the way that vaccinated people and unvaccinated people get the virus is largely the same- exposure to viral load. In other words, spread determines the scale of all infection, and vaccination rates correlate with the scale of breakthrough infections. Again, I could very much be wrong on some of this because I'm not a scientist, but basically my understanding is this- the way the virus spreads is simply by finding hosts, and if the Delta variant had shown up on US shores to find that every county had a 90% vaccination rate we would still be seeing a surge but we would not be seeing a tripling in case counts. The reason we are seeing a surge right now is that the virus still has a lot of unvaccinated hosts to infect, and it is this in COMBINATION with the fact that breakthrough infections happen (which, btw, was happening with the original strain as well) that is causing this massive rise we are experiencing. This is not happening because vaccinated people took our masks off in Target. It is not happening because we decided to live like vaccinated people, like people with an extremely low risk of serious infection or of making someone else seriously ill. It's happening because, while billions of people wish they could get even a single dose for the maybe 50/50 protection it could offer them, massive swaths of Americans have turned their noses up at the single best tool we have for keeping the illness from spreading. In some communities, the spread of the Delta variant is in fact pushing people to get vaccinated who otherwise might not have. But what is happening now is a repeat of what's been happening for over a year now- roughly half the country masked up and distanced and did all the things we were supposed to do to help, and roughly half did not because it simply did not align with their values to do so, and the rest of us see a surge in cases resulting from people holding unmasked and unvaccinated parties and finger wag at each other for that one time so and so walked into the mall and forgot to have a mask on, and it was silly and annoying enough before vaccines became available but NOW, when almost anyone in the country can get vaccinated with relative ease as the virus just rips its was through poorer and more densely crowded countries, it is genuinely angering to be implicated in something that I have very good reason to believe is not happening because of my actions or the actions of other vaccinated people. I've done my part this whole way, and as a vaccinated and relatively young and healthy person I'm not all that worried about my own risk of getting COVUD right now, and for that reason I'm even less worried about spreading it on. Vaccinated people putting masks back on in stores is tossing a totally ineffective solution at a problem that is largely unrelated to the behaviors of vaccinated people.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Green-Eyed Monster

This is a sequel to Water Seeks Its Own Level, although you probably don’t have to read that one for this one to make sense. It’s set a few months after the events of that story. I originally intended to write for someone new but I am just totally smitten with Eddie. He called me back to him. 

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x OFC

Word count: 3,836

Content advisory: a healthy dose of smut and cursing

“Son of a bitch!” You jerk your hand back, wincing in pain and you smack the side of the toaster oven, as if it’s the appliance’s fault you haven’t yet figured out that food coming out of the oven is hot. To make things worse, you actually feel a little guilty for taking your anger out on the inanimate object. You’re in a bad mood. The toaster oven is just the latest thing to make your day worse. 

You run some cold water on your hand before you go back for another attempt at removing the leftover pizza slice that you don’t even want but you figure you should eat something because you’ve poured a couple of beer down your gullet and if you don’t eat something, you’re going to get a headache. 

So you gnaw joylessly at your pizza slice, trying not to notice that reheating it has not made it taste fresher than the three days it’s been in your refrigerator. None of this would have happened, of course, if you’d just gone out with the rest of the crew like you’d assumed you would. There was a Korean barbecue place that a few of the AEW gang had heard good things about and finally someone had taken it upon themselves to get a side room reserved so that you could all go together and have a good time. You’d been looking forward to it. 

But earlier in the day, you’d found out that the group that was going included Eddie, along with his new so-called family: the Butcher, the Blade, and the Bunny, also known as Andy, Braxton, and Allie. It shouldn’t have bothered you. They’d known each other a long time. You knew them all well. They’d all been bugging you to come along whenever they were going out together, or at least they had until recently. 

As things too often did for you, it came down to Eddie. After he’d shown up in AEW, the two of you had rekindled the fuck-buddy thing you’d had going when you were both on the indies. The problem was that now you weren’t just hooking up when you happened to be on the same tour or show: you were together every week, living in the same city, working the same schedule. So your casual, no-strings-attached thing had become a very frequent thing. It had become a leaving stuff in each other’s apartments thing. It had become a casual understanding of at least one night of the weekend together thing. 

