#like why does my Testosterone Anger say something bad about me when you MISS that you could have taken advantage of my self-hatred. like. hm

[uncanny-tranny]

Also, in response to the "testosterone making people angrier" myth, I've found that, personally, testosterone has given me the self-respect to recognize and call out when my boundaries are being overstepped in ways that I wouldn't have had the courage (or, frankly even liking of myself) to have done before. This is in addition to me working on my trauma responses, but testosterone was the spark that gave me the will to do this in the first place. When I see people sae that as anger and thus is a "bad thing," I wonder how much of that is just people being uncomfortable with us... having boundaries or enforcing them, and that the response to that overstepping is labeled as aggressive anger.

Frankly, I now actually respect myself enough to care when I am being mistreated. It seems that people sometimes take that as a personal failure on my end because I don't think I deserve mistreatment.

Caveat: Anger is a fine emotion, and it is a worthy thing to recognize and honour. I find that the accusation of trans men* and trans masc* people "being angry" on testosterone is a moot point simply because it is often a false accusation which uses anger as a punishment. My issue isn't that we're "angry," but that our perceived anger is used, often, as a transphobic bludgeon to punish those who either want to transition with testosterone or who currently are, and everything in-between.

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - It’s An Off Day

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Itsy bitsy fighting, jokes and implication of sex

I rewatched the Sandbaggers video today with Zig and Coley, and I swear it kills me every time. Biz is a national treasure. Nothing beats his missed swing in the vid with Sid and Nate tho. Quinn Hughes request is getting posted tomorrow too!

—————————————

Everybody talks about the female menstrual cycle. Everybody knows it’s not always the most delectable, and how the hormones affect your mood and body in many ways.

Nobody discusses the male hormonal cycle though. The twenty four hour rise and fall of testosterone, that can dictate how a man handles their day. For most guys, it’s not really an issue. It’s nothing compared to a woman’s monthly schedule, but that isn’t to say things don’t go off track every once in a while.

The Ducks have hit a losing streak. I’ve seen it before, it’s not the first one, but this one seems to bother Trevor the most. I can’t tell why, I just know it has. He stresses a lot when he’s in these bad times, and that stress has always messed with his head, but now it seems he’s all over the place. He’s skipped out on workouts scheduled, slept in more, and his appetite is barely existent. When he does eat, it’s a shit ton, but it’s usually only once a day. His body going from a strict routine to an absolute mess has taken a toll, but it’s also made those hormonal cycles incredibly out of tune. It makes him irritable in the mornings if I text him too early, and careless in the evenings if something gets too difficult to do.

And the worst part is that he’s not the only one in the midst of a ‘cycle.’ We’re both moody, and we’re both out of tune. It’s hard for him to say something I don’t get mad at, and even harder for me to not yell at him when he’s being difficult. I knew the rubber band was going to snap, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.

It’s the middle of the day when Trevor shows up at my place. I’d asked him to come over for a bit, hopeful that we could try and work in a night of relaxation, but the lack of communication of our own issues was making it extremely hard.

“Hey, babe.” He sounded so exhausted when he stepped through the front door. I don’t know why it made me so angry.

“You didn’t have to show up if you didn’t want to.” I called from the dining room table, assuming he’d come and find me. My face was down in a computer screen anyway, working on a college essay.

“Who told you I didn’t want to come?” His tone is defensive. I couldn’t blame him. We’re both going through our own things. But in the moment? In the moment it pisses me off that he doesn’t hear how he sounds.

“Trevor you sound like I’ve been hounding you all day to be here. I only asked you once.” I snapped right back, finally hearing the sound of shoes being kicked off and the front door being harshly shut.

“You asked me once and I came. Why would I not want to be here? I’ll tell you what makes me want to leave,” Trevor stomped right into the dining room. He stopped in the doorway. “That attitude right there.” He pointed at me, and god if he didn’t sound like a chastising mother in that moment.

“God- Trevor!” The exhaustion laced in my own tone outweighed the anger. I dropped my head into my hands before lifting it to look at him. I stopped. He looked about as shitty as I did.

His hair was a mess, and he had bags under his eyes. I noticed a red spot on his cheek I knew would turn into a pimple soon, but I had a few on my forehead anyway. It seemed Trevor noticed my own state as well. We were both wearing sweats and t-shirts. I had on one of his Ducks shirts, and he wore a plain black one. We both looked like we needed to be baptized in sleep and energy drinks.

My expression softened. Silence overtook the room. I sighed. “Off day?” My question caught Trevor off guard, but the tension seemed to melt away from his body in an instant. We weren’t fighting, we just weren’t communicating.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. I shut my laptop and slowly got up, crossing the room to meet him in the doorway.

“Me too.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and Trevor snaked his own around my hips.

“We’re both having shitty days.” Trevor managed a somber smile. “Imagine that.”

“How about a bath? Then maybe some face masks?” I reached up to smooth my finger over the red bump on his cheek, causing him to pull his head back and mumble an ‘ow.’ Sure, the skin could be sore when a pimple was first forming, but not /that/ bad.

“Don’t be a baby.” The irritation was evident in my tone. Trevor smiled again.

“I love it when you’re moody.” A minute ago, I could have sworn he did not love it. “Here.. let me carry you.” I didn’t bother to argue, instead I jumped when he asked me to, and allowed him to carry me bridal-like down the hall to my bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Trevor your hand is digging into my side,” I complained softly before he put me down.

“Chill out.. I just didn’t want to drop you.” He turned away to grab towels before he could see the daggers I was glaring in his direction.

I gently pushed him out of the way to grab my own towel, shaking my head at his behavior.

“Alrighty then..” Trevor muttered, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor.

“You know where the hamper is.”

“Goddamn. I’ll pick it up after.” He was tense again, I could tell.

“No, Trevor. Pick it up now. You always say after and then you forget.” I turned to look at him, tossing the towel I had down on the counter.

“Well I won’t forget this time!” He raised his voice slightly, defensive once again.

“Yes you will! Just like Jamie gets on you about leaving your car keys everywhere!” I matched his tone, resting one of my hands on the counter to lean on it.

“That’s different!”

“Alright, then what about the towels? And bowls right beside the kitchen sink? What about all the times you pull my books off my shelves and never put them back? Is all that different too?” I snapped, awaiting a good excuse that I had yet to hear.

Usually I wasn’t this hard on Trevor. I didn’t know what all went on in his mind, but he did try his best not to leave things around. He’d improved since we first met, but sometimes things simply distracted him, and he always apologized and felt sorry when I pointed it out to him.

Trevor wasn’t having it this time though. This was a fight now.

“You’re so bitchy!” He leaned over to grab his shirt, storming out of the bathroom after and pulling it back on.

“Yeah? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum right now, Zegras!” He paused to turn and look at me, uncertain of the implications behind his last name. His brow was furrowed, silently asking where I got the audacity.

“You don’t even listen. Forget this.” I followed him all the way back down the hall and to the front door. I watched as he put his shoes on, an overwhelming sadness eating away at my heart.

Trevor turned to look at me, hopeful to get one last dig in. He stopped when he noticed the tears in my eyes.

“Just fucking leave, Trevor.”

I didn’t want him around any more. It was clear we couldn’t coexist when we both had our own issues going on. He looked defeated, and even guilty, but he left nonetheless.

I retreated back to my bedroom after, crying silently all while telling myself it was my fault, and angrily blaming him. I drove him away, but he put the nails in his own coffin. Who knew when he’d text or call, or ask to see me again. He may never. I didn’t expect him to return at any point that day. And I certainly didn’t expect it to be within a few hours.

By the time the sun began to set, the tears had slowed, and I was able to make myself dinner. I sat on the couch, my laptop on the coffee table with a plate full of dumplings in my lap. Scream was playing on the tv, somehow ironically managing to calm me. I heard a soft knock on the door, but I was hopeful whoever was there would leave. My hopes however, were unfulfilled. I heard the lock jingle before the door opened. I looked up to see Trevor standing there, two grocery bags in hand and an innocent look on his face as he froze.

We stared at each other for a moment, uncertain of the other’s feelings, before he finished walking inside and shut the door.

“You just keep doing your thing. I won’t bother you.” Trevor spoke. It was all I needed to go back to my laptop and my work. Trevor ventured off into my dining room, and I heard him settle at the table before silence filled my apartment again.

Five minutes passed before I heard a clicking noise. I paid no mind. I spotted Trevor in the corner of my eye, entering the room at a slow pace. A sneaky pace. It pissed me off just knowing he was up to something.

He sat in the arm chair across the room by the window, dropping a stack of paper on the floor and two pens, as well as the grocery bag. I was still unaware of what was in it. He pulled his phone out, and eventually I stopped paying any attention to him. I just got through the end of a paragraph on my essay, moving my plate to the coffee table when I heard a pop. Then I felt something hit me in the chest and land in my lap.

My brow pulled together in confusion as I looked down to see a little blue dart with an orange tip. Oh my god I’m gonna kill him

“Trevor.” I looked up at him, brow furrowed. He gestured toward the dart. I looked back down, rolling it in my hand to see a white piece of paper taped to it. I looked back up for a moment, questioning his antics, then I made quick work of peeling the tape and paper off the dart.

I flipped the paper over, noticing Trevor’s handwriting immediately.

I’m really sorry about today

My heart fluttered, I heard the rustle of the grocery bag, and when I looked up, Trevor presented me with a second gun, and a few darts of my own. We met in the middle of the floor to make the exchange before retreating to our opposite ‘trenches’. He even provided me with a few pieces of paper and the tape to make my own message.

I jotted one down quickly, taped it to my own dart, and loaded my gun before firing. Reluctant smiles painted both our lips as Trevor grabbed the dart. He paused for a moment, turning to glare up at me when he noticed the copious amount of tape I used. He wasn’t going to be forgiven without a little hassle.

Once he got the note off, and all the tape off his fingers, I watched his expression contort from frustration to relief.

That’s okay. I shouldn’t have been so mean either

Trevor got a piece of paper to write another note, and I tossed the tape over to him. He seemed to be wrapped up in a long message, and I smirked when an idea came to mind. I loaded a blank dart into my gun and aimed, firing and trying to hide my snickers when the foam bullet popped him right in the forehead.

Trevor immediately looked up at me, laughing out a soft, “hey!” Seeing him smile again made me sigh. We’d be okay.

“Took too long,” I responded sheepishly, setting my gun down on the couch. “I want you to talk to me, Trev. Come over here.” He set his own gun down, quickly coming to my side and sitting on the couch next to me.

“What were you busy writing over there?”

“I uhm..” he paused, leaning back against the couch. “That I love you.. and I don’t want you to be mad at me for the way I treated you. I know it was shitty, but there’s a lot going on right now and.. I guess I just forgot to leave the anger at work.” He sounded so disappointed in himself. I reached out to grab his hand.

“It’s okay, Trevor. Really. I didn’t mean to get so short with you today either. Just seems like we’re both having our own issues right now. But we should be each other’s lifelines, yeah? We can’t go taking everything out on one another.” Trevor nodded in agreement, looking up to meet my eyes. “I love you too.. I know things have been hard. Just please talk to me when you’re frustrated, okay?”

“I will.” I reached up to brush a few of his Sandy locks out of his face. “But you have to talk to me too,” he added, wanting me to know he was always there as well.

“You never really gave me a chance today.” I responded, watching the guilt return to his features as he swallowed thickly. “It’s okay,” I assured. “I don’t think I gave you much of a chance either.” I squeezed Trevor’s hand.

“Okay.. so.. so tell me what’s wrong.”

“School. I’m behind on this essay. My period just started.. and my boyfriend’s moody.” I made sure to tease, hoping to lighten the mood as a shy smile overtook my face. Trevor scoffed, but I could tell it wasn’t a mean one.

“Your turn.”

“Alright… well.. the Ducks suck,” always one to tell it like it is. “I feel like I can’t feel a single emotion for more than two seconds.. and my girlfriend’s on her period,” he paused, leaning forward with a cheeky smile. “And I’ve done nothing to help her all day.” I knew he was only trying to flatter me, but it worked. He pressed his lips to mine for a moment before pulling back.

I rested my hands on Trevor’s shoulders and leaned back onto the couch, our smiles widening as he climbed on top of me.

“We’re just a couple of moody adults then, aren’t we?” I teased, humming as Trevor reconnected our lips.

“Can we be horny adults too?” He asked as he pulled back, causing me to swat his shoulder with a laugh.

“That was cycle day one, bud. I’m afraid you missed it.”

“Aw, damn.. really?” Trevor sounded as bummed as I would have expected him to be. It made me laugh. “Can you reschedule? Talk to your body and let it know I’ll be back to try again tomorrow.”

I laughed once again, squeezing Trevor’s shoulders and shaking my head.

“That’s not how it works, hun.” I let him down easy, giggling at his playful frustration.

“Alright, well when’s the next one?”

“If it stays on schedule, you’ll be on the road for the next one.” I tried to hold in my laughter, knowing he wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.

“Seriously?” His voice raised, and I snickered. “I mean- a guy can’t even catch a break! You think you’ll be in the mood sometime in between?”

“Trevor,” I laughed at the way he spoke about it, so formal. “I’ll know when I know.”

“Nope. I have to know three to four business days in advance. Does anything speed up the process of getting you excited?” He was asking as if we haven’t done it a million times before.

“Shut up, Trevor.” I moved a hand from his shoulder to gently push his head. He laughed, that breathy awkward laugh that always made me smile. Trevor leaned in for another kiss, this one a bit more passionate than the first. He nipped at my bottom lip before I gently pressed a hand to his cheek, pushing his head back.

“I can do one minute in advance…”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[star-firework]

if twit is gone, i will have to use a blog like a real blog.

so anyway,

im a warehouse manager now and i got an employee who i feel like im in an abusive relationship with

he out of nowhere said "so some fat, ugly Samoan man won a miss america pagent and he identifies as a woman and you KNOW no one believes that shit!" and that caught my ear and made me stop and ask him why he brought that up cuz there was just no relation to what we were doing

he got defensive and when i asked him to not talk about things like that (cuz we just hired a new guy we dont know his opinions and also its not allowed int he work place!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) the moterhfucker yelled at me and told me that IM "the problem and silencing" his opinions

i asked him to not use combative language and then he said "YOURE using combative language!!!" like a toddler yelling at his mom

i felt like i was on fox news or something, dude listened to so much joe rogan, he just melted in front of my eyes?

i was especially 'triggered' because my recently viral-on-reddit-infamous-homeless-attacking-ex-boss deany boy used to go on long, endless, anti trans rants when i was the only one working with him and i waslike what the fuck!!!!!!!!!! the fuck you care so cuking much about trans people in everything, shut up you old bastard dean

your donuts made my stomach hurt and you keep cream cheese in the fridge so long it turns green and when i went to throw it out, you told me to wipe off the green mold and put it back. you also keep the raw bacon on the top of the fridge of everything definitely not raw. you reuse gravy for days on end to the point i think theres weeks old gravy still being eaten. your wife broke 3 crock pots out of anger for some mundane thing and acted like a high school mean girl when she was in charge and made us remop a floor up to like 4 times because she didnt like how there was a "sheen" on the floor.

anyway

my employee just fucuking blew up at me and then he walked out and didnt return for 3 hours, i was at the point of thinking "well ok, guess he actually just quit?"

He returned and didnt talk to me and left without a word. The next day he called out and only said: "Sick. Out. Indefinitely."

What the hell does indefinitely mean after a blow up?

Poor choice of words or a bad way to vaguely quit?

i told HR and made them call him after he didnt text or show up the next day

i was ready to move on and already got an interview set up to fill in when we are already in crisis mode at work lol

then the bastard texts me at 5 when im about to go home and he is furious that HR was calling him. he said "if you have a problem you say it to my face, im coming in tomorrow sick or not"

i felt threatened and scared because when he gets mad, he gets mad and testosterone fueled rage and i dont know if he would get physical

he also was like "am i supposed to be looking for another job!?"

i was so scared of his reaction i was thankfully able to call hr and have her walk me thru how to text this maniac back

i really dont want to work with him ESPECIALLY now

but somehow the company wont fire anyone so this behavior is still cool and no one has balls, i dont have balls and guess i have to continue workingand managing a manchild who is going to be set off at anything

i also have to somehow figure out how to get a meeting with him, me and HR without it sounding liek an interogation because he is so easily defensive

we were cool and i have even been to his house and met his wife and had beers with him and another manager and then it felt like in one instance it just got all washed away because he wanted to rant about trans people?????????

i am so confused!

i also have thrown up soooooooo much this past year from stress, jfc. im finally losing weight but from a very very bad reason and very very unhealthy way that is painful aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

still dont know whats gonna happen since this dude is planning on coming back tomorrow and i have an interview w someone we meant to replace him after he was MIA

[anika-ann]

Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.  

