#if they do something wrong it’s not out of malice they just live in another world and 9 out of 10 times they aren’t even following what is

[slayersins]

morally beel is the jyuushimatsu of the demon brothers

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny was born as a Halfa

So! Jack and Maddie are a little More insane in this.

When studying Ghosts, they become convinced that the only way to defeat the Ghostly Threat is to make a Ghost of their own. One who will fight on their Side. And they do believe that a "Good Ghost" is Possible, but only if fused with a Human to balance out the "Inherent Evil".

So, when Maddie gets pregnant they take the opportunity to try and make one of these theoretical "Halfas" by testing on the Baby in the Womb.

Jazz if Born, and she is not a Halfa. She is merely an extremely Liminal Toddler, so Jack and Maddie consider the experiment a Failure. They raise Jazz as per usual, and then 2 years later Jack and Maddie try again.

They have Danny, and this time he is a True Halfa! They did it! Now all they have to do is turn the Baby into the perfect Weapon against Ghosts!

Danny is raised less like a Baby and more like a Weapon. His Parents still treat him well, and give him some amount of love, but there is never any doubt in his mind that his only purpose in Life is to be the perfect weapon against Ghosts.

The only person who really treats him like something more than a Weapon is Jazz, who likes to sneak into his Room and play with him when they parents are out of the House.

(Later addition: They also have Ellie as a Kid a few years later, but because they messed up the process she is not as Stable as Danny is. She is 4 years younger than he is)

Then, they day he had been preparing for his whole life comes. When he is 10, a Ghost manages to sneak through a Natural Portal into Amity Park, and the Fentons send him to go deal with it as his First Test Run.

But when he gets there, he doesn't find an Evil Ghost bent on killing everyone in town. He finds a Teenage Girl, with blue flaming Hair, crying to herself.

(Idk how long ago Ember died, so lets just assume she died around 6 years before Canon)

He doesn't attack immediately, and when the girl sees him she invites him to sit with her. Against his better judgement, he agrees and sits with her.

She talks to him for a bit, and eventually explained why she was crying. Apparently she only died a few weeks ago and had finally found her way back to the Living World, back home. But when she got there she found that nobody really cared about her Death.

She had died in a House Fire, and because she had spent her entire night waiting for her Boyfriend to show up for a Date, she was too tired to wake up in time to escape.

Her Parents had obviously mourned, but her supposed friends and her boyfriend had hardly cared. In fact, it turned out that her Boyfriend had stood her up because he was cheating on her. So she had run off into the Park and sat down to Cry about it, where Danny had found her.

And Danny is confused.

His entire life, he has heard that Ghosts are Non-Sentient Killing Machines. That they don't feel any emotion aside from Malice. That they aren't People.

But this Girl is as Human as anybody else he has ever known. Perhaps even More Human.

He decides to ignore The Fentons Orders, and lets her go back through the Portal she had come through.

When he gets Home, the Fentons are less than pleased. They are Livid in fact.

Their Perfect Weapon was a Failure after all! It's too much like a Ghost to ever side with the Humans! It's just another Spook!

And they know what to do with Spooks.

They lock him up in the Lab, and decide to cut him open Later to figure out what went wrong.

They'll be successful next time.

Thankfully, their jeers to Danny are heard by Jazz in the other Room, and she doesn't like this one bit. So that night, she takes Danny and Ellie with her and Runs away. They need to get out of Amity Park, out Illinois even. They run and run, sneaking onto Buses, hitchhiking, even jumping on Trains.

Eventually they end up in a place called Gotham City.

...

Ages at the end.

Jazz: 12

Danny: 10

Ellie: 6

[tetsuskei]

⟣ kiss it better - tartaglia [nsfw]

synopsis: your boyfriend sees you wear makeup for the first time and reacts accordingly

warnings: oral (male receiving), face fucking, facial, ajax is a pervert :/, he cums a lot, childe is called by his birth name, self indulgent, russian pet names, reader is implied to be from sumeru, fem reader, one small chomp from childe

word count: 2k

its evening in your comfortable abode, and often a sight is you sitting in front of your vanity taking care of yourself. whether it be brushing your hair or doing your skin care routine for the night, the methodical way you go about your business brings comfort to your boyfriend, ajax. the domestic nature of it all brings a sense of normalcy to his unpredictable and dangerous life. you’re the purest piece, and he wishes to keep it that way.

but this time, he notices a plethora of different cosmetic items. all unfamiliar with him. he doesn’t remember seeing you buy them the last time he went out shopping with you.

the harbinger pauses, watching you in front of the mirror. “what’re you doing?”

“my makeup.” you answer as if it’s an everyday occurrence. you never really wore it before, normally barefaced or at the most, a little mascara and lip gloss, but that’s it. so to see this is…interesting.

the ginger is now looming over you into your space. one would think he’s too close, but you’ve grown accustom to him always invading it. making it his space, too.

“you don’t usually wear that stuff, though.” he notes, watching you paint glittering eye shadow on. “why are you wearing it now? is there…a special occasion?”

you flinch at his words, and he flinches in reaction to your reaction.

“i’m going out tonight with candace and dehya. they’re the ones who recommended me these things, and so i just wanted to try something different.” you explain.

ajax attempts to diffuse the situation. “i see…you know you don’t need all of that, right? you look fine as you already are. in fact, i think you look better without it!”

you glower. “last time i checked, i’m not wearing it for you.”

he panics, “of course not! you’re allowed to wear and do what you want. you look very beautiful—as you always do!”

a small hum in response makes him relax and he lets out a small sigh. he would live another day.

you, on the other hand, sense your boyfriend still hovering, and your mild irritation continues to grow inside of you.

“…do you still need something?” you ask, focusing now on your eyeliner.

he shakes his head rapidly. “no. i’m just…curious! i’ve never seen you do this before, you know.”

but you know ajax. it’s one thing to be curious, but another for someone to be leering. and with the way your boyfriend’s dull eyes bore into your very being, for once—it puts yourself on edge.

you sigh, not bothering to look at him. “just spit it out, ajax.”

“c-can i cum on your face?” he blurts.

it’s silent and the unreadable expression on your face makes him nervous. you’re quiet—much quieter than usual, and the last thing he wants to do is offend you (more than he already has).

admittedly, he can’t help himself, though. the mental image of him standing over your pretty face would not leave his mind, unfortunately. he can’t get over the idea of you kneeling, doe eyes looking up at him with anticipation as he jerks himself to the very sight of you. is he wrong for thinking of that?

“i-i mean, when you’re done wearing it? not right now of course!” he laughs nervously, and you don’t know whether to feel sorry or amused as he explains himself.

“you’re disgusting.” you finally respond, but there’s not a single hint of malice behind your words as you speak. the corner of your painted lips is tilted up in a quirk, and he wonders how you were ever so shy before when meeting him. but it is all attributed to how truly hot you look right now. you know how good you look and what it does to him. “that’s what you’re curious about?”

ajax’s cheeks flush and he looks really bashful, scratching his head and looking at the tiles on the ground. “sorry.”

you both know he’s not sorry.

“you’re the one who said i didn’t need this, yet you want to cum on my face?” you hum, straightening up once you’re finally finished. walking towards him, you note how frozen in place he is.

putting a manicured hand on his shoulder, you look up at him. “what are you thinking about now?”

he laughs, ignoring the feeling of his cock stirring from smelling your perfume and shampoo. his hands twitch. “ahh, not much.”

you kneel in front of him, hands messing with the belt and zipper to his pants. there’s a bigger smile on your face as you eye his bulge. “‘not much’?”

fuck. he really wants to make a mess out of you. to wipe that smug look off of your face.

“n-no, not—shit, baby—really.” you’re already unbuckling and unzipping him, pulling both pants and briefs down in one go as you grasp him.

there’s absolutely no point in him lying anymore with how hard he is. practically begging for release, his purpling tip dribbles copious amounts of pre. bobbing and twitching eagerly and craving release. like a jewel shimmering diamond, his thick cock has never looked prettier.

the smallest whine leaves ajax when the cold air hits him, bringing greater sensitivity to his skin.

on the other hand, he isn’t really lying. the sight of you has his mind running blank. you look gorgeous and he wants to stare at you for hours. is that really so weird?

“really?” you’re stroking him now, single hand moving leisurely as you stare up at him through your thick lashes.

“well now you’re teasing me.” he says, averting his gaze from your sinful stare.

“i’m only trying to give you what you want, ajax.” you laugh, painted lips kissing his tip. you hear his breath catch as you continue to plant kisses but on his freckles and scarred skin. every inch of his thighs are caressed and touched with care, and his cock weeps with jealousy.

“c-can’t you just? ugh—“ he’s whining, face completely flush, “put it in!”

you pinch his thigh in warning. “ask nicely.”

your boyfriend groans. “mila, you’re…you’re killing me here. please.” he whines, trying to move, but you hold his hips still.

“i’ll give you what you want if you’re honest with me.” you bargain, kissing the pretty freckles that decorate his pale thighs once again.

he’s hiding his face in his hands now, and you never thought he’s looked cuter. “i just…can’t stop thinking about what you’d look like…covered in my cum.”

at his words, your kisses move up towards his balls. they’re heavy and taut, sensitive to the warm, plush feeling your lips share against his skin.

“is that it?” your tongue sweeps out, bathing itself in his musk. he shudders.

“and…how jealous i am, because other people are going to see how beautiful you are…when i just want to keep you for myself.”

ahh. there it is.

“to yourself? well you know i’m my own person, right?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“of course you are. but you’re mine, too.” he breathes, eyes darkening. “and there’s only so much i want anyone else to see of you.”

“so that’s why you said i looked better without makeup on? you’re cruel, you know.” you sigh, leaning back.

the lowly laugh that comes from your boyfriend makes your hair stand up on its ends. “you haven’t seen cruel yet, lisichka.”

you chew on your lip, challenging him, “hmm. i’m sure it’s not that bad.”

ajax’s resolve snaps, his large hand coming behind your head before gripping your hair.

“i’m sorry, you—“ he moans loudly, sliding himself fully to the back of your throat, “you look so fucking pretty i can’t help it. wanted to be between these pretty lips of yours so badly.”

his pained expression relaxes once he claims the inside of your mouth. small moans and whimpers leaving him once he starts rutting himself within the wet cavern.

you should be mad at how abruptly he’s slid his dick in your mouth, mad at the way he’s taken control, but the sight of him stops you. the pure look of ecstasy on his face is one to behold. so you grip his legs and let him have his way with you. let him use you as he pleases. you were never really in control anyways. he was just letting you have your fun.

“you feel so good. ‘is s’good…” he praises, snapping his hips at a harsher angle and speed. you gag around him and he only groans in response, legs trembling.

“always take me all so well, hmm?” his dull eyes look down at you with adoration, thumbing your cheek where his tip is nestled.

you nod to the best of your ability, humming quietly. there are tears brimming your eyes, and a few spill over, painting your cheeks with an inky residue.

something stirs within your boyfriend.

he pulls back, eyeing your face and now ruined makeup.

“ahh, i think you look even prettier now. you’ll forgive me for ruining your hard work, won’t you?”

you cough, catching your breath. “so shameful.”

ajax slaps his cock on your face, dragging the lipstick stained appendage over your face.

“aww, mila, don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.” his familiar sinister smirk is plastered on his face as he nudges your slobber covered lips.

solemnly, you part your mouth before taking him as far back in your throat as you can. another pretty moan leaves him before he swears in his mother tongue.

“you minx. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you’re trying to kill me.” he falters, grasp tightening on your hair.

you moan around him, eyes rolling back as your nose digs into the tuff of hair on his lower abdomen. every part of him smells like home, like love and affection. like your soul, since you will always be apart of each other.

finally, ajax pulls back from you, and you don’t hesitate to take the next move. you waste no time taking him back into your mouth, this time using your hand to jerk the parts of him that don’t make it all the way in.

the noises are lewd and excruciatingly loud. drool and precum are basically painted and glistening on your chest, dripping down in between your breasts.

“good girl. good fucking girl…you always suck my cock so well. maybe i should…keep you locked up forever.” he praises.

“you can try.” you grin, leaning down to capture his balls in your mouth again, sucking and nursing them while your hand works his shaft.

he’s laughing now, tone bashful as he tries catching his breath, “i-i’m not going to last—“

you hum, pulling off and kissing his tip and swirling your tongue along the underside and frenulum. “go ahead, baby.”

your boyfriend gasps and then whines at the unexpected use of the pet name. it causes him to abruptly shoot his load sooner than he would have thought.

nothing could possibly have prepared you for how much ajax cums as it hits your face. your eyes squeeze shut, and every time you expect for him to be done, more spurts hit you.

his moans are unapologetically loud and fizz out into small groans as he fists himself.

eventually you crack your eyes open, glancing up at him as you suckle on his sensitive tip, lapping up any remnants of his cum.

the harbinger shudders, heaving as he looks at you. he’s never felt more glad to be right, the mess on your face spread all the way down to your chest.

it turns him on a little too much knowing he’s the only one who’d ever see you like this.

gently, he pushes you away, standing back from you.

“just know you can put whatever you want on your cute face, but you’ll never be any prettier than you are with my cum on it.” ajax breathes.

you hum appreciatively, blinking slow as you swipe up his cum and taste it. “you taste so good, ‘jax.”

a dark look swarms your boyfriend’s cerulean eyes. “it’s a shame, mila. i’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel your plans,” he grabs you like a ragdoll, tossing you back on your shared bed.