What it hadn’t become was a relationship, at least not in the articulated, public, monogamous sense. You didn’t have anyone else in your life. You didn’t want anyone else in your life. You’d spent years telling yourself that Eddie was just someone you could go to for a good time in the sack, and even though you were aware that he always stirred up feelings in you that went beyond a fallback booty call, you kept telling yourself that was all it was. 

Now that the two of you were actually stable in terms of work and living space, though, you’d started to wonder if maybe you did want things to be a bit more stable with Eddie as well. Although you’d never discussed your status, you didn’t have anyone else in your life and you didn’t want anyone else in your life. Even though you were surrounded by beautiful people at work, people who had their shit far more together than Eddie Kingston ever would, it was like they didn’t really exist. You didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. If it was going to happen, it would come out naturally, by which you meant that he’d have to get around to bringing it up. 

Things had been fine until recently, until Eddie had taken it upon himself to reunite Braxton with his estranged wife Allie, the Bunny, so that they could have each other’s backs. At least, that’s what he said he was doing. But it actually seemed that Allie was spending most of her time with Eddie. He was the one on television calling her “the beautiful Bunny” and taking credit for wooing her back to the fold. He convinced her to join them. He was the one she seemed loyal to. Even backstage, when the four of them were around each other, Allie always seemed to be hanging off Eddie’s arm, laughing extra loudly at his jokes, and insisting that he come along wherever she was going. It made your blood boil. 

You didn’t say anything because it wasn’t like you had reason to think that Eddie wasn’t going to have anyone else in his life. And you were even sure if he did, because cuckolding his friend right in front of his face would be bold even for him. You’d gone out with the group of them a couple of times but you’d felt nauseous from jealousy, watching him talk about how great it was that they were all working together again. 

So you’d ended up begging off and just spending time with Eddie when you could be alone. More recently, you’d just started avoiding him because thinking that he was leaving your bed to have a quick shower and then run off to another woman had you crying your eyes out on several occasions. You never said anything, you just stopped returning his texts and stayed clear of him at work. And after a while, he’d stopped messaging and trying to talk to you. Things were over. 

You throw the remainder of the pizza in the garbage. Thinking about everything that’s happened in this weird, hopeless thing with him makes you feel rejected and miserable all over again. You miss him. A lot. But now it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything more with you, that he wants to keep things open, and you know you can’t deal with that. 

The doorbell cuts through the fog of frustration and self-pity, startling you so much that you give a little yelp. You old place had one of those systems when the bell was hooked up to your phone but this one had a buzzer that sounded like an aircraft engine and you didn’t feel like you were ever going to get used to it. 

“Hello?” You mumble, hoping that it isn’t another homeless person looking to sleep in the hallway downstairs. 

“It’s me, can I come up?”

He doesn’t even have to say his name because you’d know that almost cartoonish accent anywhere. It figures that he’d just show up unannounced after eleven, like nothing had been weird between you. Maybe for him, things hadn’t been weird at all. 

“Yeah, sure.” You press the release to open the front door and wait, pacing a little and trying to stay calm until you hear a knock on your door. 

And when you open it, there’s Eddie, his face and jacket sprinkled with rain, sporting a fresh-looking bruise on his left eye that he turns to try to hide it. 

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” he grunts, his eyes a little suspicious and resentful. 

“True. Guess we’ve both been busy.”

You motion for him to come inside, quietly pleased that he remembers to take his boots off. You reach over to take his jacket so that you can hang it up and he looks almost offended. 

“I know where it goes,” he snaps, opening the closet and putting it on a hanger himself. 

You grip his jaw and turn his face so that you can get a better look at the damaged eye. 

“What happened?”

He steps back, pouting like a child who’s been caught doing something he knows he isn’t supposed to. 

“We went out to a bar after the restaurant. Archer offered to buy me a drink, and I said I wanted to buy him a drink. I guess it got out of hand.”

“Two friends try to buy a round at the bar turns into a fistfight. That is so you.” 

You can’t help but laugh at your own joke because it is such an Eddie thing but he doesn’t seem amused. 

“You got something I can put on this?” He grumbles. 

“I have a couple of ice packs in the freezer. Come on.”