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.  

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.  

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading! 

[mmvalentine]

hi!! how are you? I’m the one who sent you that dream prompt lol

I was thinking of this (way less weird) prompt: where feyre and Rhys knew each other since kids and were together, there’s a part of the books that Rhys says he and mor used to be sent to the cabin when they got into trouble (I think?) and here it is: Rhys has got himself in a fight with his dad and is sent there alone, but feyre finds a way to go to him without anyone knowing and they have the cabin all to themselves *insert smut here*

Hello little dreamer! Alright I've done so much prompt work these last couple of days and was trying to work through them chronologically because that's what seems fair but now I am tired and I just want to do one more and then take a break and this one is hands down my FAVOURITE of the ones left in my inbox right now. So you're getting bumped up!! Bit of a long one, fair warning.

A Chink in the Wall

Rhys has been alive for eighteen years, has known Feyre for seventeen, and has loved her for what feels like a thousand. He does not remember a time without Feyre, he has known she is his mate since before he knew what the word meant, and their progression from childhood best friends to lovers was something he does not remembering happening at one particular time, but gradually, the same way his legs had grown longer.

What he does remember is the first time they'd slept together, and how he'd spent so long thinking about it beforehand that he'd thought he'd go mad, only to discover the real madness was once they'd started and then couldn't stop. He'd thought he was hyper-aware of Feyre before- now the scent of her hit him like a brick any time she walked in the room, and once he'd caught her scent he needed to be touching her. Would start to shake and fall apart at the seams until he could pull her into his lap.

Over the years, Rhys's mother always told him that he was too rough with Feyre. Did it when they were kids and did it now, when Feyre would be around their house and he constantly had his hands under her hair or squeezing on her her hip or scratching at her belly.

"You can put her down for one second, for Cauldron's sake," she'd say over dinner.

And Rhys knew why. Had always known that as the High Lord's only son, he had power roiling off him in waves. He figured it was part of the reason why he was always moving, more and more as he got older. Whether it was sparring with the Illyrians or crawling thought the bedroom of Feyre's bedroom window, it felt like he leapt between extremes these days. Felt like he was always thirsty and needing to swallow down violence and pleasure and feeling like water. His father called it the "age of fighting and fucking;" his mother said this is why they couldn't have nice things.

But his mother doesn't know Feyre like he does. Feyre isn't some fragile little girl, she is the strongest person he knows. She is the only one who, when he is throwing all he has at her, can not only contain the energy flooding out of him in uncontrollable torrents, but still loves him all the same for it.

So these days, he does not like to be without her. Does not like to be too far from her, and although they both have curfews, Rhys does not often sleep alone.

Today is a exception.

Today, Rhys is fighting with his father because he stole a fine bottle of brandy from his father's shelf and snuck it between the bars of the cell where Azriel has been locked away. Again.

Rhys yells that what they are doing to Azriel is cruel and if they let it go on they are just as bad. His father yells back that it is not their place to meddle in another family's business and what does this have to do with Rhys being a sneak and a thief? Rhys says it is typical of his father to care more about alcohol than the life of a fae, and his father says and what exactly are you trying to say boy? And then he tells Rhys that he was not so old that Rhys's power is greater than his just yet, and then the fight breaks out.

Rhys does not like to reflect on what happens next too much because he wants to win so badly, wants to best his father just once, but he is eighteen and his father is nine hundred and twenty and the High Lord of the largest court in Prythian.

Suffice to say, the fight is over when Rhys has a black eye and bruised ribs, his father is holding him off the floor by his shirt front, and his mother is pleading with him to put him down.

He drops Rhys with a thud, and Rhys glowers at him.

"The cabin," his father snarls.

"Surely he's had punishment enough," his mother says, but his father does not look at her.

"You come swinging your fists at me?" he says to Rhys. His voice is quiet now, but glitters with rage. "You steal from me, you defy me, and then you come at me with your pathetic little claws out? Well. You can spend three days in isolation."

Rhys looks toward his mother, but there's nothing she can do. He opens his mouth to sling a final insult at his father, but space is already folding around him and he's being sent where no one else can winnow in or out without his father's explicit say so.

Rhys spends the next twenty minutes angrily pacing the cabin. He flings shadows aimlessly at the cabinets, curses his father eight times to sunday, and punches a hole in the wall. It is the latter that gets Feyre's attention.

Ouch, she says through the bond. I felt that one.

Rhys drops onto a couch heavily, the anger washing out of him at the sound of Feyre's voice in his mind.

I'm sorry, he says. I know you hate it when I break things.

Things. Your own knuckles. Yeah it's not my favourite.

Rhys sighs. I'm in the cabin, he tells her.

I know, she says. What did you do this time?

Got into a fight with my dad.

Well did you at least land a couple good ones?

Rhys grins, in spite of himself. I did manage to get a kick into his stomach, this time.

Good, Feyre says. Unlike his mother, she never tells him to try to get along with his father.

I miss you, Rhys says.

You saw me this morning, Feyre points out.

Yes, replied Rhys, but you had way too many clothes on. It didn't count. He can almost feel Feyre shifting in his mind.

You always think I'm wearing too many clothes, she says.

I do, Rhys agrees. Not naked is not good enough.

He slouches back on the couch and closes his eyes. Although he is not yet powerful enough to take down his father, his power is growing. Day by day it stretches and expands uncomfortably, like growing pains, and when he's not in Feyre's bed, sometimes the shadows hound him at night. They claw at him now, rake at his chest like a cat that thinks it's giving affection but leaves you in tatters.

He turns his thoughts back to more pleasant things.

Take it off, he growls at Feyre. Take it all off. I hate it when I can't see your skin.

And what makes you think I've been wearing clothes this whole time? Feyre asks. Rhys freezes, and is rock hard in an instant.

Show me, he shoots down the bond.

Ask nicely, Feyre answers.

Please, Rhys says. Runs his talons down the shields of her mind from top to bottom. Please. Sends her a memory of him kissing her every inch of skin. Please.

Feyre's shudder reaches him like a whisper, and then he's seeing through her eyes.

The interior of her bedroom. Where he spends more time than in his own. Clothes strewn on the floor- boots kicked off in the corner. Illyrian leathers dumped in a pile. Under garments hanging off the end of the bed.

Feyre's bare ankles crossed in front of her on her bed, on top of the covers.

Rhys shivers. He watches Feyre's gaze travel excruciatingly slowly upward, up her shins, past her knees, onto her lovely thighs.

More, Rhys breathes, but Feyre pauses. Her knees bend and the view shifts, as if she has been sitting up and is now laying back down. I need you like I need air, Rhys whimpers, and his hand grabs at the insistent ache in the front of his pants.

Mmm, sighs Feyre. Sometimes I need you. Sometimes I think I could just do it myself. Her gaze finally shifts and watches her own hand slide between her legs.

Oh you cruel thing! Rhys says. He is now practically panting the sight of her starting without him. He loves it. He hates it. It's nowhere near enough.

You know it's not as good by yourself, Rhys tells her.

I don't know, Feyre muses. I'm pretty sure it's faster. Rhys growls.

Who needs faster, he says, when I can be so, so slow. He shows her the image of him settling between her knees. Pressing kisses that start at her knee and travel down her inner thigh. Laying the flat of his tongue on her and licking a lazy stripe up her pussy that ends in a suckling kiss over her clit.

Feyre moans straight down the bond, and it cleaves through Rhys like a arrow shot true. Get over here, he tells her, and Feyre laughs breathlessly.

I can't, lover, she says. Your father has that place warded like a prison, remember? Rhys swears out loud and hurls more shadows uselessly against the walls of magic.

Alright, alright, Feyre says to him. You know just throwing things at it isn't going to work.

Fuck this, Rhys says savagely. You're my mate, he can't keep us apart.

Well, we just need to outsmart him, then, Feyre reasons. He might be stronger, but I've always thought you were smarter. Well, she amends. At least you were when you bothered to use your brain and before you were all... testosterone-y.

Rhys finds himself smiling. Testosterone-y?

Yeah, you know, Feyre says. The old upstairs brain. Remember that guy?

Rhys laughs. He is always in awe of how quickly Feyre calms him down. I thought you liked my downstairs brain, he says in his midnight voice.

Use your upstairs brain to get me through the wards, and I'll show you how much I like your downstairs brain.

And that is more than motivation enough.

Rhys gets up off the couch, and paces around the room again. My dad has always been lazy with spells, he says. He relies on his brute strength, and on everyone being afraid of him more than anything else.

Okay, Feyre says, picking up his train of thought. So... what if there's a weakness in his wards?

A chink in the wall, Rhys agrees.

Yes.

Rhys stands still, and reaches out his mind. Probes against the wards surrounding the cabin, and is aware of Feyre doing the same on the other side. They work their way right around the cabin, when finally, Feyre breathes, here.

And then Rhys gathers every bit of power he has in him, and pushes it all against that one spot. Reaches through it, throws everything he's got until his hand is breaking through, Feyre's grabbing a hold of him, they're folding space and he pulls.

There's a shudder that runs through the cabin, and then an extremely naked Feyre falls right into Rhys's chest and they collapse on the thick carpet together.

For a second, they just blink at each other in surprise.

"It worked," says Feyre. And then Rhys realises holy shit it worked, and smoothly rolls so that Feyre is on her back and he is all over her.

"Great work," is all he says, and then he blinks and his clothes vanish too so they are both naked and the heat of her against his bare cock is absolutely unbearable. He groans, slides his hand under one of her thighs, squeezing gently, and hooks it over his elbow before pushing straight into her, unable to stand not being inside her for one more second.

Feyre moans and lifts her hips to him, barely less eager. Rhys wonders idly if the age of fighting and fucking applies to females, and then as Feyre's nails scratch angry red lines over his shoulders he thinks it might just. He wonders how long this age will go on for, and if his desperate need for Feyre will ever abate. He hopes it doesn't.

"I thought you were going to be slow," Feyre says, breathless but with the most gorgeous light dancing in her eyes. Rhys's body screeches at him but he manages to get control of his movements. To move in and out of her languidly, lazily, tortuously slow. Feyre seems to enjoy it at first, keeps her eyes on his until they're rolling back in her head.

But the longer it goes on the more sensitive she becomes, until she is writhing in his arms seeking more friction, and every time he hits his base she jolts like she's being electrified. The fact that he is tormenting himself, too, seems absolutely worth it for the knowledge that he alone can wring this kind of pleasure from her.

"Still rather play by yourself?" he teases. "Does it feel like this when it's just your own fingers?"

Feyre snaps her eyes open at this, and between jagged breaths, teases him right back.

"Sometimes," she says. "When I'm touching myself and picturing you." A shiver runs through Rhys. "When I've got one hand between my legs and the other squeezing my breast." She demonstrates the last, and Rhys watches with hunger as her hand goes over her own chest.

"Fuck," he bites out, and picks up the pace a little.

"When I've got you curled around my mind and showing me that you're touching yourself too."

Rhys speeds up again.

"But mostly, no," she says, barely able to speak now. "No, nothing feels as good as when you're fucking me senseless."

And Rhys can't argue with that. He forgets his self-control completely and loses himself in her, in her body, in the intoxication of the sounds that she makes when he's inside her. The irony of his sentence to a remote location is that for once, they are able to make as much noise as they want and every time Feyre moans Rhys thinks he gets a little high.

By the time Rhys is close, they have started to breathe in tandem, and he locks his eyes on hers so that seconds later they are coming together. Rhys is breathless with the beauty of her, has always loved the look on her face when she climaxes, and suddenly the prospect of being locked up alone for three days seems mighty appealing.

Feyre sighs, eyes closed and chest moving deeply as she gets her breath back. Rhys draws out of her and then immediately misses her. He kisses her cheeks, her nipples, her stomach, and then without really thinking about it, closes his mouth around her clit and strokes it back and forth with his tongue.

Feyre sighs his name, and the sound of it is so sweet that he redoubles his efforts, until Feyre is rocking her hips to him and before he knows it, they're starting again.

Rhys thinks its going to be a very good three days indeed.

**** Little babies. Sigh I do love them so. Thank you my sweet anon for this lovely prompt.

Bonus: click here to see what Rhys's dark powers look like when they're still growing and trying to figure their shit out.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

[jackalopefreckles]

I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

[robotsandzombiesarebi]

Hss class act fanfiction

Looking at the same sky - part 3

(Skye x MC)

[A/N -- If you would like to be tagged in these chapters in the future, let me know and I'll make sure you're on the list.]

Skye read the message and felt a strange mix of relief for being able to talk to Bailey after the conversation she had just had with her mother, and nerves because of the words her girlfriend had used

'Can I call? We need to talk about something 🖤'

Running though several scenarios in her head, Skye threw herself on to her bed and wiped at her dampening eyes. She sent a thumbs up emoji back and waited for the phone to ring. Within seconds, her phone lit up, playing 'Love will tear us apart'. Looking at the screen, Skye saw that it was a video call coming through and quickly hit 'Decline'. Sending a quick message, asking Bailey to wait a few minutes, she dashed to the mirror to check the make-up on her eyes was intact and pulling off the tatty pyjama top she was wearing, covering herself instead with her black bathrobe. Settling back on to her bed, after running her fingers through her long red hair, she opened a video call with Bailey.

Within seconds, Bailey appeared on the screen. Her eyes were heavy and her smile was plainly forced. Skye mirrored her expression, trying to hide the way her last conversation made her feel. Bailey worried about her enough. She didn't need outdated thinking and unveiled homophobia from her family adding to it.

"Hey Bailey." She said softly, clearing her throat after to help her voice. Bailey was clearly checking her own reflection on her camera, subtly wiping at the bottom of her eyes and trying harder to school her smile.

"Hey Skye. I miss you" Her attention was now clearly on Skye who smiled contentedly at her.

"Its hardly been an hour. But I miss you too, especially when you're sweet."

"So always, right?" Bailey let out a small laugh that caught in her throat as she spoke.

"Yeah. You're always cute I guess." Skye smirked. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well..." Bailey began. As she thought of the best way to approach it, she saw the poorly hidden, scared look on Skye's face. "What's wrong?"

The question startled Skye. Realising she should never have accepted a video call, she gave up trying to keep herself together. A glance at her door showed no shadows in the light under it. It wasn't unusual for one of them to decide to listen in so they stay in control of everything. Skye explained what had happened since they parted. Brian snooping, her mother's critique, her dad's obliviousness to her. By the time she had finished, her cheeks were streaked with charcoal tears. Bailey looked calm, taking in everything Skye was saying, giving her time to finish before reacting, but her eyes betrayed her anger. She was furious. They talked through it. Bailey helping Skye to process what she was feeling while listening to everything her girlfriend needed to get off of her chest.

Skye exhaled slowly, composing herself and ready to move on.

"You never said what you wanted to talk about" She said dryly.

"Oh yeah..." Bailey paused. "I was going to ask..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you wearing anything under that big ol bathrobe?" She giggled.

"Seriously?!" Skye gasped with a deep blush creeping over her face. "No..."

"No?!" Bailey choked out, her blush surpassing Syke's.

"I meant, no, that's not what you wanted to talk about"

"Oh right... yeah, I definitely knew that. It's ok, we'll talk tomorrow. It's nothing to worry about right now anyway."

"You sure?" Concern shook Skye's voice.

"Yeah. Are you ok? The last thing I want is you worrying." Bailey asked, searchingly.

"I am. I think I'm just tired at this point."

"It takes a lot out of you, huh?"

"Sometimes. Talking to you helps. You always know what to say."

Bailey blushed harder than before at the praise. Suddenly feeling a little relieved, knowing she would still always be able to talk to her, she could always be there for her that way.

"I'm here to help." She said with a salute to her camera. "You should get some sleep though. If you wake up, just call me, ok? You're not disturbing me, I promise."