“wha—! what’re you—“

he grins before he licks your cum covered cheek, biting the flesh. “i’m not done having fun with you.”

end note: bro just licked up cum and foundation. i guess when you survive the abyss, you’ll eat anything /hj

[webbluvrsugar]

Lie To Girls — Spencer Reid x exbau!reader

slightly based on the song sharpest tool by Sabrina Carpenter but it’s more like the song would fit them right (love me some angst, had to do it.)

cw: angst with fluff at the end, no use of y/n, passes a little bit after JJ confessed her feelings for Spencer. - this isn’t a jj slander, only serves for context.

Spencer sweared to you he was over JJ. The blonde had just confessed her feelings for him in a case, and really, you guys used to be fine, at least until he found out his crush of years actually liked him all this time that passed, that he could’ve had a chance all this time if there was no miss communication between them. God, he didn’t even want to tell you, not that he was afraid with the way you’d react but that he knew it was… wrong, in some way, it was. You took it pretty well, but then he confessed he’d been thinking about it more than usual and that just wouldn’t cut it. Which led to the both of you arguing in the living room of his apartment.

“I — I don’t know what you want!” You shout, a mess of tears, he’s been trying to explain that he didn’t really mean anything he said previously. “Sure, you had a chance, but am I not enough?”

It breaks Spencer’s heart to see you like this — so emotionally distressed because of something he said, something stupid and reckless, and it doesn’t seem like it will get better soon.

“No, I’ve.. I’ve never said that, you’re more than enough to me, I just thought—“ he tries to speak, but he’s cut off by you.

“Thought what?” You take a step closer, you’re so sad that he wishes you hadn’t done that. “She’s married! Jesus — she has kids!” You sniff, his head clenches.

“I know.” He admits, ashamed, head hung low.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but there’s no way of fixing it!” Your words are bitter, and they hurt, but he understands why you’re acting like this, he won’t blame you.

He doesn’t respond to that, you can see the look in his eyes, as if he’s heartbroken, and really you don’t know if it’s because of you or Jennifer, it’s hard to tell, and maybe that is exactly why you hurt him even more with your next words.

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

You take another step closer, Spencer gulps, and when he stays silent, you start crying incessantly, hands up to your face as if you’re ashamed of him seeing you like that — you shouldn’t be, he realises how much he really messed up. He’s hurt, confused, but he didn’t realise how this would affect you, and if anything, you’re both to blame.

Spencer’s a nice guy in your eyes, the perfect boyfriend even through his flaws, you don’t know if it’s because of his personality or really because you’re just madly in love with him, but even now, you can’t see malice in the way he acts. He would never need to lie to you the way he did when he said ‘I don’t love her anymore.’, he would always be a saint to you.

He approaches you finally, pulls you into a tight hug at his chest, places a kiss on top of your head and grips you like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold you.

“I’m sorry, okay, I just made a mistake,” he whispers, resting his chin over your hair. “I don’t need anyone else.” He breathes.

“Was just a stupid mistake.”

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Leona's birthday is coming soon so I wrote something for this grumpy little man, hehe. I was debating about rather or not posting this on the 27th but I want to post this now. I don't write enough for him but I do think is a very interesting character :D

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Soft yandere content, death mention, gn!reader

"Look at them, darling." Leona's voice sliced through the air like a blade, sharp and chilling, as he pointed to the prisoners with a venomous tone that dripped with malice. Each word carried the weight of his disdain, echoing through the grand stadium halls with a ferocity that demanded attention.

His murmurs held the intensity of a primal growl, a silent but potent threat hanging in the air, urging for retribution to be exacted. "For every injury that is marked on your body, every cut and bruise, let their punishment bring you comfort, my beloved."

You settled beside him, suppressing a grimace that threatened to surface as you adjusted in your throne. It felt as though tiny needles pricked at every inch of your skin, sending great waves of discomfort coursing through your limbs like a hellish torment. Clenching Leona's hand tightly, you drew in a steadying breath, your gaze scanning the faces of those who had wronged you.

These were the individuals who had never fully accepted you because you were someone with no royal backstory or noble blood. A commoner, an outsider who didn't the deserve the title of Prince /princess consort. They spread rumors about your nature, twisted it, said you only wanted Leona for his money and to warm his bed. Though the rumors were hurtful, you had initially chosen to ignore them, understanding that their minds were steeped in outdated prejudices.

You thought that with time they would see you for who you really are. You were wrong.

Their malice didn't stop at mere gossip; they took your silence as incentive to take things to another whole level. That was... An attempt against your life.

"Leo..." You call out to him, searching for him as if he was all the air you needed to live for another day. The mere space between you two seeming like a wall to you, so cold and cruel. And he realizes it instantly.

He realizes it as he realized that you liked to pepper his face with little kisses when you thought he was asleep or how he realized that you liked to curl all over his chest, like a little kitten. He acts on his instinct quickly, softly. He doesn't even think.

Leona's arms encircled you in a tender embrace not caring that everyone was watching each and every move he made. He couldn't care less, he just wanted to comfort you, to show you he was here for you and always will be. Shivers ran down your spine but in the warmth of his arms, you felt a surge of mixed emotions — most of all was relief. You were safe here, those wounds felt somehow lighter, as if his presence alone had the power to heal even the deepest of hurts.

As if on his arms, there was nothing that could hurt you. No danger, no pain, no nothing.

"I'm here, beloved." He whispered right in your ears, nuzzling his face agains the top of your head. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to protect you from everything and everyone so don't ever feel afraid again."

You knew he was telling the truth. You felt yourself calming down, watching over his shoulder as the executioner sharpened his axe calmly. This whole thing was an spectacle for the others to see and learn, not to touch you, not to talk or be near you.

You let your head fall to Leona's chest, holding onto him for dear life. And as you gazed into his eyes, you knew that in his embrace, you had everything you needed. You had love, protection, you could stay like this forever. His heart was beating lazily on his chest, slow rhythm making you close your eyes and surrender yourself to him. He would protect you after all. You had no doubt about it.

A trumpet sounded loud, annoyingly loud as a man informed everyone of the execution that was about to take place. Your attackers, three men and a woman, started walking. You peeked in their direction. Their complexions were worn and weak, ears lowered to their heads as they walked in a line, staring at their feet. It was a sad sight that you wouldn't have had to see if they didn't had stuck their noses where they didn't belong. This could no longer be avoided.

"I know it's shocking for you," Leona murmured to you, fixing your hair as it fell across your face with quick fingers. He slightly turned his head to send a look full of disdain towards the prisoners. “But that’s how we do things around here. I need to show them, show them that nobody can't mess with someone I love. Close your eyes if it becomes unbearable to watch."

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the stadium. Murmurs of expectation and horror ran through the rows of spectators, who anxiously awaited the morbid spectacle.

On the gallows, the four prisoners knelt, hands tied behind their backs, heads bowed in resignation or perhaps in silent prayer. The executioner, a burly man with a leather mask that hid his face, wielded a large, sharp axe, the blade reflecting the sunlight. Beside him, an assistant read aloud the crimes of the condemned, each word echoing in the silent now stadium.

"The first prisoner, accused of attempted bribery and obstruction of justice," The assistant announced, as the prisoner raised his head, staring at the crowd. His eyes, full of defiance, met those of a specific spectator, who was holding a handkerchief, tears falling freely.

You felt nauseous, bile rising on your throat. He had someone waiting for him, who would mourn his death. Why would he do something so drastic like this?

The executioner stepped forward, positioning himself next to the prisoner. With a firm movement, he raised the axe, waiting for the assistant's signal.

"Let justice be done," Said the assistant as Leona nodded, and the axe descended in a deadly arc.

The crowd held its breath, only to let out a collective gasp as the blade did its duty. The lifeless body was quickly kicked from the gallows by the executioner. He was so nonchalantly too, almost as if he didn't cared that he just killed a person. You squeezed Leona's hand, closing your eyes as the assistant read over the crimes committed by the second prisoner.

The latter, visibly shaking to anyone paying close attention, screamed prayers under his ragged breaths. He was terrified. Terrified of death just like you had been.

Asking for forgiveness, pleasing, crying.

Your eyes remained closed as you heard the axe descending, the sound it made every time it made contact with skin was indescribable. It made you sick. It was rough, dry. Blood soaking the ground, never dripping, forming a red puddle. You didn't open your eyes till you the assistant started reading the fourth prisoner crimes.

The fourth prisoner, a frail-looking woman, scanned the crowd with her hard, uncaring eyes. If she was looking for a familiar face, you didn't know. You'd rather not know, as she was the mastermind behind the attack even if she pretends not to be.

"Accused of contaminating evidence, attempted intentional homicide, and contempt of authority," The assistant said, his voice reverberating with a mixture of disdain.

She raised her face to the sky, accepting her fate with surprising calm. The executioner, although ruthless, hesitated for a brief moment before raising the axe one last time.

"May the gods have mercy on your soul," He murmured, inaudible to everyone except himself.

The axe came down and the final sound was drowned out by the clamor of the crowd, divided between applause and screams of horror. The justice had been served, leaving a trail of blood and death on the gallows, as the sun continued its relentless ascent across the sky, not paying attention to the human suffering below.

It was over. It was over, you were never going to see those people again. A shaky sigh left you as you turned to Leona.

"Let's go home?"

He looked at you, little smile on his lips as he nodded. Home, where you would be safe inside the palace's walls, home, where you would cuddle him and he would embrace, and protect you and love you forever.

He stand up, as customs dictate, his eyes travel through the stadium and pass briefly by the headless bodies. He turns to you, taking your hand on his, Leona guided you without looking back. To home.

[wlwitchofwhitestone]

This whole thing with Laudna and Delilah is an abuse narrative and I can't lie, it's really hard to see people absolutely fumbling the ball on it at every turn. My friends eagerly describing to me exactly what a monster my mother was and the violent things they would do to her on my behalf didn't make me feel safer or encourage me to set up boundaries between us. Casting her as an evil manipulator when it was way more an issue of generational trauma that she was always trying to overcome with zero skills for how to do so just made me feel more sympathetic towards her and less able to put distance between us. Hearing that I should go no contact was scary because I knew she loved me, however imperfect that love was, and these people cared for me but they could not understand. I knew I had the right to walk away. I also knew I couldn't. I didn't know a life without her support, however imperfect it was.

What got me to put up boundaries was being around people who gave me agency and treated me the way it was supposed to be all that time. I had to find out what it meant to live out from under that shadow in order to see it and draw lines around it. Bells Hells are not providing that for Laudna, and again I want to stress that it's not malice or even really negligence. They care, they've shown they care, but Delilah has a 30 year head start and I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that the kindness of someone abusive is so much worse than the abuse ever could be because it's the kindness that makes you stay, just to get another glimpse of it and remind yourself you're not crazy. They do love you. They're just doing what they think is best for you, and do you really know better than them what that is? After all this time that they've known, guided, and looked out for you?

I'm perfectly capable of separating fiction from reality but the zero nuance "Laudna is doing being abused wrong" is... Unsettling. Every single time Bells Hells comes at Laudna and holds her accountable, it's for something she can't even see. It doesn't mean what she's doing isn't harmful or that she should not be called out. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying Delilah told her that her friends would turn on her and there is a limited amount of time to figure out how to reach her before Laudna decides it has happened. Even though it very likely never would from an outside view.

[scarlethexelove]

I Did

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2261

Warnings: Mentions of torture, scars, mean tony. Nothing much else.

A/n: I want to give credit to Dolls.mcu.editz on tiktok where I saw the edit that gave me this idea. So after asking for a poll of who this should be with I made this. Starts a bit angsty but it is super fluffy at the end. Soft Natasha and Wanda 🥰 Hope you all enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You sit in the meeting room surrounded by all of the Avengers. On either side of you are Natasha and Wanda, your girlfriends. The conversation that is happening is making you uncomfortable to say the least. They are all talking about what is to be done if one of you is captured and possibly tortured by hydra or another entity. What would be protocols and procedures that need to be followed during and after the event. You’re quiet throughout and don’t add anything. Tony notices this and doesn’t appreciate that you are not contributing to the conversation. 

“Y/n do you have anything to add?” Tony questions a bit of malice in his words. “I would rather not.” You reply, sinking more into your seat. Wanda placing a hand on your thigh in comfort. “You always have something to add so why don’t you actually contribute to the discussion.” He pushes. You scoff and look him dead in the eye. “You would not hold up well under torture.” You calmly spoke back to him. “Oh and you would?” He raises his voice. “I did!” You just about yell back to him. 

Tony pauses a moment. Tears shine in your eyes as memories flash in your mind reminding you how you even got here. You don’t notice the sad looks around you from your fellow avengers. “Y/n I didn’t mean-” Tony is cut off by you. “Save it.” You mumble as you push your seat back and quickly make your way out of the room. Your ears ringing with the memories of your life before. You can’t even hear that people are calling after you. 

Tears start to stream down your face as you quickly keep walking. You feel a burning sensation in your skin as you become overwhelmed. The scars that scatter your body make it feel as if they are open wounds again. The pain and memories still flood in as your body moves on autopilot back to your room. 

Natasha and Wanda quickly rise and try to start following you. “Where do you think you are going? We aren’t done with setting these protocols.” Tony quickly jumps back in as your girlfriends try to go after you. Both of them turn around specks of red swirling in Wanda’s eyes as Natasha clenches her fist. “We are going to see if our girlfriend is ok. I don’t really care what you have to say right now.” Natasha spits back her anger with the man clear to everyone in the room. 

“You can check on her later. We need to get these set.” Tony still protests. Natasha slams her hands on the table, a small crack forming where her hands hit the glass table. “Listen here tin man you insulted our girlfriend. I don’t care what you decide, we are going to comfort her.” The room is tense as there is a staring contest between the two. “Well she started it.” He comes back still trying to defend himself when everyone in the room believes him to be in the wrong. 