He follows you over to the open kitchen with its little breakfast counter while you start lifting frozen entrees out of the way to find the artificial ice. 

“So how come you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. “My stomach was a bit upset and I probably wouldn’t have been much fun.”

He gives a low cackle. “You just don’t like it when you can’t have me all to yourself.”

You pause from digging through the back of the freezer to shoot him a scornful look. 

“You just want me there so you can have a larger audience,” you retort, standing and producing the ice pack. 

“Who said I wanted you there?”

You slap the cold pack into his cheek, giving a cruel little smile when he winces at the impact. 

“Thank god you never decided to become a nurse,” he growls. 

You can feel his eyes digging into you, searching for an opening. He knows all your fault lines so well, but he knows that there’s something going on with you that he hasn’t seen before. Your body twists under his scrutiny, trying to make it less obvious that you’re avoiding meeting his gaze. 

“So what’s up with you anyway?” he asks, still studying you too closely for comfort.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine with me.”

“What?” You finally look back at him, eyes wide with fake surprise. “Did I say something that made you think I was pissed at you? Did I do something to get you pissed off?”

“Come on. You know what I mean. You barely talk to me at work, you never go out if you think I’m gonna be there. You won’t answer when I message you, or it’s two words long like I’m annoying you. I thought things were going ok with us for once.”

“They were. They are,” you counter desperately. 

He places the ice pack on the counter and arches his brows at you. When you reach to remove it, he grabs your wrist and pulls you between his body and the counter, shaking his head as he presses it hard against yours. 

His hands graze down to your hips and under your shorts, gripping both of your ass cheeks hard and you feel yourself melt against him, as you always do. You incline your head forward until your lips are against his, your arms winding around his neck, and you let yourself fall into the kiss you’d told yourself you were going to avoid. Everything that Eddie does with that mouth of his is magic and every second you spend locked in that embrace, you get drawn further in. 

“I missed this,” he growls softly, giving a hard squeeze for emphasis.

It’s almost painful to pull yourself back from what you want so much but if you don’t extricate yourself now, you’ll be going crazy over him forever, so you force yourself to do it. 

You try to pivot a little but he has you locked in place. 

“Please, just let me put the cold pack back in the fridge.”

“No,” he whispers, giving you an evil little smile before nipping at the skin of your neck. “That’s gonna stay right there and melt and make a mess until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“That’s not fair!” You whine, trying fruitlessly to reach back so you can at least throw the stupid in thing in the sink. 

“Kinda seems like the Princess has decided she’s too good for me again.”

His lips lock onto the base of your throat and you main loudly. He’s doing it on purpose, tweaking your sensitive spots with his caresses and his words. 

“You know that’s not true, Eddie.”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you were afraid someone might find out that I was your dirty little secret.”

“It’s not that, I don’t give a fuck who knows.”

That draws a guttural laugh from him and the sound makes your stomach flip. You don’t offer any resistance when he eases your tank top over your head and trails kisses down the center of your chest. 

“So tell me,” he insists, twisting a nipple hard between his fingers, “why I haven’t been getting any of this.”

“Why does it have to be something wrong with me? You’re the one with your new faction or family or whatever, making all sorts of plans and wooing Allie to join you.”

He lifts his head and as soon as you see the smirk on his face, you know you’re done for. 

“Wooing Allie?”

“I don’t know what you call it. You got her to ditch what she was doing and go back with you guys.”

“I call it talking to my friend’s wife and making her work things out with him. That’s not what most people would call ‘wooing’, princess.”

“Whatever, I just meant that you’ve been busy so maybe I’m the one who should feel neglected.”

You fold your arms in front of your chest because the only thing worse than trying to salvage your stupid comment is trying to do it half naked while he gives you that amused look. 

“I don’t believe it. You’re fucking jealous.”

“No,” you whine. 

“Oh yes you are. You think there’s something going on with me and Allie.”

“I guess it seems like you have a bit of a thing for her, at least. You’re always talking about how beautiful she is and all that.”

“Princess, has anyone explained to you that not everything you see in wrestling is real?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just said that you’d been busy and-“

He kisses you again, little ripples of laughter coming out as he does. You return the kiss, diving in and hoping that you can just shut him up and make him forget what you’ve said, and to shut yourself up before you say anything worse. 