"Okay. I will, if I need to." Skye assured her.

They said a short good night and ended their call, not before Bailey blowing Skye a loud kiss, then waiting expectantly for Skye to catch it, which she did with an eye roll. Skye settled under her covers easily, one hand tucked under her pillow, the other cradling her phone. She scrolled social media for a while, until her phone chimed with a notification from Bailey. Skye opened the picture that was captioned "There's nothing on under this bathrobe either"

When the picture opened, it was of Bailey's dog, Biscuit wearing her purple fluffy gown against his plush white fur. It made her smile, more than she had all night. Bailey could do that. Only Bailey.

'I really love her.' Was the last thought in Skye's mind as her eyelids hung heavy and she drifted in to a peaceful sleep.

--------

The next day, Skye was getting dressed and checking the time constantly. She always met Bailey at 10:45am. It gave her a perfect amount of time to leave her house without issue. Her dad leaves early, so does Brian. Her mother, being a woman of leisure, didn't leave the house until she was good and ready. The bar at the brunch place she met her 'friends' at on the weekends opened at 10:30, so she would leave 15 minutes before, giving Skye 10 minutes to leave her room and get out of the front door before Brian came home from the gym, stinking and overdosed on testosterone. She got out without a problem and took a slow walk in to town. As she got to the arcade, she saw Bailey hitting the side of a crane machine which had a plush toy hanging precariously over the edge of the prize slot.

"Why not just put in another quarter?" Skye commented from behind her, making her jump and knock the machine, causing the plushie to fall within reach.

"Yes! I never lose!" Bailey chuckled turning to Skye and holding out the toy for her. "Here, he's all yours."

"Oh, that's ok. I don't want to take your prize." She mumbled. Looking at the toy, she could see it was clearly a knock-off version of the doppelganger monster from the movie she had shown Bailey on the first (and last) night she had visited her bedroom.

"But I wouldn't have won it if you didn't make me knock in to the machine. Besides...." Bailey held out the little stuffed monster to her again. "...You're my prize."

Skye was use to the corny jokes, the cheesy one liners, the awful attempts at flirting. Her girlfriend was awkward, it was a fact. She usually compensated for this by saying whatever first came to mind so she didn't overthink what she was saying. It made Skye feel more secure, knowing that Bailey meant everything she said without any hidden intent.

"Your prize for what?" She asked shyly, gently taking the toy and fighting her smile back.

"Hmmm... putting up with Ajay. I should definitely be compensated for that."

"Don't forget Danielle." Skye smirked.

"The girl who made me look like I would risk someone's life for a role in a play. I had totally forgotten about her, thank you." She laughed, shoving Skye's shoulder slightly.

The two of them shared a sweet kiss and walked in to the arcade, hand in hand. After playing their usual favourite games they moved over to the cafe area to get some lunch. Skye ordered their food, refusing to let Bailey pay while Bailey tried to get the busted tablet attached to the table to work. Skye sat beside her, sliding her a red basket of fries and a soft drink.

"Any luck?" She asked, nodding at the tablet.

"No, but..." Bailey gestured to the window. "...How about some classic entertainment?"

Outside, Skye saw Brian, flocked by some of his friends, all of them wearing similar gym clothes, surrounding a small group of girls. Brian was the only one speaking by the look of it, until the entire group of girls burst with laughter as walked off practically holding their sides. Brian, who's face now matched his hair perfectly, stormed off in the other direction with his friends trailing behind. Skye and Bailey shared a smile before falling into a fit of loud giggles.

As they are their lunch, Skye began to notice how quiet Bailey had become. She wasn't even eating much, just pushing her food around instead.

"Bailey!" Skye called out.

"What?!"

"You're not this quiet. What's wrong?" She asked as she stared in to Bailey's eyes, trying to find an answer.

"So. Remember I said we needed to talk about something?" She muttered.

"Yeah. Then I dropped all that stuff about my family on you..."

"No. I wanted to know how you were. You didn't drop anything on me, Skye. It's not a burden, ok?" Bailey interrupted.

"Ok. Thank you. Yeah, I remember."

"Well. It's kind of serious. I don't really know what to say." Bailey looked down, avoiding Skye's eyes. "I don't want today to be ruined. I don't want to ruin any day with this, but..." She took a deep breath. "The sooner I say it, the more ready the two of us will be for it."

"Am I supposed to be scared right now? Because I am."

"Skye, I have to move. Away from Cedar Cove. Away from Berry..." Bailey's eyes misted and her breath caught as she spoke. "I'm so sorry"

Suddenly, there was no sound. The arcades went quiet, the sounds of people talking dimmed until they were mute. Bailey was still apologising, but the sound struggled to reach Skye's ears. The whole world seemed as though it was losing its connection and Skye's senses suffered it alone. Midway through what Bailey was trying to get across, Skye grabbed her by the loose green shirt that hung loosely from her and pulled her in to a tight embrace. Bailey's hands rested on Skye's back, drawing small circles against her frame. It was too much. There wasn't anything to say to make this better. It was bad, and no amount of 'sorry' could make it better. It wasn't Bailey's fault, this clearly broke her heart too. After a few minutes of the two of them holding eachother as though they would be pulled apart this second if they dared to let go, Skye spoke up, softly.

"But... I need you. Please... don't." The words were strained in her throat and her arms tightened around the girl who was her only beacon in the dark that surrounded her life.

"Skye. I'm sorry, I didn't want..."

"PLEASE!" Skye screamed without a single thought of who would hear her. "Please...?" She cried.

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

TBC in the next chapter....

[nejitenforlife]

NejiTen Month 2020

Day 11 - Pirate AU (Part 2)

Please read part 1 if you haven’t already, before reading this part of the story. The final part will (hopefully) be out tomorrow. I hope you enjoy this part of the story! 

Word Count: 2,612

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Tenten instantly felt the change of temperature upon awakening. Where she was warm in the storeroom, she could not stop shivering in this new location. After opening her eyes, she realized she had been moved to the brig, a revelation that angered Tenten more than frightened her.

How dare the captain put her behind bars! She was a lady—a woman of station—and he had no right to show such disrespect to her person. Of course, she knew she didn’t look like a woman at the moment. No, she looked more like a homeless person from the streets, not the wealthy young lady she was.

Which was for the best. Tenten refused to give her real identity away to this man—even if he decided to torture her for it. Telling him would equal death—not just her own, but his and his crew’s as well. Not that Tenten should care one bit about what might happen to him or his crew members, but she didn’t want to be caught up in more of her father’s—and his—mess than necessary.

Tenten wondered if the captain would be willing to let her go once he reached his destination in exchange for her working on board. It would be preferable than being kept in this cold, damp cell. But even if she must remain here, if he promised to let her go once they reached land, she wouldn’t complain. Hell, she even contemplated warming his bed for the duration of their journey if that was what persuade him to let her leave without harm. For surely by now her fiancé knew of her absence and was rallying his men to find her.

Tenten would take her chances with these pirates over being handed back to that man.

So no, she would not tell the captain who she was, and she would do everything in her power to leave this ship and make a new life on some unremarkable small town, somewhere her fiancé would never find her.

“Are you awake?”

The voice startled Tenten and she jumped, her head whipping around to find the speaker. A man stepped into the dingy lamp light, holding a tray in his hands.

“The captain asked me to make sure you had enough water, since you seemed dehydrated,” he said, letting himself into the cell and placing the tray in front of her with a kind smile. “He also told me to get you some food. I’m sorry it is only basic. The captain would flog me if he found out I fed you anything other than what he told me to.”

Tenten didn’t care. The piece of crusty bread and watered down soup looked like heaven compared to the raw vegetables she had been eating every day. She would have loved some stew, or something with chunks of meat in it, but she wouldn’t complain. This was more than she had expected to receive from the pirate captain, and she would be an idiot to be ungrateful for it.

“Thank you.” Tenten smiled at the kind pirate, wondering how such a man found this sort living.

“My name is Rock Lee, but you may just call me Lee. I am the first mate to captain Neji Hyuga of the Crimson Night. What is your name?”

Tenten had heard of the Crimson Night. The crew weren’t as vicious as other pirates, but they were still ruthless, and they revelled in looting other ships, pirate or otherwise. Tenten supposed she was fortunate to have found herself onto a ship that took captives instead of killing all their enemies, and she had never heard of stories of the crew of the Crimson Night raping people. But just because she hadn’t heard of it, did not mean it didn’t happen…

“Your name, miss?” the first officer asked again, watching her with shrewd, guarded eyes. Tenten got the feeling that although he was kind to her, he wasn’t one to be trifled with.

“I’m nobody,” she replied. She grabbed the jug of water off the tray and took a huge gulp, not wanting to keep eye contact with the pirate. Although the water tasted slightly stale, she felt as though she could cry as it ran down her throat to settle in her belly. Nothing had ever tasted so nice.

“Even so, you must have a name.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to say.”

“If you are unwilling to say, I can only assume that you are a lady of means and you are afraid we will recognise the name and hold you for ransom. That, or you are running from someone and do not wish for us to spill your secrets to them.” He spoke in an amused tone, as though he was just making it up, but Tenten knew he meant the words, and she had to stop herself from panicking at just how close to the truth he had come—on both counts.

“Does it matter what my name is?” she snapped, using anger to hide her fear. “You can only be planning to either kill me or let me go, and I don’t see why my name is relevant in either case. If you want to kill me for stowing away on your ship, just do it. I’d rather not have my imminent death dragged out. And if you’re planning on letting me go, then we won’t see each other again so what’s so important about knowing it?”

Lee held her gaze and Tenten had to fight not to squirm under his perusal. There was no way she was going to back down from this. As soon as they knew who she was they would attempt to benefit from that fact. And yes, she realized she could have lied, but this man seemed smart—smarter than perhaps he let on to others—and she wasn’t a very good liar to begin with. It was best for her to just keep her mouth shut so as not to incriminate herself any further.

“Very well then.” He stood up, gave her another long look, then nodded. “I must go. Maybe you will feel like telling the captain.”

Tenten didn’t think a sentence so innocuous could be said in such a threatening way, and she decided to re-evaluate the nice-guy image she had in her head of him. Of course he wasn’t a nice guy. He was a pirate for goodness sake! There was nothing good about pirates.

The first mate locked the cell behind him, taking with him the only lamp and leaving her in complete and utter darkness.

.

.

.

“Captain,” the female captive said from her place on the floor. She was still wearing men’s clothes, and it allowed her to move freely inside the cell, instead of being encumbered by so many layers. Still, Neji wouldn’t mind seeing her in her usual attire—clothes that would hug her body instead of sitting like a shapeless rag.

“Lady,” he nodded in reply, coming to stand at the outside of her cell door.

It had been two days since she was taken to the brig, and Neji had to admit that she was looking better. Not a lot cleaner—he had only allowed her some water and a rag to wash her face and hands, and was still yet to see a bath—but her face held colour once more and she seemed brighter, more alert than when he had found her.

“Is it lunch time yet?” she asked, eyes darting behind him in case Lee was following with a tray of food.

Neji wanted to snort at the gall of her. She was his prisoner; she would be fed when he deemed it appropriate. Hell, he had every right to withhold food from her since she was withholding information from him.

“Lee will bring something shortly,” he replied instead, unable to deny her.

Neji had been visiting his prisoner since the first day she had been transferred to the brig, and each day he found himself looking forward to seeing her. She was a breath of fresh air on this testosterone filled ship, and she didn’t seem intimidated by him. More than once he found himself butting heads with her, but he found her wit and intelligence attractive.

His captive smiled, and not for the first time Neji wondered what those lips would feel like against his. “And a bath too?”

Her eyes were twinkling as she asked, but he detected the hopeful note in her voice. A smirk tugged at his lips. “You get a bath when you tell me who you are.”

She pouted, her shoulders slumping under the blanket he had provided for her on her first day in the brig, after he had noticed how her body shivered in the dark room.

“I’m kind of hoping you get so sick of the stench of me that you have no choice but to order me to take a bath,” she admitted with a grin.

Neji raised an eyebrow at her. “I was not aware that I had the ability to order you to do anything.”

She laughed at his words, the noise feminine and utterly enchanting. “True. Not many people can get away with telling me what to do.”

Not for the first time, Neji had to tell himself why it would be a bad idea to enter the cell with her. He wasn’t worried she would attack him, but he was worried about his own reaction to being so close to her, seeing as though he already felt attracted to the mysterious woman. He pulled up a chair and sat by the door, knowing he would be there a while despite his mind telling him he had more important things to do.

“Captain,” Lee appeared at his side, too early for lunch to be served.

“What is it, Lee?” Neji didn’t want to be annoyed at his first mate, but he also didn’t like being disturbed when he was speaking with his captive.

“Kiba has spotted a ship in the distance, travelling in our direction. It could be nothing, but he wanted to make sure you knew either way.”

“Pirates?” If they were, Neji would be more than happy to fight them head on. Otherwise, he would rather continue undisturbed, not only because their arrival at their destination was time sensitive, but now because he didn’t want to risk any harm coming to his captive if a fight broke out.

“Nay, Captain. It’s a navy ship.”

“Keep an eye on them but let them be. We are too busy to have a skirmish with the navy right now.”

“Aye, Captain. I will inform you if anything changes.”

Neji nodded, satisfied that his men would do their jobs properly. He didn’t believe the navy ship would bother them, but he wasn’t going to be caught off guard either. “Good. You may go.”

Turning back to look at his pretty captive, Neji was startled to see the colour had drained from her face and she was shaking even more than on her first day in the hold, when she had been freezing. He frowned, worried that she had suddenly become ill.

“Are you well?” he asked her, trying to keep the concern from his tone. It wouldn’t do him any good if his captive found out he had taken a shine to her.

Her eyes met his, wild and… frightened? What did she have to be frightened about?

“Don’t engage with them,” she said with an unsteady voice. “Please. If they came after you, don’t fight them.”

Was she worried about a battle? No doubt, if this was her first time on a ship, of course she would be a little apprehensive.

Neji tried to give her a comforting smile, though he wasn’t sure it worked. “You do not need to be afraid. My men are skilled fighters, and I will not let harm come to you.”

But his captive was shaking her head, her body shaking uncontrollably. “No, no, no, no. You can’t. Please!”

He wasn’t sure why this was upsetting her, and Neji didn’t know how to comfort her, so he tried to change the topic. “I am getting tired of calling you ‘lady’. Will you tell me your name so I can call you appropriately?”

Her head snapped up to his, as though it was the first time he had asked her the question. She paled further, making Neji more concerned that something was ailing her. “No, I won’t tell you. Maybe…” she paused, thinking, and then met his gaze. “If you flee from them, I will tell you.”

What made her so certain that the navy ship would attack them? Lee had said they were a distance away, and naval ships rarely tried to fight pirates if they did not have backup—they knew pirates had a reputation of fighting dirty. Neji wasn’t worried, but his captive seemed to think it inevitable that a fight would ensue.

“I am afraid that I cannot make such a promise,” he told her. “I am a pirate; if someone wishes to go against me then they will regret it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so Neji heard feet pounding down the stairs to the brig.

“Captain! They are turning astaboard and readying their cannons!” Lee’s voice was loud and urgent in the quiet of the room, but Neji was still able to make out the sharp intake of breath from inside the cell.

“Ready the cannons, then. If a fight is what they want, then a fight is what they shall have.” He stood, knowing his men needed direction, though he didn’t want to leave his captive alone in her cell. A part of him wanted to stay with her and reassure her but he knew he couldn’t. He was the captain of his ship, and it was his duty to make sure they came out victorious from this fight—he needed to be with his crew.

“Wait!” His captive scrambled to her feet and clutched at the cell doors, just inches from where he was standing. Her eyes held fear like he had never seen before. “At least give me a knife or a dagger to defend myself. I’ll die otherwise!”

Neji frowned, not only because she wanted a weapon to defend herself against the navy—people she should be overjoyed to see at that moment—but also because of the finality of her voice. Did she truly believe she would be killed in this skirmish?

“I will not let you die. You will be safe here.” Neji longed to do something more, to prove he would keep his word. But what would it look like to his first mate if he reached through the bars to caress her face? No, that would not be a good idea.