Wanda tilts her head and red swirls in her hand. “Tony, you have no clue what she has been through. You may have been captured and held but you were never tortured. Natasha was raised and trained as an assassin against her will. Bucky was taken and experimented on as they constantly brainwashed him. I was experimented on and locked in a cell.” Wanda seethes, pointing towards the living quarters. “But she was experimented on, locked in rooms, tortured for days on end. Cut up just for fun, you have no fucking clue. So if you will excuse me we are leaving and you can fuck off.” Wanda grabs Natasha’s hand and they walk out of the room. Everyone in the room is left in show of the revelation. The only other person who is not shocked is Bucky, your best friend.

The two hear arguing ensue as they walk away towards your shared bedroom. They lightly knock on the door to not scare you but they hear no movement so they slowly open the door. They slowly enter the room but don’t see you but they see the bathroom door open. Light shines out and the sound of water pelting the tile floor is heard. “Detka.” Wanda calls out for you as they make their way into the bathroom but hear no response. 

Wanda and Natasha enter the bathroom, their eyes landing on your form sitting in the shower, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. You're still in your clothes and shoes as the water beats down on you. Natasha quickly moves to you going around you to your right side crocheting down as the water hits her. Wanda moving to your left side. They give each other a look and look back to you. You’re staring off into space, your body slightly rocking. Both women know that sometimes in stressful times your mind plays back what happened to you. Not just your mind but your body has a physical reaction. 

“Detka can I touch you?” Natasha asks. You don’t respond. She slowly reaches out for you and gently touches your arm. You jump lightly to the contact and she pulls back, but then you give a small nod for her to continue. She reaches out again and places her hand on your back gently rubbing comforting circles. “Detka may I?” Wanda asks and you also give her a nod. She smiles and follows Natasha’s lead. 

“What can we do to help sweetheart?” Wanda asks you. You finally look over to her and she can see past the water that trails down your face that you are crying, your eyes red and puffy. You open your mouth trying to speak but nothing comes out. Your eyes telling Wanda what you want her to do. “Are you sure detka?” She questions before proceeding. You lightly nod at her. She smiles. “Okay.”

Her hand goes to your head as red fills her eyes and red whisps come from her fingers. She lets what words you can’t say fill her mind before pulling her hand back, her eyes turning back to their beautiful shade of green. She gives you a soft smile and small nod. She then looks up to Natasha who is watching the interaction. 

“Her scars are burning and her clothes are overwhelming.” Natasha nods at Wanda’s words. They both work together taking off your shirt as you raise your arms. Natasha then moves in front of you. She takes off your shoes and socks, tossing them into the bathroom to deal with later. Wanda has removed your undershirt and bra tossing it with the rest. Working together again they work to remove your pants and underwear. You lift your hips to make it slightly easier on them. 

Wanda gently runs her hand down your arm. “Do you want me to try and help?” She gently asks you. “Please.” You mumble lightly. She kisses your head. “Of course. Which ones hurt?” She asks you. “Big ones.” You tell her. She knows which ones you mean. Her hand going to your left side the scar runs from just under your breast down to your mid thigh. Red comes from her fingers as it seeps down into the scar. The burn slowly fades as you feel her magic calming the nerves. Her hand moves to your right shoulder covered in a large burn scar repeating her action. She then moves to your left thigh a large circular scar doing as she has done with the other two. Your nerves calming as the burning and pain disappear. “Better?” She asks you.

You give her a nod. “Thank you.” You tell her finally, letting your body relax as you lean into Natasha. Her arms wrap around you. “No need to thank me detka.” Wanda leans in kissing your forehead. 

“Do you want to get cleaned up in the shower and get in bed?” Natasha asks you. “Mhmm.” Your reply comes in a hum. So that is what you all do. They help you up before they take off their clothes. Throwing them into the pile already on the floor. Gently washing your body and hair. 

You love the close moments with your girlfriends. Nothing sexual about it, it is just full of love and caring as they take care of you. They quickly clean themselves before helping you out of the shower. Since you have already been sensitive and overwhelmed Wanda uses her magic to dry you three off. The feeling of her warm magic eloping you and calming your nerves even more. 

Natasha picks you up. Your legs wrap around her waist and you bury your head in her neck as she carries you to bed. “My strong and tough super soldier.” Natasha chuckles as you whine into her neck. Which just causes her to chuckle more and you to poke at her side. “Heyyy.” She says. Wanda giggling at your two antics. 

 Wanda walks around to the other side getting into the bed. She moves the covers and opens her arms as Natasha places you into Wanda’s open arms. You instantly wrap around her and lay your head on your chest. Natasha crawls into the bed behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and cuddling into your back. She places small light kisses on your shoulder causing you to smile. Wanda then peppering your face with kisses which then causes you to giggle. 

“There is my sweet girl.” Wanda smiles down at you as you nuzzle into her chest. The room becomes silent as you relax into your girlfriends. The skin to skin contact is doing wonders for you. Letting you feel a closeness that you wouldn’t get with clothes on. 

Natasha kisses your shoulder again. “Marry me?” Natasha breaks the silence in the room. You look up to Wanda before turning to look at Natasha. Not sure if this is just in the heat of the moment or a true proposal. Natasha smiles before letting go of your turn and reaching into the drawer of her bedside table. She pulls out two small velvet boxes. “Wanda Maximoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you two do me the honor of becoming my wifes?” Natasha asks opening the boxes to show off two gorgeous rings. Each of them is set in silver with a beautiful garnet as the center stone and surrounded by smaller black diamonds. You can’t help but cry in happiness as you and Wanda answer in unison. “Yes!”

The three of you are now crying, happy to be taking a step forward in your relationship. “I was planning to do some crazy romantic gesture for you two but this moment just seemed too perfect to pass. I wanted you two to know how much I love you and that I would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.” Natasha says through happy tears as you and Wanda cry harder. She places the rings on your fingers. 

You kiss Natasha hard and filled with love before pulling back and kissing Wanda. Wanda then leans over you and gives Natasha a kiss. Wanda then chuckles and shakes her head a bit. “What?” Natasha asks. Wanda says nothing as she gets up and walks towards the dresser and opens her sock drawer. You whine when her body heat leaves you. “I’ll be right back detka.” Wanda chuckles. 

You can’t see what she grabs as she turns and hides what she has behind her back. She walks back to the bed and climbs back in next to you. “Great minds think alike I guess.” Wanda says, pulling two more velvet boxes from behind her back. She opens them revealing similar rings that have a ruby at its center and diamonds surrounding it.  

Natasha behind you chuckles. “I guess so.” She says. “So Natasha Romanoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you marry me?” Wanda asks. You and Natasha laugh before saying yes to her. Wanda places one ring on Natasha’s finger the other she holds out for you not exactly knowing what to do with it since you have one on already. “I can wear both.” You proudly say before putting it above the other one. “Y/n/n that isn’t going to work.” Natasha laughs at your antics. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” Wanda gets back up and goes over to her jewelry box. You hear her digging through before pulling something out. She walks back to you and holds out her hand. You place the ring in her hand. She then reveals a necklace. She puts the ring on the necklace before motioning for you to turn. You turn around and Wanda secures the chain holding the ring around your neck. You smiled, placing your hand on the ring before turning back and kissing her again. 

As the excitement wears down a bit you three settle back into the bed relaxing. “I love you both so much and can’t wait to be your wife and for you two to be mine.” You say snuggled between the woman. “We love you too.” Both women say at the same time and kiss each of your cheeks. 

This day turned from a horrible day of overwhelming panic and pain into one of the best days of your life and you couldn’t be more happy than to be alive in this moment. Holding onto the loving memory forever and excited for what your future will hold.

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Yours ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: took a while but here is the ~atsushi~ counterpart from the soft aku vs. atsushi fic poll. (here is the soft aku fic) i hope you enjoy ♡

genre: f!reader. smut with angst (you cheated on atsushi omg... 🥲). makeup sex.

content warnings: MDNI! possessiveness, unprotected sex + he cums inside (*these are very risky*), overstimulation, general angst, he gets rough at the end (yes ik it was supposed to be a soft fic, but...)

summary: no matter what happens, you'll always run back into the arms of the man who taught you how to love – and he'll run right back to you, too.

you don't know exactly how you ended up here. come to think of it, though, this is always where you end up – right in front of the ada's dorm at the crack of dawn. once the drunkenness of twilight has settled into a sobered reality, your feet stumble on their own in front of this door, seeking shelter from whatever it was that sent you reeling in the first place. it's been said that night time is the play time for sinners and devils. this past year, you found out that you're no exception to that rule – for here you are as living proof, crawling back in search of forgiveness from the very person you've wronged.

"for atsushi?" a familiar voice calls from behind you before your knuckles rap at the door. you barely heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, but you're not surprised to find that dazai's still up. how appropriate for the two people guilty to both be wide awake at this hour. still, running into him like this sends a shiver up your spine. you freeze in your tracks, half expecting him to discourage you from what you're about to do – but instead he just walks past you without another word, and maybe that's even worse. it's just a reminder that you were nothing to him, and that he's barely had to suffer from the consequences of the night you caught together.

you'd imagine that sleeping with atsushi's girlfriend put a strain on dazai's personal and professional relationship with him, even if it only happened one time. at the end of the day though, dazai was atsushi's superior – and the source of his food and housing – and atsushi had no choice but to accept that reality.

you, on the other hand, were cut out of his life. it had been months of no contact between you and your now ex-boyfriend. all texts were left on seen, every call sent to voicemail. you could even swear that atsushi was avoiding all the spots he used to frequent, just to make sure he didn't run into you by chance. you never thought you'd be a cheater – never, ever in a million years – but here you were, having done that very thing to the person who taught you the meaning of unconditional love.

how could you be so selfish? so thoughtless? stupid, even? you'd take it all back in an instant, but you know can't. your feet are about to move. you're about to turn back. you should... yes, that's exactly what you should do. tonight feels too soon – it's all wrong. running into dazai last minute proves that.

and yet, just as you're about to bolt down the stairs, you hear it – the sound of the door in front of you unlocking. it's like a quiet charm. his voice is like a wish that you whispered under your breath. "it's you..." soft-spoken, just as he always has been, and there he is –

– atsushi nakajima himself.

"do you need something?"

there's no malice in his voice – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him. something about it in this moment feels heartbreaking. you almost want him to yell at you or scold you, just so you can apologize to him with your whole self, or let him know how much you've regretted that day. instead, he stands there with his arms drooped at his sides, unfeeling. it's cruel, that minute of empty silence. you wonder if he's about to close the door on you. maybe he should. it feels like you're miles apart, and the distance is deafening.

just one second more, you think to yourself. it's selfish, you know. let me memorize what you look like. let me remember how your bangs fall. the color of your eyes.

you open your lips to speak, but it's your feet that move instead. one moment you're in front of him, but then you blink, and you're closing the distance between you – you're sobbing on his shoulder, your arms around his neck. silence, save for the sound of your stifled cries against his now-stained sweater.

he wants to push you away, but he doesn't. his arms wrap around your waist instead. the feeling of your body, pressed tight to his, is all too familiar. you're warm, and you smell so nice. it's that same shampoo you've always used, the one he likes on you. you're pretty today, hair falling into place like this. you're just as he remembers. this is his favorite knit on you – you look just as lovely as you did yesterday.

he says nothing, stunned. what is there to say in a situation like this? all he can do is cling to you, hope you don’t let go of him the way you did many nights before… that you don’t tire of him, toss him aside like you did that night. "why didn't you come back sooner–?" there’s a tremble in his voice, and he falls apart. when you meet his gaze, you realize the reason he hasn't pulled away is because there are tears in his liquid eyes. "don't tell me you wanted him instead?" his voice falters. you shake your head wildly, trying to force him to look at you again, but he's pawing your hands away. there’s a pain expression on his face when he finally looks back up at you, wincing. it’s like that of a beaten dog that's come crawling back to its master.

"i thought you hated me..." you confess, words spilling out, "– and you have every right to... it should have only been you.

i only want you."

your words strike him down. his hands are pushing you away at first. at least, that's what he thinks, because every part of him is telling you that's what they should be doing. every part of him is telling him to tell you to get out of his sight, to get out of his life, because he knows it must be wrong to do what he’s about to do. there's a reason that he avoided you in the first place, isn’t there?

but he's past the point of return now – in his heart, he knew this is just how you two would end up.

there's a reason he avoided you in the first place after all, isn't there?

with you in his arms, looking at him the same way you always have, it's no use. guided by sheer instinct, there's no shred of timidness in the fierce way that he grabs at you now. those same hands that pushed you away are now reaching for you, pulling you into his arms with just as much ferocity, eager to hold you again. there's a neediness to the way that he clings to every curve and crevice. you melt into him, and his lips are on yours.

it's been so long – too long. he didn't think your reunion would go like this. at least, he imagined that if it would begin with more talking. with you standing in front of him, though, the memories are all coming back so suddenly –

every laugh, every look;

every argument.

you were his first everything – god, he missed you.

how did he last this long without you?

his hands find your waist first, molding to your form. then, the next thing you know, his hands are on your ass, and he's digging into the fat with his fingertips, and you feel him pin his hips flush against yours as he backs you into the darkness of his room. tonight, it's not enough to just have you – he needs to claim you, all of you.

the door locks behind you, a quiet clinking of metal as atsushi's fingers fumble with the handle, then you feel your back thud loudly against the wall that you know is shared with dazai's room. you gasp quietly as teeth skim your neck, his lips latching onto the tender skin between your collarbone and shoulder. then, you feel his hands grasping you clumsily as he undresses you hastily, desperate to cover every inch that he's touched, to erase every memory of him that might be left.