“I like this,” he chuckles. “You’re jealous because you think I’m hot for someone else.”

“Fuck off, I never said that.”

The two of you continue kissing, more passionately and hungrier than before, but the next time he pulls back to catch his breath, he goes back to his new favourite subject. 

“I am never letting you live this one down.”

“You can leave any time, you smug asshole.”

He chuckles again, his hand sliding under your clothes, between your legs. He buries his face against you, his lips pressed against your ear as he drags one finger, ever so lightly, from the back of your slit all the way up to your throbbing little nub, repeating the gesture and using his hip to hold you still and stop you from thrusting against him to get more friction. He just keeps up with that ghost of a touch, humming with pleasure the more he can feel your frustration. 

“You want me to go? Really? Because it feels like maybe you’re not so sure.”

You just whimper in need, while at the same time trying to force the desire you’re feeling out of your body. 

He lightly strokes and taps at your clit as he whispers to you, “I like that you’re jealous. But you need to tell me these things, not deprive both of us, ya silly brat.”

His attention then shifts, two thick fingers swirling at your entrance while the two of you bite and lick at each other. You hold out as long as you can, which isn’t long at all, before begging. 

“Don’t do that. Stop teasing.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” he rasps, grinning as you thrust against him, trying to force some more pressure. 

“Fuck me. Stop talking and fuck me through the mattress and into the goddamned floor.”

He lifts you up by your thighs, smiling when you wrap your arms around him to secure yourself as he carries you to your bed. As he places you down, he removes the rest of your clothing in one smooth movement before discarding his own. You kiss playfully for a moment before you tap his thigh. 

“Get up here,” you order. 

And he is most happy to oblige, kneeling over your body and letting you take his thick cock in hand, easing the swollen tip past your lips, sucking and licking while you slowly move your hand along his shaft, occasionally letting your thumb flick delicately along the seam, relishing the yelps this gesture never fails to elicit from him.  

“So you want that even if I’ve been giving it to another woman?”

You growl but the vibrations only increase his pleasure and he starts to thrust a little, pushing himself further into your mouth and throat. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” he purrs, “I’ll always have some use for you.”

At that, you punch him hard in the hip and rake your nails down his ass. He eases down your body, sparkling, mischievous eyes meeting yours. It’s like there’s nothing else in the whole world for you but you know better than to say so. 

“You know what you need to do, Kingston? You need to shut the fuck up.” You push on his shoulders to direct him where you want him to go, and while he takes his time getting there, the journey involves him working his way down your body, like he’s worshipping you. 

“This what you want?” he asks, licking at your soaked flesh. 

“Mm-hmm.” You squirm in anticipation, suspecting that he might try to draw this out longer, so when he dives in and starts fucking you with his tongue, lips and teeth, you let out a loud moan and clench at the bedsheet with both fists. You’re already so close.”

“Lucky for you I have such good stamina,” he hisses. “So I can handle all of these women I’m fucking.”

“You’re still talking,” you groan. “Why are you still talking?”

He gives a harsh bite on the inside of your thigh. “Look at me.”

You glare down at him but immediately feel a little unnerved by the deadly serious look in his eyes. 

“You know damn well there aren’t any other women. I haven’t fucked another woman, haven’t kissed- hell I haven’t even beat off thinking about another woman in months. So let me enjoy this for a few hours until you go back to thinking you’re too good for me.”

With that he goes right back at it, letting you feel the full skill of that constantly moving mouth. You let yourself go, feeling for the first time in ages like you have exactly what you want, what you need, right here in your bed doing everything to make you happy. Your whole body trembles in ecstasy, the tide rising steadily within you, your whines and moans growing ever louder. 

“I love you.”

It slips out so naturally that you almost don’t notice that you’ve said it until he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Get back down there!” You push his head but he shakes you off and now you’re aware you have a problem. 

“Oh no, I want you to repeat what you just said.”

“I don’t remember,” you whine. 

“Sure you do.” He moves to his side next to you, running his fingers over your skin so that you stay worked up, frustrated, and desperate. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“No,” he scolds, “that wasn’t what you said.”

You exhale in exasperation. 

“Let me get you started. You said ‘I’... come on, repeat after me.”