“I will keep you safe,” he promised, his voice low. He fixed his eyes on hers, willing her to believe him, but she shook her head and stepped away from the grates, a look of defeat on her face. She didn’t believe him. Neji was surprised at how much that hurt, but he couldn’t fault her for not trusting him. They may have formed a rapport over the last few days, but she was still his prisoner.

He turned his back on her and made his way up the stairs, his first mate hot on his heels. He would take care of this problem, but he wouldn’t stay away from his captive for long.

It was about time they got to know each other better.

[writemarvelousthings]

Notice | Part 2 |

PAIRING- Steve Rogers x reader

WORD COUNT- 2.7K

WARNINGS- ANGST, SMUT, FLUFF AND A HAPPY ENDING!!

A/N: Your girl has pulled through with the flu from hell, this actually went through two different versions but I was never happy with it but finally, finally I sat down and just wrote! The response to part one which you can read here! Has been phenomenal and I can’t thank you all enough it means the world to me, so here you are! Part 2 I hope you all enjoy it! 

Gif not mine! 

I don't think you know what I been doing

It had been the hardest two weeks of Steve life, but he needed time. He needed to think and plan this right. He wanted... No. He needed everything to be perfect, but maybe he had taken it too far. He watched as your figure retreated into the darkness of the apartment. Running his hands down his face he looked to his phone, sending a message to Tony.

I don’t think I can do this much longer.

Just hang in there Cap, a few more days I promise. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Steve sighed tiredly but returned his attention to the laptop screen again, fueled by annoyance and determination. He had distanced himself because he couldn’t trust his own mouth to stay shut around you. And this plan needed watertight secrecy. What felt like an eternity later Steve shut the laptop closed and willed his feet to drag him to the warmth and comfort of his bed. Not noticing you weren’t laying beside him.

Empty, he notices how empty it was. Blinking his eyes awake turning to your side of the bed, expecting you to be sleeping peacefully next to him, rubbing his eyes he falls on his back.

She has weapons training in the mornings. He reminded himself, but still, he wished things had happened differently last night. Going through the motions of his own routine, walking to your shared kitchen he frowned. Noticing the sink was empty with no sign of your used empty coffee mug, the same mug he had bought you from their first trip to Disneyland. Steve merely shrugs, you were probably running late this morning. Grabbing his running jacket he made his way swiftly out of the door not having any second thoughts.

~~~~

“You know just once you could let me win” Steve grinned at Sam, the other man slightly wheezing as they walked into the communal kitchen.

“Now where would the fun be in that”

“It would make you a decent fuckin person” Steve rolled his eyes, switching the coffee pot on as Sam reached for the juice. Seeing his movements a mile away Steve swiped it from his hands.

“Use a glass or I’ll pour this all over you” Steve was sure Sam murmured something along the lines of ‘killjoy’ but something made him stop and look around. You’re weapons training schedule always ended when Steve finished his run, scanning the room he was slightly perturbed to find it empty with no trace of you. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him like a hawk.

“Looking for something Cap?” Steve turns, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he brushes his friend off.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just like we're gonna have to eat unless you start cooking something”

“Smart ass”

~~~~

Everything almost set up, told you it wouldn't be too long ;)

Steve sighed at the message from Tony, every fibre in his being was screaming at him that it was a bad idea. But, and he couldn't believe the words even floating around in his brain. He needed Tony for this, he was the only one that understood. Tapping at the screen he smiled at the image, the two of you had rented out a cabin over the Christmas holidays. You both had earned a much-needed break and one day you had gone out for a walk in the snow, Steve couldn’t resist taking a snap of you. Bundled up in a soft hat and scarf, you were half laughing half protesting at the photo being taken as snowflakes caught in your exposed hair and eyelashes. It was in that moment Steve had made his decision and also realised he hadn’t seen you for most of the day, his stomach lurched uncomfortably his heart racing before his head put him to rest.

She’s probably out with Nat or Pepper, there's no need to panic.

Stealing himself Steve reached out for the small pile of recent mission reports to read and sign, but there was a part of him. Deep down that twisted sharply.

That feeling only grew and grew as the day went on, dinner came and went and he didn't see you. There were no messages or voice calls telling him of your whereabouts, resting his palms on the kitchen counter he felt a sharp cold shiver travel down his spine. Looking at the clock it was almost a whole twenty-four hours since he had seen you and his rational thinking was thrown swiftly out of the window as he raced out of the apartment.  The tendrils of terror engulfed his soul, he noticed how put out you were last night, he almost broke at the sight of you in that black lace. He definitely gave himself blue balls for not vaulting over the desk to bend you back over it. But Tony had said to wait until everything was ready, he just wasn’t expecting it to take this long.  

“Bucky” Steve wastes no time in pounding on the door of his best friends apartment, terror has turned into full-fledged sickening fear at the thought of losing you after all of this. It doesn’t take long before Steve is faced with the even more terrifying thought of having to deal with the Winter Soldier. Steve breathes your name, his voice tight with panic.

“She’s missing, last night… she wasn’t in the apartment when I woke up and I haven’t seen..”

“Well, I’m glad you noticed that punk” Steve reels at the venom in Bucky’s words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means asshole, that your girl has spent the last few days getting her cheese-dick of a boyfriend to notice her and you’ve done fuck all to make her feel wanted” Two voices cut through at the same time in the empty corridor.

“Cheese dick?/ Bucky stop” Natasha emerges from Bucky apartment, red hair flowing. Eyes blazing with fury as she steps in front of the two men

“I’m trying to fucking relax and I can’t do that when you’re both throwing testosterone around like teenagers cut it out” Natasha push both of them back before turning to Bucky.

“Go back inside before you really say something you regret James” Bucky looks from Natasha to Steve before taking a deep breath.

“You better fix this punk or you’re gonna lose her” Steve watched as his best friend disappeared into his apartment.

“I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t agree with what Bucky said, you’ve been a real dick Steve”

“I know Nat I know, just, please. Please tell me where I can find her”  

I'ma take off if you make me wait

Steve has never felt this afraid before, not even crashing an aeroplane into the frozen ocean. With a shaky hand, he knocks on the small apartment door on the outskirts of Brooklyn. His palms were sweating as he readjusted his leather jacket. It suddenly felt heavy and hot on his body. His heart leaps into his mouth as the door opens revealing you, your eyes were red and slightly swollen. An oversized shirt dwarfs your form and he realises its one of his Henley’s.

“Why did you leave last night?” Steve doesn't waste time, he gets straight too it. His hands are shaking with fear and anger.

“Hello to you too” He swallows thickly as you turn back into the apartment he waist’s no time in following you, closing the door swiftly behind him

“Why do you think Steve?” his eyebrows pinch together, placing his hands on his hips he keeps his gaze on you.

“Okay, fine yes. Maybe we’ve been drifting a little..”

“A little... Steve, we haven’t had sex in well over two weeks” Your voice raises slightly, Steve winces as the harshness of it.

“I know, I’ve just had other things on my mind” His excuse sounds pathetic, even he knows it. You shake your head, running your hand over your forehead.

“Maybe being together isn't the best idea Steve” Steve whips his head up towards you so fast he’s sure he felt his brain bounce around in his skull. Suddenly the room pitches forward as he grasps the armchair to steady himself.

“What..”

“You said it yourself Steve, we’ve been drifting. You don’t notice me anymore. Fuck sake Steve it took you a whole entire day to notice I was gone... Am I not good enough for you anymore?” the broken notes in your voice leave a painful hollow hole in his chest and he suddenly can’t breathe or think of anything else other than not losing you.

“Fuck, I’ve fucked this all up. I’m never listening to Tony ever again” Steve runs his hands through his hair, trying to desperately think about how to fix this.

“How does Tony have anything to do with this?” Steve can hear the tears in your voice and suddenly the world shifts into focus as he strides over to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“Please, please darling you have to believe me, not knowing where you were… it killed me. I’ve never been so scared in my life... I don’t know what I’d..” and then he sees it. The large suitcase in the corner of the room and his whole world stops. You’re eyes gaze at the suitcase too, a fresh wave of tears flows down your cheeks.

“Why should I stay Steve?” his tongue felt like it was two sizes too big for his mouth, he couldn't do anything but drop to his knees in front of you. Like a penitent man kneeling before God, his throat closed up, hands shaking.

“Please, please don’t leave me. I know I’ve been a complete and utter failure these past few weeks. There's nothing I can do or say that will make you forgive me, but please sweetheart tell me what can I do, I can’t lose you” Steve dare’s not look up, too afraid to see the disappointment and loathing in your eyes, the soft touch of your fingers in his hair makes him choke on a breath he didn't realise he was holding in. Raising his eyes to your he feels like the Hulk has kicked him in the gut. Love, pure love seeps from your pores, flowing into his soul as he kneels before you, bowing and offering himself to you.

There's sex in the air...

“Kiss me Steve” he doesn't need telling twice, surging upward he locks his lips over yours. His chest explodes, like fireworks on the fourth of July. The soft needy noises spilling from your lips into his mouth is all the encouragement he needs, blindly he lets you lead him to the bedroom. He can’t help pressing you up against the wall as he grinds his hips into your thigh, high pitch whines escape from your lips as you both finally burst into the bedroom making a beeline to the bed. Hands make quick work of clothing as they fly across the room. Lips kiss and bite skin, claiming familiar territory re-equating yourselves to each other. Steve groans as your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his face from your neck to lock your eyes with his.

“Don’t ever do that to me again” Steve shakes his head, nuzzling into your palm as he kisses the centre of it pressing against you on the mattress.  

“Never”

He lunches for you, rolling his hips against yours. Relishing in the noises pouring from your mouth. He feels you fumble at his belt, pulling with a swift flourish removing the last few layers of clothing causing the barrier against the two of you to finally fall down.

“Steve please” looking down at you it was like Steve was a man reborn, not needed a second remind from you. With one long thrust, he was inside you. And it was glorious, you both moved in perfect harmony. Matching speed and tempo, lips kiss salty skin, fingers grasped at sheets and hair. Steve pressed his face into your neck, breathing your sent in deeply. Completely intoxicated with every inch of you. He could have kicked himself for putting you through hell.

“God doll, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed everything about you..” You fingers press against his lips as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“I’ve missed you too, now fuck me, Captain. I think you’ve made me wait long enough”

“Yes, Ma’am” your gasps and moans as he pistoned his hips faster, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly like you were both made for each other made Steve head spin. Leaning his weight on his forearms beside your head he rolled his hips leaning down to kiss you breathlessly. Your name spilling from his lips like a prayer as he felt your walls clamp down around him.

“Steve... I’m... I’m”

“Cum for me doll, I’m right.. behind.. you” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust of his hips causes you to meet your climax with a long high moan. The sight of you falling into ecstasy causes Steve hips to stutter, and moments later he cums hard biting down on your shoulder as he continues to fuck the both of you though your orgasms.

“Holy fuck” your breathless voice makes Steve laugh, nuzzling your neck he slips out of you causing the both of you to moan. Laying on his back he pulls you to him, the need to feel your skin on his is overwhelming and his heart sores as you snuggle into him. Sighing contently letting your fingers draw lazy patterns across his chest.

“You know I’d never leave you right” Steve looks down at you, your eyes full of remorse and regret. Taking your hand in his he presses soft kisses to each pad of your fingers.

“I know sweetheart”

“I love you, there’s no one else for me” with your other hand Steve smiles as you cup his jaw, leaning into your touch he closes his eyes briefly.

“I love you too” Satisfied with his answer you rest your head against his chest, basking in the comfortable silence. Steve was almost drifting off to sleep when suddenly you shot upwards making him grunt in surprise.

“Sweetheart?”  

Tell me you do, You notice

“You said I’m never listening to Tony, what did you mean?” There was a flash of anger in your eyes and Steve sits up facing you. He places a soft kiss on your forehead before moving off the bed.

“I asked Tony for a favour, my first mistake.. Where are my boxers?” Steve looks around the room, knowing that at this moment he definitely didn't want to be naked. He turns to have a dark mass thrown at his head which he catches easily. Smirking at your, he swiftly pulled them on before searching for his leather jacket.

“What kind of favour did you need that involved Tony, please tell me it doesn't have anything to do with the law” You pull the sheets up over your chest a sly smile on your lips as Steve spots his jacket in the corner of the room. Grasping a the soft material he feels for the pocket, fingers brushing up against the cause of all this mess.

“Steve?” Your soft voice pulls him back to the present as he turns around jacket still in hand as he walks to the bed.

“I asked Tony to help me with something because I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be special and everything you deserve. But both Tony and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut around you”  a confused look comes over your face as you beckon him closer to the bed, he drops to your side of the bed as his hand trembles reaching into the pocket.

“But I’ve realised in trying to make the best thing happen for you I turned it into the worst and sweetheart I swear I’ll spend every waking moment for the rest of my life making that up to you. Because I can’t see my life without you anymore”

“Steve..” he knows you’ve seen the small velvet box by now, he holds it up. Placed in the palm of his hand as he props one leg up now kneeling on just one knee.

“I’m completely in love with you baby, you’re my world and I don’t think I can live another day without you. We can still do the big proposal I’m sure Tony is still planning but I can’t wait for another second to ask you... So will you darlin? Will you marry me?”

“Holy shit… Yes!”

Notice me, notice me

Tags! 

@bucky-plums-barnes @prettyyoungtragedy @lovesteverogersbaeworld @freckled-g0ddess @get-loki  @animegirlgeeky @imreallyweird @amor67figment-love @inmyworstlies @keepyourdreamsalive @ouncesofwhoopass @nadinissavage @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @officialmarvelwhore @rororo06 @notexactlythatgirl @omg-lexiloveyou @abovethesmokestacks @ikittiekat @the-fandom-ness @uniselamoose @sillydecoy @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @menalliha @sarahp879 @k-n-e @ucantknowmeyet @brewsthespirit-blog @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[hisgirlwonder]

Atonement - Part Five

Length: 2.2K words Warning: Sadness, regression, mentions of neglect and abandonment, etc Synopsis: With his trust broken, Michael is doing all he can to make you regret ever crossing him. Notes: This is the final part of the series unless for some reason I feel the need in future to write further parts. I hope this part doesn’t hurt your heart too much. A softer, nice ending was requested by my girl @avesatanormalpeoplescareme so I tried to deliver! Enjoy. (I need to write some degrading smut after this)

The saying goes good things come to those who wait but that sentence in itself didn’t extend to a situation like this. Weeks had passed by since that night and you weren’t sure whether it was because Michael had given up completely or that he had something bigger than allowing one of his followers to stick their filth inside you planned. When it came down to it, the truth was that you were worried about Michael; he was usually nowhere to be found and on the off chance you did see him, he was intoxicated in an effort to numb the feelings that had emerged from the last time he put his hands on you.

After everything that had happened and the abundance of free time you now possessed, you discovered solace in the library. The hours seemed to tick by fairly quickly tonight since you’d become enrapt in your favourite book and little did you know it was almost midnight. You were made aware of just how late it was when starting to yawn while finishing the last few pages and try rub away the tiredness but it was no use; your eyes got heavy and hazy.

You admit defeat to the strength of your need for sleep and so you put the novel down and leave the library in search of your bedroom – unfortunately, the only way to get back was to walk past Michaels room. You were pulled tonight more than usual to put your ear to his door and see if you could hear anything because you missed the sound of his voice.

It sounds as if Michael was drunk, like usual, and spilling the contents of his heart to someone.

“I just- I just- I just miss her. N-no-b-body has ever cared about me like she has besides you.  I just love the way she smells and her smile.” There’s a break in the somewhat slurred, sad speech and the muffled sounds coming from his room seem he’s crying into his hands.

“I know Michael, I kn-“

It’s Mead. Before she can finish, Michael decides to interrupt her; raising his voice like a child trying to speak over their parent.

“No, you d-d-d-don’t. I traumatised her. I’m a b-bad man.”

“You’re not a bad man but you will feel bad if you don’t get into bed and get some rest soon.”

The longer you stayed there and listened, the more your heart hurt. He was a damaged man and you ended off running to your room to cry yourself to sleep. You wish you never gave into your own curiosity.

**

The next morning you wake up feeling like you’d been hit by a truck – not surprising at all you passed out from exhaustion after sobbing hysterically into your pillow. All the tears shed last night had given you dry eyes so you try to remedy some of the discomfort with drops, blinking rapidly to spread the solution before getting dressed and walking to the dining area.