"am i... being too rough?" he asks concernedly as he helps you out of your cardigan, discarding it on the floor. his voice is a heated whisper in your ear. "it's okay?"

groping him through his pants, you hear his breath grow shallow, watch as he swallows his own spit, his iridescent eyes following you closely as you trace his outline. his breath is ragged, hungry. he lowers his hands from you – lowers all of his defenses – and you sink to your knees, your hands caressing him everywhere, your lips tracing the lean muscle of his body, your mouth re-mapping his skin into your memory... as if you could ever forget what atsushi, of all people, feel like, when he's the very person who taught you what it meant to truly love someone.

your fingers hooking on the waistband of his pajamas, you tug them down his legs along with his boxers, then take his length into your hands. he sucks in a sharp, shaky breath, holding your gaze as you stroke him once from base to tip, enamored completely by the way you look right now on your knees for him – how long has it been since you've touched him like this? he's ashamed to admit that he's thought about this day more than once, now forced to spend an awful amount of time reflecting on how different his calloused hand feels from yours when he's touching himself at night, alone. now, here you are right in front of him, your palm wrapped around him so perfectly. it feels like a fantasy.

you're kissing it, lips pressed to the pretty tip as you bat your eyes at him. atsushi's barely had the time to process that you're here, and now you're flicking away the beads of pearlescent precum with your soft, wet tongue – and god, it feels so heavenly to have you like this. he reaches for you mindlessly, petting your hair, then he lets out these beautifully soft, whimpered moans as you suck on him – a breathless "oh my god..." rolling off of his lips when you finally take all of him into your mouth. "feels... so good..."

then suddenly, you hear him curse under his breath, tossing his head backward when you feel him abruptly hit the back of your throat, hips thrusting forward –

"– ah, god... fuck..." – before he quickly shoves his hand against his mouth in complete embarrassment, face flushing bright pink as he stammers out a quick apology and steadies himself. it's the first time you've ever heard him say something like that during such an intimate act. you stare at him wide-eyed, shocked, but he's avoiding looking at you now, blushing to himself and watching you through his fingers as he pants quietly into the palm of his hands.

then, "kiss me – please." it's a simple request, but it's full of urgency. god, how he's missed you. he cups your cheeks in his hands and brings your lips to his. it's a passionate kiss, sloppy and wet, the type of kiss that has teeth clumsily collide and noses briefly bump against each other. you feel his hand grasp your thigh. he wraps it around his waist, then suddenly his fingers are seeking you through your cotton panties. he pushes the fabric to the side, then you gasp aloud as you feel those slender fingers of his thrust so deep inside of you. it feels dirty – too dirty, even. different, at the very least. the two of you have only ever made love before, and now he's fucking you with his fingers.

"does it feel good?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. you can feel his hot breath on your neck, his tongue teasing your earlobe, as he slides his fingers in and out of you, collecting your sticky arousal on his fingertips. you moan as you feel his thumb find your clit, making slow, steady circles, then you pull back from the kiss to look at him, just to see the face he might be making at you. he's gazing at you with these half-lidded, lustful eyes that are just desperate to hear your praise. though inexperienced, atsushi's always been an attentive lover, keen to your every sound and movement. as his first, you taught him everything he knows – and as such, you've taught him exactly how to pleasure you. drawing his name from your sweet lips comes all too easily.

he's greedy with his fingers, eager to taste you on his tongue, and you watch him as he licks you off his fingers and kisses you again and again like it's never enough. he's even greedier with his words, eyes glinting with satisfaction after you cum on his fingertips, crying out for him.

"i can make you feel better than he can," he coos into your neck as you convulse in his arms. "i'll make you feel so good."

atsushi's never thought of himself as a possessive man, but things certainly change when someone takes away what's rightfully his. now, with you singing his praises, he can't help but want more. fingertips burrowing into your hips, he bends you over his desk and you hear him ask,

"can i put it in just like this?"

your eyes widen –

of all the things he could have said, you'd never expect this – and from atsushi, of all people. "raw?" you stutter out in disbelief, and he nods at you unflinchingly, continuing to pamper you with his affection, hands reaching for your breasts, shaping and squeezing them around his palms. "it's risky..." your voice trails on the last syllable, words subsiding into a soft moan as you feel his finger traces around your nipple before he claims them with his tongue. you push the messy bangs out of his forehead to read his expression, but there's not an ounce of hesitation on his face.

– "i know that."

you're trying to think straight, but you can't. all you can think about is how intensely hot your body feels right now, and what it might feel like to have him fuck you until you've been completely forgiven. slipping your soiled panties down your legs, you nod at him to continue. "yes, i want it," you whisper desperately, and you're surprised when your voice comes out like a whine as you ease your thighs apart for him. "put it in… please –"

he nods, then reaches for himself. he's as gentle as he always has been with you – perhaps even more so tonight as he presses fleeting kisses to your hair and murmurs reassurances into your shoulder that he's about to put it inside. his lips are soft against your neck and spine.

you moan as as he slips the blunt head inside your wet, waiting entrance. he’s careful not to hurt you, guiding it slowly. it’s perfect. how long has it been since you've felt this – since you've felt him touching you like this? so loving. so right. you sigh into his touch, listen to the sound of his sharp inhale and feel him nearly collapse into your back once he bottoms out inside you.

he's amazed by the feeling of your bareness against him and the way your slickness squeezes around him. he pauses, then glances down. oh, wow – the sight of himself disappearing inside of you is enough to drive him wild. you're so warm and wet. kunikida was wrong when he said sex without a condom feels the same as sex with a condom. he must have been lying just to keep him safe when he first started having sex because this feels a thousand times better – he can feel everything like this, all of you. every ridge, every pulse, the very ache that’s throbbing inside of you. you're gripping him so perfectly. he needs it so badly… needs you so badly.

"mm, it's so good..." he groans, pressing his lips to your neck. then, you feel him start to move from behind you, hear the quiet sound of his skin hitting yours as he brings your hips back against him, nice and slow. the room is silence save for the sound of your breath becoming shallow as his pace quickens. his fingers seek you again between the thighs, and you shudder forward, burying your face into the wood of the table as you gasp. "does it feel good for you too?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. "yeah?"

you whimper out your approvals, feeling his thumb pressing on your clit again. you're so sensitive from your last high that you cry out, sobbing as you beg for more. he pins your wrists behind your back, pushing you into his desk, and you feel him reach you at an angle you've never felt him before. he's so rough tonight – but it feels so good.

"h-harder–" you stammer out, and you feel him shove your face against the desk as he thrusts faster. "i need you so bad." you're liquid in his hands and you melt as you moan out his name, tthe syllables are sloppy on your tongue, spilling from your lips like water as you cum from his fingers again.

"a... tsu.. shi... please. atsushi..."

yes, say it just like that – atsushi, atsushi. atsushi.

then, "where do you want it?"

– "inside me."

you feel his fingers tip your chin toward him, then his eyes are on you.

there's not an ounce of malice behind those iridescent eyes as he bats his eyelashes at you – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him.

"watch me cum for you."

there's a steadiness to his voice, an unwavering certainty as he captures his lips in yours and leaves you breathless. "you're mine. don’t ever leave me again.”

then, you feel it: his cum leaking down your thighs.

warm and white, trickling down your legs.

you'll take all of it, all of him.

"i'm yours, atsushi. yours… yours."

author ps: yes it has similar themes to the aku x reader one yes i am a sskk shipper on the side

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[furiousgoldfish]

Attempting to dismiss abuse and 'not take it personally', doesn't take away from how it affects you; it makes it worse. If you're approaching each insult, degradation, threat and disrespect as if it was 'not meant seriously' and 'they only said it because they were upset/trying to help', that doesn't mean that you are now not suffering insults, degradation, threats and disrespect. You are. But you get convinced that it is on you to rationalize it, not take it seriously, dismiss it, believe it was not done personally, to try to see it from the abuser's side, to imagine what made them do it. Which means in practice, you are taking abuse and then on top of it accepting that it is your fault if it ever gets to you, if it ever hurts you or gets you upset, or scared, or threatened, or despised, or if it makes you feel worthless and ashamed.

And nobody is rationalizing it on purpose, rather we're shamed by the abusers for taking anything personally, for being affected by anything hurtful they do to us, they make us believe that any reaction we have is our fault, because we failed to dismiss it and endure it and recover from it instantly. They make us responsible for what they do to us, and how it affects us. Being shamed for 'failing to rationalize abuse' is a part of abuse.

Abuse is always personal, it's done to a person whose well being is not prioritized and valued, which is exactly why the abused person feels worthless and ashamed, they can tell they're not prioritized or valued in any way. But if then on top of it you're convinced that your perception is wrong, that you're faulty for being hurt by this, for protesting this, now you can't even vocalize what is wrong, out of fear for being shamed for having a reaction. Your attempts to dismiss and rationalize it don't mitigate the effects of it, you are still being disrespected, threatened, degraded, but now you're also too ashamed to protest, to say it's bothering you, to speak out and acknowledge that you are a person whose life experience matters, who doesn't just exist to take on others malice, sadism and hatred.

You can end up feeling even more alone, because you have to hide your reactions, and act like nothing is wrong. You still feel scared and anxious about all of the threats, you still feel humiliated, offended and upset by all of their insults and degradation, you still feel your personhood wither away because you are obviously not treated as a person, and you can feel it, but you can never say it. You can't believe your own senses and assume that you're wrong for feeling it, rather than the abusers being wrong for mistreating you. You're filled with anxiety of 'What if they're right? What if I am all of those things they keep saying about me? What if one day they act on their threats? What if my life is without value? What if something is deeply wrong with me and I shouldn't even exist?' regardless of whether you take these things personally or not. This is what abuse does to an individual who is powerless to fight back.

You can take all abuse personally. Anyone making you feel like this, forcing you to have these thoughts about yourself, is not treating you like a living, breathing, feeling human being, and your instincts are right to tell you that this is wrong, that you're being treated badly. There's no actual reason or justification for anyone to do this to you. Hurting you will not make anyone better, will not fix anyone's problems or make anyone's life better. The mere urge of another person to do this to you is abnormal and suggests something is wrong with their sense of right and wrong.

[lastoneout]

Something I've noticed that is like...concerning but also just really annoying about online discussions about basically any topic these days is something that probably already has a name but that for now I'ma call "death of nuance via strict binary thinking" which leads a lot of people to get very angry over the idea that two things can be true at once, or that bringing up someone else's problems does not overshadow or invalidate your own, or that you can uplift a group of people without tearing down another.

Because like, I've had this happen on several of my posts now, where I say a generally harmless, factual statement, and several people rush in to either outright accuse me of saying a different, more extreme statement or annoyingly "correct" me to fix the supposed ~dangerous implications~ of my words, which I'm not gonna lie is as infuriating as it is confusing.

I can't make a post about how sugar is one of the main things the human body runs on and thus trying to remove it entirely from your diet is dangerous and harmful without people showing up to be like "are you saying it's okay to eat an entire bag of sugar by the spoonful??" and "well if you ate nothing but oreoes and ice cream that would make you sick" even though that doesn't contradict or really have anything?? to do?? with my original statement??

I can't make a post talking about the issues men(trans or cis) face under the patriarchy without people showing up and getting mad at me for "making feminism about men" despite the fact that the majority of my feminist activism DOES center women and taking a moment to explore the ways the patriarchy harms us all in no way harms women. And I can't make a post pointing out that marginalized men, especially black, disabled, and fat men often have malice read into their very existence and maybe that's bad without people showing up to get mad at me for saying marginalized men are incapable of harm which is not what I said at all.

And this one is a bit different but still one I see a lot, which is an over-correction seeped in the idea that we can only uplift one group at a time, or if x group is good y group must be bad. Like I am all for pointing out that there's nothing wrong with not wearing makeup and having body hair and not wearing deodorant, and women who live like that are fine and valid and can still be seen as sexy and desirable, and yes there ARE things to critique about the beauty industry for sure...but then that manifests into thinking women who do shave and wear makeup and deodorant are ugly or weird or brainwashed and should be mocked, which..no? Or when the dialog shifted to talking about fat people being hot suddenly we had a lot of people acting like skinny women were ugly and weird when that actually doesn't help with fat liberation AT ALL.

(Also just to clarify I think the occasional joke about these topics is okay given how much mockery fat, hairy, and non-feminine women get BUT there is a point when you go to far and some groups of people are racing over the line.)

And like yeah you could say the internet has always been this way but there's been a real noticeable uptick in progressive leftists coming at complex issues with this kind of no-nuance thinking, when it used to be something I really only saw from conservatives. I'd see stuff like "well feminism is bad because men also have problems" and "oh black lives matter? are you saying other lives don't??" and "oh you think drug addicts aren't inherently dangerous well what about the ones who DO hurt people" or "we can't talk about trans women's issues that would take away from talking about cis women's problems" and "we can't have a fat character that's glorifying ob*sity" and we used to MOCK them for that shit. This was seen as RIDICULOUS and was generally considered a conversation ender because it's clear the people doing it aren't actually interested in having a conversation they just want to yell at you for something you didn't say or pull a huge "I am uncomfortable when we are not about me" which just...ough please stop.