“What makes you think I even meant it?”

“Well you have to tell me whether you did or not, don’t you, princess?”

His finger traces a curved line between your hip bones that only accentuates your overwhelming, unmet need. 

“I’m not hearing anything,” he coos, flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

“Fine!” you roar, hitting your breaking point. “I said that I love you, and yeah, I meant it.”

Grinning, he moves back down your body. 

“Now was that so hard?” he asks just as he buries his face between your legs again. 

You’d love to give a sharp retort but the second he’s giving you what you want, every other thought leaves your mind. You are one pulsating nerve waiting for release and he is expertly guiding you there. Within minutes you’re screaming his name, tears leaking from your eyes as you come down from the best orgasm you think you’ve ever had. 

By the time you can open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, the tip of his cock throbbing against the lips of your pussy. 

“Say it again.”

You groan a little and push against him but it doesn’t work. 

“Say it again and look at me this time.”

His incredible eyes bear down on you and it’s very different than before. This time, you can’t hide the truth of it behind sarcasm and annoyance. This time he can see into you. You’re vulnerable. 

“Come on.” He prods at your face with his nose and lips before once again locking you with that killer stare. “Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” you stammer, trying to read his reaction and more than a little afraid of what that might be. 

He moans a little and pushes himself part way inside you, rocking his hips slowly. 

“Again,” he rasps. 

“Don’t be like this. I said it. I said it twice. What the hell do you want?”

He grabs a handful of your hair and thrusts his face even closer to yours. “Five years. Five fucking years I’ve been waiting for you to come around. So I want to get the most out of this that I can.”

“Eddie Kingston, I love you.”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and thrusts into you harder. 

“Are you going to say it back?” 

“Sure,” he laughs. “When I feel like it.”

He pounds into you with increased vigor, laughing more when he sees your face contort somewhere between fury and ecstasy, your pussy contracting involuntarily around him. 

“You are such a bastard,” you yell, fighting the second orgasm that’s about to overtake you. 

The phrase is barely past your lips when your whole body spasms, pulling him right along with you. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pants after a couple of minutes. “I am a bastard. But you finally managed to figure out I’m the bastard you want.”

You can’t help but laugh, wondering if he really did know ages before you did that you were in love with him, or if he was just hopeful. You run your hands over the back of his head and pull on his earlobe a little with your teeth. 

“God help me,” you whisper.

[amindofstone]

let me hold you for a bit

{

a/n: And here we have another scenario I made up in my head before going to sleep just to make myself sad over basically something none existing. GREATTTTT!!! Anyways, while writing this I honestly got hella mad over the word swordsman. I googled it and found out that this is a neutral word and can be used for the male but also female gender. It's just like the word mankind. Like the fck?! Why is language so patriarchal?! I'm going to have a looooooong discussion with my professor about that... Anyways have fun and enjoy this little work of mine. ;)

Genre: anime image?

Character(s): Eustass "captain" Kid × Serena (reader)

Words: 2295

Spoiler(s): none

Info: For better reading keep in mind that the words in italic are either Kid's or readers train of thoughts. It is both written in italic but it is understandable on who's thoughts it is (Hopefully).

Warning(s): a bit of cursing and swearing, I guess. But nothing to be worried of. (+ grammatical or spelling mistakes since English is my third language and I'm still improving in every aspect. (Please have mercy on that))

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me if this is shared or published in any other platform or any other way. This took me a lot of time. So please respect me as the writer and my work. Picture is not mine. Credits to the rightful owner @nan50ku (on Twitter). !!!

}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One and a half year ago he send his first mate to recruite her as a swordsman although some of his mates weren't really fond of his choice for a long time. So he took it upon himself to convince them to agree to his word. He might be the captain but he cherished his crew a lot although he never said nor really showed it because he is not the type of man who likes to openly show emotions since he considered it as weak.

So after a few days of long arguments between the stubborn captain and his first mate he was able to make him and his crew accept his decision to make the female fencer a part if their life and goal. Although the captain was really fond of her being the crew still took her presence on board with a lot of scepticism and caution since they barely knew anything about her. Not only took it the entire crew but also the woman itself a lot if time and patience to get used to their new environment. Lucky for her she was not the only female on board. There seemed to be another woman who was recruited by the pirates long ago. She however had nothing against her and welcomed her with open arms just like the captain who unlike her had more than just one reason to accept her with joy.