As you’re pouring yourself a bowl of muesli, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole. Nothing could take away the pain or the sound of Michael crying from your mind. You pick a table close by and exhale loudly as you’re sitting down on the seat. The attempt to eat proves pointless because you’re unable to; your appetite has vanished again after the flashback to the sounds of Michael howling in sadness. You swirl the contents of your bowl around with the spoon in your hand, minding your own business when Mead pops up out of nowhere and asks you to come with her – it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do and you weren’t able to stomach anything so you take a walk.

The interior of Mead’s office is very similar to Michael’s from the furniture to the colour on the walls but it’s not enough to distract you from the confusion ringing between your ears. The look she’s giving you is one you recognise because it’s the exact same one you’d give to Michael when begging for his forgiveness.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Please believe me when I say I have tried so hard to stop him but he’s a force to be reckoned with. You must know that if it wasn’t you then it would have been something or someone else.” Mead tells you, trying to wipe away the tears as she does. She rises from the chair and walks around the piece of furniture to perch herself on the edge of her desk so she’s closer to you.

“Michael has never really had anybody care for him until I came along. I met him when he was very young and soon learned that real love and affection were foreign concepts to him.”

Then it hits - the way Michael lashed out was about himself than about you.

“You love him and you’ve been trying to avoid it. Why else would you endure what he’s put you through?”

Tears glaze the surface of your eyes when you realise that you really did love him. You’d known it for the longest time and the inability to express it changed it to something else; feelings of hatred towards your own existence and caused you to act out in ways you shouldn’t. Your face drops in embarrassment and you begin to sob again, just like last night, admitting what she already knew. You did love him and you didn’t know how to deal with knowing things were over before they’d even began. Mead pushes your chin up, allowing access to your face so she can wipe away the tears; just like a mother would.

“Michael is special but at the end of the day, he’s just a boy who is fuelled by testosterone. He’s different to other humans because he’s gifted with special powers but they come with a price. In all my years of knowing him, it hasn’t been until recently that he’s been able to get a grasp on them. I guess he was triggered and gave into his darkness. He’s never been like that with anyone else that I’ve ever seen, you know.”

“A homicidal maniac?”

The heavy mood in the room is lightened by a little bit of laughter from Mead at your comment. “No, not a homicidal maniac. What I mean is that you’re the first person I’ve ever seen him open up to.” You wished that she could have stopped right there and you didn’t have to hear anything else that hurt your heart but, unfortunately, she had to continue.

“Michael just has a lot of anger and unresolved issues. His mother, she…”

That very brief moment of happiness at the realisation that Michael probably felt the same way was interrupted by a need to know more about his family. Of course, you wanted to stop and ask about how things with you were different than with other people but you figured now wasn’t the time.

She takes a deep breath and you could tell this subject made her feel uncomfortable but she continued all the same; feeling a responsibility to you. “His mother really hurt him. She couldn’t handle the power he possessed and left him as a child on the step of a building with a note. I was the one who found him when I tried to leave for my lunch break. Ah, that golden-haired, blue-eyed boy soon became the love of my life.”

Mead is smiling at what she’s just said and picks up the snow globe off her desk. You wondered if perhaps Michael had given that to her as a gift the way her eyes twinkled unknowingly while she watched the faux snow fall.

“Michael realises he went way too far when he used Duncan against you and hasn’t been able to face anyone because he doesn’t know how to live with himself.”

You’re hit in the gut with a longing to hold him; to wrap him up and protect him from the world; forgetting what he’d put you through. You thought you probably would seem stupid for wanting to see him but didn’t care. It’s as if Mead herself possesses some of her own magical abilities when she holds out a hand for you to grab. “Come on, let’s go and see him. It’ll be good for both of you.”

**

To say the walk to Michael’s room was easy would have been a lie because your legs shook with frayed nerves and anxiety caused your chest to tighten. You finally arrive at his room and the sight of his door makes your heart quicken – there’s only a door between you and Michael and trepidation reverberates inside the cavities of your bones.

Mead holds a closed fist up to the surface of his door and quietly explains how Michael isn’t the same person anymore. You’re unsure how to respond but nod to show her you understand. She knocks on the wood and explains to Michael who it is as she’s turning the door handle. Of course, she doesn’t say you’re with her but she explains how she has a surprise for him.

All you can see the moment you’re in the room is Michael. He’s on the couch with his hair in a messy bun, dressed down in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms with a black t-shirt. So far from the prim and proper Langdon who commanded everyone in a room with the click of his fingers that you almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if this was real.

Michael looks up from what he’s reading when he hears Mead close the door and his eyes widen at the sight of you. The feeling in the room was almost like you meeting each other for the first time. He was a mess with hair probably hadn’t had a brush through it in days and across his face, he wore the signs of sleep deprivation very obviously. His lifeless mouth transforms with effort into a smile, as if his muscles had forgotten how to, and you could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes grow at the vision of you before him; like someone seeing colour for the first time.

Mead takes a seat on the chair to the left of the couch and starts to talk but Michael still remains stuck on you. “We’re here because Y/N wanted to see you. I’ve explained some things to her, do you think you could do the rest? Like we discussed, remember.”

In the seconds that followed her request, he begins regressing before your eyes; timidly biting his lip in anticipation. He didn’t want to muck things up further.

“I’m just... I’m just... I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. You’re a human and I’m a human, and I messed up. I got way too into my feelings.”

Michael begins to fuss and pauses to look at the only mother figure he’s ever known for reassurance. His desperate request is met with a lull of the unease coursing through his veins – Mead tells him that you won’t judge, that everything was okay and that he could continue.

“I- I- I know I’ve been so hurtful. I’ve never been too good at caring for people but it changed when I met you. I always meant it when I said I’d never met anyone like you. You’re just so... so good. You care for the person I am and not my name or the perks of knowing me. I know I don’t deserve your trust, kindness, or loyalty ever again but I hope you know how sorry I am.

Without a second thought, you grab his hand to try and show him you understand what he was saying. Squeezing it tightly, you look into his eyes and hope he can feel your forgiveness. Mead interrupts your moment to tell you she’s going to go get some fresh air, smiling at you as she leaves the room.

*

The two of you are left alone with only the reality of the situation at hand for company.

“Mead explained things to me. About your past, your family, your powers. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared you’d leave me like she did.”

Tears start to appear in his eyes, much like that day weeks ago, and you don’t hesitate in taking him inside your arms. Unlike in the past, Michael reacted in a way that made you feel like this is what he’d been missing; sinking into your embrace; but it didn’t stop him asking why you were hugging him because, after all, he felt like he didn’t deserve your kindness.

“I was told you didn’t have many hugs growing up and I think we both need to rewrite the past… Don’t you agree?”

“I do.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @wroteclassicaly @langdonsdemon @sammythankyou @moltenskeleton @taintedaffairs @queencocoakimmie @violett124 @1-800-bitchcraft @americanhorrorstudies @your-daddy-langdon @ticklish-leafy-plant @michaellangdong @creamy-pasta-boi

[thetaboochristian]

Anger: The Double Edged Sword That Can Save Or Destroy Your Life (Sometimes Simultaneously)

When I was a little kid, I used to get angrier than most of the other kids I knew in school. I didn’t know why necessarily, but it seemed reasonable because people kept messing with me, picking on me, people kept doing things that I told them made me made and they never even cared or tried to stop. When I was a kid, I just figured that my anger was a normal, natural result of what happens when people keep on and on and on with some crazy BS until someone reaches their breaking point. Or, somebody does something that seems to pose an immediate, serious threat to the wellbeing of the person who’s getting angry. 

I discovered as I got older though that my dad had these characteristics, but worse. Then when I had my son, I noticed that he had an extra bad temper compared to most other kids… he would get super upset about 100 tiny things every single day that no one else would think are such a big deal, like toys not working the way he wants or me missing one of the 100000000000000000000 things that he points at randomly throughout the day and asks “what’s that”? He is especially prone to do this while I’m driving and can’t stop or look at whatever it is. He even had to be given morphine in the hospital when he was born because he was so upset and wouldn’t stop crying for so long. Don’t even get me started on what happened regarding the hospital, his mom, and his birth... that’s going to be included in my “Taboo Christian” book when it comes out. 

It was not long after my son began doing this that I finally discovered that the anger issue and emotional oversensitivity was something genetic that had come from my dad’s side of the family. The thing is, I seemed to have less frequent expression of it and higher stress tolerance than my dad or son. I believe that the anger thing came from my dad’s mom, but her husband was pretty angry too so maybe my dad got a double dose. I guess I got a half dose because my mom almost never gets angry, even to the point where it’s problematic, where she doesn’t get angry about things that she should get angry about! 

Even when I figured out that there was a genetic cause, I never knew the biological mechanism behind it, but now I’m really close to understanding it. It seems that our bodies either release an unreasonably high level of norepinephrine and epinephrine during certain stressful events, or our bodies cause these neurotransmitters to stay in our system and not be broken down nearly as fast as they should be. It’s also a possibility that DHT levels are abnormally high or that our bodies turn testosterone into DHT at an abnormally high rate. Also, above average levels of acetylcholine or glutamate could also play a role in the emotional sensitivity… it could be a mixture of more than one of these things that’s really responsible.

Even though there have been times where our anger caused problems, problems can occur when anyone gets angry, and that happens to everyone. There have been instances however where I can look back and see how my anger helped save my life! It caused me to no longer tolerate some things that were seriously destroying my life, increasingly quickly as time went on. I believe that when someone or multiple people in your life are causing you serious problems and they are preventable/avoidable, and the person continually refuses to acknowledge how they are hurting you or refuses to try to fix the problem, then an a short moment of loudly chewing them out may be the only way to get the point across or stand your ground when more calm and tame methods of problem resolution have failed to work with that person who’s doing you wrong.

Obviously, if you can avoid conflict or resolve it peacefully then that is almost always best, but if calm methods fail, and the continuing problem is destroying your health, finances, sanity, etc, then continuing to sit by and passively let yourself get ruined by someone else’s evil or ignorance is ludicrous! Absolutely ludicrous! 

If someone in your family thinks they know better than you and really doesn’t, and if they keep terrorizing you with constant bombardment of their well intentioned but destructive opinions of what they think you should do with your life, sometimes there’s no other choice but to cut them out of your life for a while until things settle down and you are able to figure out a way to interact with them peaceably… if it’s possible at all. Some people just don’t want to admit when they are wrong, no matter what. 

This happened recently with my dad. We used to have a good relationship, but it’s come up and down over the years with some lengthy periods of us not talking because it’s impossible to talk to him without him trying to force his wrong ideas upon your life and then getting angry if you don’t agree with him and won’t do what he says. He thinks he knows what’s best. He has a master’s degree. He has made $60-90K a year for the majority of his career. However, though he affirms to hold the basic beliefs of a Christian as far as Jesus being the son of God and dying for our sins and being the only way to heaven, my dad doesn’t really have much of a spiritual view or concept of life beyond that. My dad is absolutely consumed by “worldly thinking” and “man’s way of reasoning” and he has no concept of God’s Will for my life or anyone else’s life. 

Many Christians know all too well that God’s ways are not always our ways and that His reasoning does not always follow our reasoning. My dad cannot seem to grasp this. He cannot seem to grasp that there are certain circumstances that occurred over the years that were beyond my control that are partly responsible for where I am today in life, financially, socially, health wise, etc. My dad cannot seem to grasp that it’s most likely that it was God’s Will that am where I am right now, doing what I’m doing right now, and planning what I’m planning for the future. My dad just can’t seem to understand that if God wants something to happen in my life with 100% definite certainty, He is going to intervene and shape my circumstances in whatever was He needs to in order to make His Will come to pass in my life, IF I’m open to it and willing to do my part to cooperate with Him in bringing it to pass. That means working when and where He knows is best, it means putting forth my standards and expectations to those around me and not caving in or compromising on them just because they don’t fit or match what the people around me think is best or reasonable, or whatever. Sure, I’m realistic in my expectations and what I ask from God, but I also know that God has taken people from rags to riches very quickly in many cases, and God has done miracles in people’s lives in modern times that are almost as awesome as what He did in the Bible. 

It is also possible for everyone that there are some things that are such a concrete part of God’s Will that they will happen no matter what a person does. Where I’m saying that anger can save and destroy at the same time is like with my relationship with my dad. Because of the characteristics I described above about him, he kept on and kept on and kept on until I finally snapped and said some really hurtful things to him, one of which I didn’t really mean to say but it just slipped out in anger. This made him leave and we haven’t spoken in almost 2 months now because of it. Though I regret that one thing I said to him, and I regret having cussed a few times, the majority of what I said to him while in my anger was stuff that he NEEDED to hear. It was me putting my foot down to protect my son and my life, my livelihood and plan for the future, and to show my dad that he had violated major boundaries. My dad has worldly, humanistic reasons why he thinks my current choices and past ones regarding my job and schooling are bad, but I know that they are part of God’s plan and I can clearly see how and why God crafted my life the way He has thus far. While I acknowledge that I’ve made some bad decisions, I can see how and why God allowed me to make them and how God chose to use them to pave a way forward for me that’s better than I probably could have had without making those mistakes.

Seriously though, I get angry a lot less often than most people. It takes a lot more BS to make me mad than the average person, but I’m like a quick burst of intense flame when major boundary lines have been crossed or something major is threatening to harm me or my loved ones and has a considerable chance of succeeding if I don’t step in and do something. I can admit though that in the moment, I’m usually completely absent minded about the thought of God supernaturally protecting me with Angels, intervening on my behalf to fix problems, etc. In the moment I am just thinking that it’s up to me or it’s not going to get resolved at all. I am working on strengthening myself so that I can think more about the realities of the spirit world before I tackle a problem while steaming, but it’s something that will take time. However, there’s a certain amount of fierceness that needs to be available and kept locked away inside for use in the right time and place, so that my loved ones can see for themselves just how serious I am about protecting them with all my might.

I do still plan to try to reconcile with my dad, but right now, with all the difficult circumstances I’m in the midst of overcoming at this moment, trying to talk to my dad would only make my days more difficult and drain me of the focus and energy I need to fix all the current problems in my life surrounding my divorce from “Rebecca”, things regarding my son “Aaron”, and other major life changes. My dad just has this “my way or the highway” view, and there’s no reasoning with him. It just wouldn’t be a smart idea to try to work things out with him until these major issues in my life are resolved, because the process of reconciliation with him will likely be long, stressful, painful and emotional. Despite the current stresses, I know that I’m in the process of overcoming, and slowly but surely (and sometimes quickly) God is bringing about a future for me that’s growing more beautiful with every passing week, month and year.

Thanks for reading, God Bless! “Luke Davidson” - The Taboo Christian

[vinylackles]

walk with me

word count: 3000

requested by anonymous

summary: even with your injury, you’re always down for a night out at a hunters bar. but things go a bit awry when a few rowdy hunters try to hit on you, and Sam isn’t too happy about it (heres some protective, jealous sam, hope you enjoy!!)

content warning: mild sexual harassment from some stupid men, but never fear, reader takes care of them 

all my works || request imagines here

“Damn that hurts,” you groaned. You’d been trying your hardest to keep quiet, but as the stitches continued being pulled through, you couldn’t help it.

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ve gotta get it stitched though, it’s too deep.” Sam sighed, giving you a sympathetic smile. You focused on anything but the tugging on your wound, deciding to watch Dean pour two glasses of whiskey across the room, one fuller than the other.

To your surprise he took the shallow one, passing you yours with a sigh. You took it with your free hand, downing it in two goes.

“We can stop if you need to. We can take a break,” Sam offered. When you looked up from your glass, the worry in his face was obvious. 

“You literally have a needle through my arm Sam. Just finish it,” you grumbled, trying to keep the anger out of your voice. You weren’t mad at him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d be much worse off than the gash on your forearm. The second demon had caught you all by surprise, and she wasn’t too happy about you exorcizing her boyfriend. He’d pushed you behind him, exorcizing her quickly while you tried to stop the bleeding in your arm. 

Fast forward two dead demons and a bumpy car ride later, and you were back in the motel, the whiskey warming you as it settled. 

Sam always had a protective demeanor with you, and you could never quite place it. Sure, he cared about you. He didn’t want to see you hurt. That was fine, you could handle that. You could take that as him just being your best friend. But he threw himself in front of you before anyone else apart from Jack, and you still couldn’t place why. You mulled it over again, trying to decipher it as he worked.

The rest of the stitches were more of an ache than a sharp pain, and you watched Sam’s long fingers work over your skin. Finally, when it was over he spread some antibacterial cream over it and wrapped it tightly in white gauze. 

“Okay, you’re good.” He released you after he taped it down. 

“Thanks Sam.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Alrighty. I need a drink.”

“You just had a drink,” Sam reminded you, but his tone wasn’t condescending. Just worried. It wasn’t like you to ask to go out after a hunt, especially when you got hurt. 

“More drinks,” you grinned, standing up from the bed and shaking some of the feeling back into your arm. It wasn’t pleasant, but you’d live.

“You know I’m in. There’s a hunter’s bar in town.” Dean smiled, already putting his gun back in his waistband, ready to go. 

“You’re still driving tomorrow Dean, I drove the whole way up here,” Sam said with a sigh, grabbing his coat.

Sam tensed up as soon as the trio walk through the door, ready to throw his pool stick aside as they went straight for the bar.

“Chill out, Van Damme.” Dean rolled his eyes, taking his shot, pool balls clicking together and scattering as he broke the rack. 

“You know they’re bad news,” Sam said, eyes immediately finding Y/N. She was sitting at the bar, chatting with the bartender, an old hunter friend of hers, and she hadn’t noticed the group yet. He resisted the urge to go stand by her, to make sure they knew to steer clear.

“Yeah, but Y/N can hold her own, you know that. I’d be more scared of her than you if I were them,” Dean chuckled. “It’s your shot.”

Sam only half paid attention, missing the 9 ball he was going for as watched across the bar. Dean didn’t seem to mind, taking the easy shot Sam left him on the table. But he too kept one eye on the men, just in case.  They could just barely hear them over the chatter of everyone as they slid down the bar, showing some obvious interest in Y/N. 

“Hey pretty lady. Haven’t seen you around here before,” one of them said. Caleb, Sam remembered. They’d run into him before at a bar like this. He was the leader of the group, the other two following around in his shadow, and they were dicks. Pompous, sexist, low-life dicks.

“And you won’t see me around here again, I’m just passing through,” Y/N answered, her tone still friendly. She’d never met them before, had no idea the type of assholes they were. His stomach turned as he saw her look up at him. 

“Easy... Sam, easy,” Dean cautioned. Sam hadn’t realized he was gripping the pool stick hard enough to break it until Dean nodded towards the quivering piece of wood in his hands.

“I swear, if he-”

“She’s not your girlfriend Sammy. And she can handle herself. Maybe she’s jonesing for something else tonight.” The older Winchester grinned, wiggling his eyebrows before taking his second shot. Dean was getting tired of the wandering glances and Sam losing focus during hunts. He’d been pushing him to make his move for weeks now. 

“Oh screw you,” Sam muttered, tossing the piece of chalk he’d been using at his brother. He tried to wipe the images that had come to his mind away, but it was futile. His mind was filled with you, hair a mess, rolling around in the sheets, some other man’s hands on your skin. It made him woozy. 

“Your shot. Again,” Dean said. Sam shook the image from his mind, trying to calculate a shot. He walked around the table, looking for the best angle. He pretended to be setting up, listening in again.

“When you say you’re passing through, does that mean it’s just you? Cause I must say, I make some fine company.”

“How humble of you,” Y/N responded, a bit more caution in her voice.

“Sweetheart, I can show you a good time. Promise.”

Sam stood up straight then, laying the stick down on the table.

“Not in the mood tonight fellas. Just trying to have a beer.”

“Oh c’mon now, don’t be like that. Answer me straight.”

Dean caught on then, straightening up as well. Sam had already taken a few steps towards her, ready.

“Alright. No. There’s your answer. Happy?”

Sam recognized that tone, and he knew what was about to happen if they didn’t back off. And by their mistake, they didn’t. It all happened very quickly then.

Y/N stood from the stool and Caleb’s hand grazed her lower back. She was having none of it, and shoved his arm away. He grabbed onto her, grimey fingers contrasted against the white bandage on her arm as he squeezed. She didn’t flinch, though Sam could tell it was right over her wound. 

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He snarled. Big mistake. She drew back, landing a punch hard enough to send him stumbling into his buddies, eyes wide.

“You’re gonna pull that shit in a hunter’s bar of all places? You really are as stupid as you look.” She rolled her eyes, seemingly unfazed by the fact that the whole bar was watching her. Sam got there as soon as he could, towering above them all, chest rising and falling with his rage. He felt her small hand press against his chest, pushing a bit to stop his momentum. It anchored him, and he looked down to meet her eyes. He hadn’t realized his hands were already clenched in fists. 

“Oh, you brought big bad Sam Winchester over to protect you, huh? Bad choice sugar.” 

He would have lunged forward if he wasn’t acutely aware of Y/N standing between them. He didn’t need to prove his point, Dean did it for him. He slid in between them quite smoothly, quirking an eyebrow.

“Walk with me,” Y/N instructed simply, taking his hand in hers and pulling him away and out the doors, Dean’s voice fading behind them as he yelled “you’ll keep my brother’s name outta your mouth if you know what’s good for you Caleb.”

The cool night air was sobering, your pulse returning to normal after the rush of adrenaline that had come at the interaction. Sam was still staring at the doors and you could see his rage in his eyes as you headed back towards the impala, cradling your arm against your chest. 

“Sam, you got the keys?” You muttered, surveying the damage. He hadn’t grabbed you that hard, but you were sure he’d popped a few of the fresh stitches.

“Sam. Sam, hey. Earth to Sam,” you tried again, slipping your hand out of his and moving to shake his shoulder.

“Huh?” He finally looked at you, breaking out of his haze.

“Keys. Did you take them from Dean?” 

“Yeah, course I did,” he muttered, still a bit out of it. 

“Good. I put some extra gauze in my bag, just in case.” You thanked yourself for thinking ahead while you held your hand out for the keys. But Sam had lost focus again, his fists balling up at his sides. Caleb’s words were really getting to him, it seemed.

“Sam? Are you okay? Sam? Hey!” You were a bit annoyed at that point, using your good arm to reach and turn his shoulder away from the bar. “Are you listening to me?” 

“What?” He said again, looking down at you.

“I need the keys, I’m kinda bleedin’ over here.” 

That seemed to snap him out of it, and he immediately moved to hold your arm up where he could see it. His fingers were as gentle as feathers against you as he looked you over. The blood wasn’t excessive, just enough to make it through the white gauze, staining it pink in the faint glow from the lights in the bar.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered under his breath as he moved to your bag, getting out some fresh gauze. You perched on the hood of the impala, holding your arm out so he could fix it. 

“I think my right hook sent the message. And if not, I bet Dean has given all three of them a run for their money. He’s been itching for a fight recently anyways.” 

“You’ve never dealt with Caleb, he’s a-”

“Dick, yeah I know.” 

Sam paused his work then, looking up at you with a bit of panic in his eyes.

“Oh please, no, I don’t know him like that. Girls talk, Sam. Especially girls in a profession full of testosterone filled, egotistical men,” you teased him. “The bartender and I had him tagged from when she saw his truck pull in the parking lot.”

“Why didn’t you tell him to screw himself as soon as he walked over to you then?” Sam grumbled, his annoyance obvious. Yet his fingers were still so gentle as they worked over your arm, finally getting the old bandage off and examining your cut. It didn’t seem that he’d popped any stitches, much to your surprise. He’d just agitated it enough to break the fragile scab that had started to form. 

“Cause he likes a challenge, and I didn’t want to give him one. Why are you so bothered by it?” You asked, the question rolling off your tongue without any thought behind it. 

His eyes flickered up to yours for a moment and you could see the blush rush to his cheeks, even in the dark.

“Just didn’t want him making you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, using the clean parts of the old gauze to wipe the extra blood from your arm.

The nerves made your stomach tighten and your mouth dry out as you thought about your next words. If you said them, there was no going back. But you wanted to, even if he didn’t feel the same. You’d been holding them back for so long, it was going to come out one way or another. Might as well get it over with now.

“You sure it wasn’t something else? Something that hits a bit closer to home?” 

He really looked at you then, confusion on his face.

“Um, what? Like what? What does that mean?” He fumbled over his words for a moment in panic and you knew in that moment that you’d been right. All the extra care, the extra protection, the late nights he stayed up with you, the smiles across the tables. He felt the same way you did, you could feel it.

“Oh c’mon now Sam. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I see the way you look at me.”

“I uh, I don’t - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said too quickly, repeating your words as his fingers began to shake. He looked down at your cut again, just so he didn’t have to meet your eyes. You used your good hand to lift his chin gently. He seemed to settle at your touch, looking up at you with a flicker of hope in his eyes. 

“I feel the same way you know. I like you too.” It felt juvenile to say it that way, but you didn’t care. The way his eyes lit up right before yours made you feel like you were a kid again.

“Really? You do?” 

“Of course I do. I have for a while, actually. And I guess I can’t blame you for being pissed at Caleb, I wasn’t too fond of that waitress that was eyeing you in there either.” 

Your words seemed to give him the confirmation that he needed, and he got that signature little smirk on his face.

“What waitress?” He asked innocently, making you smile as he secured the new gauze around your wound. 

“The one who flirted with you every time she brought a drink to someone within 20 feet of you,” you mumbled, your cheeks warm. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he teased, tracing a finger along the skin of your arm. “For the record, I didn’t notice any waitress. I actually had my eyes on this one girl. I don’t know her too well, but I’ve heard she’s a little spunky. Super grumpy in the mornings, total dork behind closed doors. Not that I know personally or anything, but I mean you know, hunters talk.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Winchester,” you grinned, reaching up with your good arm to pull him down to you. He obliged, and your hand went up into the soft curls at the base of his neck as he leaned down to you. He missed your lips just a bit on the first try, his nerves getting to him, making you giggle a bit. His cheek was burning under your hand when you brought it up to hold him there, ignoring the twinge it caused on your wound. You kissed him again, hitting home this time and it was like pure magic. Everything you’d waited for and more, somehow. 

And that close, he was just so Sam. The flannel under your fingers, the feeling of his hair tickling your cheeks, the softness of his lips. You wanted him closer to you, as close as you could get him, and on instinct you wrapped your arms around his neck. You regretted the movement immediately, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as your wound screamed in protest to the pressure you’d put on it. Your lips parted, foreheads still together as you caught your breath.

“You okay baby?” He said, the nickname melting your heart in an instant.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, I’m really good. Just uh, got a little excited.” It was your turn to be embarrassed, but Sam simply kissed you gently again, wiping it all away.

“Hey! I told you to make a move, not defile my Baby!” 

The voice carried across the parking lot and you both jumped back a bit before relaxing. Dean came sauntering up, a smug look on his face as he wiped off his bloody knuckles on his jeans. Sam turned to look at his brother, leaning up against the hood and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Did you get the message across?” Sam asked. 

“Damn straight I did. Don’t think he’ll be giving anyone any trouble for a while. Hell, I only got to finish half my beer and my adrenaline’s through the roof. You all wanna just head back home tonight?” 

“As long as you don’t blare Van Halen all night, I’m in,” you shrugged. You could sleep in Baby better than you could in that shitty motel anyways.

“I wouldn’t mind having a few chilled out days at home,” Sam added, his grip tightening a fraction on your waist. 

“Oh gross,” Dean grumbled, shuddering dramatically as Sam tossed him the keys. He used the arm he already had around you to practically lift you off the hood, helping you get your footing before leading you around and opening your door for you. 

You half expected him to climb in the front seat, but your heart fluttered when you saw him go around the back, getting in the other side of the backseat with you. Dean got in in front of you, starting her up as you shivered a bit, ready for the heat to kick on. 

“Here. Get some sleep.” Sam slid his jacket off before patting his lap, inviting you to lay down. You obliged, curling up in a ball and resting your head on his thigh. He spread his jacket out over you like a blanket and you were immediately cozy, surrounded by the smell and warmth of him as he draped one arm over you to hold you there. 

Dean had barely made it to the interstate by the time you were dozing off, Sam’s fingers running through your hair. You could have sworn you heard Dean say “happy for ya little brother”, but you were too tired to tell as you drifted off into peaceful sleep. 

[hippityhoppityyourenowmyproperty]

Reset!Rant (part 4)

Blackout

Chapter: 1

Thad: "Even though Craydl was programmed to obey my dear grandfather over me, he still could hold a conversation and be useful. While you have some rudimentary communicative abilities, it's not the same. I could say the same of Bart."

This is a put down that comes out of the blue and it shows how normal it has become for Thad to resort to insulting Bart. This insult is especially tasteless when you remember that a lot of ND people have problems with verbal communication/talk too fast/talk too loud or too quiet/have trouble expressing their thought and can go nonverbal. So yeah, basically another slice at Bart for having ADHD, wouldn't you know it.

Thad's vision blacked out and he grabbed the washing machine for stability. If felt as if the bottom fell out of his world. He knew this feeling all too well now, but it had never been as bad as this. He staggered away from the laundry and into the kitchen to sit.

.................................... Helen's voice echoed from the kitchen. "Thad? I just got a call from the school. Bart passed out in class and I'm going to pick him up. I'll be home soon." When Helen returned home with Bart, Thaddeus was waiting in the kitchen with a smirk on his face. "You passed out?" Bart scowled and stomped off to dump his backpack and jacket off on his bedroom floor. Thaddeus snorted, still sneering.

Making fun of someone because they showed physical weakness, that's stereotypical school yard bullying right there. "Haha look at you you loser! You passed out. You're such a weakling!" Thad is so...pathetic in this. He is so desperate for power, so desperate to be superior to Bart. He waited all this time in the kitchen just so that he could throw Bart this line. He clinges to everythign that will make him appear better than Bart. He obssessively seeks out every little one of his flaws and mistakes in order to maintain his big ego. It's almost pittyful. Of course he snots at Bart, of course he is behaving as condescending as possible. Thad is the kind of person who kicks someone who's already on the ground. This is just...So ugly to read. Hey Thad, you nearly passed out earlier this day, I don't see you shaming yourself for being weak. What's the difference? What's making you so special that you don't deserve to be shamed for it?

Hey Helen, you're just going to ignore Thad very obviously and viciously bullying the closest person you have to a son? You're not gonna repriment him for it so that he won't continue to destroy Bart's self esteem and his mental health? No? Great, it would be very confusing if you suddenly started being a responsible parent.

Thaddeus leaned against the doorway with crossed arms. "You're pathetic." He sneered.

Funny that you mention it, have you looked in the mirror lately?

Chapter: 2

Mike gestured to Bart's injuries. "You could say that you got hit in the face with a basketball or something." Bart slung the bag over his shoulder and pushed the bathroom door open. Maybe he could just go home? No, Thad was there, and he didn't want to listen to his evil twin berate him about getting bloodied in a fight.

Through his frequent put downs, Thad now made Bart afraid to show weakness. He knows that Thad will make fun of his vulnerability and won't be of any help to him.

Thad: "No moron, I'm playing with a tesseract puzzle." His voice was dripping with condescending sarcasm. "What else would I be doing?"

Another put down out of the blue. And a very sordid one, I might add.

Chapter: 3

A commotion in the backyard grabbed her attention and she saw Bart and Thad duking it out again. "Oh, for the love of...Wally, I'll call you back. The boys are really at it this time. I swear, Thad needs to get out of the house and get a life, and Bart needs to stop antagonizing him."

Hmm, that's odd. I could've sworn that Thad was the one who constantly ripped on Bart, was a dick to him and provoked Bart with "You've got ADHD so you're dumb" insults, and Bart was the one who remained friendly despite having to endure insult after insult without retailiating. Are you referring to the times Bart called Thad a jerk and said "Like you're any better"? Are those the oh so bad words Bart calls Thad that justify you saying "He's antagonizing him"? Because, and maybe that's just me, but calling someone who is neurodivergent a r*tard, moron, idiot, shortbus, brainless, annoying, destructive, a nuisance, hyperactive, embarrassing, dense, pathetic, saying that they have "Rudimentary communicative abilities", that they "probably got distracted with by something shiny" and implying over and over again that they're stupid and useless, that you see it as a disgrace to be related to them, that you'd like to beat them up, (and actually beating them up) and that they're inferior to you because of aspects of their personality they can't control is a bit worse than saying "Jerk" to defend yourself in response to being called those insults. And somehow we should believe that Bart is the one who is antagonizing Thad? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Thad is so obviously abusing Bart in this, I don't know how anyone couldn't see this. Screw Helen, she has no sense of fairness and justice when it comes to Bart's treatment. Do I have to explain the word favoritism? How come she lets Thad get away with was worse stuff? Why doesn't she chew him out for all the stuff he put Bart through? He was very clearly shaming him for having ADHD im Helen's presence, and she didn't do shit.

I'm 100% sure Thad started this conflict with some "You're inferior to me" comment and was also the one who got physical first.

Helen: "You don't even know?! Get in here and go to your rooms!" The boys let go of each other and sulked past Helen. "I swear you two, if you were girls, I would be blaming hormones for these outbursts."

Yeah, let's just casually ignore the fact that testosterones are the hormones that increase aggressive behavior and that boys produce about 16× more testosterone than girls, and that men are known to be quicker to express their anger through violence than women. (Cite: Men vs. Women: Hormones; a transgender perspective, Why do women and men respond differently to anger? PsychCentral) I guess I can add "sexist" to the list of things that make Helen an unlikable person. Also, glad to know that she now cares about breaking up a fight between them. Play fighting for fun in the yard? Absolutely not! What were you thinking? Why do you act like that? You should know better! Shady sparring fight in the streets? Sure Thad go ahead! Nothing wrong with beating up your brother to release your anger!

Chapter: 4

Thad answered with a smirk, "That you're a hyperactive brat who would just get more destructive when introduced to sizable amounts of caffeine."

Bart glowered and crossed his arms. "Shut up! I am not!" Thad lifted his chin in victory. "See? Hit the matk. I'm right."

Both Helen and Konner sit next to Bart and they say nothing in response.

Kon chuckled as Bart settled down at the table. "Man, I kinda missed that."

"Missed what?" Bart asked.

"You driving people nuts. Inertia's not Rob or Wondy but he flips out pretty fast." Thad snarled at Kon, "They don't have to live with him!"

Bart has been nothing but nice to Thad. Bart is the one who has to live with Thad's constant belittling. Thad has deluded himself into believing that he is the victim here, but he's really not. Bart is. Bart has been trying to help Thad, even though he was a total douchebag who constantly humiliated him. Bart has to live with Thad.

Chapter: 5

Kon: "Seriously, don't you have any other modes than "up yours" or "sideways"? You're going to die a lonely virgin life if you keep this up. Yeah, I get that your childhood was stolen by an evil madman and all, but you're preaching to the choir here. Dude, get over it. We did." Thad's glare darkened and he clenched his fist. Lunging forward with a punch, he stopped just short striking Kon. Shaking with fury, Thad backed away and left the kitchen. Bart sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. "He's gonna need to spar today and I'm all beat up already."

"You don't have to be his punching back."

"I'm not a punching back. I hit back."

I agree with Kon up until the "just get over it" part. It's nice to see someone finally calling Thad out on his demanding and shitty attitude, but telling an abuse victim to "just get over it" isn't good advice, either. What Kon should have told him was that Thad should work on his behavior and that him having been abused doesn't make it okay for him to abuse others.

The dialoge after that between Kon and Bart is another attempt on the author's part of justifying this situation. The "I hit back" isn't very encouraging when you consider that Thad is a way better fighter than Bart. The "He needs to spar today and I'm all beat up already" makes it very clear that Bart would rather not participate in a duel, but does it anyway because he feels pressured to keep Thad's emotions in check. Without Bart sacrificing his own well being, Thad would've gotten himself into a lot of trouble by beating up random people in blind rage. And Bart knows this. Despite what this sentence is trying to make you belive, their fights aren't balanced. Thad can easily overpower and outsmart him in a duel. At the end of the day, Bart is still his punching back.

Chapter: 5

Seeking Thad out, Bart found him in the library, talking with a couple of upperclassmen girls. Bart pulled him aside, much to Thad's annoyance. "I'm gonna need some help. Eddie's-" "Not my problem," Thad interrupted. "I don't care what's going on." "Look, getting beat up was just the start of it. He's-" "Not. My. Problem." Thad turned away from Bart. "If he got himself into it, he can get himself out of it. This is a waste of my time." "I just want you to back me up."

This kind of sums up what kind of person Thad is. He takes and take but doesn't repay the favors. He's cold and has no compassion. It doesn't matter to him what Bart did for him, and that he vouched for him. And going by Thad's logic, Max and Bart shouldn't have offered Thad to stay with them because; If he got himself into this situation, he can get himself out of it! Not our problem, we don't care what's going on!

Thad knows that Bart is going to do something really dangerous and could get seriously injured or even die, and he still doesn't give a fuck. He hasn't learned to care for Bart one bit.

Bart grinned at him. "You came."

"Max wanted us to take care of each other," Thad remined. "Letting you get pounded into a smear is a violation of those orders."

This is Thad admitting that the only thing that made him help is Max. I'm 100% certain that Thad would've gladly stood by and watched Bart die if it wasn't for Max. Thad still hates Bart's guts for whatever reason, and he actively shows him that every chance he gets.

Chapter: 7

"Obviously, I got my intelligence from both of our grandfathers. Pity that means there wasn't any left for you."

Hey Thad? How about you shut up and not smack talk Bart every chance you get? It would make you less of a person that deserves to get hit multiple times in the teeth with a brick. This is, very obviously, another put down directed at Bart's ADHD that is disguised as a joke.

Jerking his head up, Bart nodded. "You would do that?" "What kind of evil twin do you think I am?" Thad huffed in mock offense. "I only beat you up and ridicule your intelligence, not withhold precious words of wisdom that can be thrown in Wally's face whenever he gets his tights in a wad about you not being the perfect little sidekick. He treated Bart to a wicked grin. Legacies are more than a name and a costume."

Oh don't worry Thad, you're not the evil clone, you're just the abusive, selfish, cold hearted, self entitled, manipulative, egotistical brother. Yes, you 'only' did those things. They are still reprehensible and loathsome. They will still mess up a person and are unforgivable. Turning your actions into a joke doesn't make them funny or acceptable. The fact that he admits to his wrongdoings but doesn't see them as reprehensible speaks volume about his personality. He talks about his crude actions with such satisfaction and confidence as if he were proud of them. After everything I read about Thad in this, it's very likely that he is.

And the reason why he does Bart a favor here? Again, just doing it for himself. He tells Bart these things not becaus he likes Bart, but becaus he dislikes Wally for that whole legacy thing and wants him to suffer. Thad is self projecting about his issues with his legacy.

[i-want-to-be-manhandled]

more trans ramblings (tramblings?) - to T or not to T, that is the question

so i’m writing this so i have some thoughts to show my therapist next week instead of scouring my brain for them but im posting it on the internet instead of keeping it in a word document or some shit cause i need some of y’all to relate and i’m already way too personal on here anyways. and also at this point this is my personal blog too, i’ve given up entirely on keeping it just for video games. tl;dr: please tell me i am not the only one with stupid amounts of doubt going against the stupid amounts of evidence that i am very transgender. 

tw: long post, doubts, testosterone/hrt effects discussed in detail, (don’t read this if you know me irl and haven’t personally talked with me about being trans? otherwise go ahead), nsfw cause we’re talking about genitals but mostly towards the end of the second to last paragraph (i’ll strike the nsfw stuff), mention of rape but no discussion of it happening, lemme know if i missed anything

so as my last transpost said im very excited for my hysto that im nowhere near getting but im flip-flopping as to whether or not i want to go on t. i know i can get it fairly quickly if i decide i do want it. there’s a trans health clinic in walking distance from where i am moving in 23 days, i have 3 therapists who will write me a letter of recommendation for testosterone, and my mother even found me the trans health clinic so she’ll try to find me somewhere else to go if they don’t take me in for some reason. (having a supportive mom is great i don’t miss her crying about how hard it is to have a trans kid in january and february.) and i’ve looked thoroughly at the effects of testosterone and have sorted them into pros, neutrals, and cons. (posting it here again mostly bc i need to do it but i also need some of yall to relate and/or validate me and/or answer my weird questions)

pros:

voice drop. im so tired of having a squeaky voice which is exacerbated by me always being anxious, and my sister has a deeper voice than me and always tries to sing ridiculously low parts to stretch it for some reason which makes me feel insecure. and apparently my voice is “always squeaky” according to my dad and like? shit man i pass until i talk that’s just the tea. 

i dont even care if i have a super deep voice, i actually think i’d rather be a solid tenor because that’s the vocal range of most of my favorite songs, but i want to sound like a man when i talk and not an 8 year old girl

side note apparently a lot of trans guys have male “internal voices” but mine just sounds like how i sound when i talk because i’m a very literal person and that’s why it took me forever to figure out i was trans and not having a male internal voice makes me dysphoric sometimes and even doubt that i’m trans at all... that’s dumb af i know it’s just my literal personality type not me actually being a girl

more muscle. i dont work out as it is right now but if i knew i’d see results the way i want them then i probably would. also im getting ripped during the school year anyways bc i walk everywhere with a 15-20 pound backpack strapped to me so i’m at least gonna look semi muscular which is what i want anyways. please give me strength quite literally i can barely lift bro

bottom growth. ik it’s still not going to be ~enough~ or whatever but i’d have... something? that would be nice. 

side note would packers start to be uncomfortable with something there bc i wonder about that sometimes. not that mine is super uncomfortable now or anything (i just haven’t figured out how to make it sit right) but i wonder about that

NO PERIODS NO PERIODS NO PERIODS NO PERIODS NO PERIODS

if im one of those guys whose periods dont stop on t i am actually going to perform a hysto on myself

fat shifting from hips, thighs and butt to my stomach. i don’t care if i have stomach chub or not, but i DO care that my hips are Like That and my things are Really Girly and i have a fucking Girl Butt TM like please just let me Not Have These Problems

having a more angular face. doesn’t happen to everyone per se but because of my facial structure as it is and also what my dad looked like when he was my age, i probably will get this change. i have actively wished for this since i was 13 and didn’t even know dysphoria was a word. hopefully it makes my lips a little thinner too or at least more masculine.

veins becoming more prominent. i have this one pic of me where it looks like i have Guy Arms and i just wanna look like that all the time ya know

lookin like a dude and passing? that counts right

neutrals:

facial hair. i know a lot of trans guys want this but i’ve never wanted one. i just want a jawline to cut a bitch tbh i’m never having more than stubble except the beard imma wear to my high school reunion

body hair. this is more of a pro-neutral ig bc i want it on my arms and legs but would prefer not to have a lot on my chest and stomach. fortunately i dont think my dad has a whole lot but i’m a pretty hairy afab person as it is i just dont wanna be a werewolf lmao

hair loss at temples. i just don’t care about my hairline enough for this to really bother me. maybe i will when it happens but *shrug*

scents of sweat/bo/urine changing? idk i feel like it will be weird, maybe gross if it turns out bad but honestly i don’t really care what i smell like as long as i don’t smell like a dumpster fire? i shower it’s fine lmao

rougher skin? i dont know if i’d like having rougher skin but i also dont like being an uwu soft boi so

acne. nobody wants it but like... i already have stress-acne right now and don’t really give a shit because i hate how my face looks anyways. not that i want a fuckton of acne because nobody does but im not gonna cry myself to sleep over it ya feel? it’s an annoyance but not really a con

cons:

increase in sex drive. not to be nsfw but masturbating is a chore as it is. it hasn’t been fun since i realized i had crippling bottom dysphoria and even then i can’t get off unless i’m completely distracted from my body (either through porn or being too tired to care). also i have like a 2% chance of ever having a partner so i really dont wanna have to deal with having the sex drive of a 12 year old boy when im 19, single, depressed, and dysphoric. im not even asexual but this is the worst con

emotional changes. yall know at this point i dont have the best temper, and i dont want t to exacerbate that. now, some of my friends have said that t has made them much calmer and actually less irritable, but the rest of my friends said t makes them angry. i have poor anger management and i know it. i don’t need it made worse. it’ll fuck my life up for real

increase in appetite. listen i have gastritis, ibs and acid reflux i cannot afford to be needing to eat more than i currently do

so as yall can see i have a fair number of all 3: 8 pros, 6 neutrals, and 3 cons. and what’s more, all of the cons are things that don’t have anything to do with my appearance (which my therapist and i noticed during our session a couple weeks ago and really made me think i should go on t). so then the answer should be clear: i should go on t, right? deal with having a fucked high sex drive and be pissed off because of it but finally be able to see my reflection in the mirror. so it should be obvious. what the hell am i waiting for?

the main reason i’m hesitant is i’m afraid i’ll want to detransition. even though i KNOW it rarely happens and the women who do thought they were trans because of unaddressed traumas relating to being female or have a personality disorder. i have neither of those things: the only female-related trauma i have is being slut shamed by my mom for wearing tank tops and any shirt that wasn’t a crew neck and one guy saying he’d rape me in 9th grade because he thought rape and sex were the same thing (for his sake i hope he’s grown the fuck up!! i’m not traumatized from this i just made my teacher not let him sit next to me in class and told him to stop talking to me. sadly this is the most sexual attention i’ve ever gotten), and the only mental illnesses i have are depression and anxiety (unless we’re counting dysphoria, which i definitely have). i also sometimes feel like i discovered it too late: i didn’t say “i’m not a girl” until i was 14, refused to explore my gender until i was 17, and didn’t fully accept i was trans until i was 18. and other dumb shit: i never tried to pee standing up so im not really trans even though i didn’t know what a penis was until i was like 9, ive caught myself twice recently wishing for longer hair which made me feel feminine and gross and dysphoric (even though i know hair length =/= gender??), and im not in danger of suicide if i don’t get testosterone and top surgery RiGhT nOw. the prospect of me detransitioning isn’t likely, when you look at all the facts, but the prospect makes me anxious because everything makes me anxious. i am the poster boy for anxiety. and yes, i know i would have said that even when i accepted that i was technically the poster girl but i would have said poster boy anyways because it was “gender neutral” and didn’t rub me the wrong way like poster girl would have. same reason i insisted on being a dude instead of dudette and only described myself with words that didn’t have a female equivalent in french class even if it wasn’t true. so what the hell am i waiting for.