So seeing like actual progressive people pull this shit is really weird and it happens so often I legit can't ignore it anymore. I don't really have a solution, but I just feel like some of us really need to wrap our heads around the idea that just because someone said one thing doesn't mean they're saying this other thing too. Which, when you put it like that, sounds like the kind of thing you learn in kindergarten but I digress. Someone saying it's okay to eat sugar, your body actually needs it, isn't necessarily saying it's okay to eat so many oreoes you get sick(or excluding diabetics or being a corn lobby apologist or whatever the hell else people on that post are accusing me of). Someone bringing up the ways the patriarchy hurts people who aren't women isn't making feminism about men or saying women don't have problems. Trans men talking about their issues isn't implying anything about trans women just like bisexuals or asexuals talking about their issues isn't taking space away from allo gay people. Someone talking about how assuming marginalized men are threats when they're just existing is bad and gets innocent people killed isn't saying OJ Simpson did nothing wrong.

Two things can be true at the same time. Nuance is important and making space to talk about one thing isn't taking away from someone else. There's no contest, no slippery slope so dangerous we can't even state facts, no pie you have to fight over. Oppression isn't a math problem where whatever you do to one side of the equation must be done to the other or a scale that can't be balanced. This kind of thought process isn't productive and will not lead to a better, more equal world. Just one where someone else is wearing the boot.

Just...idk please just stop coming onto posts assuming the worst, doing bad faith readings and then getting pissed about something the person didn't say, assuming someone else getting a seat at the table means yours is in danger, being so desperate to be a good ally that you start doing lateral violence and calling it punching up, and just full on stealing conservative talking points and argument styles and trying to make them progressive.

We're supposed to be better than this. That's all I've got really, we're just supposed to be better than this. And while I don't always engage with people like this for obvious reasons, I'd like to think they aren't beyond saving and maybe this post can change a few minds. You guys aren't wrong to be angry and want to help and protect people who need it, but this is not the way to go about it and it never will be.

[foliosriot]

The Drain — Chapter One

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc (grey)

summary: the concrete jungle is incredibly dangerous and a scary place to live. but grey has made it her mission to provide whatever light and aid she can in such a dark place. even if it means catching the attention of someone at the top of the food chain.

warnings: stalking if you squint ig. mentions of bl00d. brief mention of ab*se.

tags: @concretenoah @circle-with-me @malice-ov-mercy @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @cncohshit @lilhobgobbler @bngurngheart

masterlist. the drain masterlist.

It’s been about a week since Vivian discovered the note, and Grey has been panicking every moment of every day.

Every corner she turns she fears someone will reach out of the shadows and drag her away. She fears leaving her apartment, and even turning on the Angel’s Light every night like she is used to. She doesn’t want to make the target on her back even bigger.

But, as expected, the fear and panic is always drowned out by Grey’s need to care for the Concrete Jungle’s occupants. Her need to help as many people as she possibly can will always be stronger than her own terror or anxiety.

Even now, as she goes about her nightly routine by helping anyone who is drawn in by the comforting glow of the Christmas lights, Grey can’t help but feel like she is being watched. And the feeling isn’t coming from the last couple people resting on the fire escape. No, it’s coming from somewhere else. But from where, she can’t tell, as the night has taken hold of the city and darkness overwhelms everything in its wake.

“Make sure you find somewhere safe to sleep tonight.” Grey is currently helping wrap the arm of a boy who had sliced it open after jumping over a broken fence as he ran from his abuser. “But there is a shelter a few blocks that way if you’d rather do that, okay?”

The boy looks up at her, his fluffy orange-red hair falling into his eyes. Tear stains run all the way down his ruddy face and disappear under his jaw.

“Thank you, Angel,” the boy, Jace, murmurs in a broken voice.

“Oh, no, no need to thank me,” she replies with an awkward smile. The nickname has always rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. But still, she resists the urge to correct her patients who call her that, especially now. “This is what I love to do. I love helping others.”

Jace looks like he wants to say more but bites his tongue instead.

Grey finishes helping him and lets him go on his way with a plastic water bottle and a small bag that contains a granola bar, an apple, and a string cheese. He thanks her one more time before he shimmies his way down the fire escape, and hurries in the direction of the shelter Grey had mentioned.

The final patient of the night, Georgie, hobbles towards Grey. Georgie is one of her regulars, a homeless man in his fifties who happens to be one of the sweetest people Grey has ever had the pleasure to meet. He says he has a shelter of his own somewhere close by, but only comes to her when he struggles to find food for himself and his dog. His dog, Cleo, sleeps soundly at the foot of the fire escape.

“Hi, Georgie,” Grey greets him with a genuine smile. She reaches behind her to grab one of those little food bags, like she had just given to Jace. But she also fills another one of those bags with some dog food and a few chunks of chicken.

“Hiya, Grey,” Georgie says with a lopsided grin. He looks thinner every time she sees him, so it’s nothing new to see. But there’s something about this visit that tells Grey he’s not doing well.

“How are you doing?” Grey asks him, handing him the bags of food and two water bottles. “Find any cool sticks recently?”

“Can’t find a single damn stick worth adding to my collection these days,” Georgie huffs, his tone annoyed but clearly joking.

Grey chuckles lightly. “Then you haven’t tried Miracle Park,” she tells him. “I took a walk down there a few weeks ago and some mighty fine sticks that I know Cleo would love to fetch.”

The whole reason Georgie collects cool sticks in the first place is to play with Cleo. Cleo loves playing fetch, and since Georgie doesn’t have the money to buy her any real dog toys, he scours the city in search of the best sticks he can find. And Cleo loves joining him on his journey.

“Is that so?” Georgie hums to himself. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. Well, thank ya, Grey!”

“Any time. Stay safe.”

Grey watches as Georgie fumbles his way down the fire escape slowly. He manages to get back to the sidewalk, and Cleo rises at his presence. The dog happily wags her tail and follows after her person down the concrete.

Grey smiles to herself watching them go. She’s glad to see Georgie with a smile, because there are times when she has seen him frowning and unable to joke with her. So it always warms her heart whenever he is so jovial and happy.

Once Georgie and Cleo vanish into the night Grey gathers her things. She goes to turn off the Angel’s Light and her spine tingles with that same sensation from earlier.

Someone is watching her.

Eager to get back inside and go to bed, Grey makes her way through the open window and begins putting all of her supplies away as fast as she can. A light breeze blows into the bedroom while she finishes up.

“I gotta hand it to ya, this whole setup you have going on is pretty impressive.”

The sudden voice nearly scares Grey out of her skin. She whips around, the box of gauze still in her hands. Fear immediately sluices through her at the sight of another person standing over by the very open window. Judging by just the voice and body she assumes it’s a man. He’s covered head-to-toe in black clothing, including the balaclava that obscures his face. She can barely make out his pale skin that is half hidden by the coat hood pulled up over his head.

“Who are you?” Grey hisses, even though she is terrified out of her mind. This masked stranger standing in her father’s old bedroom with her has planted her to the very spot she stands. And right about now, she really wishes the bowie knife wasn’t on the other side of the room.

The man has one of her many medical encyclopedias in his gloved hands. He flips through it lazily without acknowledging Grey.

Grey’s hands are trembling as she watches the man close the thick book and put it back on the bookshelf in front of him. He steps away and wanders around the room at a leisurely pace, ignoring Grey’s presence.

“You’ve made this into your very own triage room, haven’t you?” he muses. He strides by the blood pressure machine that is drilled in to the wall, another shelf stacked to the brim with various medical supplies, and the old bed frame and mattress she had converted into a proper hospital bed, white sheets and everything. “Like I said, impressive.”

The man sits down in the armchair. Then he’s reaching behind it and the bowie knife is in his hand. Grey curses herself as her heart is pounding wildly from inside her ribcage, making her pulse throb almost painfully. Her veins are on fire as she watches him with the eyes of a hawk. Every single one of her instincts are screaming at her to do something.

But what?

“Who are you?” Grey repeats with a shaking voice. “And what are you doing here?”

Grey watches as the man relaxes in the chair, his legs spreading wide like he owns the fucking place. He rolls his neck with a sigh before speaking.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” he says, almost in a bored tone. He twirls the knife in his hand. “But what I’m doing here does matter. I’m here about that note you got. I come alone.”

Shit.

Is this one of those people Vivian had warned her about? Someone part of that violent gang that basically controls the entire city?

Grey can feel a panic attack brewing from just below her sternum.

“W-What note?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know the note I’m talking about.” He turns his face towards her. “I have a message.”

The man rises to his feet, the knife still in-hand. He slowly approaches Grey and ends up backing her into the wall behind her. Her grip tightens on the box of gauze the moment he halts. And god, he towers over her by at least a foot. But now she can see his eyes, and they are the blackest pits with an unknown light from within.

“There are others coming after you.” He speaks so softly his words are nearly inaudible. “What you provide the Concrete Jungle is valuable, and we know that. They know that.”

“What?”

Grey surprises herself with the sheer terror and shakiness of her own voice. There are more people coming after her? But why? What could she possibly offer to be considered so valuable?

The masked man continues to stare down at her for a few more seconds before vacating her personal space. He begins making his way back towards the window.

“Consider this protection,” he tells her from over his shoulder, his voice no longer so quiet. “With me being here like this, it tells others I’m laying claim. So you should be fine for the time being. Just don’t do anything brash or that would catch their attention even more, alright?”

“W-Wait, what?! What the fuck are you talking about?”

Grey continues to throw question after question at this mysterious man, but he keeps ignoring her until he is stood outside on the fire escape. He looks back at her, now that she is only a few feet away from the window.

“Keep an eye out. I’ll be around.”

And without another word, the man jumps from the fire escape and disappears down the dark street below.

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[me-and-your-husband]

more bully!ellie, as per your guys' requests.

warnings: ellie being mean, dom!ellie, sub!reader, smut obvi, oral (both receiving), dirty talk, thigh riding, semi-public sex, kind of a toxic relationship???, ooc ellie probably, likely missed some, not proofread

you ended up taking her back to your place that night. she kept you writhing in the sheets all night, begging her for your release, pressing your body so close that you couldn't breathe. when she finally let you touch her, she was timid, but grew more comfortable when you coaxed her release from her twice.

you'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, no thought about what the morning would bring.

however, when you woke, the spot next to you in your bed was cold and empty. she had left.

you couldn't understand what you did wrong. why had she left? was she ashamed? embarrassed? had she just wanted a quick fuck?

she left your bed and left you without an answer for days.

she continued her usual antics, mocking you and teasing you in the hallways and shoving you around, as if nothing happened. however, there was something new, something different behind the fake malice in her eyes. before, she masked the desire. but now, she was masking her...fear?

that was until you practically tackled her in the hall and dragged her into an empty lecture hall one day between classes.

"the fuck is your problem?" you whisper-yelled.

she didn't look you in the eyes.

"why're you still pretending you didn't fuck me within an inch of my life not even two weeks ago?"

the corner of her lip curved, eyes darkening. she crossed her arms and straightened her posture, confidence returning.

"so that's what this is about? you need a good fuck, huh?" she got closer to you.

"no, ellie, i...i mean yes, but that's not what this—"

"that's not true and you know it, pretty girl," she said, pressing you against the wall. you felt her breath tickle your neck, warm and gentle. her lips latched onto your sweet spot, your head tilting back against the wall. she slotted a thigh between yours, pressing it into your core.

she'd do anything to distract you from what she felt.

"knew you were a slut, fuck," she said, landing a light smack to your jaw. "open up," she said. you obeyed, sticking out your tongue. her spit landed on your tongue, and you swallowed it without having to be told to. "good girl. now, want you to grind against my thigh."

your eyes widened at the thought of getting off on her thigh in the middle of a lecture hall, your tuition too high to be booted from the school. she saw the hesitation in your eyes and grabbed your chin. "do it. now."

you obeyed, beginning to grind against her firm thigh. she continued pressing warm kisses into your neck, one hand covering your mouth and one with a bruising grip on your hip.

your clit caught just right on her thigh over and over again, building that fire in your core.

"bet there's a wet spot on my pants, huh?" she chuckled. "so wet. such a fucking whore. my whore though, yeah?"

you nodded frantically, too bent on release to really think. the fire burned bright and you were almost there. almost. ellie knew that.

"almost there?" you nodded. at that, her hands left you, and so did her leg.

"ellie!" you whined. "please, fuck, i was so close. why—!?"

she grinned. "i want you at my dorm in two hours. don't be late or this isn't happening again."

"ellie, i can't wait that long, please just let me finish."

she threw a smirk over her shoulder as she moved to leave. "if you can't wait, finish yourself off and don't bother coming over."

with that, she left the lecture hall.

-

you had another class before you could go to ellie's. then, you asked around to figure out where she lived. she could've at least had the decency to give you her address. once you had it, you made your way to her building.

staring at the sticky note in your hand, you double checked the number on the door, 317, then knocked and crumpled it, shoving it in a pocket. the door swung open within a few seconds, revealing ellie with a menacing grin behind it. she made a giant gesture with her arm to welcome you in, smacking your ass lightly on your way past her, making you giggle.

she could hardly lock the door before you were on her, fisting the front of her shirt and pulling her lips into yours. she laughed into the kiss, "holy. someone's desperate."

"she's desperate because someone left her in the worst state imaginable."

"woah, since when do you get to talk back?" she said, spinning you and pressing you against the door. you blinked. "don't do it again."

"yes, ellie."

"god," she breathed. "i love the way you say my name."

twenty minutes later, you were sitting on ellie's face in her bed. she pressed your thighs to either side of her face as you rode her, legs trembling with your release. moans of "more!" and her name tumbled from your lips as you came.

"fuckkk," you said, spine trembling as you rolled off her face. your chest heaved as you laid next to her. you blushed at the sight of your sweet release all over her face.

"always taste so good," she said before kissing you, her tongue sharing some of your taste.