Days passed and she slowly started to open up more and socialise with the people on board more and more. Weeks passed and she laughed and fought side by side with them. Months passed and she shared memories of her childhood with the people off the Kid pirates and heared a few of theirs. But it was after a year with them when the woman Eustass Kid took in his crew with pure joy, told the people she grew fond of that her father was a important person at the revolutionary army and that she therefore was also a part of them. She thought that they might throw her out and get mad at her secrecy but nothing happened. In fact they were glad she told them something important as this. But most of all they were happy to see that the woman that kept quiet for so long opened up to them to this extent.

While they all thought nothing else of it and kept going as if nothing happened one person in particular seemed to grow angrier day by day. He locked himself up in his cabin or his workshop and only came out when it was necessary which got the crew worried more and more.

It was well known for his mates that their captain was a naturally reckless man but never over nothing. He was going mad at the most unnecessary and simple things. When they docked on islands Kid would usually celebrate, drink more and more. He wouldn't give a damn about anyone and would have a great time. But since he became quite temperamental and gloomy for no reason in particular he kept staying in his cabin. He would always give all of his crew mates a list of supplies and get back in his workshop and ignore his first mates question if he doesn't want to come out for a while. Even when he slammed the door shut behind him his first mate who was also his best friend would keep telling him that it was not okay for him to stop talking to his people. After all it was them that worked for him and respected him. But the only thing the blond man would get was a annoyed and angry "Fuck off!".

Now one and a half year later, after he recruited the female bold fencer, the crew would find him knocking on the door of her bedroom at least twice a week. And when she wouldn't be in her bedroom when he came he would simply enter and just wait for her inside, no matter how long it took her to come back to her room. Just like now.

Kid took a quick glance at the clock at the wall over her desk that was occupied by probably a dozen books for her researches. A smile spread over his red lips that turned into a small chuckle when he remembered how happy she got when he came back yesterday with a bunch of new books. When he told her that Killer included some novels to the already enormous pile of books they came back with her face light up. How can someone like reading that much. It's a waste of time when it's not informative. Kid who was sitting on her bed stood up and walked up to her desk and took a look at her notes of the task he gave her. With a little too much of a proud smile he leaned back and took her notebook in his hands and went through it to kill some time. Not long after, the door to the room he was sitting in was opened by its owner.

"Oh I'm sorry did you wait long?", a woman with two swords attached to her small waist entered with a genuine smile on her plum lips with the colour of a deep pink. "Not at all. I was going through your notes and I'm am surprised how much informations you found out in such a short period. It really was a good idea to get you to be a part of my crew.", said the red haired man without looking up from the book in his hands. He was taking his time reading because he didn't wanted to leave so soon. He wanted to have a reason to stay in her room with her without anyone else. He wanted her to himself all alone. But he never dared and will never dare to say it out loud.

He came to her again just like any other time since months now with the hope of her coming and sitting on his lap on her own. He wanted her to hold his face in her small and tender hands while caressing his cheeks in the painful slow pace she always did. He wanted to bury his face on her neck and breath in her scent that got him addicted. He felt small, he felt weak, he felt stupid when she was around. Because he knew that he was helplessly in love with a woman that was to good for him and would probably leave as soon as the no. 2 of the revolutionary army would order her over. The thought of a man that could get her to any place in the world got him angrier than necessary.

Kid pushed everything aside. All of his emotions and the need to hold her just to lean on her desk and take a pen and paper and work on her notes. Focus and ignore her you fool. He told himself off and tried his best to bury his need to take a look at her in the deepest corner of his heart. So it came that he was now working on her notes while every now and than asking her what she meant with a specific note or if the information that was given to her is trustworthy or not. A hour passed and Serena took a shower and changed into a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater she recently purchased. She was sitting in her bed and read a novel when she let out a quiet yawn. She put her book on her nightstand and got under her blanket just to realise that she wasn't alone. Her green orbs fell upon her captain that was silently doing her work. When was the last time he had eight hours of sleep? Can't he relax for a bit? Every time I see him he is either in his workshop or on sea. "Kid? Aren't to going to sleep or at least rest for a bit?"