like i know i shouldn’t be doubting at this point because it’s so, so obvious that i’m trans. just because i didn’t try to pee standing up when i was little or ask why i didn’t have a penis doesn’t mean i’m not a guy. i logically know this. like when i was 11 and i insisted to myself i had a male brain but knew i shouldn’t say that out loud because that was weird and i wanted to be a normal girl who didn’t have a weird male brain, and when i was 7 and at my friend sarah’s house and her room was super pink and girly and i literally thought the sentence “is this what i’m supposed to be like?” and when i was 14 and cut my hair into the Typical Queer Girl Pixie Cut and my hair was just??? gone like i wanted it to be when i was 9 and ended up with a bowl cut instead, and instead of looking in the mirror and thinking i looked like an owl when i was 9 i smiled at how “androgynous” (masculine) i looked, and when i was 11 and only hung out with boys at summer camp and they treated me like one of them and the girls were really mean to me but it was the best summer i’d ever had, and when i was 15 and my friend chris joked that i was the “guy” in my lesbian relationship and i was so fucking happy, and when i was 15 and starving myself because i loved my “angular” figure and jaw,  and when i was 16 and wearing a dress to winter formal because my ex met me in one and i wanted to be cute for him but i picked the dress that looked like a suit because it looked very “queer” (masculine), and when i was 14 and literally went “hmmm im gonna bind my chest just because i wanna know what it would look like” and it made me so euphoric and i knew in that instant i wasn’t a girl but repressed it for 3+ years because dealing with it would just be too hard, and when i was 11 and knew it was going to be my last day going to school without a bra on and just being so ashamed even though i wanted breasts so i’d be a normal girl, and when i was 16 and wearing that backwards snapback all the time and my friend said it was what tops did and i was so happy that nobody would consider me a bottom or whatever stupid shit because i couldn’t imagine myself being penetrated ever in my cisgender gay life, and when i was 16-17 and scouring the lesbian section of pornhub for pov/strap-on videos bc i wanted to know what it would look like to fuck a girl with a dick without watching straight porn because i’m 100% a gay female because the word lesbian is too girly im not a trans guy or anything haha, and when i was 14-and-onwards wondering why it felt so empty between my legs and why it felt like i was supposed to have a dick lmao im totally a girl though haha, and when i was 15 and had to google how to masturbate bc i couldn’t figure it out naturally and still felt like i was doing it wrong, and when i was 15 and looked at my vagina in the pocket mirror i got from selling like 30 boxes of girl scout cookies in 2007 and my first thought was “that is not my body,” and when i was 16 and actually very upset that i couldn’t ejaculate when i orgasmed. trans who? what the fucking hell am i waiting for

seriously. i was 7 and looking at my 2nd grade yearbook photo thinking “that doesn’t look like me,” and i was 13 and looking in the mirror saying “that doesn’t look like me,” and i went through all of my adolescence waiting for “puberty to turn me into a girl” and then i was 17 and done with puberty and crying because my body was still wrong. i can’t believe how hard i tried throughout my whole adolescence to be some facet of “normal girl” so i wouldn’t get bullied and be dateless forever and thinking “puberty hasn’t turned me into a girl yet” and not stopping to think about what i was if i wasn’t a girl until puberty was done, i realized it wasn’t going to happen, and it was too damn late for me. now i’m 19 and don’t leave the house without either a binder or a sports bra/baggy layers combo and i’d wear my packer everywhere if i could figure out how to get it to sit right (and also get it past my parents lmao).  like if anyone else rattled off that list of trans shit i wouldn’t question them for a second. but because it’s me and i’m like “what if i’m transwashing my memories? what if i’m gaslighting myself?” i’m still not on testosterone and please validate me. tell me other trans people doubt themselves, no matter how obvious it is that they’re trans. tell me it’s okay to doubt hrt, even though you know it will be so much more likely to help you. tell me it’s okay to be afraid of detransitioning, even though it’s okay if i DO decide to detransition and it’s so unlikely anyways considering all the evidence of Me Not Being A Fucking Girl.

if you read this all the way to the end here’s an awkward hug and some brain bleach im not even drunk or high i can’t even blame substances for this behavior 

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Rise Up

Chapter Six

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 3045 Warnings: none

Song: Rainbow by Kesha

When you and Steve finally did emerge from the confines of your suite, you walked hand in hand into the common area to find an irate Loki waiting. You knew well in advance he was annoyed as the sparks and surges of his power were tangible on the air.

“I have better things to do than wait on you, (Y/N)!”

“Like what?” you asked, smile smug.

Steve snickered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I'll be back after the debriefing.” His attention shifted to Loki. “Do not upset her again.”

“Or what, Captain?”

“Or I'll make what Bruce did to you look like child's play in comparison.”

Before things could degenerate into a testosterone-fuelled pissing contest, you patted Steve’s butt, gave him a look, and sent him on his way. “Go. We'll be fine.”

“Baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you with far more heat than required.

By the time he finished, you were one nip short of dragging him back to the bed with the rumpled sheets barely cooled from the last time you'd set them on fire. “Go away, Stevie.”

“You sure you mean that, dollface?” he chuckled happily, gripping your hips and dragging you closer.

Smirking up at him, you nodded though you hooked your fingers in the collar of his shirt. “Go play with Bucky for a while after the debriefing if you’ve still got energy to work off.”

“Three days, (Y/N). I’d rather play with you.”

“Later.” You hummed appreciatively when his hands squeezed your waist.

With a small sigh, he bussed you a kiss to the cheek, sent a glare toward Loki, and let his hands slide away with a caress far more sensual than it should have been. “Be good.”

“But I like being bad so much more,” you called after him before finally turning your attention to Loki.

“I dislike being made to wait.”

“Don’t pout, ugagn. It will give you wrinkles.” Lifting your chin, you wandered off to get a coffee, finding your muscles pleasantly sore in all the right places, and in need of the caffeine to help keep you awake seeing as how the rush of pleasant endorphins from early had ebbed, making you sleepy.

“And must you be so, ugh, public with your affection? I know he is your sjelevenn, but you appear as rutting Bilgesnipes with your handling of each other. It is bad enough you wear his brand upon your throat.”

“Oh?” you popped your lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Is wittle Woki jealous?”

“Hardly!” he scoffed. “Thinking of your sex life is like imagining Thor’s. I have no desire to know about either.”

Grinning wickedly, you collected a cup. “So I shouldn’t mention the bite mark on my ass?”

“Most definitely not!”

The disgust in his voice only egged you on. “Really? It’s quite tender, but when Steve gets going it’s nearly impossible to-”

His hand closed firmly over your mouth. “Lillesøster you talk too much.”

You licked the palm of his hand causing him to release you with an undignified yelp. “And yet you keep coming back.”

Wiping his hand on your shoulder, he sneered at you, but there was little heat in the words which followed. “Odin only knows why. You are beyond exasperating and at times quite disgusting.”

“Aww, you flatterer.” With a wink, you returned to pouring the coffee.

“I can do that for you if you need,” he offered quietly, looming suddenly at your elbow.

Hip bumping him gently to give you room, you shook your head. “You’ve missed out, Loki. I’ve learned a lot since you flounced off to Asgard in a huff.”

“I did not flounce, nor did I huff. I left for I was not wanted.”

Putting the pot back, you were careful to set the cup down before punching him in the shoulder hard enough to send him careening into the sofa at his back.

“Stop being a dick,” you huffed, glaring at him. “You deserved to get scolded, and scolded was all it was. You were an ass, both of you were, putting something like that on me at a time like this.”

He straightened from the sofa with an air of regret, holding out his hands. “You’re right.”

“I know I am.” Chin up, you glared down your nose at him.

“I brought you something. A peace offering, if you will.”

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your cup. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected it. “You can’t buy your way out of being an asshole, Loki. You push and push and push. This time, Steve pushed back. He has the power and the balls to do so in this life, being as he hasn’t been taught from birth to kowtow to the gods of Asgard.”

“I would almost be offended if I didn’t know you so well, darling,” he muttered.

“I’m not trying to offend you. I’m giving you a warning you should heed.”

He approached as if you were a wild animal, slowly with outspread hands which he brought up to gently cup your face. “I know, lillesøster. These past years without you have been… difficult.”

“Difficult? That is what you call blowing up most of New York?”

“Not my finest hour,” he admitted quietly. “I wish you had been there… to talk me out of it.”

“I wish you hadn’t been so foolish to need me to do so.”

“You’ve always been the only one who could keep me in check.”

He was not going to let you indulge in your coffee until you’d had this out. Reaching for his wrists, you held them gently, breathing in the scent of leather which seemed to perfume the air around him even over the scent of the expensive suit he was wearing. You’d wandered through Tony’s wardrobe often enough to know Armani when you smelt it.

“I shouldn’t have had to check you back, not for something like that. Oh, Loki… what were you thinking?”

Your heart gave a pained thump when his forehead dropped to yours. “I… I don’t know anymore. There was so much… anger inside me.”

“And now?”

“I have come to terms with things.”

“I would hope so,” you said, giving a small smile. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass to knock some sense into that fool head of yours.”

“Darling… I’d like to see you try.”

Quick as a snake, you were kneeling on his chest, the blade he kept tucked at the small of his back now pressed lightly against his throat. “You were saying?”

“Impressive.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

A flurry of hands followed as you fought him for the dagger, rolling and scraping on the floor until you came up victorious a second time. The tip of the blade now pointed at a part of his anatomy you knew he was disinclined to lose.

“Yield.”

“I don’t want to,” he grumbled.

You dug the dagger in a little deeper and cocked a brow in warning.

“Okay, okay! I yield!”

“As you should.” With a wide grin, you gave him a saucy wink and got back to your feet.

“Is this a regular thing you used to do, (Y/N)?” Natasha asked from the doorway. “Kick a little godly ass.”

Looking up, you held your hand down for Loki, who took it and eased himself from the floor to stand a step behind you. “He’s a fun sparring partner when he’s not trying to kill you. You should give him a go.”

“While I am certain Ms. Romanoff is quite talented, she has not your level of skill, (Y/N). Add in the grudge she continues to hold against me, and I would not put it past the Widow to try and take revenge.”

“You got that right, horned wonder,” Natasha scoffed.

Holding up your hands, you stepped between them even though they were nowhere near each other. “Nat, please. Loki, would you give us a minute?”

“You put me off again?” he muttered, annoyed.

“Please?” you asked, laying a hand on his chest. “Meet me by the doors, and we’ll take a walk outside. The grounds can sometimes still give me trouble.”

“Hm,” he huffed. “Very well, but do not take long.” His hand landed on your arm, stroking unseen down to your fingers before he walked away.

Turning to face Natasha, you made your way over to her. Past chairs and around tables, you arrived at her side and reached for her hands. “I know this is difficult.”

“Do you?” she asked, irritation lacing her tone.

“Yes, yes I really do. But do you understand what this is like for me? I know him! I know who he is, was, and could be. I have lived hundreds of years with him as close to me as a brother as close as Clint is to you! What’s been done can’t be undone, but please, Nat! Give him a chance to redeem himself. He’s not the monster he tried to be. He’s not.”

“And maybe a thousand years have changed him into someone you don’t know anymore. Did you think about that?”

“I did. I have, but he’s still Loki. The boy who taught me to throw a dagger. The boy who played pranks with me on Thor. The boy who showed me magic when I was sad and took me to see his mother’s rose garden. We got in trouble together so often, Odin swore half his grey hair was my doing. He’s my brother, Natasha, and I love him. I would trust him with my life, no different than Steve.”

“You can say that after all the times he turned on Thor? Betrayed his actual brother?”

Releasing her hands, you stepped back. “I make no excuses for Loki. He was hurt and hurt others in return, but he would never betray me. Not ever. He was there for me when my mother passed, and I was so destroyed I thought I would die. He came to me when Helgi… when…” You turned away, unable to speak the words. “He was there till the end.”

“(Y/N)...” Natasha clasped your shoulder as you swiped away an unwanted tear.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be sjelevenn. You may see a part of it because of Steve and my relationship, but the ties that bind us… you just don’t know. Loki does. He’s my family, Natasha, even more so than Thor. I had no siblings, never have as a Valkyrie, but I always had Loki.”

“Don’t you call the other Valkyrie your sisters?” she asked, voice curious and without malice.

You smiled sadly over your shoulder. “There is a difference between words spoken and feelings. They may be my sisters in name, but I have always been their Queen. Even those closest to me were more subject than friend.”

Her eyes widened, but before she could say any more, you stepped out from beneath her hand and trailed after Loki. Whether your words would sway anyone’s opinion of him, you had no idea, but if you could change even a smidgen of Natasha’s, reduce some of the hostility between her and the God of Mischief, then you would be happy.

Waiting at the door for you, you noted the frown which had turned to a scowl with your arrival. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. She upset you. If your Captain takes his displeasure out on me, I will make sure to pass it on to Ms. Romanoff.”

“I’ll handle Steve. You just keep your nose clean and out of trouble. I’m tired of defending you to everyone all the time.” Throwing another punch, you hit him in the same spot as before. “You just had to go and be you on crack, didn’t you, you overpowered magician!”

“Ow!” he barked, rubbing his arm vigorously. “When did you become so violent?”

“I’ve always been violent!” Shooing away his hands, you threaded your arm through his elbow.

“I’m of half a mind to walk you into a hole.”

“I’m blind, but not that blind,” you grumbled.

“A tree branch, then. Right into a low hanging one that will smack you quite firmly in the face.”

“Don’t be mean, Loki.” Not that he could. You’d notice it coming long before he succeeded.

“You are the one who is hitting,” he grumbled.

“You are the one who deserved it.” Smiling, for you'd missed this, the banter between the two of you, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I missed you, Loki.”

His arm slipped from yours to wrap around your waist. “A thousand years, Sváfa. That's a thousand years too long.”

“Have you been digging, ugagn?”

“As much as I could without arousing suspicion.”

“And?”

He sighed. “You Valkyrjur are a secret lot. The temple is forbidden to the likes of me. Thor has made enquiries, but even he has been rebuffed.”

“And Odin?” The sound of his teeth grinding together had you pausing. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Thor and I decided not to say anything. If he knew… you know what he would do.”

“You honestly think the All-father doesn't know?” It made you snicker.

“He isn't who he once was. His power wanes.”

“Is that why I dream of him, then?”

“What?” Loki gasped, turning toward you.

Sighing softly, you stepped into him, resting your ear against his chest. “He calls to me.”

“He asks you to come home?”

You laughed softly. “Asks. You're funny.”

“You haven't told your sjelevenn, have you?”

“Steve knows.” You snuggled deeper into the warmth he exuded. He wasn't Steve warm by any means, but his arms around you were still comforting with the fall winds bringing cooler temperatures. “We don't have secrets, Loki.”

“But if Odin calls…”

“I am nothing if not stubborn. I’m not ready.”

His nose tucked into your hair as he held you, quiet for a long moment before speaking. “Will you ever be?”

“I don't know,” you sighed.

“I can't go another thousand years without you in my life Sváfa.”

“Loki.” Tears pricked your lids.

“The time grows near when I must return to Asgard. Do you want your present or not?” he asked abruptly, changing the subject when the tone grew heavy.

“Always. You know I like presents.” Sniffling back the tears, you pushed from his chest.

The heavy weight settled magically around your shoulders. The scent of fur, wool, and home filled your nose as softness tickled your cheek. Rubbing your face on the thick pelt, you drew Tove’s cloak closed and shut out the fall wind with ease.

“Before you yell at me, I left a copy in its place. No one will know it's gone.”

Bringing the thick, lush collar to your nose, you inhaled deeply. The meadow of the pegasi still clung to it — the scent of Alpine snows. The odour of the Marok Wolf from which the pelt came, muted now with time and age had an image of sharp teeth and snarling muzzle flashing in your mind.

“Is it the same?” you asked softly, unable to pull your mind from the memories the cloak invoked.

“The colour has faded with age.” His hand skimmed down the once dove grey wool. “This is nearly white now, a pearlescent cream. The fur, though, is still the steel grey and white brindle it has always been.”

Running your hand clad in metal over your shoulder and the thick fur, you could almost feel the magic of your first mother resonate between the two cherished items. “Thank you, Loki.”

“I have this for you as well.” Magic crackled in the air before the metal helmet slipped over your brow.

The comfortable fit showed it too had once been yours, fitting as it always had, a perfect circlet and your battle helm. The metal browband dropped down into a point between your eyes, wrapping back to protect your temples where flared wings rose. Lifting your hand, you touched the crest which rested in the center of your forehead, announcing your status in the royal house for those who knew what it meant.

“Loki… what game is fate playing with me?”

“I do not know, Sváfa.” He shook his head, for once as concerned as you were. “But if I were to return to you, your armour and your sword were to lie balanced in your hand, as perfect a fit as your helm, would that not show you where you belong?”

“I belong with Steve.” Reaching up, you made to remove the helmet only to have his hands stall yours.

“Could not the reason you sjelevenn is what he is, a super soldier of renown, be because you will need his strength on Asgard?”

“Loki…” you sighed, tired of this never-ceasing conversation.

“Just think about it, darling. Fate has taken a hand, given you a sjelevenn with more power than ever before. Placed you in a group which would stand with you should you need them. You have more strength at your back than ever before. If this is Gunborg’s doing, if she is somehow the cause of your life being thrown out of balance, then what better place for you to end up but with the Avengers?”

You blinked at him, shocked by his words and the passion in them. “How foul did that taste coming out of your mouth?”

He chuckled before sweeping you up into a tight hug. “You know me too well.”

“Even if that is the case… I would still face challengers because of my disability, Loki.”

“You would face one. One Valkyrie. Once you showed you are still Sváfa, daughter of Tove, Queen of the Valkyrjur, none would dare question you. You would be even more respected because you had overcome a challenge none before you had to face.”

“Still… I am not ready, Loki. I’m getting better, but I need more time.”

“Time is a fickle thing,” he said, pulling back. “No matter how much we have, it never seems to be enough.”

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