"ellie," you whimper. "wanna make you feel good."

you slowly rolled yourself between her legs, lips still on hers. she spread her legs to make room for you, still clad in her black boxers.

"alright, baby. make me feel good." her hands found your hair, stroking it gently.

she pulled her boxers off before guiding you, "run your fingers through it, baby." you did as you were told, making her shudder. "okay, now kiss it nicely for me."

you listened, planting a small kiss on her clit. her breath hitching at the sensation. "again." you obeyed.

"okay, good girl. now, lick it. come on, use your mouth for something productive for once."

you licked a large stripe through her folds, closing your eyes and moaning at her taste. before she could instruct you further, you indulged completely, licking her out like she was your last meal. she didn't even have the resolve to tell you to slow down, already feeling herself tighten.

"just like that! fuck! my god," she moaned. "my slut knows how to use her tongue."

you spelled your name on her clit in between licking up her folds, making her back arch and her legs shake a little.

"i'm so close, fuck. make me cum. do something useful for once. fuckkk."

"mouth so good. lickin' me right. fuck."

"would've let you do this much sooner if you weren't such a little bitch. ohhh, i'm gonna—!"

ellie releases in your mouth, gripping your hair, back arching off the bed, and legs clamping around your head. moaning your name, she sees stars as you work her through her release, drinking everything she gives you.

as she calms down, she lifts your head from her core and lazily grins at your state.

she could play with you for a long time. and she would.

kinda rushed and kinda horrible. sorry 😭

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist: @chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 2447

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late + "You're a monster." + "That's never stopped you before."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ this isn't an official return to writing Dano content! this is merely me getting in touch with my roots a little! because you can't give me unhinged prompts and then tell me not to get even a little bit inspired to write something for Edward lmao. p.s. yes I ever so slightly changed the dialogue prompt!! it just made more sense in the end!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), descriptions of sex, Edward being his normal homicidal self <3, reader is kind of an asshole lmao, vague allusions to violence, and that's all I can think of! please let me know if I need to add more!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

Sometimes it astounded you just how far a set of sad eyes could fuel your romantic mind. You hesitated to admit that you were delusional, but the thought certainly lived in the back of your head. Anytime it traveled to the front you’d simply brush it back with the justification that everyone did this.

Everyone made up those little romances to lose themselves in. It gave you something to think about in the gaps between really living. In that narrow room of your head lived Edward Nashton. And god, was he really starting to take up even more real estate than you’d ever meant for him to.

He wasn’t even your nicest coworker. Far from it actually, considering how stand-offish he was. At first you looked right over him, preferring the company of coworkers that didn’t make you feel like you were being looked down upon. Because whether he intended it or not, he radiated some sort of superiority. Though he rarely spoke, you simply caught the idea that he didn’t want to be part of anything going on.

Edward never attended company lunches, never went out for drinks after work, and mostly kept to himself during his lunch breaks. He seemed almost intent on isolating himself as much as possible. It didn’t occur to you that maybe it was wrong to quickly assign such malice to his disinterest until he chimed in on a break room conversation you were having with a coworker.

She’d been expressing excitement over the prospect of Bella Reál running for mayor against Mayor Mitchell. She’d scoffed, “It’s about time that bastard gets pushed out of office. We finally have a chance for some real change here.”

For as quiet as he was, you were surprised that Edward’s voice sounded so firm when he raised his head and spoke, “Realchange? What are the odds of that? She’s just another politician. And politicians...they’re nothing more than cardboard cutouts for whatever demographic they want to pander to. They can’t save everyone.“

Your coworker rolled her eyes, saying something about how cynicism won’t do anyone any good before decidedly pushing him out of the conversation entirely. And that gave you the clearest picture you’d had of him yet. Maybe it was less that he didn’t want to be a part of things and more that he didn’t know how to be a part of things.

The more you viewed him through that lens, the more he made sense. And the more it made your heart break for him. It wasn't pity. God no. Out of everyone you knew, Edward was surely the smartest and most capable. But that didn't make it any easier watching him look at the rest of the world with that twitchy, distrustful eye.

Maybe if you were a different person you would've said something. You would at least sit with him. But truth told, he intimidated you.

So, not wanting to risk shouldering any of his disdain, you watched him. And you built up an idea. An idea you were quite fond of.

You noticed that he drank his coffee black. Figured that he took everything else that way too. That he cut straight through the sugar and cream and gulped down the bitterness, grounds and all. All reason, no nonsense. You decided it would probably be hard to be with him. But that wouldn't make it any less gratifying.

Already you could imagine Edward and his walls and how you'd attempt to break through them. Maybe there was some sort of tragic past behind his disassociation. Maybe there was something in him that reflected a little bit of yourself. Maybe you could help him; make him happier. Or maybe he was just a plain old asshole and you'd only make each other worse. Either way, it made him compelling to deconstruct.

Especially when comparing him to the other men in your office. Many of them were loud, boastful, and – perhaps due to some deep seated insecurity – always trying to prove something. Edward, on the other hand, seemed to wear that insecurity on his sleeve with his stuttering replies and lingering glances towards his superiors. You bet he was secretly possessive. Not exactly swift to a fight, but definitely quick to prove that his power was effortless; he didn't need showmanship the way those other men did. 

Something about that made him inherently cool to you. As much as he may have been a nobody, a loser, and a nerd...he was also everything. Everything and nothing all at once and you couldn't get enough of it.

If there was anyone in your office you guessed would ask you out, it certainly wasn't Edward. Edward, in your mind, didn't take those risks. And he certainly didn't care enough about you to see you as any different from the rest of his coworkers.

But somehow he managed to break your script the morning he confidently waltzed straight to your cubicle across the office and asked if you liked Italian food.

"Eh, I'm impartial," you replied sheepishly, not sure where the question was leading.

To your surprise, Edward gave a small nod, issuing his silent approval. "Good. Because there's a diner in town that I'd like to take you out to."

You had to blink quickly, wondering for a moment if you'd honest-to-god lost your mind and fallen too far into one of your daydreams.

"Huh?"

That's when Edward's own voice faltered slightly, "I-is that a yes? Or a no?" and finally it struck you that this was reality. 

"Yes!" you blurted your reply. "I'd love to go out with you."

Once you'd worked out the particulars of this assumed date, you could hardly hide your anticipation. You'd been nervous for dates before. But this was a new beast. You barely knew a thing about him and you hadn't so much as had a real conversation with him.

Why he'd asked you out in the first place, you had no idea. None of it made any sense but before you could question his intentions, you second guessed that gut feeling. Those rose tinted glasses fell over your gaze with ease at that point.

Maybe he was just as nervous as you were. Maybe this was his attempt at doing something bold. Maybe you were the asshole for assuming dubious intent. Maybe you just had to give him a chance. After all, he was giving you a chance. And suddenly you interest was piqued all over again.

On its own, the date was average. You hadn't expected a Michelin star meal, but as far as greasy diner food went, this one sat heavy in your stomach and Edward's untrained social skills didn't help.

He made conversation like he'd read a Wikihow article on it before picking you up. And while it was a lackluster feeling that spurred inside you when he was reciting those lines to you, it only made you want to deliberately break his script again. You knew he had it in him; you'd seen it before.

Ignoring every ounce of advice on social etiquette you'd ever learned, you asked him what he thought about the upcoming election. And that seemed to be just the ticket as he set his mug of black coffee down, a goofy grin scrawling out on his doughy face. Before you knew it, he launched into an uninterrupted tangent about the grim state of Gotham politics for the next few minutes.

It was simple enough nodding along and giving the occasional sympathetic hum. Even if you did feel the same about the broken system you lived in, it was a little disappointing realizing that he was like many of the men you'd dated. One that liked the sound of his own voice too much that you could barely get a word in edgewise.

But you think you liked the sound of his voice more when he said, "My apartment is nearby. Would you like to...come over?"

And you knew he liked yours when you agreed.

Edward was a virgin, just like you expected. You tried not to show too much pride over your skillful deduction at the vulnerable admission. But you couldn't help the small rise in your tone when you replied, "Oh, you haven't...?"

Edward shook his head before hiding his face in your neck and groaning. And if you hadn't felt how unmistakably hard he was against your thigh, you might've felt bad for him. As wrong as it felt, you were ecstatic.

You couldn't believe your luck, getting to be this man's first. As meaningless as the concept of virginity was to you in theory...in this scenario...it inspired some very sentimental feelings. Feelings that even if he wasn't exactly everything you'd built him up to be, you'd still always have this imprint on him.

Repeatedly you reassured that you didn't find that fact embarrassing while suppressing the fact that more than anything, you wanted him. You'd dreamed about him for long enough that this felt like teasing. And it wasn't fun.

He fucked almost exactly the way you thought he would. Desperate. Disconnected. Animalistic. Like he was searching for something. Whether that be pleasure or perhaps a good old fashioned connection with someone, you didn't know. All you knew was that it made you giggle to think of your coworkers' looks of surprise when they found out that the Edward Nashton had managed to bring a girl home on the first date.

Even though he didn't make you come with penetration, it was fairly easy showing him how to use his fingers. Initially his touch was rough. As soon as you squealed and squirmed, he'd stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you with that sad, sorry stare. And despite the fact that he'd been the one to hurt you, he still managed to make you feel sorry for him.

But that didn't matter. Once you got him going, his focus on maintaining that light, even pressure as he circled your clit was unbreakable. You could tell that he was deriving pleasure from this too. That he liked staring deep into your eyes as they clouded over with mounting pleasure before blowing wide once you tipped over the edge. He chased the keening sounds of your arousal with an intensity that made the whole thing seem far more urgent than it actually was. 

You were in so deep that you hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks until you'd finished and Edward had set off for his bathroom to wet a towel for cleanup. Once his bedroom door closed, you felt comfortable enough to really lay back and let out the breath you'd been holding. Being around him made your nerves short circuit and as much as you hated to admit it, it shrouded your judgment.

Knowing close to nothing about him, you found yourself picking through the flashes you'd gotten when stumbling into his apartment. Between kisses, you remember hearing squeaks. Maybe it was mice? Rats? Judging by the crumbling state of his room, you were uncertain over whether he owned them or they'd simply...made their home among his. You hoped it was the former. Your imagination forced you to believe that.

Finally you sat up, looking around his room. Edward's discarded button up work shirt laid forgotten on the floor. You picked it up and pulled it on to regain some of your modesty as you began dissecting once more.

Once you started to get a good look at your surroundings, you felt that pit in your stomach. Or maybe it was the greasy diner food sitting uncomfortably in your stomach. But that justification seemed less likely when you noticed the mirror on his dresser was smashed out, the broken glass still sitting on the wood surface. Any idea of it being accidental disappeared when you spotted the cork board beside the dresser. Pinned to it were photos and articles marked dramatically with red ink.

The words FILTHY PIGS written in big letters over a picture accompanying an article that detailed a GCPD drug den bust. The world LIAR scrawled over an old image of Thomas Wayne, most likely from his campaign days. Then there were the most worrying ones. Photos of people you vaguely recognized that weren't defaced with words. You saw Mayor Mitchell, Bella Reál, Gotham's attorney general, and a few others all with one thing in common. Right in the middle of their foreheads were targets, painted in red that dripped down their faces like blood.

This wasn't just some sort of bizarre art project. The closer you looked at the smaller annotations scribbled into the margins, the more you realized that this was some sort of morbid obsession of his. And for the first time, he scared you.

His stares and his silence meant nothing compared to the pure terror this inspired in you.

The bedroom door creaked as Edward pushed it open. His grip on the wet washcloth in his hand tightened as he caught what you were looking at.

"You see the truth now, don't you?" he asked meekly with a distant look.

"What?"

His voice dripped with emotion, "The brokenness. The-the-the corruption. The suffering. You understand that they need to pay, don't you?" He now stared expectantly, gesturing to his board of horrors.

You spoke carefully and slowly, "I'm...not sure I understand why Bella Reál is up there. All she wants to do is help–"

A different kind of darkness shadowed his expression now. It was one that you couldn't find any sort of romance in. But there was intent. All you knew was that none of the pieces you'd found could ever put together a pretty image. There was no reframing, no romanticizing, and no disregarding this. This intent was one of violence. One that seemed to spread as much pain and poison that was trapped inside of him.

Suddenly his eagerness to take you out felt less like a once in a lifetime chance and more like a death sentence. No amount of deduction would've led you to daydream something this depraved. If you'd poured the milk and sugar into your perception of him, these were bitter coffee grounds at the bottom of the mug. And you were doomed to swallow it up until the last drop.

Edward inched closer, his tone turning almost manic, “No one can save us. Not even the Batman. He can’t save us the way we need to be saved. But I can. I can do the thing that no one is bold enough to do."

“You’re a monster,” your voice quivered.

Edward chuckled. “As if that stopped you before.”

[hopelessromantic5]

Arthur is found by a little old witch in the woods, and is cared for.

But the witch realizes that her magic is no good on him.

She hovered her hands over Arthur’s body, with her eyes closed. Arthur could see the light cascading out her fingertips but he could not feel anything.

“Ah.” She said, smiling at him sweetly. “You are protected by one very great indeed, young warrior. My magic cannot even help you, let alone could it hurt you.” She giggled, as if this was something funny.

Arthur, high on pain and unable to move at all without searing hot flashes of it, was a tad put out.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

She shook her head.

“The opposite. The magic that protects you is more powerful than any I’ve felt, in all my years. And there were a lot of years, believe me. The person watching out for you, Arthur Pendragon, must care for you a great deal. Especially in knowing how you feel about the subject of sorcery.” She rattled these things off as if it were idle chitchat, as she went about the room collecting herbs and creams and throwing them into the pot in her hands.