A soft and gentle voice replaced the calm silence and made the red haired man's heart race while his body turned warm. He felt like he had a fever and was about to collapse when he heard the bed behind him shift. He didn't move a bit or said anything until he felt her soft hands on his shoulders. "You should go to bed. Rest a bit. You need a healthy dose of sleep and resting otherwise you won't be able to fight properly, you know?"

Kid said nothing. He didn't reply to her or move. "Kid? You alright?", and again he didn't gave a answer but closed his eyes and turned around just to sit her down on his lap. "Stay. Stay like that for a while. I know that you want me to leave and I will do so but for now just stay like that and let me hold you for a bit."

The usually loud and aggressive captain was holding onto the female fencer like a child while his face was buried between her shoulder and neck. The feared captain was slowly breathing in her scent and letting out a hardly audible whimper. But Serena heard it what made her shiver slightly out of shook. She carefully placed her hands on his face and made him look in her eyes but the stubborn man refused to do so. He kept his eyes closed and his jaw clenched out of anger towards himself. What the actual fuck am I doing?! What is wrong with me? Why is my fucking heart racing?! GOD, stop it!! The captains cheeks were softly caressed by the woman he sat on his lap. While doing so she waited for him to hopefully open his eyes and allow her a look into his onyx black eyes. She didn't want to push him to something he didn't wanted so she kept quiet and gave him time to relax. While doing so she place her forehead against his and hummed a soft melody that seemed familiar to the captain of the worst generation but he couldn't quite get why it was so familiar and comforting.

Still not opening his eyes Kid spoke in a low and quiet voice "Would you mind me sleeping next to you for tonight?", a smile grew on Serenas lips and made a chuckle follow. "How come you are able to speak so nice and so.. I don’t know... gentleman like? No, thats not it. Let's just say it was really really nice and respectfully said.", said the green eyed woman while leading him to her bed and tugging him in. "Don't make me regret my word choice. I can go back to cursing and insulting you in any minute, woman."

The laughter of Serena filled the comforting silence that lingered in the room. A laughter that made the heart of the man laying at the right of the bed jump in joy. "And there we have our rude captain back. I kinda missed your rudeness around me. It's kinda entertaining and funny. I mostly like to see you and Killer fight with him always stating facts and you just yelling around a bunch of angry - No's- like a child.", with a smile upon her lips she made a little fun of the man she loved to have close to her. She liked spending time with him. She loved it when he came to her to complain about a failed plan of his or that of his first mate. She really appreciated when he searched for her whenever he needed to calm down and get away form his responsibilities as the captain. And everytime she would drop anything and anyone just to give him all of her attention as long as she could help. But everytime she did so the tall and muscular man wondered why she acted that way towards him because he knew that he wasn't someone easy-going.

"You're really annoying. Everytime I come to see you, you make me regret it.", Kid rolled his eyes to show his annoyance to support his point while still wearing a tiny friendly smile on. Serena laid down and pulled her blanket up to her shoulder right before she placed a hand under her pillow and her other hand lovingly on her captains cheek. Kid closed his eyes and did exactly what he asked her for. Sleeping and laying next to her with the hope of being able to suppress his need to hold her tightly in his arms and to calm his racing heart. But sadly she only knew about his wish of just being allowed to sleep next to her. Carefully she went through his hair to help him sleep when he took her wrist and held her back from making any other move. "Woman, your annoying. Let me sleep in peace."

Serena was hurt and felt her heart aching more than any other day but she said nothing else beside apologising and taking her hand back. "Good night cap."

She slowly turned around with now her back facing the sleepy big figure of the man beside her. Out of all the men around the world her heart chose to love him. A reckless and unpredictable man. A man that does not hesitate to kill and destroy when he wanted or needed to. She, a woman with a loving and sweet personality. A woman who probably could marry a king or a Prince ended up loving a pirate, a criminal hated and feared by any person with a sense of sanity. I should have stayed with my father and never accepted this mission Sabo gave me. A tear fell down her cheek when she heard the man, who owned her heart and soul without even knowing, lightly snore.

And just like that another night passes for the two lovesick pirates without them knowing that their feelings were actually returned.