Arthur was extremely confused. About everything that was said, but definitely one thing.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t invite anyone into my home without knowing who they were.”

“You helped me anyway? Knowing my father executes magic users?”

Arthur could not find it in himself to be afraid, he knew he was in no danger, and she’d just said she couldn’t hurt him or heal him with magic. So that’s good at least. She could’ve left him for dead, another reason to be thankful.

He had no intention of mentioning any of this healing excursion to his father.

“You would not turn me in. I know you have a true and noble heart. You are the Once and Future King.” She smiled over her shoulder at him and continued on her way.

Arthur played back the entirety of what she’d mentioned previously and his brows furrowed even more, if possible, giving him a slight headache.

He didn’t mean to appear rude but the question just came tumbling out of him.

“Someone powerful is stopping you from using magic on me? With magic?”

She turned back to her work station, which faced Arthur’s bed, and nodded again.

“Your guardian angel.” She smiled again, very sweet but also secretive. A smile of knowing things that Arthur had yet to even begin to comprehend.

Arthur was struck back to his fathers voice saying that same phrase. And all the numerous times he’d come away from a battle he thought lost, with nothing but a few scratches.

Someone was saving him.

Time and time again. Someone was always there.

But who?

The woman’s head snapped up from her working hands as if reading his thoughts. But still no malice was found in her eyes, only concern.

“Heed my words.” She began. Nothing good ever started with that. “They are not your foe. They have been there time and time again, you know it. In your heart of hearts. A moment will come when you must make a choice. If you turn this into a war, as your father did, everything you hold dear will be lost. Your kingdom, your happiness, the color of the world through your eyes. You will see nothing but grey ash.” A tear slid down her cheek and Arthur could feel them welling in his eyes, though he didn’t know why.

“But,” she smiled wetly. “If you choose to trust your heart, and open it to them willingly, you will prosper. Even in death, you will not truly die, as so many men do. You will be the Once and Future King, and your soul will live forever.” Arthur blinked, and he felt the wetness because he knew he was crying. But he didn’t feel sad, he felt ecstatic. Like it was bursting out of him, but he couldn’t move. Because everything was still broken and sliced open, making him vulnerable to everything. Even the feelings in the air, which Arthur usually held a dutiful immunity to.

“Who?” He managed to croak out, when he regained his princely manner.

“I will not tell you, Arthur. And you would be wise not to go looking. The answer to your question will come in its own time. For now, keep learning.” And then she winked, like Arthur was supposed to know what that meant. And how was he supposed to just keep going with the knowledge that someone close to him, or someone who thinks highly of him, has protected him even in knowing they could be caught at any second, knowing they would die. All to save Arthur.

At the thought, he wondered why his life was worth so much. Yes, knights uphold their honor and would fight and die for Arthur or Uther. But Arthur didn’t meet many sorcerers with loyalty of that kind.

Or maybe he didn’t really meet any sorcerers. Unless they were heading to the pyre and looking down their last minutes.

Of course, the sorcerers he’d come in contact with didn’t fancy a chat, because Uther never offered it. There was never a question. Magic equals death. It didn’t matter if it was healing, or helping a dying crop, or growing a shade tree for the children.

In the low light of the old woman’s tent, everything made perfect sense.

But it didn’t.

Because, not very many people knew that Arthur didn’t always agree with his father on these matters, Uther would never allow that to be made too public.

Maybe guards had heard something and whispered their secrets to handsy maids, or stable boys. Whatever the preference.

It would be entirely possible for the staff of the castle to know things that they shouldn’t.

So that narrows it down to about…three hundred people give or take.

Lovely.

Arthur took a deep breath and heard the old woman’s words in his head.

So he stopped thinking of it, stopped trying to find an answer and just waited for it to come to him. Or for death. Whichever came first.

The next day, as he woke, he almost startled realizing he wasn’t in his bed, and wouldn’t see Merlin first thing, but then didn’t because it hurt too much.

“Do not fret. It is almost time for you to go, Arthur Pendragon.”

“What do you mean?”

Then he heard it. A faint voice. Like music to his ears.

Yelling his name.

Oh thank heavens.

Merlin found him.

He always found him.

A pang of…something hit his heart before he could stop it and it upset him deeply.

But then the smile returned, because he was about to go home.

The woman came and helped him up, dressed his various wounds with her mysterious poultice once more, and then turned to look him straight in his ocean blue orbs. Right into the very depths of him. Hers were almost clear, like the sky.

“I know you have love for your father, but he lives in fear every day of his life. All of his decisions are made out of that fear. You cannot be the King your people need you to be if you follow in his footsteps. Choose love instead. Always. Even when it’s most difficult.”

She walked him out of the canvas tent and into the cool winds of spring morning.

“I wish you the best of luck, my King.” She bowed her head. The first sign of respect for any title, she had ever shown him. He almost blushed because of it. And he felt proud. To have someone like her rooting for him.

He would think about that old woman and what she told him, for years to come.

“Arthur?” The voice was getting closer. Then a lanky body burst through the line of trees and found him standing there, strapped together with bandages.

Arthur turned back to introduce the woman to Merlin, but she was gone.

And so was her tent.

It had all vanished.

For a moment he thought he was insane. But looked down at the helpful linens that were holding ointments on his carved skin, and knew that he hadn’t made it up.

“Arthur!” Merlin ran straight for him, but stopped a few feet off, clearly seeing he was hurt.

“Thank God you’re alive. I mean I knew you were, I knew you wouldn’t leave without sending me to the stocks one last time for good measure.” Arthur was smiling, he could feel it. He’d missed his friend. More than he should’ve.

He wished he could hug him, but as previously stated, he could barely move.

“I could go for a hug,” he admitted. “But I can’t really move anything without…ya know, pain.” He was still a little woozy and wanted to just get on with the journey.

“Guess I’ll have to help you on your way then.” Merlin sighed, but smiled anyway and looped Arthur’s good arm around his shoulders.

Then they walked.

And walked and walked and walked.

And neither of them said anything.

Arthur was lost in his own thoughts about destiny and the people that would one day rely on him for protection and peace.

Merlin had issues of his own he was meddling through, Arthur assumed.

And when the limping boy realized they’d been walking all day in complete silence, and hadn’t stopped once.

He finally voiced a question.

“Were you wounded?”

“What?” Merlin asked quietly.

“In the battle. Trying to get away, were you wounded?” Arthur’s eyes scanned his body and did not see any marks on his pale skin.

“No, I got away unscathed. Can’t say the same for you though.” He looked down, assessing Arthur’s own wounds.

“Did someone help you?”

“Yes.” He answered shortly. “An old woman. She was very kind.”

“She looks like she knew what she was doing. So I’m glad.” Merlin didn’t ask any more questions, Arthur was grateful.

“How did you find me?”

Merlin looked sheepish for a moment, but schooled it, and managed to get the redness out of his neck before it spread to his face.

He shrugged.

“I’m not really sure. I just had a feeling. Like I said, I knew you weren’t dead. So I just, kind of, followed my gut. And it led me to you standing in a field all by yourself.” He chuckled, as if the scene were funny.

“Hmm.” He said. Then looked around, and noticed there was water running somewhere.

“There’s a stream nearby, and it’s getting dark. We’ll stop and finish the journey tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll gather wood for a fire.” Merlin led him to a log and leaned him up against it for support.

Arthur could only watch as Merlin went about gathering dry wood where he could find it.

In the process of that, Arthur fell fast asleep.

In the darkness, Merlin crawled to Arthur and began to heal all his many wounds. Black smoke rising from them as they closed and left nothing but a scar.

Arthur would think the old woman’s poultice worked well. And they would be able to get home that much quicker.

Before Arthur opened his eyes the next morning, he knew something was different.

He tested his leg and it moved without delay or surging pain. His arms in the same strong condition.

His eyes flung open, and he ripped the bandages off to reveal closed skin.

Arthur might be a bit dull sometimes but he knows fairly well that nothing of any mortal nature could heal him so quickly.

But the old woman. She’d said no one could touch him with magic. Helpful or otherwise.

So what had done this?

His eyes glanced his surrounding and found only one clue.

A body curled in on itself with dark curls springing out.

Merlin.

But it couldn’t be. Merlin might not be as much an idiot as Arthur usually claimed. But he was no sorcerer.

Was he?

The pieces started clicking together. Merlin was always the one to conveniently drag him to safety.

He’s always the one there when unexpected victories are won.

Merlin.

Of course.

Something in Arthur must’ve known. Because he was not surprised even for a second. It almost seemed right in his mind. Merlin. Magic. Of course.

But that means Merlin’s been the one risking his life every single day, just to do what? Muddle about and polish armor? Muck out the horses?

If Merlin was as powerful as the old woman said, why did he stay? And why didn’t he trust Arthur with his secret?

Merlin started to rouse.

Arthur had to make a decision.

Confront him or act oblivious?

[starshinesama]

✦ In such a lonely world, how I wished to see you again. ✦

Your pleas were heard.

Authors note: this takes place after any regular sagau fic, (probably imposter au). Reader is Gender-Neutral but B/N is an implied she/her :]

༄ CW: loneliness, cultish themes, angst (with comfort)

Part 1 | Part 2

- POV: after being so lonely in Tervat, - you meet someone from your world, - stranded, like you.

Another meaningless day.

You walked on the streets of inazuma

If you hadn't been in this world for as long as you've been, you probably would have been more excited

To see the Sakura tree's blooming, the petals falling and flowing with the wind.

To taste the local cuisine (your mouth watering specifically for the Dango and Unagi Chazuke).

And you probably would have fell to the floor in laughter, seeing the Oni Arataki Itto lose an onikabuto match to a (literal) child

But..

It's been so long since you held that excitement in your eyes

At least it seemed so ever since that happened.

Don't get you wrong!! You still loved genshin impact, you loved the elements, the way everything seemed so alive!

But it was just so lonely

Especially with everyone around you treating you like they were below you

Your blood was gold sure, You had the power to heal living beings with your sacred blood And you just so happened to be a genshin addict that spent almost all their free time playing the game back home.

But even so..

.　⁺ . ✦　

"-your grace?" you were brought back to reality with an unpleasant jolt

"YIKES!! You scared me half to death geez.." "ah- my apologies, your grace" ...

You sigh, you insisted that they call you by your name, but they persist on calling you by your "proper title" it just never felt right

"... are you perhaps feeling unwell- [name]?" "No, it's nothing, im fine Zhongli"

(You came to Inazuma to try and clear your mind but your acolytes insisted that you brought atleast one of them with you)

The Geo archon still seemed concerned but eventually stopped trying to nag you after a while

And you were brought back to that pit of loneliness

Well you were

Until an ear splitting screech coming from Ritou Harbor nearly makes you deaf.

Wait...t-that voice! You'd recognize that annoying screech anywhere. Against your better judgment you start sprinting towards the harbor!

You hear Zhongli panicking, trying to say something but you can't hear him, maybe that scream DID make you deaf, it's like the whole world was being muted out, the only thing you can hear being the thumping of your heart as you run.

It couldn't be.. right?

You were sure you got isekaid here all alone..

That is until

"HEY! Ugh get off me!! I WILL meet my husbando-!!"

You stop dead in your tracks

"Uagh- stop thrashing will you! your causing a ruckus!!" The Kanjou Commission guard exclaimed, trying to wrestle down the girl.

You feel tears prickling your eyes

"H-hey- [Name]?! Is that you?!"

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops

No way..

"B-B/N?! What?!?-" but your cut off with the sound of B/N falling to the ground

"Uhm a little help here?" The guard finally managed to tackle down your best friend, huffing with pride somehow still not noticing you..

"Hey you."

_

You can imagine the guards shock when he saw the creator, THE creator stand before him, seething with malice

Infact, He was so shocked that he fainted.

"Uhm.. do you think he's gonna be ok?" You both kinda just stand there for a moment, not knowing what to say, before you suddenly run towards B/N, knocking you both down in a hug

ah, your starting to cry again

"I- I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!" you choke back a sob

B/N just looks at you confused, before eventually hugging you back, sighing

"I missed you too.. dumbass"

You both laugh, crying, ignoring the stares your getting from the people around you (their not judging though, I mean who would dare judge the almighty creator?)

Eventually you both calm down enough to have a proper conversation

"So.. how did you get here? "

looks like you'll have a lot of explaining to do.. ␥✮

___

Helloo! This is my first sagau fic so i hope yall like it, i might write a prequel to how Reader got here or a one shot about B/N if this goes well, comment to be tagged in the next chapter!

[ohtobeleah]

Hangman would have seen you and Rooster hugging tho. Jealousy, jealousy?

For those who haven’t been following along—This is just a really fun series I’ve been concepting. The Masterlist is here.

Oh for sure he did! And he wasn't going to not bring it up the second he had a chance to either. Jake Sersin had seen his wife in the arms of Bradley Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck. He’d seen a few seconds of what could only be described as a friendly encounter with an acquaintance. A nice acquaintance at that. But there was never any malice intention or underlying feelings. But what did Jake know? Only what he could see and what he saw was his wife in the arms of another man. Someone other than himself.

“You know I saw you and Hawk at the Hard Deck Bradshaw.” His muscles hurt but he’d never admit it. Up, down, up, down. Right on cue every time. “Care to explain why you’re all over my wife?” Rooster cast a shadow down over Hangman. His body eclipsed the sun that beamed down on his back. Smirking, Rooster couldn’t help but to chuckle. Did he smell jealousy? Perhaps.

“Picturing me thick as thieves with your ex-wife not sitting right with you Hangman?” Rooster teased as he watched Hangman doing his push ups after Maverick had got tone on him, Phoenix and Bob. Crouching down as he let his forearms rest on his thigh. “We were just having a chat, nothing more to it man.”

“What happened between you two anyway?” Bob, the Weapon Systems Officer is questioned between his staggered push ups. “Lieutenant Commander Seresin seems nice, don’t really know why she’d go for a guy as egotistical as you to begin with Bagman.”

“You’ll never be able to love me more than you love flying.” Scrambling around the house as you threw things into the open luggage bag. You’d been called for a last minute assignment. “You're reckless and careless, you act like you don’t have someone waiting for you to come home!” Jake had only just gotten home, his first air to air kill confirmed mere minutes after he’d set foot stateside. “I can’t take this anymore, I can’t breathe Jake! I can't—“ And it was safe to say you weren’t taking the news well at all.

“It’s my job! when you married me that was the deal! A package!” Jake Seresin was missing a vital point in your argument. He couldn’t understand why you were so upset. He was home, he was alive. But it was the thought of losing him to his own selfishness that had finally eaten away at you enough to break you.

“But it’s not just a job Hangman!” You never really used his call sign, so to hear you say it with such venom made his heart break. “It’s the way you do your job!! You fly like every last training session is your last! Every mission, every task is your last. Everyone says the same damn thing too! You don’t play well with others, you don’t fit on the goddamn team so why the hell should I expect them to risk their lives to save your sorry arse if something were to happen?”

“Y/n—baby.” It was hard to have a counter argument prepared when Jake didn’t think he’d done anything wrong to begin with. Trying to keep you from leaving, his hands on either side of your shoulders. “I’m here? I’m okay! What's the problem, love?”

“The problem Jake is that they wouldn’t!” Heavy, that’s what Jake would call the atmosphere around you. He’d remember the look of hopelessness in your eyes, the love that you had for him. Immense and fierce. You loved him so much it scared you to the point where you had to leave for your own sanity. “And suddenly it’ll just be me, and I’d rather it just be me on my own accord then for you to be taken away from me because you’ve burnt all your bridges to the point no one will want to save you!”

“We just needed some time apart, and haven't really found a way back yet.” Jake really did like to downplay what he unintentionally put you through. Simply because he wasn’t ready to stop being the best of the best. He knows that confirmed air to air kill was the final straw that broke you—he could have easily let it go, but he didn’t. Unnecessarily endangering himself for the thrill of the chase. “And she is a nice person—“ Huffing as he finished his push-ups, Jake groaned as he stood to his feet. Rooster doing the same, staring each other day. “Hug my wife like that again and I’ll break every goddamn bone in your body.”

“Ex wife—Hangman, she’s your ex wife.” Bradley snickered as he pushed his aviator sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with a wicked shit eating smirk. “Hawk can do whatever, and whoever she wants.” Without so much as a glint of hesitation Jake was shoving at Roosters chest. His nostrils flaring with every intent of beating to life out of Bradley Bradshaw for even insinuating such a concept. You were his fucking wife. His.

“Hey!! Hey—!” It was only when you had come out to ask Hondo when Pete would be finishing up that you saw the confrontation going down. Jogging over, you couldn't really move all that quickly with your dress shoes on. You preferred to wear your service uniform more often than not. The tan looked good and was rather comfortable all things considered. But as you raced towards where Jake and Bradley stood puffing their chest and flaring their nostrils like baboons? A small part of you wished you’d just taken Mavericks offer on a more comfortable flight suit. Some old baggy one from the back of his collection. “Hey! Knock it off!”

At the sound of your voice, the sweet sound of fire and grace, Jake's shoulders settled a little. His anger dissipated. Stepping back and away from rooster as you caught his attention, all of it. Approaching with a huff after running across the tarmac, you took a deep breath in, hands resting on your knees as you bent over dramatically. Heart rate higher then you would have liked it to have been.

“What the hell is going on? Huh?”

“Nothing Lieutenant Commander–” It wasn't hard to catch onto the tone Jake laced your title with. It had been the same way you had called him Lieutenant not a few hours prior. With a glare unmissable and a tight jaw clenched, you turned to Rooster who stood close by. Sending him a questioning look.

“Anything to add?” It wasn't something you took pleasure in, being authoritarian. You’d much rather just keep a low profile. But sometimes, pulling the rank card was the only thing you could do to get your point across, to remind people you were still a person to take seriously. “Lieutenant Bradshaw?”

“Not a word ma'am” Rooster played into it well, bouncing off Jake's ego a little too well. “We were just discussing independence, it seems as though some of us have forgotten that free will is a thing.” It did surprise you, not in the slightest bit. Of cause they were arguing over something stupid. It was always something stupid wasnt it.

“Rooster, why don't you take a walk.” You knew from your conversation with Hondo just minutes ago he was due to be up in the air in half an hour. “Cool off, clear your head or else Mav’s gonna send you packing.” You didn't give him a chance to respond as you turned on your heels, facing Hangman once again, eyes squinting as the sun beamed down, holding your hand up to shade your eyes. “Hangman–my office.”

“Yeah I think I’m good–” Shrugging you off Jake began to walk away, the group of stunned pilots, Phoenix, bob and Rooster all let their jaws slack a little at the confrontation unfolding. You may have been his ex wife but first and foremost in this moment you were his superior. To blatantly disrespect you like he did was unheard of behavior. Watching for a brief second as Jake pushed past you, his shoulder bumping into you as he did so.

“It wasn't a suggestion, Lieutenant!” Your voice strained as you raised it to something above what you were comfortable with. “My office, now!” Pausing his trajectory without so much as looking back, Jake changed the direction he was heading. Turning as he made his way to your office. Turning back to Rooster holding the bridge of your nose. “Don’t you have better things to be doing? I’m sure Lieutenant Kazanksy is around somewhere, go annoy her!”

***~***~***~***~***~

Slouched in one of the arm chairs by your desk, Jake watched as you stepped through the threshold of your office. Anger evident on your face as you stuck your tongue against your cheek. Seething. Slamming the door behind you without even flinching. It was needless to say it was very out of the ordinary for you to lose your cool like this, you would consider yourself to be a pretty easy going, level headed person. But when it came to all things Jake Seresin? Level headedness was always the first thing to go flying out the window.

“I'm sorry–”

“Cut the shit!” It stung like venom. Sitting on the edge of your desk as you ripped in. “You don't ever get to treat me with such disrespect, of all people who I thought would’ve been okay with taking a direct order, it would be you. Mr only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.”

“I'm still getting used to the idea of you being a Commander, I slipped up, Ma’am.” Jake paused for a moment as his eyes trailed your body, biting his bottom lip gently as he pictures what might be hidden under your uniform. “I promise it won't happen again.”

“You know, I really do wonder what will be your last lie.” huffing softly in defeat you let your demeanor change. Dropping the attitude you hated having. You weren't an authoritative figure, you were simply just you. “But if you promise, I guess I'll just have to take your word won't I?” Nodding, Jake stood from his place in the chair near your desk, stepping closer as you pushed yourself a little further back on top of your desk. “What were you and Rooster really fighting about?” with your legs hanging over the side, Jake slipped in easily, one of your knees on either side of his left leg.

“You.” It came out with no hesitation as Jake let his hands linger along your hips.

“Me? I haven't done anything?” Realistically you hadn't. “How am I the problem here?”

“Please–I saw you and Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck.” Hangman wasn't willing to admit a lot of things, but there was one thing for sure. He was a very jealous man.

“You mean you saw me interacting with a friend, Jake you can't be serious.” Jake's grip on your hips got a little tighter as you dismissed his jealousy. Clenching his jaw as he looked at the ground. “You know we aren't together right? If I wanted to see other people I very well could.”

“Are you?” Jake finally met your gaze, his eyes just slightly glazed with what you could only describe as the beginning of tears. “Are you seeing anyone?” It was a heavier question than he ever thought it would be. To ask his wife, the love of his life if she was seeing someone new. Someone else besides him. “Because if you are, I'll respect it, just–just dont lie to me, that's all I ask.” His actions weren’t matching his words. Jake's hands slowly worked their way up your body, finding their home against your cheeks as he cupped your face in his hands. Softly, ever so gently caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I'll wanna beat the ever living shit out of whoever gets to call you theirs but i'll respect your decision.” it made you chuckle, you couldn't help it. Deciding to just come clean, with honesty and your heart on your sleeve. Pulling out your dog tags that hid under your uniform. Your wedding band looped around the silver ball chain.

“I'm not seeing anyone you idiot, but i'm not seeing you either.” Jake couldn't hold back his smirk, pressing his lips against yours as he held you close to him in the palms of his hands. Your lips soft against his as he deepening the kiss with every passing second. Tongues dancing like they'd done this on an endless loop before. You’d missed this. This feeling. The feeling of being loved. Being needed. But as always, it was forever fleeting. “Jake–”

“I know I know–” With his eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours, Jake Seresin for a moment had you in his grasp again. “Professionalism in the workplace.” Pulling away with a sigh, Jake let his hands drop to your knees. “But off the clock, dinner?”

“You asked me last night.” Reminding Jake as he stood in front of you, straddling your leg. His eyes widening at your attitude, placing a hand over his heart as if you'd shot him.

“You said no last night?” Yeah, you did do that didnt you? Oh well.

“Oh and you expect me to say yes now that you know i'm single?” It struck another raw nerve, but in the best way it possible could have as Jake kissed you once again. This time with more lust, with more passion. Harder and more fierce than before his teeth clashed against yours and his hand slightly wrapped around your throat. With just enough pressure to have your core paulse. Fuck.

“Your aren't single, you're married. To me! And I'm asking my wife to have dinner with me which is a very normal and socially acceptable thing to do.” You let him squirm for a moment, watching through hooded eyes as you decided if it would be a good idea or not to have dinner together. Deciding maybe throwing a dog a bone once in a while would be a good thing, what could possibly go wrong?

��Fine–”

***~***~***~***~***~

Five hours, twenty minutes and forty five seconds. That’s how long Jake Seresin had left before he’d be able to confidently stand at your door and pick you up for dinner. Although the Hard Deck was nothing special and would most likely be full of naval men and women all grabbing a bite to eat and a few drinks after a day's work. It was still special because it was with you.

“Sir, if I may?” You weren't the type of person to interrupt, you took orders accordingly and spoke when you were spoken to. “I have a concept I’d like to address—while we’re all here?” Waiting for a moment, you couldn’t help but to think Admiral Beau was about to reprimand you for interrupting the debrief. The mission parameters were so important for the pilots to understand, who the hell did you think you were interrupting.

“Make it quick—“ With his arms crossed, you let a small sigh of relief escape as you nodded softly. Handing Pete Mitchell your clipboard as you worked with the interactive map that lit up before the TopGun graduates.

Jake sat a little straighter in his chair, chewing his gum with a stare that saw directly into your soul. This was odd? You weren’t normally one to step out of line like this. You followed protocol to the fucking letter. Crossed all the T’s and dotted all the i’s. For you to interrupt during the middle of a debrief? Un fucking heard off.

“I’ve been up all night thinking this could be done better.” Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the ways you’d tried to go about this at different angle. Settling on the one you were about to present. “But, if this is the carrier and this is the airbase, and this is the target point.” Drawing a line from points A B and C with your index finger. “I propose we have the pilots fly directly from point A being the carrier to point C being the target.”

“We need the super hornets to fly over the airbase in order to disarm the enemy. Missiles will be dropped from a higher altitude—“

“What if we used something else to dismantle the enemy’s airfield, sir.”

“I’m assuming you already have an idea, Lieutenant Commander?” Maverick answered with a smirk, enjoying this just a little too much. Anyone who could twist Admiral Beaus' knickers in a knot was considered a friend. He liked you—for someone well reserved and on the quiet side you had balls.

“Tomahawks Sir, we can launch them directly from the carrier a minute or so after initial take off—giving the team the advantage of time.”

“I’m sorry—what did you say you actually do?” Fanboy didn’t mean for it to sound rude, he was just genuinely intrigued. “I think I missed the part where everyone was told what your role was.” Looking his way with a soft gaze, you tried your best to puff your chest a little. Knowing you were pretty good at your job.

“I’m an analyst—“

“A bloody good one at that.” Admiral Beau approached you from his seat at the back of the room, looking at your drawn up proposal on the interactive board. “Damn, this is—this is genius, a million dollar idea but still, genius.”

Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were brilliant in every sense of the word. For a meeting he’d forgotten just how intelligent you truly were, how you managed to make an incredibly hard job so easy. Staring as you softly swayed side to side, accepting the praise you received from your superiors. Melting inside when your eyes met his. The smile, beaming just for you, his heart beating with such love and admiration. Admiring you from his seat in the front.

“Damn— tomahawks huh?” Jake walked with you out towards the tarmac, his first run through with the new flight path set and ready for about twenty minutes' time. Bumping your hip, his way of flirting. Bumping him back—your way of flirting. “You really think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s the safest option, unnecessary diversion from what’s essentially a straight shot just doesn’t make sense to me—“ Pausing your explanation when you noticed Jake smirking to himself. “What?”

“Nothing nothing!” He chuckled. “I just, I could listen to you all day, honestly but—how about you tell me in full detail over dinner tonight.” Jake beamed as he started jogging away, turning to run backwards as he waited for you to reply. Rooster zipping past with his helmet in his hand. Catching up to where your ex husband, Hangman stood.

Feeling overly vulnerable. You hugged yourself gently. Watching as Jake sent you a wink.

“Dinner! I’ll pick you up at seven!” It made you swoon. Trying to hide your smile as you shouted after him.

“Deal.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila