#which I’m also realizing is probably messed up that I feel the need to clarify that my parents didn’t make me feel loved or valued

[fixing-bad-posts]

Heya, I really really hope this doesn't come off as particularly rude, but I was wondering, why would bisexual women be considered lesbians sometimes and I think you also brought up transgender men and genderqueer ppl? For bisexual women, I just am kinda confused, they can be in lesbian relationships and lesbian spaces, but just describing them as lesbians seems kinda confusing because lesbian denotes specifically sapphic attraction at least from where I've always heard it, so wouldn't it be kinda confusing. And for the genderqueer folks or trans folks, wouldn't that just bring their genders closer to feminine and at least from what I've heard from some pple I know, they don't like non binary being seen as more womanly (I've heard it being described as woman-lite before annoying) and instead seen as a more inbetween which it sometimes isn't, because of bigotry and other things since nbs can be both fem or masc or androgynous, but wouldn't non woman lesbians kinda push it to be seen as kinda more fem or that person as more fem? I don't know and frankly I'm just kinda confused. I'm really really sorry that this probably comes off as super rude and I hope you forgive me. I frankly just want to learn a little more and have been reading up but wanted to know what you thought. And I just realized how long this was, so so sorry

hello anon! these days, i usually don’t answer asks like these because i’ve already done so several times, but you seem very well-meaning and confused, so i’ll do my best to help. first of all, please check my faq for resources and links about mspec labels and bi lesbians.

second of all—generally—here is my advice for when you encounter a queer label that confuses you:

1) literally just ignore it until you...

2) meet someone in your life who uses that label, at which point you might (respectfully) ask them what using that label means to them specifically, and why it’s important. i’ve done this in real life. the script is something like,

“it’s really cool to get to talk to someone in real life about this stuff—if i may ask, what does identifying as [insert label] mean to you, personally?”

you might also say,

“i’ve never met someone who identifies with [their label] before. would you mind giving me some pointers on the important things to keep in mind in order to respect your identity/make sure you feel respected by me?”

i’ve also never asked anyone to correct me if i mess up and say something rude, but i’m working on the confidence and charisma to be able to say that, because i owe that to others.

all of that said, i wanted to respond to some of your specific questions, and clarify a couple of things below the cut. to clarify:

1. “describing [bisexual women] as lesbians seems kinda confusing because lesbian denotes specifically sapphic attraction”. to be clear i am not the one describing bisexual women as lesbians, in this hypothetical situation. when i post about bi-lesbians, i am posting in support of people who—for whatever reason—chose that label for themselves. what i am not doing: advocating to redefine the classically understood definition of lesbian for the entire populous.

2. “wouldn’t it be kinda confusing”? yes! i understand it can be confusing, and i commend you for expressing your confusion instead of reacting in disgust or anger. there are so many things in the queer community that are confusing, even to me, and you don’t need to feel guilty for asking questions as long as you come from a place of genuine curiosity. being confused isn’t bad, and defining yourself in a way that confuses others is, likewise, no transgression.

3. “for the genderqueer folks or trans folks, wouldn’t [identifying as a lesbian] just bring their genders closer to feminine […] wouldn’t non woman lesbians […] be seen as kinda more fem”? the answer is: sort of. it depends entirely on how and why the person using this label came to these words. you wrote, “i’ve heard from some pple i know, they don’t like non binary being seen as more womanly”, and i have definitely also heard that! so, for people who feel that way, they probably wouldn’t want a label that evokes womanhood and/or aligns them with femininity assigned to them. but every person is different—so for some nonbinary people, they absolutely do not want to be seen as “woman-lite”, whereas for other nonbinary people, they might want to be seen closer to femme than masc, while still nonbinary. this goes back to what i said at the beginning: best practice is to ask the people in your life how they want you to respect them.

closing thoughts: i hope this clarified some things, but i understand that the topic may still be confusing—feel free to message me if you want a non-judgmental queer to talk things through with. i promise i’ll take you in good faith <3

[kamaribvb]

Talia’s Suffering Chapter Three: In Which an Investigation Sprinkled with Sarcasm is Conducted, Followed by An Escape

Member pairing: Y/n x Yoongi;

Genre: Fantasy, fluff, angst, and adventure;

Rating: PG-13;

Trigger warnings: talk of using alcohol to numb pain.

Word count: 3955;

Summary: After Y/n is re-united with the others, Adrian leaves Yoongi and Aileen in a room prior to taking Y/n to a separate room to discuss the Devil’s Brigade further. At Y/n’s insistent request, he uses a spell to view her memories firsthand, but it makes her fall unconscious. Once Adrian begins to view her memories, Aileen and Yoongi enter the room to wait for Y/n to wake up. Once she does, the three of them escape.

              After a moment, Aileen broke the silence by awkwardly clearing her throat to say, “Um, I hate to ruin the moment, but would you mind taking a raincheck so Talia and I can ensure she’s alright too Yoongi?”

              “Oh, right, I should probably bring you two up to speed on what happened after Adrian grabbed me. I’m uninjured, though he did wrestle me against a wall to prevent escape. Also, it turns out he did have a valid reason to bring us here, though the execution certainly has room for amelioration. Basically, he realized that the Devil’s Brigade could be nearby, and recognized the danger of being overheard by them. Once I stopped screaming, he explained that he’s part of a secret organization that regulates the interactions between the supernatural and humans. Furthermore, The Devil’s Brigade is an enemy of theirs, so until this mess is settled, I apparently have a new wizard guard. After that, he asked me a bunch of questions, and consequently I went into detail about how the organization works. Subsequently, he summoned you two back here. Oh, and I certainly did complain about being separated and pinned against a wall, but he didn’t seem to care much about my feelings, just my safety and what I could tell him.”

              Subsequently, Aileen walked over to try to wake up Adrian by clapping loudly near his face and yelling, “Oi, wizard-fella, time to wake up and answer for your revolting actions!”

              Accordingly, Adrian groaned from the black vinyl flooring prior to muttering with an arm across his eyes, “I’m not inclined to chat with you now, since your friend there apparently felt the need to knock a person unconscious.”

              “First of all, if you object to being knocked out, you should refrain from pinning people against walls against their will even after they stop struggling,” Aileen retorted. “Also, explain why you suddenly abducted her without warning or a word; a simple ‘It’s not safe here’ would’ve clarified your intentions tremendously and also taken around two seconds to say!”

              As a result, Talia growled in agreement from a few feet away, but undeterred, Adrian responded, “It is not my job to worry about her feelings or anyone else’s. Furthermore, if you would have preferred to risk being ambushed as they kidnapped Y/n instead, that’s your business, but what is part of my job description at this point is maintaining Y/n’s safety. And yes, it absolutely would have only taken a second or two for that to happen if they were already within the vicinity of the cave. So, I will not apologize if fulfilling that duty requires making you, her, or anyone else uncomfortable.”

              Talia’s growls became louder in response, so he added, “And will one of you convince that dragon to shut its meat hole before I must waste magic just to force her to in the name of curing this headache?”

“Excuse you, the reality is that she was just transported out of nowhere after a member of her family was kidnapped, and subsequently she witnessed the family in question being assaulted and disrespected, but you expect her to be all sunshine and roses while knowing she’s both pregnant and cursed? I have a piece of advise, Adrian: never become a doctor or mental health professional, since you clearly don’t have the sensitivity for it,” Aileen snapped as she petted Talia gently to assuage her discomfort.

               “That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” Adrian replied as he walked away with a gesture to indicate they should follow him. He also made Talia levitate.

               “Wait, Adrian, I’m not done talking to you and it is rude to walk away during a conversation,” Aileen protested as she followed him with Talia, Yoongi, and Y/n bringing up the rear. “Though your methods of client-preservation leaves much to be desired, the logic behind it is solid. But I don’t recall any of us consenting to being held captive here,” Aileen complained.

               Adrian turned around at that. “Look, Aileen, if you need to leave, be my guest, since the greater the number of guests I have the bigger the pain this mission will be and it is unnecessary for you to be here anyway.”

               “I believe you are missing the point, Adrian. None of us-not even Y/n-consented to being brought here, so explain to us why you picked this place to bring us to, specifically. Where did you bring us?”                “Be careful what you ask for, Aileen. The truth is that the more you know, the more of a liability you are and the less likely I will be to let you leave,” Adrian replied coldly while he peered over his shoulder. “It is Y/n that will collaborate with since she’s the target. Therefore, if are determined to remain here, I would recommend that you become accustomed to only being given the bare minimum amount of information. Same goes for you Yoongi,” he asserted while continuing to walk forward.

               “Liability?! It’s offensive that you and I met all of about five minutes ago and already you are making insulting accusations,” Aileen snapped. “Y/n and I may have a few disparate values and habits, but I love her and I would never intentionally betray her trust. Besides, I’m not leaving until Talia starts to recover, so depending on which task you intend to prioritize, I might be here for as long as Y/n is anyway.”

               “It is my job to evaluate any and all risks, and that includes any potential behaviors from the loved ones of clients,” he answered calmly. “Don’t be offended.”

               “I agree with Aileen, Adrian,” Yoongi declared from beside Y/n. “Y/n and I are a package deal, and I know that she will tell us whatever you tell her. So it’s appropriate to just be open with us from the start.”

               Consequently, Adrian stopped walking to turn around so he could gaze at Y/n directly. “I would recommend that you keep all information I give you to yourself, Y/n,” he insisted seriously. “It is obvious that our team is probably seriously outnumbered. Thus, it is imperative that our team have the element of surprise on our side.

               “I’ll consider it,” Y/n replied. In response to the hurt expression Aileen and Yoongi adopted, she hastily added, “Yoongi, Aileen, I know for a fact that neither of you would ever help them on purpose. But they don’t need you to cooperate on purpose to find out every thought you have ever had,” she spoke grimly as her shoulders tensed. “Neither of you are aware of just how disparate their values are from those of decent folk, but I learned that firsthand.”

               “Jagiya….” Yoongi whined.

               Y/n discerned what he wanted to ask. “I’d rather not talk about it, Yoongi. Hell, I need a drink to calm down from remembering a few of the pertinent details.” Y/n replied as she leaned against Yoongi’s shoulder.

               “I relate to that more than you know, Y/n,” Yoongi replied gently.

               “As a member of the QRS, I need more details about The Devil’s Brigade anyway so I can formulate the best plan possible to beat them.”

               Y/n groaned as she hid her face in Yoongi’s chest. “Why don’t you help me save Talia first? That’s what Yoongi is paying you for, anyway.”

               “I will be paid by my superiors.  But to answer your question, the type of curse on Talia is the kind that cannot be lifted without interference from the caster, or their death. Of course, that’s assuming the victim doesn’t die first.”

               Groans echoed across the room. “At least you stopped with the condescending nicknames. I appreciate that.”

               “Don’t become accustomed to it since the only reason I started calling you by your name is out of respect for Yoongi, who’s right here. I reserve the right to continue antagonizing you when he’s not in earshot.”

               “Oh goodie, I can’t wait. I love the nightmares that usually follow the flashbacks too, watching my family be torn apart by bears several feet away while my entire torso is chained to a metal pole is so entertaining!” Y/n declared sarcastically. “Maybe I should be the one to be the loquacious person, since remembering being enslaved by the Devil’s Brigade is intrinsically triggering without a loose cannon of a person being factored into the equation. Wait, aren’t you an expert on vampires already?”

               “Yes, but it would be suicide to attempt to infiltrate The Devil’s Brigade without knowing basic information, such as how large the organization is, and what they’re habits are. Besides, I love pushing people’s boundaries.

               Y/n’s teeth gritted at that. “Whatever. Yoongi, Aileen, are you two staying or leaving?”

               “I’m staying,” they both replied at once.

               “Adrian, is there a spell you can use to access my memories while I refrain from thinking about them?” Y/n asked.

               “Maybe. Why?”

               “I prefer to refrain from recounting what happened unless it’s absolutely necessary…I hate crying and I hate crying in front of people even more!”

               “What will I receive in return for humoring you?”

               Yoongi began to speak, but he was interrupted by Adrian leading them through a doorway to a room with bunkbeds, a seating area, and a kitchenette as he stated, “If you have your heart set on remaining here, I suggest you and Aileen hang out here until I come retrieve you, Yoongi. This is one of the guest rooms, and I’m not the one that pays to keep it stocked, so feel free act as though you are at home. I don’t know how long our talk will last, but the Wi-Fi password is hidden beneath the stand of the flatscreen tv.” And with that, Adrien grabbed hold of Y/n’s wrist as he began to leave, but Aileen quickly blocked his path.

“Y/n and Talia are family to me, so I will not allow you to keep me out of the loop regardless. Besides, I can’t keep you from bullying Y/n or Tal if I’m not there to witness it. So, the four of us can have this talk here or somewhere else.”

“I’m not willing to wait here under these circumstances either. The last time you were alone with my girlfriend, you pinned her against a wall and almost made her cry.” Yoongi verbalized as he walked to stand next to Aileen.

               Adrian gagged. “Ya’ll are making me sick with all this sappy loyalty speak. Besides, I’ve decided that neither of you have a choice about being kept out of the loop. I’m not inspired to be accommodating at the moment, so your options are to return home, be kept in this room by force, or to stay here willingly for however long I deem necessary. As a matter of fact, I’m not above trapping you here and charging extra for the magic I must use to accomplish this.”

               “Adrien, you are already guilty of kidnapping us. So it appears as though that you are the one who has to accommodate us if you plan to stay out of jail-“

               Adrian burst out laughing. “Wow, you are such a simpleton. Even after Y/n told you that I’m the police force for the supernatural, you still believe that you can one-up a wizard cop by threatening to report me to the same people who wrote the protocols I follow! Nice try, sweetheart, but I’m still the one in charge, and I’ve run out of patience.” With a snap of his fingers, Aileen flew to the nearest armchair, and though she struggled, she couldn’t stand. As he ignored the stream of curses Aileen launched at him, Adrian shoved past Yoongi and pulled Y/n behind him by the wrist.

               “Was any of that truly necessary?” Y/n demanded from behind him.

               “Is anything ever necessary?” He replied with a shrug. “Besides, wouldn’t it be preferable for only one person to be in your audience when you recount your experiences?”

               As Y/n glanced behind here, she noticed Aileen and Yoongi following them. “Oh, speaking of that. Adrian, for the sake of me and this mission, I insist that you use that spell, and I’m not just saying that for the reason that I hate recalling these memories. Flashbacks suck and are emotionally taxing, yes, but depending on how severe it is, it can force me completely lose touch with my surroundings. It’s awful enough to experience that in a familiar place with people I’m familiar with but being in an unfamiliar place with a seemingly apathetic, unfamiliar person prone to unexemplary behavior will exacerbate the situation.”

               “Again, what will I receive in return?”

               “How about a client that is fully present in the moment and not aloof, and brownie points for not torturing me?”

               “No dice. Try again.”

               Y/n sighed. “What do you want?”

               “You could dance for me while I prepare the spell.”

               Y/n did a double take. “Are you high? I’m dating Yoongi, so I won’t dance for you, you creep!”

               Adrian gave her an annoyed look. “I’m not asking to be seduced, woman! If you require me to put additional effort into this mission, I require entertainment from you, since members of the Quintessential Regulation Squad are forbidden from charging clients’ money. Would you rather sing?”

               Y/n gave him an annoyed look right back. “Since when is it appropriate for a contractor to demand anything other than money in return for services? You know, I don’t technically need your help to destroy The Devil’s Brigade. Yoongi has several friends that know how to fight, and I bet they’d help conquer the Devil’s Brigade if I asked them.”

               “It’s adorable that you believe I’ll allow you to battle them without my help. We’re a package deal until they are annihilated, remember?”

               “Says you. Why would I need your protection, Adrian? I hired you to help Talia, not stalk and annoy us to death. I’m going home if you don’t agree to use the spell.”

               “You are free to travel anywhere, but I’ contractually obligated to stick with you for the time being. My job will be easiest if you stay here, so I suggest you stay here if intend to demand any extra favors from me.”

               As he finished saying that, he pulled out a key to unlock a door to a room similar to the one Aileen and Yoongi had been left in, except this one was gargantuan enough to fit Talia and instead of a kitchenette, there was a laboratory.

               Adrian went to sit down at a desk facing the doorway and leaned back in the chair. “You still haven’t voiced your decision Y/n. Is it honesty time or dance time?”

               “I hate you.”

               “I’m heartbroken to hear that,” Adrian snarked sarcastically. “I could just brainwash you into recounting everything. You’ll still be aware of what you are saying, so I’ll have the opportunity to enjoy watching you suffer and receive all the information I need. Win win!”

               “Again, I reiterate: I hate you. I don’t suppose you would change your mind if you knew that I abhor dancing?”

               “You are correct.”

               Y/n sighed deeply as she pulled out her phone to play her favorite playlist on YouTube. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

               “I reserve the right to react however I deem appropriate, but I doubt you are funny enough to warrant laughter.”

               While Y/n danced awkwardly with reddened cheeks, Adrian busied himself by moving around in his wheeled desk chair with his feet to grab this green substance in a black bottle or that blue bottle and such. After a few minutes, he opened a secret compartment to pull out a large cauldron, at which point he dumped various substances into its depths. He subsequently turned the stove beneath it on and began to stir the mixture inside as it heated up. After a few minutes, he stopped stirring to stare at Y/n from his desk chair, smirking all the while.

               “You are creeping me out by staring so much. Knock it off!”

               “And you are nauseating me with all these sappy slow songs. I want you to sweat, so pick up the pace.”

               “Bitch, you are lucky that I’m dancing at all!”

               “Would it help if I joined you? I’m an excellent dancer. Ready or not, here I come!” And with that, Adrian darted towards Y/n, with his arms stretched out to wrap around her waist. However, Y/n dodged his grasp, and promptly took off running away. Thus, there they were, running around in circles in the room and unbeknownst to Y/n, Adrian used his magic to increase the humidity of the room. Soon, Y/n was sweating, so Adrian stopped chasing.

               “All right, that’s enough playing around. Time for you to dunk your head in the cauldron, Y/n.”

               Y/n stared at him strangely. “You didn’t say it would be necessary to put my head in anything. What is in there anyway?”

               “Nothing that’ll harm you, since I won’t be paid as much if the client is harmed while I’m on duty. In fact, if the potion is left to sit too long, the spell will wear off and I won’t prepare the spell again.” With that, he shoved her gently towards the cauldron, so after glaring at him suspiciously, Y/n obeyed. Fortunately, immersing her head in the cauldron wasn’t an unpleasant experience, partially for the reason that she could still breathe. In fact, she soon began to feel sleepy, so it wasn’t long before she fell unconscious. Immediately after she fell unconscious, the liquid surrounding her began glowing blue, and at that point Adrian pulled her out of the cauldron and dragged her to a nearby armchair to position her on it. After he made sure her body was comfortably positioned, he turned to dive headfirst into the cauldron.

               After Adrian was out of sight, Yoongi walked in with Aileen. While they walked through the doorway, Yoongi quietly explained the spell that Adrian had used on Y/n, so neither of them were concerned about Y/n being unconscious with wet hair in an ornate but comfortable chair. Instead, they sat in a chair on either side of her.

               “So… Am I the only one who thinks Y/n had a point when she asserted that she didn’t need Adrian’s help with taking down the Devil’s Brigade?” Aileen asked.

               “No, I agree. Besides, I’m not interested in working with any organization that condones humiliating and abducting and behaving in an abase manner towards vulnerable clients. So, it seems as though escaping with us is in Y/n’s best interest, but what about Talia?”

               “I could stay behind to ensure he doesn’t hurt Talia. Or would your wizard friends be willing to teleport her somewhere safe until our people annihilate The Devil’s Brigade?

               “Possibly. Regardless, Y/n would insist that I wait until she wakes up to escape with her, so that’s what needs to happen. By the way, would you mind if I ask Jungkook and the others to send you and Talia to your place? That way, Adrian will be less likely to know where to find any of us.”

               “I won’t mind since I have a barn in my backyard that is colossal enough to fit her comfortably with room to spare, and that means I won’t need to employ my babysitter for as long as I would otherwise. I wonder when Y/n will wake up?”

               “It could be anywhere from an hour to an entire day depending on the number of memories he extracted from her. We’ll probably be here for a while, given she was in high school when she was abducted, but I didn’t meet her until after she graduated from college and had escaped, so you can pull out your phone if you’d prefer, I don’t mind.”

               Aileen leaned towards Yoongi as she propped her head against her elbow on the armrest. “Thanks, but I’d rather spend this time conversing getting to know you. For example, how did you meet Y/n?”

Yoongi leaned back in the chair as he met her gaze. “During the night she and I met, she attempted to perform a ceremony to summon a demon so she could exchange her soul for help with taking down the Devil’s Brigade. Instead, she summoned me while I was in my bat form, and maimed my wing while she was at it. At first, she thought I was a normal fruit bat, so she called a veterinarian to schedule an appointment for repairing my wing. However, I obviously could not let her bring me to a vet since a vampire bat doesn’t have the same anatomy as normal bats, so as soon as her breathing became deep and even as she laid in her bed, I transformed back into my humanoid form to escape. But it turns out she wasn’t asleep, and she watched me transform. She was terrified at first, but once I began to walk away, she grabbed my arm from behind. That was when she talked a little about the Devil’s Brigade and asked if I would help her defeat them. I don’t know why I agreed, considering I was convinced that it was a terrible idea to let her return to her prison. Maybe it was for the reason that from the moment I met her, I had a feeling that she was would become special to me someday. Maybe it was due to the fact that I had just as much reason as Y/n to hate the Devil’s Brigade. But in any case, I did agree, and consequently I convinced her to let me teach her self-defense and vampire lore prior to destroying them.

Y/n began to wake up from beside Yoongi, so he quickly redirected his attention to her as he stood to kneel in front of her. After Y/n opened her eyes, she observed Yoongi’s face right away, so she smiled warmly at him.

He pushed her hair out of her face with a smile in response. “How are you feeling, jagi?

               Y/n stretched a little as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes. “A little groggy and sore, but otherwise I feel normal. I’m glad that you two are here, but how did you two escape? Didn’t Adrian magically attach you to a chair, Aileen?”

               “The three of us don’t have enough time for me to answer that, love, so I’ll tell you later. Y’know, Aileen and I were just discussing the possibility of escaping to handle the Devil’s Brigade on our own, so I’d like to know what your opinion is on that?”

               Her smile widened. “I’d love to!”

               And with that, the three of them walked out of the building arm in arm, with Y/n in the middle. Yoongi called a wizard friend to ask for a teleport to Aileen’s address, and consequently, within minutes Talia, Y/n, Yoongi, and Aileen were in the barn that Aileen mentioned.

               A few minutes after they left, Adrian re-emerged from the cauldron with a grim expression, but his face brightened when he realized that his clients had escaped. Consequently, he walked over to a wardrobe to retrieve a crystal ball that he used to spy on them from afar as he pulled out his cell phone.

               “Hey, boss, I found a lead for Public Enemy Number Two, so I would appreciate it if we could schedule an appointment to discuss the details.”

               “Of course. Come to my office immediately.”

               That meeting consisted of Adrian describing the events that transpired the past few days, and Adrian’s boss praising and scolding him in response as appropriate. Adrian left the room with a smile on his face after he and his boss had devised a plan to work together with their clients to defeat their worst enemy once and for all.

chapter one chapter two

[nope-body]

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[summercourtship]

Hi, could you write a nsfw oneshot or something for the Cenobite with a shy and modest fem survivor reader? Possibly include some fingering and using his hands. Thanks if you do!

I'm sorry this took so long, I obviously got a bit carried away. I have such a bad habit of needing SO MUCH exposition even for tiny one shots (or at least what are supposed to be tiny) but I’m not going to stop. I’m also not sure how well I fulfilled the idea of a “shy, modest” reader, but I think I managed to have elements of it without it becoming a stereotypical mess of stuttering and blushing.

summons [nsfw, 18+]

Pinhead (The Cenobite) x Reader | warnings: NSFW, reader could be interpreted as being a virgin but it’s not explicitly stated, I somehow made the Lament Configuration solving erotic (it’s what Clive Barker would want) | 3121 words

It was always unnerving to realize that a killer remembered you. To notice that shift in their expression as they placed your face to a memory, to an action that had made you stick out in their mind. Some killers seemed to remember everyone while others only recognized a select few. Some didn’t seem cognizant of doing either.

Luckily, you had always managed to fly under their radar. Even the killers that had memorized every survivor regarded you with an air of disinterest, preferring to go after the overtly obnoxious survivors (which was probably part of those survivors’ plans- Nea really hated fixing gens). Some could say that it was because you were boring, at least in the way of prey. You didn’t necessarily agree, but if killers thinking you were boring kept you alive you wouldn’t argue about it.

However.

There was one killer who seemed… overly interested in you because of this. Somehow your reserved nature was more intriguing to him than that of the unafraid or blatantly uncaring survivors. You didn’t understand it, but you also didn’t want to.

You didn’t want anything to do with it.

The Cenobite was an oddity among oddities- barely even touching the survivors and treating your suffering with a cold grace. In the few moments you’d been able to observe him, he seemed unaffected by anything, continuing his hunt seemingly without a care in the world.

When you were one of his designated playthings for a trial, you avoided the Box, even if it meant your continued survival. You couldn’t handle the thought of possibly summoning him, bringing the being you knew was somehow fascinated with you directly to your location.

You just did your damnedest to finish repairing gens and move on to the next trial with the usual indifferent killers, taking extra care to stealth when you knew he was coming. Because if he caught sight of you, he wouldn’t stop pursuing you throughout the trial, preferring to torment you than spread the pressure amongst your teammates.

But, despite your efforts, not every trial with him could work out this way, as was the case for the trial you found yourself in now. You had been just barely surviving through your stealth tactics when it seemed that the survivors were rapidly downed, one quickly falling after the other.

You rushed to pull them off hooks or patch them up enough to stand, only briefly hesitating when you felt your own safety was in danger. You pushed it aside, putting your team’s survival over your own sense of sanity. They would eventually pay you back in kind, and the cycle would continue.

But it seemed that luck was not on your side.

One, two, three survivors were all hooked for the last time, their cut off screams piercing the night air.

And suddenly, you were the only one left.

Somewhere, both too close and impossibly far away, a bell tolls.

You’re frozen in place, too on edge to even contemplate searching for the Hatch. You’d been in similar situations before, but this time felt different- it was as if the air was electrified from your nervous anticipation.

And never before had you been left alone with him.

Before long, the consequence of your hesitation becomes clear- the chains that he summons from nothing have started seeking you out, the few that reach you embedding their hooks in your skin. You hiss, jerking back into life and unhooking yourself, trying to be as careful as possible to not rip your skin off.

It would not be the worst pain you have felt in this place.

You set off, struggling through the terrain of the Macmillan Estate until you reach one of the smattering of brick walls that litter the Entity’s realms. Here, at least you would have some protection from the chains, giving you time to figure out what you were going to do next.

Find Hatch or wait by the Exit Gate, hoping he closes the Hatch with enough time for you to slip out? You’re debating the two options in your head, knowing full well it’s not the best use of your time but feeling unable to make a decision and get your feet moving.

You’d just mentally circled back around to the option of booking it for Hatch that you realize you were being observed. And he wasn’t even hiding like some of the others would, no crouching behind the brick or staying by the tree line. He’s simply standing there, as if waiting for you to realize he was there.

You look up at him, wondering how you hadn’t noticed his presence before. He blocks the only other exit from your shelter that isn’t a window, something you note with a growing sense of dread. No prey likes feeling cornered.

But he hasn’t moved to attack, just standing and staring at you. You take a moment to observe him back, noting the impassive expression on his face. He doesn’t move, even once you’d been made aware of him. You narrow your eyes and glare at him, ignoring the thwacking of the chains hitting the ground and walls behind you, already tired of whatever game he is playing, not in the mood to be toyed with.

“What do you want?” You ask, willing your voice to stop wavering. For once, you wanted to seem like the brave, outgoing survivor, willing to stand up to the killer for nothing more than the satisfaction of having done so.

A beat of silence, and you almost think he won’t answer. But he does, and his response is more confusing than clarifying.

“You.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

More silence.

Then, a crackling draws your attention downwards, to the small, unassuming box that lay on the ground in the space between you. The very box you had done your best to avoid touching, even looking at. You wonder, briefly, if it had been there the entire time.

“Solve it.” His voice is commanding yet gentle, coaxing yet sinister. There’s power behind it, a power that isn’t being utilized at the moment.

“No.” It’s an easy answer for you. There are few things you are sure of in the Fog, but not touching anything that belongs to a killer is one of them.

“Aren’t you curious?”

That was not what you had been expecting him to say. Suddenly, you were no longer sure about the subject of your conversation. The Box still lay between you, ready for your willing hands to run along its smooth surface, finding the small grooves that would lead you to further unlocking its mystery. But while you had been focusing on the Box, his eyes had never left you.

Because he knew that ultimately, yes. You were curious, and always had been. About everything, but you’d always been too shy, too afraid of other’s thoughts about you to try anything even mildly risky. Better to stay on the safe side and hear about other’s exploits instead of experiencing your own.

“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper.

“Then…” With a long fingered hand, he gestures to the Box.

Your hands shook as you reached down to pick it up, finding its smooth surface both warm and cool at the same time, its weight heavier than you had anticipated.

You looked back up at the Cenobite, ignoring the faint tinkling of a music box’s tune that you could now hear coming from the Box.

“What do I do?”

You were sure it couldn’t be but so difficult- less intelligent survivors had completed its puzzle under significantly more stressing circumstances than you. But you couldn’t bring your mind to command your hands to begin, some invisible wire holding your muscles back from taking action.

Maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, watching you intently.

He moved closer and you barely resisted the urge to move backwards, your grip on the Box tightening as if afraid he would take it from you. He stopped just before you and reached out, not to take the Box but to guide your hands. But instead of placing his hands over yours as you had anticipated, they hovered barely a centimeter above your skin.

“There is a force in this realm that makes solving the Lament Configuration child’s play.”

You look up at him, wondering if he had just delivered a thinly veiled insult. If he, in saying that solving it should be easy, was implying that you were too unintelligent to figure it out. You open your mouth to begin defending yourself.

“I-“

“You’ve refused it,” He continues as if you’d never started speaking, “even when it is to your detriment. But the Configuration is meant for those who seek to heighten their senses, for sensations that the earthly world cannot provide. Opening it is not supposed to be easy.”

You look down at your hands, at his.

“For those who summon us must be sure that it is what they want, for once we are summoned we cannot leave without a charge. It cannot be helped.”

He places his hands over yours now, guiding them along the edges of the Box (the Configuration, you correct yourself). Your hands are seemingly electrified from where his skin meets yours, though a sizable portion of his hand is covered in leather.

“Here it seems that, although alone, I work under different rules. The Box was made simpler and perverted into a means to assist in feeding this Entity.”

With his guidance, you are able to find the minuscule lines in the surface of the box, pushing and shifting the pieces until they form a completely new shape. But before you are able to push the final piece into place, thus completing the puzzle, he releases his hands and steps back.

“There is no need to finish it.”

You blink, feeling like you’d just woken from a hazy waking dream.

“But why did I do it in the first place?”

“I won’t have to hunt you down the next time we find ourselves facing each other. It is very tiresome when you hide from me constantly.”

He turns around like he’s about to go, either to finally kill you or let you scamper off to find the Hatch, but you aren’t ready for him to leave yet.

“Is that it?” You blurt out and almost take it back when he turns his head, indicating that you have his attention once more. But you swallow your fear and continue on, holding your chin higher. “You just wanted me to solve this box? To what? Prove to myself that I can, so that you don’t have to do as much work the next time you’re going to kill me?”

He whirls around, but there is barely any change in his expression from before. He was near impossible to read, you were quickly learning.

“I don’t get it- if you’re summoned for those who want pleasure or pain or whatever, why are you so interested in me? I don’t want any of that.”

“You don’t want pleasure?”

Your face heats up, any bravery you had felt in delivering your speech gone. You look down at your hands, still holding the almost solved Lament Configuration.

“The rules of this place may be different, but I am still obliged to answer the summons.” His words, at first, make no sense.

And then you realize what he is implying, and your face must be on fire for how hot it feels. If he was summoned for those who want whatever version of pleasure or pain he provided, then you solving the Configuration meant that he could…

Ohhhkay.

You turn from him, fully intending to put the box down and sprint for the Hatch and think about this encounter later at the campfire, but the quiet, nagging voice in the back of your head stops you.

Aren’t you curious?

Before you can rationalize and deny the urge, you act on impulse for once and press the final piece into place on the Box, the tinkling music stopping abruptly.

While you’ve had your back turned, he must’ve crept up closer on you, because you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder.

You gasp, both from surprise and the sensation of his touch once again on you. He slowly ran his hand down your body, from your shoulder down your arm, before making its way to your front. Your breathing was picking up, hitching in the back of your throat when his other hand snuck around and plucked the box from your grasp. It’s gone when you turn your head to look at it, and you’re too focused on his touch to really ponder what happened to it.

You reach out and press your own hand against the brick wall in front of you, using the rough texture to ground yourself in reality, as much as you could in the hellish purgatory that you were trapped in. But the reality of this moment was that he was touching you in such a simple way, barely vulgar at all, but you felt as if you were being lit on fire with the way his touch seared your skin, even over the layers of your clothes.

His fingers dance over the hem of your pants, toying with the button. You’d always liked that the Entity put you in pants most of the time, their practicality better for your environment than the potential fashion statements you could’ve been making in something else. But now you wish that the Entity had decided to put you in one of the nonsensical outfits the others occasionally donned, if just for the easy access a skirt provides.

Nonetheless, he deftly undid the button and continued his journey down your body, not bothering to even pull your pants down. He completely ignored your underwear, apparently not in the mood to tease you over the fabric. You weren’t complaining, wanting whatever he was going to give you as quickly as possible.

It was now that you fully realized how cold his hands were, which only made you more aware of every centimeter of your skin that he ran his fingers along. Down over your stomach, a feather light touch that was approaching where you needed it the most.

The Cenobite found his way in between your legs with little fanfare, finally exploring the part of your body that, unbeknownst to you, he had thought of whenever he saw you in a trial. He toyed briefly with just running his touch up and down your slit, causing you to shudder and drop your head. But before long, he ended up at that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking it just to hear you moan. His finger circled around your clit, applying just enough pressure for it to register in your mind but not enough to really scratch the itch that had been building since he’d placed his hands over yours to solve the box.

He was silent behind you, but you didn’t think he wasn’t actively enjoying what he was doing to you, if the way his teasing touches would briefly speed up when you let the little sounds building up behind your lips escape was any indication. Or the way his breathing, though quiet and low, would hitch when you would whimper, groan, hiss.

He finally moved lower, teasing at your entrance. You whimper again, closing your eyes. But he didn’t do anything aside from dipping his fingers in, for barely a second, giving you just a taste of the pleasure you needed. He teased more than you would have expected, but you also wouldn’t have expected him to want to fuck you.

“Please,” your whisper is broken, your mind hazy and unable to compose a more elegant plea. You curse under your breath when he does it again, moving back up to your clit to circle it a couple more times.

“You can do better than that,” He says, and you, in your fuzzy mind, think you detect a hint of humor in his voice.

“Fuck- please.” You roll your hips, as if to entice him to finally get to it. But he holds fast, your (pathetic) attempt to seduce him into giving in to your whims failing. He pauses in his movements.

“Fine! Please, please, please, please fuck me, put your fingers in me, I don’t care just please make me cum!”

You wonder, briefly, in the back of your mind, if the Entity is watching.

Two of his fingers finally slip into you, and you barely hold back a curse, forgetting whatever inane thought you had before. All you could focus on was the fact that he was finally giving you what you wanted, that he was finally done teasing.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, dragging them along your walls and hitting every sensitive spot that you didn’t even realize existed within you.

“For such a shy woman, you make delightful sounds,” He mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear over the heartbeat pounding in your ears. Whether it’s yours or his, you cannot tell.

Quickly, much too quickly, you feel your climax approaching, and any sense of the amount of time you’ve spent at his mercy is lost to you. All you know is that he is touching you in a way that makes you feel like no one has ever made you feel and that you want to reach your peak now.

As it builds, you release a litany of pleas, begging with broken words and fragmented sentences.

You finally finish with a sharp, drawn out and shuddering gasp, his fingers curling into the spot that makes your toes curl, sharply punctuating every ripple of pleasure that your body rides.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it is over.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you turn to face the Cenobite, who looks as unaffected as he had before. He examines his glistening fingers not even looking at you when he tells you to find the Hatch. If you’re stung by his sudden disinterest in you, you don’t show it, opting to add it to the growing mental list of things to think about later.

On shaky legs, you comply with his demand, stealing one last glance back at him as you leave him. You had no idea if this would be a one off occurrence, or if he would regularly find his own way to answer your summons, if he would make good on his statement that he is summoned for those who wish for pleasure and pain.

The only way to find out would be to summon him.

___

ao3 link

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

[mc-lukanette]

Omg I am loving your dreaded string of fate au this is such an interesting take! As always your writing and ideas absolutely amaze me You are such a wonderful writer! If it isnt too much of a bother could we get some more writing for dsaf? Either way I hope you are staying safe, taking care of yourself, and that overall life is doing you good.

Thanks, everyone! And sure, you can have more!!

—————

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Luka wasn't sure why Marinette had called him over that day. As far as he knew, she was busy with projects, though he wouldn't complain about spending some time with her.

Still, he found himself tensing and steeling himself up as he walked up the stairs to her living room. The hum of her sewing machine could be heard as he got closer, reminding him of clothes, which led to the thought of thread, which then brought his mind to the red string of fate wrapped around her neck. His last venture as Viperion seemed to have improved his sensing, so now he could see someone's red string even if the person on the other end wasn't nearby.

Needless to say, he wasn't looking forward to it with Marinette.

He closed the living room door behind him, then went up the staircase, knocking to let Marinette know he was there. The sound of the sewing machine stopped, and he heard her footsteps come closer followed by the slight creak of the trapdoor.

Marinette's face was revealed to him, offering him a smile, and Luka tried not to stare too much at the red string still tied around her neck. He swallowed, but smiled back at her, which was genuine enough even if he was uncomfortable.

"Come on up," she welcomed, holding the trapdoor up for him. He nodded and walked up the rest of the stairs, hearing the trapdoor close behind him as he took a look around the room. He felt Marinette's eyes on him, but she voiced her thoughts before he could wonder about them.

"You didn't bring your guitar?" she asked.

He glanced at his back, then at her, having no way of telling her the real reason why he'd chosen not to bring it. "Yeah, I didn't. Sorry, did you want me to play for you?"

"Oh! No, it's okay—I mean, of course I love it when you play for me so I always want—but I understand!" She thankfully dropped the subject there, turning away to return to her seat. "You can make yourself at home or help yourself to the fridge downstairs if you want anything!"

"Thanks," he said with a smile, heading over to her chaise lounge and taking a seat on it. Even with Marinette's chair turned away from him while she used her sewing machine, he could still see the red string dangling off the side, though it faded into full transparency before it hit the floor.

In truth, he'd left his guitar behind to force himself to use less music and more words. He didn't want to hide behind it to try and ease his situation or make himself more comfortable with everything. The situation the love of his life - and more importantly, his friend - had gotten into through no fault of her own was horrible, and no matter how uncomfortable he was, he couldn't have been any more uncomfortable than her being strangled by fate itself.

He watched her, waiting for a lull in her work to ask, "Did you need anything?"

"Hm?" She looked over her chair to meet his gaze.

"I'm happy to be here anyway, but I didn't know if you needed me for something," he clarified.

"Oh." She understood. Waving a hand dismissively, she assured, "No! I just invited you here to hang out—" She gestured to her sewing machine, her eyes a bit shifty. "—with me, while I was busy but totally happy and relaxed and everything!"

Her wording was inherently suspicious. His eyes scanned over the room, noting the projects littered about that seemed so plentiful. He supposed he hadn't exactly been subtle in his concern for her, but he wasn't sure of exactly what tipped her off or made her feel like she had to "prove" her happiness to him.

Besides, he knew better, and he knew her. Even with the smile she gave him, her brows were furrowed and twitching, a tiredness to her eyes that definitely didn't show what he would call "happiness."

He gave her a nod anyway, not wanting to call her out when he was still piecing things together himself, and he didn't want to confirm her worries if she was merely suspecting that he felt that way.

He leaned back while she returned to working, his hand on the cushion underneath him as he considered what to say. If Sass was right in his beliefs, then Luka indeed had the power to change Marinette's fate, though there wasn't any specific method of how. He thought back to all of their conversations, wondering what he would've done differently if he'd known beforehand and trying not to get bogged down by "what if"s or blame himself for it.

He stared silently at the back of Marinette's head, remembering the day at the ice rink when he saw the same thing. She'd been running away, or more specifically running towards Adrien after he'd encouraged her to do so. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but from what he gathered from interactions he'd either seen or heard about, it hadn't gone anywhere. Maybe it hadn't even gone well at all.

Maybe he'd made a mistake?

Luka's mind grew heavy with the thoughts, his body falling back to lay down on Marinette's chaise. He didn't regret doing what he felt was right, but now he wondered if his wording could've been better.

"You should probably go over and talk to him."

He hadn't exactly been thinking at the time - a lot had happened that day - but he noted that he could've asked her how she felt. He could've questioned her on if she really wanted to go after Adrien. It was possible she'd wanted to go home on the subway with him, but was convinced to chase Adrien when he brought it up. Luka just imagined Marinette seeing Adrien and Kagami together, the red string tightening around her neck and then loosening when she was presented with the prospect of going after him.

He felt like he was the one being strangled, just thinking about it.

"Luka?"

He looked up, surprised, seeing that Marinette had stopped sewing at some point and had come to sit on the chaise lounge with him. She hovered over him, concern written across her features and the red string taunting him with its mere existence. Luka knew by now that she was very worried about him, and trying to wriggle or half-lie out of it wasn't going to convince her. He'd just really thought that she would've been sewing for longer.

He also jolted up into a sitting position upon realizing that he probably looked like he was making himself too comfy on her chaise lounge. She didn't seem to mind at least.

"...Marinette," he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts in order. She leaned closer as a sign that she was giving him her attention, and he continued, "Do you know why I let you go that day?"

She tilted her head and he belatedly caught that he hadn't been specific, still too lost in his own head. He opened his mouth to clarify, but realization struck Marinette before he could speak, her brows raising in recognition.

"Oh!" she gasped. Though the conversation was sudden, she didn't seem to mind rolling with it. "Um, yeah, I wondered about that sometimes. I mean, I knew that you knew that I—but I didn't know that you—but if you didn't back then, I—"

"No, your song was definitely in my head, even back then," he confirmed casually, smiling as he added, "Since the day we met, remember?"

She blushed at the mention of his confession, but nodded. "Y-yeah." Then, seeming to rethink the moment with that information in mind, she asked, "...Why did you let me go then?"

His eyes flickered to the red string, then back up to her face. "I want you to be happy, Marinette, no matter who it's with. I thought that Adrien would do that, but I hope I didn't make you feel like you had to go after him."

She blinked, the thought having seemingly not even occurred to her. She averted her gaze, her eyes darting around at nothing in particular. "Is...is that why you were looking like that?"

He didn't answer, but that was answer enough for her.

"Oh, Luka," she murmured sympathetically. "I—well—" She shifted uncomfortably. "—I shouldn't be talking to you about this. It'd be wrong when my feelings are so messed up. You..."

He shook his head. "You can talk about Adrien if you want. I'd be happy if you relied on me more."

He meant it. Even regardless of his fate sensing, he wanted Marinette to feel comfortable talking to him, even if it was about her love problems. He didn't want their relationship to be changed because of his feelings for her.

"Even more?" She raised a brow, the concept confusing her, but she didn't question him further. She hesitated, rubbing her cheek in thought, then dropped her hands to her lap and twiddled her fingers. "I-I don't know; about Adrien, I mean. I—" She sighed, giving a halfhearted shrug. "—he's not interested in me. He likes Kagami, but the girls kept telling me that I shouldn't give up on him because of how hard I tried." Then, stiffening, she waved her hands and rapidly assured, "N-not anything against your sister, of course! That's just what happened—and—" She huffed in frustration. "—it feels like I hit a wall, and I'm not going anywhere. Adrien doesn't notice me and I can't talk to him and... I'm tired."

Luka nodded silently to let her know that he was both listening and sympathetic towards her plight, also not wanting to interrupt her.

"Of course I tried hard, but Adrien and Kagami seem like they're good for each other and they should be happy together. Just, whenever I think of giving up or not trying, I..." She raised a hand to her neck in a gesture that he immediately understood. "It hurts, and Alya's always trying to get me together with Adrien no matter what I say. Maybe she knows best and maybe she's right, and that's why I always end up in crazy situations with him. Plus, everyone..." She looked away, her voice not having the enthusiasm one would imagine her next words would go with. "...everyone keeps saying we're made for each other."

Luka clutched his leg to ground himself while struggling to keep a straight face. He'd certainly never heard that one before, but it stung like his neck did just thinking about it. His lips pressed together, trying to contain his emotions, but he couldn't help blurting out, "No one's made for anyone."

She blinked at him, shocked, but he didn't take it back or apologize for saying it so suddenly. He recognized the fact that he was talking about destined love being nonexistent when he himself knew that "fate" was very much a real thing, but his actual opinion on the subject hadn't changed. As far as he was concerned, fate's "opinion" was about as valid as anyone else's when it came to someone else's relationship.

"No matter what Alya, or even Rose, say about you and who you love, Marinette, all that matters is you and who you want to play for. You deserve someone who makes you happy." He paused, lamenting the reality that she really hadn't gotten to think about it. "Does Adrien make you happy?"

He saw the string tighten, Marinette opening her mouth to respond before she seemed to stop herself. He felt like apologizing, but knew she wouldn't understand even if he did. She frowned, staring down at her lap and appearing conflicted with herself, so he reached out and carefully hovered his hand over her shoulder in a show of comfort. She glanced at his hand, noticing the gesture, but didn't immediately give him any sort of permission.

Then, to his surprise, she brought her hand up, gently grabbing his wrist and lowering it so his hand was placed perfectly on her shoulder. She didn't even let go, keeping his wrist held like she needed his hand there.

"...Luka," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I—no, you'll laugh, or think I'm crazy."

He squeezed her shoulder, not hesitating to insist, "I won't. I'm here for you, Marinette."

She finally met his gaze, and he saw a vulnerability there that wasn't there before. She was nervous, whether of his potential reaction to whatever she had to say, or something else entirely.

She took a breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she composed herself. The silence stretched, though he could tell that she was steeling herself up.

"The—the Adrien pictures," she began, tossing a pointed look to the wall where they were. "I don't remember putting them there."

He kept his expression schooled, not wanting her to overthink his reactions. Careful and quiet, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I-I mean, obviously I started putting them there, back when I first met him," she admitted, "but I took them down. They'd been down for a while."

Luka could confirm that. He'd been to Marinette's room before when she'd been sending in their Kitty Section audition to Bob Roth, and the pictures weren’t there.

She continued, "I-it hurt when I did it, but I did, and I threw most of them away. But then—when I wake up sometimes, they're back, and I don't remember putting them up. I-I mean, maybe I did but I just don't remember it? I stay up late sometimes and I won't remember falling asleep, so it might be like that, you know? I-I know you're not exactly like me and I'm sure you don't sleepily put pictures on your wall but..."

He smiled as best as he could, even though he was hurting inside. "I know as well as you do that creativity doesn't have a schedule."

She managed a smile in return, but it returned to a frown as she dropped her gaze to her lap. "A-anyway, I can forget things, but it's never been that bad, and sometimes they'll be gone for a while but then they'll be back a few days later. There's just—there's no other explanation, so it has to be me, right? I-I don't know if it's a sign or what, but if it is then I don't know what it's telling me? Because whenever there are a lot of pictures—" She made a vague gesture with a wave of her free hand, cringing as she added, "—something humiliating always happens. That usually gets me to take them down again, but then... well, you know." She rubbed the back of her neck with a hand, blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy. I-I swear, I'm not trying to—"

"I believe you."

Her mouth halted mid-sentence, hanging open as she stared at him.

"I believe you, Marinette," he repeated, giving her shoulder another squeeze. He didn't need any further detail to know what happened, as there was no way Marinette would take down those pictures and then put them back up the next day, or even the day before that. It didn't make any sense, and while he hadn't seen the wisps of fate move things or brush them aside, he had seen them trip Marinette, meaning they had some level of physical control. It explained it all: the convenience of the pictures appearing and disappearing, as well as the amount of them there'd be.

"T-thank you," she murmured, her lips briefly moving to form extra words but nothing coming out. She looked shy, possibly from admitting something she hadn't told anyone before, but she at least wasn't so nervous anymore.

"You don't need to thank me," he assured, "but you're welcome. Just know that you can tell me anything."

She ducked her head, peeking up at him to ask, "How much do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're comfortable sharing with me," he replied.

"Everything?" She'd said it quickly, as if she'd blurted it out, but she didn't panic afterward. She merely looked at him, hope in her eyes.

He nodded without hesitation, wanting her to be certain that he meant it. She searched his gaze for a few more seconds, one last shred of doubt remaining, but he knew he'd convinced her when her body relaxed and she smiled at him with her whole heart. Her grip on his wrist lightened, her hand sliding off and back down to her side. He pulled back as well, his heart a mixture of emotions but mostly just happy to see her happy.

"I..." She turned away, facing her trapdoor. "I'm going to get some snacks first."

He watched as she pushed herself up, then stood as well to follow after her. "Do you want any help carrying them?"

She looked at him, confused. "You don't have to."

Instead of responding with the obvious - that he wanted to - he simply replied, "You're not alone anymore, Marinette."

He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand. He let himself get lost in the warmth of her gaze, hoping that he might see it more one day if he could ever get her string removed, even if her warm gaze would end up being for someone else.

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[bluejayblueskies]

i cannot stop thinking about tma hell's kitchen au

(@f0xesand0wls thank you for enabling me)

- elias is the head chef, and peter and gertrude are his sous chefs. there are 20 total chefs in the competition: red team: jon, tim, georgie, daisy, naomi, agnes, gerry, jordan, helen/michael, oliver blue team: martin, sasha, melanie, basira, mike, jude, julia, jared, jane, manuela

- the black jackets are jon, martin, tim, sasha, georgie, and melanie, and the finalists are jon and martin. the winner is probably martin, but it doesn't really matter, because the actual plot of this is a jonmartin rivals-to-friends-to-lovers slowburn

- annabelle is the one who puts all of the film and audio together at the end. jmart watch the show once it's put on television and go 'what the fuck i didn't say any of that' because that's how reality tv is babey

- martin is one of those chefs who does poorly at the beginning but gets better and ends up in the final two. even though he's not on the same team as jon, jon is like 'this guy sucks' and maybe martin messes something up for jon early on and jon decides he does not like martin.

- jon is so nervous that he's going to screw up and get sent home early (he doesn't have formal culinary training and feels deeply underqualified) so he's very stiff and overly professional at the beginning. he relaxes over time as he becomes more confident in his own cooking and as he does well at challenges and dinner services.

- somewhere around chapter/episode 5, martin tells jon that he doesn't have any formal culinary training and that he said he did in order to get into the restaurant job he had prior to coming on the show. he's been cooking for his mother since he was ten though, and jon surprises himself by saying that that's a lot more impressive than studying technique in france or something. that's the catalyst of their transition from rivals into friends

- somewhere around episode 8, jude (who got switched to the red team a few episodes prior) gets eliminated, but on the dinner service before she does, there's an incident in the kitchen and jon's hand gets burnt pretty badly (not so badly that he has to go home, and he fights through the rest of dinner service because of course he does). he insists he doesn't have to go to the hospital for it, and elias reluctantly agrees and has the medic look at it. in the dorms later, martin helps jon unwrap it and put more burn cream on it and change the bandages and... yeah <3

- daisy and jon do not get along at first, and daisy actually tries to sabotage jon early in the season/fic. jon nearly gets eliminated because of it and he is not happy. then, a good few episodes later, the red team wins a challenge and they go on some sort of outdoorsy award and something happens and jon saves daisy from getting seriously injured. they're on better terms after that.

- when jon, tim, sasha, martin, melanie, and georgie get black jackets, elias (like every actual season of hell's kitchen) brings their family members/friends in for them to see. jon gets his grandmother, tim his brother, sasha her mother, georgie her best friend alex, and melanie some of her ghosthunt uk (the restaurant) friends. the only person martin has is his mother, and they tell him that she was too sick to come, but he can't shake the feeling that she just didn't want to. she didn't even agree to make him a video. it's a very awkward affair, and after the challenge (which tim wins) jon stands by martin while they're... idk, peeling 200 pounds of potatoes or something and they talk about it and they talk about a lot of their personal lives. for most of the competition, they're very aware that they're on camera at all times, but jon decides that being there for martin is more important than worrying about that.

- jon wins the next black jacket challenge and, when asked who he wants to invite on the reward, invites martin. they get to go wine tasting in a beautiful vinyard together and then they get some time to sit in the vinyard and just relax. martin probably realized he had a crush on jon around... episode/chapter 8? pretty soon after his admission that he doesn't have formal training. this episode is when jon realizes that he has a crush on martin, and the wine tasting suddenly seems very romantic and he gets very flustered. martin just thinks he's getting nervous since they're getting closer to the end of the competition.

- it's martin and jon in the finals. martin has tim, melanie, basira, and agnes on his bridage and jon has sasha, georgie, daisy, and gerry. in the middle of the entrees, something goes very wrong in martin's kitchen (not because of martin, because agnes burns like... ten racks of lamb or something ridiculous like that) and it looks like martin might not even be able to finish and he's freaking out just a little bit, so jon does something incredibly stupid and tells sasha to take charge of the kitchen for a moment and goes over into the other kitchen and pulls martin aside and takes martin's hands in his and is like 'it's okay, you're okay, everything's going to be okay. you're extremely talented and an amazing chef and an amazing person and i love you and this is not your fault and you're going to go back out there and get things back on track.'

jon goes back to his kitchen, elias yelling at him the whole way, and martin kicks agnes out and gets his kitchen back under control and they have no other issues that night. and martin's brain completely skips over the 'i love you' until the end of service, when the adrenaline wears off and they start to clear down and jon gives him this smile and suddenly martin remembers and he's like 'oh fuck'

but jon doesn't say anything about it so martin assumes he hadn't meant to say it, because of course he didn't, because they're competing for a job and $250,000 and he probably just heard jon wrong or something. jon probably said 'i love your cooking' and martin's just being stupid and letting his crush get away from him. so they both go back and sit in the dorms and wait for elias to call them up to his office. meanwhile, jon also remembers that he accidentally let i love you slip and he's having a bit of a crisis about it because on the one hand he meant it, but on the other hand he should not have said it then and martin hasn't said anything, so maybe he didn't even hear.

still, martin needs to thank jon. so he's eventually like 'thank you for what you did back there. i don't think i would have made it through service without what you said.' then, after a moment, because it is a competition: 'why did you help me? you could have let me drown and you'd have a secure win'

and jon just shrugs and says, 'because you needed help, and i... i care about you. i didn't want to see you fail. you are a good chef, martin, and i... i know you deserve this job just as much as me. you can go work at elias's restaurant and i can go back to mine and... and that'll be okay, if that's what happens'

and martin realizes suddenly that jon lives across the country from him normally and he doesn't know if he'll be able to see jon after this (chefs are busy people, after all, not a lot of time for family and such) and before he can really think about it he's like 'i wouldn't be okay with that' and then when jon just looks at him he clarifies, 'i... i don't want to just go back to living in [washington?], working all day and coming home to an empty apartment, and you'll go back to [new york?] and i... will i even see you again? because it's been so nice, being here, being with you, and i want to see you again, jon. every day.' he hesitates a moment, then decides fuck it, if i'm wrong, at least i'll only be embarrassed for a little while longer and says, 'what you said during service. did you mean it?'

and jon, tentatively, is like, 'that you're a good chef? yes, martin, i meant it, of course i did' and martin's like 'no, the... the other thing you said. right in the middle of it all. i- i don't know if i heard you right, and i just... i need to know if you meant it'

and it would be easy for jon to say no, to pretend like he didn't. but instead, he sits next to martin on the couch and takes martin's hand in his and nods and says, 'i... i've meant it for quite some time, i think' and he smiles at martin, a little bit shy, and martin's overwhelmed with affection and he reaches for jon's face, leans forward, and--

and the phone rings. unfortunately. because elias made a decision

- martin's door opens and jon's doesn't. jon thinks he should feel crushed, and he does feel disappointed, but mostly he's just so, so happy for martin. martin is stunned, and tim and sasha and georgie and melanie and basira and daisy are waiting for him below to congratulate him. martin's stuck in a round of thank yous when he turns and sees jon, who's run down the stairs to join the celebration and is looking at martin with those same eyes he would get when he was determined to win a challenge or finish a dish that needed two more minutes in one minute. and then jon just hugs martin, so tightly martin can barely breathe, and he mumbles into martin's neck, 'i would very much like to kiss you, but i very much do not want our first kiss to be on national television' and martin laughs and hugs jon tightly in return and mumbles back, 'i love you too, jon. just in case it wasn't obvious' and even though jon just lost, he's never been happier

- (they watch the show when it comes out together half a year later, in the little bit of free time they have around running their own respective restaurants, and they spend the whole time picking it apart

jon: okay i did not say that, where did they even get that from??

martin: god do i really look like that from behind...

jon: oh christ. martin, i- i think they thought i wanted to have sex with you. ugh, they've put on weird romantic music. red lighting. i hate this. i clearly did not--no, martin, don't give me that look, you know what i mean.

martin: wow, this makes us look like terrible chefs

and, at the end:

jon: christ, of course they were recording us in the dorms after the last service. this is a cooking competition, not a romance.

martin: eh, it was a bit of a romance.

jon: hush, i'm trying to watch. they're about to announce the winner. i don't have much hope for this chef martin; after all, he did burn that risotto back in episode 2--

martin, trying not to laugh while he glares at jon: oh my god jon let it go)

[imagineyourworld]

Congrats on the 100 followers 👏 can I request number 5 with Commander wolffe please? Maybe a mechanic reader?

Hi,

Thank you <3

Sure thing! If you'd like also check out my Wolffe x Reader fanfiction The Wife, it has (amongst others) the only one bed trope ;)

Love, Charlie

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Wolffe x Genderneutral!Mechanic!Reader

Warnings: Shirtless Wolffe (if that counts a warning), nightmare (no detailed descriptions though)

5. Only One Bed

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You loved your job, you really did, but you hated being covered in grease. Granted, it didn't happen every day, in fact it happened quite rarely, since you always made an effort to be really careful, but today was just one of those days. Your alarm didn't go off in the morning, meaning when you entered the mess hall all you got was cold caf, H9J, the droid that usually assisted you with repairs, had some lose wiring that needed fixing before you could even start work for the day and once had finally finished repairing the first starship and started on the second you were startled by a loud bang, which resulted in you cutting the wrong wire and the engine unloading every milliliter of oil and fuel and grease onto you. "If one more thing goes wrong I'm gonna kill someone", you muttered under your breath while walking through the hallway to get a change of clothes before hopping under the shower. "In that case I don't think you'll like what I have to say." You came to an abrupt halt and turned around to see Wolffe walking up to you. Just seeing him brought the hint of a smile to your face. Wolffe was probably the only person who could always make you smile, which was ironic, since the stoic soldier didn't smile much himself. "Just tell me so I can get out of these clothes." Wolffe looked you up and down, a slight hint of disgust on his face, probably due to the different fluids staining your overalls, but there was also the hint of something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. “The ship needs to be taken in for some sort of internal moderation, so we’ll have to spend the night somewhere else.”  You raised an eyebrow at him. Not only because ‘internal moderation’ sounded a bit suspicious, but also because he knew as well as you did that none of you, neither clones nor crew, had someplace else to stay.  “The GAR has arranged hotel rooms for all civilians on board”, Wolffe quickly added, probably having recognized your shock and disapproval.  You just nodded. “When do we have to leave?”  His crooked smile told you everything you needed to know. Apparently this day could get way worse, now you couldn’t even shower in peace.  “Alright”, you sighed. “Just give me fives minutes to pack an overnight bag and then we can head out.”  You didn’t wait for Wolffe’s reply, sure he’d turn up at your door in five minutes to tell you to hurry up. What you didn’t expect was for him to follow you once you turned around and made your way to your room.  “I won’t be going with you, none of the clones are. The hotel rooms are for civilians, not clones”, he clarified. His tone made it very obvious how little he liked the arrangement. “Most of my brothers have already left, the majority lent some camping supplies and the rest are hoping to find someone at the local bars to spend the night with”, he continued.  You hesitated for just a moment before voicing your proposal.  “In that case I think it would only make sense for you to stay with me. Unless you’d like to go to the bar as well.”  You didn’t dare to look at Wolffe and just kept your eyes locked on your door, which had finally come in sight. The idea had been rather spontaneous, mostly because you knew how he despised camping, but in the time it took him to reply you quickly came to regret every single word.  “You don’t have to let me stay with you, I’ll be fine”, Wolffe tried to argue.  Though this might have been your way out of this awkward situation, you shook your head. You were nothing if not stubborn and since you had proposed it you couldn’t back out now.  “Please, you’ve done so much for me, helped me when I first joined the 104th and protected me ever since then, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”  When Wolffe finally nodded in agreement you weren’t sure whether to be glad or if this was the final straw on your bad day. 

-------

About twenty minutes, and a deadly silent walk, later you found yourself in front of yet another door, though this one didn’t lead to your room, but rather a hotel room.  “Here goes nothing”, you mumbled as the doors opened after you scanned the key card, knowing how little funds the army had and that they wouldn’t waste them on hotel rooms.  “This isn’t that bad”, you exclaimed as you made your way into the room. “Look, there’s even a pretty decent view of the city.”  Other than you, who now stared out the window, Wolffe focused on the bed. Bed, singular. He should have known, after all the room was only supposed to be for one person. It wasn’t even a large bed, just slightly bigger than the one Wolffe was used to in the barracks.  “Maybe this is a bad idea”, Wolffe said, hating how uncertain he suddenly sounded. But who could blame him? He’d have to sleep next to you, with only very little possible space between his body and yours. Just when he thought he was finally getting over his crush interest, this had to happen.  “Why would you say tha... Oh... Oh, Wolffe, I didn’t realize”, you said as your eyes followed his and also landed on the small bed.  “I’m gonna go”, Wolffe said.  He began to turn around when he suddenly felt your hand around his wrist. You both knew that you weren’t strong enough to keep him here if he really wanted to leave, but just this slight touch broke down all of Wolffe’s walls.  “C’mon, Wolffe, we’re friends, and more importantly, we’re both adults, I think we’ll manage to sleep in the same bed for one night.”  The part of Wolffe that was still thinking straight was telling him to get out of the room as fast as possible, but the irresponsible and honestly down right tired side of him relented. How bad could it be?

-------

Though you were having second thoughts while brushing your teeth in the small refresher, once you stepped out and saw Wolffe, in only the trousers of his blacks and with hair more unruly than you had ever seen it laying on the bed you thanked the stars for your spontaneous idea.  “Do you need to use the refresher again?”, you asked as you sat down on your side of the bed.  Wolffe only shook his head, his gaze glued to the window and the city beyond.  “Alright then... Good night, I guess”, you said as you pulled the blanket (yes, only one blanket for the two of you to share) up, though you were slightly disappointed at the fact that it now covered more of Wolffe’s toned chest.  “Night”, he echoed before reaching over to the bedside table and turning off the small lamp.  You didn’t know how it was possible, but in the dark you were somehow even more aware of Wolffe laying only a few centimeters away from you, so close that you could feel his body heat under your shared blanket and smell the shampoo in his hair, which somehow smelled better on him than the other clones, even though they all used the same one.  Even though it took you a while to fall asleep, you tried your best not to move, partly because you wanted to avoid accidentally touching Wolffe, which would only result in even more confused feelings, and partly because you knew Wolffe was a light sleeper and didn’t want to risk waking him up.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laying still in the darkness, you fell asleep.  Though only shortly, because next thing you knew you were awake again. Awake and sweaty and shaking.  “Shh, it’s alright, everything’s fine. Just focus on me, focus on my voice.”  The voice was familiar, as were the hands on your cheek and shoulder, though it took you a moment to place them, still too consumed by the nightmare you had just woken up from.  “W...Wollfe?”, you stuttered, hating how shaky and scared your voice sounded.  The hands on you grew firmer and you could have sworn that for a split second you felt a pair of soft lips on your sweaty forehead.  “I’m here, cyare”, the same voice, definitely Wolffe, whispered in the dark.  Though you still couldn’t see him, his familiar voice, touch and smell helped you to return to reality.  “Wolffe, I... I’m so sorry”, you choked out, trying your best not to sob. The nightmare was still in your bones, and the embarrassment of having woken Wolffe didn’t help.  Instead of the gruff reply you had been expecting Wolffe suddenly pulled you closer. Your chest, clad in only a thin top, was now pressed against Wolffe’s naked one, one of his arms around your shoulder and the other grabbing your hip.  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You had a nightmare, we all have those. Hell, mine could probably give yours a run for their money.”  You just nodded before moving closer to him so that your nose was buried in the crook of his neck. You might have just had a nightmare, but luckily it had been replaced by this dream, a dream of laying in Wolffe’s arms that you had already had more often than you’d like to admit. Sadly you knew deep down that that dream would never become reality. 

-------

When the light of one of the planet’s suns streaming through your window woke you up the next morning you were somehow still tired.  It took you a moment to remember where you were, and even longer who you were with. Your eyes widened in realization when you noticed that you were cuddled up next to Wolffe, your legs intertwined with his and his arm around your waist. Though you had to admit that you were rather fond of this position you knew that it would be terribly awkward once Wolffe woke up.  Speak of the devil...  “Hey, you feeling better?”  You looked up at him through your eyelashes. Surely this had to be another dream, if this were real Wolffe wouldn’t be so relaxed to waking up with you in his arms.  You gave him a moment, maybe he was still too sleepy to realize who exactly he was cuddling with.  “(Y/N)? You alright?”  The way he said your name in his even rougher morning voice, and the fact that he said your name at all, clearly knowing who it was next to him, did things to you you’d rather not analyse, at least not in that moment.  Finally it dawned on you that the dream after the nightmare had not been a dream after all, it had all been real. Your nerves slowly began to fade away at the realization, and curiosity took over.  “Wolffe, what does cyare mean?”  Instead of answering your question he untangled his body from yours and sat up against the headboard. The look in his eyes was something you couldn’t decipher, though it wasn’t altogether unfamiliar.  “Buy me a cup of caf and maybe I’ll tell you.”  A laugh escaped you, unexpected, but not unwelcome since it seemed to lighten the mood.  “How about two cups of caf and you’ll call me that again?”, you tried to bargain with a raised eyebrow and a smile you hoped was something between smug and seductive. In truth, you’d buy him all the caf in the galaxy if it meant he’d say that word again in the same voice he used that night, if he held you again like that even better.  “Oh, cyare, I don’t need caf for that, all you had to do was ask.”  His tone easily beat your when it came to being smug and seductive, but you didn’t mind at all, not after hearing that word again.  Stars, that man, especially early in the morning and without a shirt, would be the death of you. 

-------

I sorta just used this prompt to deal with the terrible nightmare I had last night, so sorry for that, but hopefully you enjoyed it anyway

[robininthelabyrinth]

anything with jin zixuan marrying into the jiang sect, instead of jiang yanli marrying out?

ao3

It wasn’t that Jin Zixuan didn’t love his mother – he did, he truly did. He loved her, he supported her, he stood by her side in every argument. He would do anything within his power to help her get everything that she wanted.

It was only that he took a very reasonable look at the circumstances and realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t get her the one thing she’d always counted for.

He couldn’t win the right of succession to be Sect Leader Jin.

Maybe if his mother had managed to stop his father from bringing home all his bastards – there were nineteen of them, all together, and those were just the ones that were willing to admit it so who even knew – he might’ve had a better chance, given that he was after all the sole legitimate son. But legitimacy only took you so far: he was neither the oldest of the children, nor the most capable, nor the most cunning. He wasn’t even the best connected, despite his maternal family’s support; that honor went to another one of his siblings, born to an especially well-connected family through unspecified circumstances that might or might not involve rape but which sufficient money had plastered over.

The only thing Jin Zixuan had going for him was his legitimacy, but his father had long ago taught him - however inadvertently - that there wasn’t anything magical about a wedding ceremony that made him better suited to the role of sect leader.

What’s more, in his heart of hearts, Jin Zixuan didn’t even want it.

He wasn’t – he didn’t really like fighting. Or politics, or scheming, or any of it. It just wasn’t his personality. He didn’t like games of influence, he didn’t like backstabbing people that trusted him, he didn’t like gossiping and slandering and not being able to believe in people’s good faith and any of that, and no matter how much his mom pushed him, he didn’t think he’d ever like it. 

But that was what Lanling Jin did, what Jilin Tower was like, and if he wanted to take up the Sect Leader’s seat and reside in the Fragrant Palace, he had to get over himself and accept that that’s what the rest of his life would be like.

Forever.

Until someone murdered him and took his place, anyway. It almost felt inevitable, sometimes. 

Or, because he really truly didn’t want the job, because he really truly didn’t want to die, he could try to think of something else. Some way out.

For example, he could, and did, go to Jin Ziyao and ask him for help.

Jin Ziyao stared at him, eyes narrow and calculating as they so rarely were – he was very good at keeping a bland polite smile on his face, the best at it of all the people Jin Zixuan had ever met, and he’d met a lot. 

“That’s an interesting thing to say, brother,” he said, gently eliding as always the fact that they were the same age, born on the same day to different mothers. “Very interesting indeed. I must ask, though - why are you saying it to me?”

“Because you’d be the best at the job,” Jin Zixuan said honestly. He really thought so: Jin Ziyao was smart and clever, cunning enough to wear a kind face and tricky enough to actually pull off the impression of actually being kind, since people were more willing to forgive kind people, but also ambitious and ruthless enough to survive and maybe even thrive in the political world the way Jin Zixuan wasn’t. “And because you’re smart enough to come up with a way for me to get out of this without dying, if you wanted to.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would I want to?”

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Jin Zixuan was the legitimate son, the rightful heir, and his father, their father, was just as likely to name Jin Zixuan as the next sect leader no matter how unfit for the role he was on nothing more than that basis as he was to name anyone else with a much stronger claim. 

It was in everyone else’s best interest to kill him, if they were ambitious.

Maybe not his sisters. They wouldn’t inherit no matter what happened to him.

(Sometimes Jin Zixuan wished he was lucky enough to be born a nobody, little Jin Ziyu, who just wanted to play with make-up and avoid all contact with his maternal Mo family. Nobody cared about Jin Ziyu, and everyone liked it that way.)

“You know my position,” Jin Zixuan explained. He didn’t need to say it out loud; he was bitterly aware that it was basically his only personality trait: legitimate heir of Jin Guangshan, the rich boy everyone thought would be the next sect leader unless someone else got in the way. “My support could be worth something to you.”

“Especially if it’s sincere,” Jin Ziyao murmured, looking thoughtful, contemplative. It wasn’t an outright no, anyway, or at least not yet. “And you would be sincere, wouldn’t you?”

“There’s a reason I said that I’m not fit for the role,” Jin Zixuan replied, his voice dry to hide the fact that his heart was in his throat. Jin Ziyao was the one most likely to succeed in finding a way to get him out of this mess, but he was also the most likely to figure out a way to kill him without being blamed for it, too.  There was a reason he’d come to him, but that reason was the danger - who was to say that Jin Ziyao wouldn’t decide it’d be safer to kill him, and to use this to accomplish it? He could be signing his own death warrant. “And even if you’re smart, competent, good at managing things, well-connected, and well-liked, you can still use my help.”

Jin Ziyao had only a single fault: his mother had been a prostitute. People still judged him for that, something which made no sense to Jin Zixuan whatsoever – it wasn’t Jin Ziyao’s fault what his mother did before he was born – but it meant he lacked legitimacy even more than the others. 

Having the legitimate son backing his claim would be a strong argument in favor of overlooking that.

“You know your mother won’t like it,” Jin Ziyao said. Testing, probing; he hadn’t agreed yet.

“I know,” Jin Zixuan said simply. “But I hope that she’d like me being dead less.”

He wasn’t actually sure about that. His mother loved him, yes, but he had never entirely determined if she loved him for himself or as an extension of herself – a symbol of what she would be fighting towards. A sign that her struggles with her husband had a purpose, that all her humiliation would one day be worth it.

That one day, when he was sect leader, she would become the true power in Lanling through him. 

(Jin Zixuan didn’t know what she imagined would happen to all his illegitimate brothers and sisters in that situation, and he didn’t want to; it put a sick feeling in his gut to think about it – which he supposed meant he did know, after all, what she would want, but was instead choosing to ignore it.)

Jin Ziyao studied him for a long moment, presumably trying to analyze his sincerity and how firm he was on the idea. 

Jin Zixuan didn’t rush him, knowing it was a gamble on his side as well: it would be worse for him to help Jin Zixuan out of the line of succession only for Jin Zixuan to change his mind down the road. It would make him look bad, make him a target for the others, and the backstabbing nature of Lanling politics meant that luring someone in with a request for aid was exactly the sort of trap someone might lay out.

Sometimes, Jin Zixuan was really, really tired of Lanling.

Maybe something of that showed on his face, because just when he was starting to lose hope, Jin Ziyao abruptly nodded – almost to himself – and said, “All right. How about your marriage?”

“What about my marriage?” Jin Zixuan asked, puzzled. 

He’d been engaged to his mother’s best friend’s daughter since before he was born, and amazingly enough the engagement had held despite everything – probably because they had barely met, to be perfectly honest. And also the fact that being surrounded by brothers that hid daggers in their smiles gave Jin Zixuan enough experience to realize that he was being deliberately incited when his so-called friends started telling him that he deserved better than a girl most often described simply as being nice.

After all, he’d already started doubting by that time that he even deserved the accident of his legitimate birth, so forget deserving any girl.

Also, being nice sounded…rather nice, actually. Certainly a relief, assuming she was actually nice rather than just pretending to be the way so many of his sisters were.

(None of them liked her, which suggested she might be.)

“You should get to know your intended better,” Jin Ziyao said. “Visit her more often.”

Jin Zixuan really wasn’t seeing the connection between that and his request for assistance, and Jin Ziyao’s gaze softened a little bit, though Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure if it was with sympathy or merely pity.

“It’ll make it easier for you,” he clarified. “For when you marry in.”

Marry in?

Marry in. The Jiang sect was a Great Sect, with enough power and influence to make unreasonable demands – and his father desperately wanted the alliance with them. If they could be convinced to demand that he marry in rather than having Jiang Yanli marry out, pointing to their smaller numbers or the tragedies that had befallen their sect…

Jiang Cheng would like having his sister around. He was also notoriously standoffish around women, and had viciously rejected any effort to be matched with one of the illegitimate Jin girls; it might even be possible to suggest to his father that allowing Jin Zixuan to marry in would mean that there was a chance that Jiang Cheng would be willing to leave his sect to a nephew surnamed Jiang, winning the Jin sect both an alliance and inheritance all at once.

Best of all, it had to be him. The Jiang sect had only agreed to the engagement because of Madame Yu’s friendship with his mother, not for any political reason; if his father tried to substitute him with someone else, they might break it entirely…

And someone who married out couldn’t be the heir.

“You’re a genius,” Jin Zixuan told his brother, who smiled crookedly in acknowledgement. “What should I do? Do I just – go over there? Send a letter? I can’t write letters…”

“Let me think about it,” Jin Ziyao said. “I’m sure I can come up with something more subtle than you.”

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝

"You only want to stay because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?“

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,297

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: i'm so fried after editing this, if i missed any typos, i'm sorry. as always, let me know what you think! i love getting feedback from you guys!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your siblings sit in a half-circle at the back of the Hermes Cabin, ready for their lesson. James lays out the materials you’ll need for the potion he was demonstrating today: the mortar and pestle, herbs, spell books. He has almost everything except for the sand, which was the most crucial ingredient. So, he had sent you to retrieve some from the dunes since you were the only one who didn’t need the lesson Ernest was teaching.

Ernest stands in front of Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen, and Atticus, lecturing on the properties of sand. Your siblings listen attentively, taking notes in their notebooks, all of them but one. Ernest looks up from reading a part of his book of shadows, noticing Atticus is distracted by his familiar.

"Atticus, are you listening?" Ernest asks, raising his eyebrow as he closes his book. Atticus cradles Harvey in his arms as if he is a newborn baby, his finger scratching his tummy as the animal curls up towards his chest. He doesn’t notice the other staring at him for a few seconds, looking up after realizing he had stopped talking.

"Me? Yeah, dude. I'm listening," Atticus bluffs, and Ernest squints, leaning back on the desk behind him.

"So what did I just say?"

"Atticus, are you listening?" Atticus repeats, smiling as his sisters giggle beside him. The corner of Ernest’s mouth tugs into a slight smirk as he rolls his eyes.

"What did I say before that?" He clarifies. Atticus sways in his place, continuing to soothe his tired familiar, and he hums, trying to recall what they were discussing. He’s quiet for a while before grunting. He really wasn't listening, too distracted by his surroundings to focus. Ernest pretty much lost him at “alright guys, today…” However, he remembers you volunteering to get sand after James realized he forgot to get some himself.

"Ehm… I don't know. Something about sand?"

Ernest sighs, "Yes, I was talking about sand. Can anyone catch Atticus up on the properties for sand?"

"Different sands have various spiritual properties, but the lake sand that you're using today can be used in spells for self-reflection and grounding," Travis chimes in all of a sudden. He's laid down in his bed, holding a comic book over his head as he looks at the group.

James turns away from the materials, amused that the other has probably been listening this entire time. It was the middle of the day, so the Hermes cabin was pretty empty since everyone was out doing their own thing. The only other people in the cabin were the Stoll brothers and a handful of their siblings. James chuckles,

"Travis, you want to be a witch too?" He jokes, and Travis shrugs,

"I practically am already. I'm always listening to your lessons," he admits amused, returning his attention to the comic book he was reading.

"Everyone has a little witch in them. See Atticus; even Travis was listening," Alabaster teases.

Atticus grunts, "Yeah, yeah. I was trying to put Harvey to sleep!"

“You act like he’s a baby that needs to be coddled!” Sage raises her eyebrow. Atticus had always been super affectionate with Harvey. She swears she’s never seen Atticus and Harvey separated for long like the way you and Ambrose have periods where you’ll be apart. When Ambrose knew you were safe, he’d usually wander off to find your siblings or mess around with monsters in the forest, so he wasn’t with you 24/7. But Atticus managed to have Harvey with him all the time.

“Do not judge my parenting! He likes being held,” Atticus defends Harvey, and Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.

“Parenting? You sound like a single dad.”

Alabaster snorts, “anyways," he cuts in, grabbing both of their attention. "we can start the potion whenever Y/n decides to come back with it," he says as he sits down in a nearby desk chair.

Lou Ellen hums, "she's been gone for almost 40 minutes now. The dunes are on the other side of camp, but it shouldn't take her this long?"

"Maybe she got sidetracked?" James shrugs. "We can go look for her if she doesn't come back in another 10 minutes, but I'm sure she's fine.”

"I'm here!" You announce as you burst through the cabin door, Ambrose running next to you. He runs through the wall, rushing to join your siblings. You sigh, your arm coming up to wipe your forehead that was a little damp from sweat, and your cheeks are a little flushed from being in the summer heat.

"Look who decided to come back," James announces, shaking his head in playful disapproval. You smile sheepishly, too caught up in your breathing to say anything as you pass the jar to him. You return to your spot between Lou Ellen and Atticus, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What took you so long?" Lou Ellen asks, her voice concerned. You clear your throat, attempting not to sound hesitant as you come up with a lie on a whim.

"Oh uh, I just got distracted… some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin were hanging out at the dunes, and I got caught up in conversation," you stutter a little, suddenly feeling nervous as Atticus squints at you. You accidentally meet his stare before looking away fast, turning so that your back is facing him.

"You're lying," he declares. You scoff,

"No, I'm not!"

"I'm your twin, y/n. I know when you are lying!" He reminds you, and you groan.

You and Atticus have always had this weird twin sense. You both can tell when the other is lying because you could pick up on each other's emotions really well. You thought maybe if he didn’t see your body language, he wouldn’t be able to pick up on your lie, but of course, he didn’t need a visual to know that you were nervous. You could also feel each other's pain to a certain extent which has always been annoying. Atticus was pretty accident-prone when he was younger and, well, still is. This meant any bumps and bruises he managed to obtain, you would always get dull aches in the same area. The most annoying part of it all was that the more severe the pain, the more you felt. Once you had period cramps so bad, you both had to call out from school because he was also curled up in his bed, declaring that he’ll never make period jokes again in his life.

You weren’t sure why you had this connection with your brother. Since you’ve had it your entire life, you had thought this was a regular thing, but you’ve recently found out that it wasn't normal at all. You just assumed that it came with the quirks of being children of a sorceress goddess. You had to admit that it was cool, but at times like this, you wished you didn’t have it because Atticus called you out a lot.

You didn't want to admit you got distracted by Percy in the combat area. On your way back, you saw him practicing with the test dummies. You watched him practice for a few seconds, and you had no intention of stopping to talk to him initially, but when he caught you walking by, he called you over.

"Admit it, you were nervous," Percy laughs, continuing to tease you about how you ran away from him during Capture the Flag. You scoff, nudging his shoulder,

"Of you? Please,” you deny even though you were nervous about going head-to-head with him, but he didn’t need to know that. “It doesn't matter if I ran away because I still won!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he smiles,

“You should still practice your sword fighting, Y/n. You can’t always run away from a sword fight,” he points out, and you frown,

“I’m not a close-range fighter. It’s just how it is.” After declaring that you “failed” in sword fighting, you were a bit insecure about your abilities. It was a good and bad thing because after your “failure,” you delved into your magic studies, and you were proud of how much better your abilities have gotten. You could confidently say that you are now a more powerful and seasoned witch than you were at the beginning of the summer. The bad part was that you never stepped foot in the combat area again. The dagger you carried around barely saw the light of day, strapped in its holster most of the time.

"Well, one day, you might not have a choice… c'mon Sabrina Spellman, show me what you got," he jokes as he gets into his stance. You smile, putting the jar of sand down before taking your dagger out of its casing.

"I don't got much to show," you say playfully.

You thought that you'd just go one round with him, but the next thing you knew, he was giving you an entire lesson. He sparred with you a few times, analyzing how you fought and he gave you tips here and there. He was helpful and patient, and you did walk away knowing a few new things.

You swallow as you feel the stares of your siblings, now interested as to why you lied. You try not to become more flustered as you recall the feeling of Percy standing close behind you. His touch was gentle, hands slightly calloused as he adjusted the way you held your dagger, and with light fingertips, he moved your limbs, putting you in a stronger stance.

You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you trailed off, hoping Atticus would drop it. You turn to your brothers, James preparing everything, but Alabaster and Ernest were just as interested as the others regarding where you could have been.

"She was probably with Percy,” Connor mocks, a sly smirk on his face as the whole cabin filled with Ooo's and amused chattering. Your shoulders slouch, head hung low, and you felt like you wanted to crawl in a hole.

"Were you actually?" You hear Atticus asks with amusement in his voice. You don't move from your place, keeping quiet. You knew there was no use in denying it because Atticus would easily sense the lie.

"She definitely was!" Alice squeals when you don’t say anything, and you glare at your sisters, making them giggle.

Lou Ellen nudges your shoulder, "what were you guys doing? You looked flustered when you walked in here,” she teases and winks.

"Probably making out!" Connor butts in before you could answer, and you gasp, snapping your gaze to him.

“We were just sparring!" You blurt out, and Connor laughs at how defense you suddenly became. The last thing you wanted was rumors leaving the cabin, and you groan as your sisters start pestering you with questions, along with the assumptions of your other cabinmates.

"Okay! Okay," Alabaster shouts a little over the chattering. "We need to focus. You guys can talk about that later," he says, and silence falls amongst your siblings. You nod, relieved that you get to avoid the topic for now. You watch as they exchange looks, silently communicating something to each other. You had an idea that it had something to do with you as Ernest’s eyes flicker in your direction and Alabaster’s face hardens. James gave them a dismissive wave with his hand as if he was telling them not to worry before continuing to sort out the materials in front of him.

"Let's start this potion. Some of us have chores to do," James cuts through the silence as he grabs the mortar and pestle and sits down in front of you and your siblings.

As James puts the potion together, carefully showing you how to cut and crush certain herbs, Ernest sits beside him, explaining the steps carefully. You lean a little forward, focusing on the lesson, and you diligently write notes in your notebook, trying not to miss any crucial details.

“Take good notes; I’m copying those,” Atticus whispers in your ear, and you squint at him playfully. His arms were too occupied with Harvey, so he was just watching the demonstration, confident that you’ll take thorough notes for him to copy. You shake your head, turning your attention back to Ernest as he speaks. After demonstrating it, they pass on the materials to you guys, and it was your turn to try it out.

The potion was a little too easy for you, and you find yourself growing a little bored as you put everything together. It annoyed you because you felt like your brothers were going easy on you and you were itching to get into the more advanced stuff such as healing potions or something like a disguising potion.

Out of your three older brothers, Ernest was the most knowledgeable about potions. He was always helping out in the infirmary, making healing potions for the Apollo kids to use. Sometimes the Hermes kids would ask him to make potions for pranks, and you’ve even seen some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin begging him to make love potions for them. Usually, Ernest would decline their requests, giving lectures, especially to the Aphrodite girls, why a love potion is a terrible idea. But in the times that he has agreed to do them, the results were always hilarious. Once, he made a Hilarity Potion for the Stoll brothers that turned the Ares cabin into a bunch of giggling messes for 24 hours. Until that day, you’ve never seen someone giggle aggressively before.

You were the first to finish the potion, bottling it up in a miniature glass jar before pushing the cork into the top. You carefully wired wrapped the jar, attaching it to a necklace and fastening it around your neck. After being praised by your brothers, you were off to do the chores that were given to you by Connor as repayment for not ratting you out to the Aphrodite Cabin about your spontaneous meeting with Percy at the docks.

You were done right in time for dinner, the time passing as usual as you and your siblings talk and laugh at the table. Soon, you were singing along to the songs at the campfire, and by the time it came to an end, your eyelids were heavy with fatigue. You knew then that you were not going to study into the night as the soreness from sparring with Percy started to settle in your muscles. When you arrived at the Hermes cabin after washing up for bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered was mumbling a good night to Atticus and turning over in your bed.

Your dreams were always weird, so when you’re taken to a meadow in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t surprised. Actually, you were pretty content, preferring this scene instead of the bizarre settings you often came across.

You swore you could feel the soft summer breeze blowing on your face, and you take a deep breath, basking in the fresh air. You look out at the grassy land ahead of you, noticing you were standing at a crossroad. Two gravel roads stretched in either direction, one path seemingly identical to the other. You turn around to study your surroundings further. You squint, hand hovering above your eyes to protect them from the shining sun that's beginning to set behind the hills. The valley was still; the only sound you could hear was the wind whooshing past your ears, and you felt safe.

“Come with us, y/n.” A familiar voice cuts through the stillness, and you gasp, looking in the direction it came from. You find Alabaster standing on the left road, James and Ernest standing beside him. You felt your stomach turn as their eyes darken. Your arms wrap around your frame as the once warm wind turns cold. Dark clouds roll in, splitting the sky in half as the right side remains the same sunny meadow. Groans of thunder echoed throughout the land, and you can sense an eerie presence lingering in the air.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, noticing Atticus standing on the right road.

“No! Don’t,” he shouts, his expression glazed over in fear, and you step back.

“Don’t listen to him. We know what’s best for you,” James says, his arm extended out for you to hold, and you shake your head. “Come with us.”

“No! Come with me!”

“Come with us!”

You feel your heart racing in your chest, the screams of your brothers sending goosebumps to your skin. Their voices become more desperate, and you can hear the grief and panic in their voices.

“No, no, no. It’s a dream… you can change it,” you whisper, becoming overwhelmed as the thunder grows louder and so the desperation in your brother’s wailing. You stare down at the ground, and your hands are pressed firmly over your ears. You try to concentrate on shifting into another dream, but before you could, you felt as if your body was sucked into a vortex. A distant voice calls your name, and you groan, your vision blurry as your eyes flutter open.

Alabaster stands over you as he nudges your shoulder softly, whispering your name until you finally wake up. “C’mon, get up.”

You lazily sit up in your bed, your surroundings fuzzy as Alabaster guides you to stand up. You assume that it must be morning as you slip your feet into your slippers and you rub your eyes. It didn’t take you long to notice that it was still night time and you whine softly, confused and annoyed that you were woken up from your slumber.

“Al? What’s going on?” Alabaster doesn’t answer, grabbing onto your wrist, and you were too groggy to protest, following him to the back window of the Hermes cabin. You stumble a little when you land on the grass, Atticus coming to your side and grabbing on to your other hand. You don’t even notice the nervous look on his face or the way his hand was shaking, too busy attempting to stay awake.

Your vision was still fuzzy, and you lay your head against your brother's arm, feeling Ambrose’s mouth tugging on your shirt frantically as Alabaster leads you into the forest. You don’t know what it was, but you had this feeling that something was wrong and a soft sigh leaves your lips as you gather your strength to get out of your grogginess.

“Wait… wait!” You snatch your arm from Alabaster's hold. “What’s going on?” You ask as your brothers turn around.

“We’re leaving,” Ernest says, and you furrow your eyebrows. “We’re going to join Kronos’s army.”

“We? Are you insane?” You felt your heart drop to your chest, and you tried to look for any sign that they were joking.

“Come with us, Y/n,” Alabaster pleads, and you feel goosebumps forming on your skin as you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The tone of his voice, the way their eyes darkened, was the same as the dream you just had. Your brothers glowered down at you, waiting for your decision.

"No… no, this isn't right,” you whisper. You let go of Atticus’s hand, just now noticing how tight his grip was. You wipe your shaky palms on your pants, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. At least, you were hoping that you were still dreaming. You scan your surroundings, trying to find a sign that would tell you that this wasn't real, but you don't find one.

“There is no reason to stay here, to fight on this side. Kronos will win the war. The camp doesn’t stand a chance,” Alabaster declares confidently. Your mind wanders, recalling the dark stormy clouds that loomed over your brothers in your dream and the eeriness that took over. You could practically feel your pulse in your ears, grasping the fact that your dream was a warning.

“And how are you so sure?” Your voice quivers, and you sigh in disbelief.

“Because mother told me,” Alabaster says, and your head jerks back, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Mother? She spoke to you?”

“Yes. She’s fighting for Kronos, and she believes it is in our best interest to join her.”

A wave of emotion washes over you all at once. You were shocked, furious, even a little jealous. Your mother never came to speak to you. You knew that she tended to favor your more powerful siblings. Your older brothers have talked to her a few times, and the reminder made your chest feel heavy. You knew she looked after you, obviously. She had saved your life by sending Ambrose to you and your brother's aid. You prayed to her daily, and she occasionally sent you signs that made you feel she was there with you — but coming to see you? That was a privilege that you weren’t worthy of; at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your fury came from the fact that your mother was the motivator of all this. Why would she persuade your brothers in her own interests? Weren’t there rules that your godly parent couldn’t interfere with certain things? You weren’t sure what the rules specifically were, but this didn’t feel right. You shake your head,

“Mother isn’t omniscient. She doesn’t know who will win.” Your fist is clenched hard on your side, and you watch as Alabaster’s expression hardens,

"You're only fighting on this side because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?"

"Boyfriend?! What are you talking about-”

"I'm talking about Percy! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you hanging out with him. Sparring together? In the strawberry fields together? You guys were practically flirting at the campfire, and Connor told us that you’ve been meeting him at night. Is that true?"

You feel your face get hot, but it wasn’t at the accusation of Percy being your boyfriend but the rage that was swirling in your chest. You hated that he thought you would compromise your loyalty to your siblings for a boy. That wasn’t true. In the right circumstances, you would always put your siblings first because you knew they would do the same. But this wasn’t about Percy; you haven’t thought of him until Alabaster brought him up. This was about loyalty to the camp.

"He's not my boyfriend. It doesn’t even matter what side he’s fighting on. I couldn’t care less. Al… this- this is about family!"

"Family?! What?”

“The camp,” you say shakily, and you shift on your feet as a sarcastic laugh leaves Alabaster’s lips.

“The camp? You mean the camp that doesn’t deem our mother worthy of her own cabin? We’ve been trapped in that Hermes cabin since the beginning. Half of us didn’t even have a bed to sleep in the first summer we arrived. You and Lou Ellen had to cram in a twin-size bed the first couple of weeks until you got lucky and something opened up. Y/n, they don’t care about us. They toss us to the side, barely give us a space to learn our magic. This camp isn’t family. We're your family, Y/n. We understand you the most. We share the same powers, the same mother. We care for you."

You look down at the ground, hating that you were unable to deny that the words he spoke held truth. The children of minor gods were treated differently. You didn’t have a cabin dedicated to your godly parent, and that was enough to make you feel lesser than. You remember Ethan Nakamura saying in passing that being forced to sleep in the Hermes cabin was pretty much an odd punishment for not being a child of one of the 12. You remember laughing and brushing it off, not thinking much of it at the moment, but now, it suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t joking at all. He was dead serious.

You have to admit that the living situation wasn’t ideal. It affected how you were able to study your magic and came with annoying inconveniences. You slept in a sleeping bag for your first summer, tucked away in the corner of the room with Atticus. The system in place for who gets a bed was set up by seniority. The longer you've been at camp, the more secure your sleeping arrangements were. You only got a bed because, at the beginning of the summer, a good chunk of kids had left to join Kronos’ army, which bumped you up on the waiting list.

You almost gave in, only so that you'd be with your siblings. If you stay, most of them will be long gone, and you'll be forced to fight them on the battlefield, but you couldn't leave. It didn’t feel right to compromise your loyalty to the camp. Though there were days where you did feel like an outcast, you couldn’t ignore the times you didn’t. Your friends here were important to you too, and you’ve always seen the camp as your haven. It was the only place where you didn’t have to worry about monsters or entities. Sure, some people at camp saw you as some freak, but you never felt as much as a freak here as you did in the mortal world. In the end, it boiled down to one question. Did you want to fight alongside your friends for a camp that brought you a sense of comfort? Or will you fight for a bitter, greedy titian who’s only using you so he can have the throne?

"No, I’m staying,” you say with a tight jaw, looking up to meet Alabaster’s eyes. You kept thinking of the dark clouds, the thunder roaring in the background, the way the valley darkened. That was a warning. That was a clear sign to run the other way, to not walk into the storm.

"Atticus?" Alabaster shifts his gaze to your brother, who stands beside you. Your entire body tenses up, your teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

He couldn't go. You couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. Though you were sure that he would be on your side, it was then you decided that if Atticus left, you were going to leave too. You hated that you were second-guessing him, but you weren't sure what to believe after this whole thing being pulled by Alabaster.

"... I'm staying.” His voice is more confident than you expected it to be, and you sigh out shakily, feeling the weight of dread lift from on your shoulders. You’ll still have your twin, and right now, when you felt like your whole world was falling apart, that’s all that mattered.

"You both are fools," Alabaster hissed, and your fist clenches, gaze snapping up.

"You’re the damn fool. How are you so sure that if Kronos wins, everything will suddenly be better? Alabaster, he’s feeding off your anger for his own agenda. You really think if we fight in his little army, he’ll care about us?” Your voice cracks, you scan the crowd of your siblings looking at you. You peer over at your sisters, who were huddled behind your brothers.

“Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen? This isn’t right. We- I- don’t go, just stay here at camp,” you plead, hoping that if you could persuade them to stay, maybe your brothers will forfeit their plan. “I have a bad feeling. I had a dre-”

“Stop,” James barked. You couldn’t help but cringe; the way his eyes narrowed at you was something you’ve never seen before.

“The odds are in Kronos’ favor. He has a bigger army. His allies are strong. This camp doesn’t stand a chance. You asking them to stay is the same as asking them to die,” he declares. “Mother says if- when he wins, she will take care of us. We can live and study with her, she promised.”

Your eyes sting with tears, and you close them, fingers anxiously peeling the skin around your nails. It was way too good to be true. That’s probably something you’ve always wanted, to live as a coven with your siblings. You only wished for a conversation with your mother, but the opportunity to learn from her directly was tempting. Still, you thought about the chaos that would reign across the country, across the world. You didn’t understand how a world under the rule of Kronos could be any better than the world you had now. And you deduced that it would probably be even worse.

“It’s all bull,” you spat, and you scoff. “I’m asking them to die? Take a look at where you’re taking them! This is mad. Guys, please,” you plead again. You frown as Alice and Sage refuse to look at you, huddling close beside each other.

“I- I’m staying,” Lou Ellen suddenly breaks the silence, and you feel a rush of hopefulness. Her head is lowered in a bow, avoiding the stares of your brothers as she walks to you. You reach out your arms, grasping her hand the moment she was close enough. You hear Ernest scoff, turning around to look at Sage and Alice.

“Anyone else would like to stay?” His tone is harsh, cutting through the night and Alice and Sage stare at the floor. You could tell from their trembling hands that they were scared. If they felt any conviction, any second thoughts, they didn’t dare to speak up.

“Let’s go before we get caught out here,” Alabaster announces, and you meet his eyes one last time.

“We’ll see you on the battlefield, sister.”

The walk back to the Hermes Cabin was silent. You hold on to Lou Ellen’s equally clammy hands, the three of you shaken up from what just happened. A part of you still couldn’t even believe that this is how your night played out. You glance at Atticus, his face expressionless, but you knew his mind was scattered with a million thoughts. If your own grief wasn’t enough, you were met with the burden of the grief radiating off of him.

Atticus coped with things differently than you did. You were quick to cry when you’re sad, scream when you were angry, but he bottled it up. He would bottle it up until all his emotions boiled over the limit. Even then, he was private, never letting it out where people could see him, but no matter what, you felt it, and no matter what, you were there comforting him.

He meets your gaze, and you take in the sadness on his face. The sight of his sorrow made it hard to hold back your tears. You knew that when Al called his name, he felt your panic. He felt your dilemma. You didn’t exactly know his stance on the impending war, but you knew at that moment, Atticus made his decision because he didn’t want to be separated from you. He manages a sad smile as there is a mutual understanding of this between the two of you. He slings his arm around both you and Lou Ellen’s shoulders in a failed attempt to lighten up the situation. He swallows hard,

“We’ll be okay,” he musters out, and as confident he wished to sound, the weakness in his voice was unavoidable. You suppress the sob that threatened to leave your lips, a tear falling down your cheek, and you nod,

“Yeah, we- we’ll be okay.” Your voice falters.

and hopefully, they’ll be okay too.

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr

[emiwasabi]

Stalker: Part 2

If you’re interested in being on my tag list, please let me know!

Mayans MC Tag List: @mrsstevenbuchananstark, @rose-bliss, @lyly00, @spnaquakindgdom

It only took a couple of hours to get my shit packed and stored in the car the next morning. The last stop was the bar. In an ideal world I would be able to get in and get out with a vague excuse in under 10 minutes. But of course I don’t live in an ideal world. No, I live in one with stalkers that terrorize good people for no discernable reason.

So it wasn’t a surprise when I pulled into a mostly empty lot. And Hank’s was one of the bike’s that was missing. The only person that I wanted to break the news to since he was technically the ‘boss’ for the bar. From what I picked up on the man, he seems like a straightforward no fuss type of guy. One who won’t ask too many questions or want to know the finer details.

EZ, who was outside with a Romero Brother’s shirt draped over his shoulder, was the absolute last person that I wanted to see.

“Angie!” He called. It was too late to run so instead I leaned against the car with a smile, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t know you worked today. Isn’t it a little early for a shift?”

Yeah, about four hours too early, I thought, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Well I’m actually not here to work. I was just looking for Hank. Is he here?”

“Nah, they went on a job a bit ago. Should be back in a couple of hours.”

The smile slipped away with disappointment. “Oh okay. Well that sucks.” I looked towards the line of bikes again. “And I’m assuming Bishop’s also gone?”

He didn’t seem like the type of guy that liked to pry but I could see the growing concern in his eyes; the slight drop of his eyebrows and subtle glance at my car. He leaned forward, dropping his voice an octave. “You okay Angie? You seem a little…” he motioned between the car and me, “stressed.”

I pushed away, casually starting towards the clubhouse. “I’m fine EZ. I’ll just wait for them to get back.” Before he could open his mouth to object I cut in, “Don’t you have work to do?” I said playfully. Thankfully, he didn’t ask anymore questions.

It had felt like eternity by the time the boys had made it back. My nail beds were a mess from the picking and biting, a nervous habit that I have never been able to kick. It didn’t help that the rest of the Mayans were working in the yard so the clubhouse was relatively empty, leaving me to just spiral with my thoughts. My hair, which needed a washing last night, was even worse now because of the amount of times I’ve run my hands through it.

It took about 10 minutes for Hank to pull out the stool and plop down next to me. “Hey, Angie. What’s up?”

The words that I had meticulously drafted in my head on the drive here dried up on my tongue the second I actually opened my mouth. I cleared my throat. “Uhm. Well I was wondering if I could get my paycheck earlier? Like now?”

The beer bottle stopped halfway between the bar top and his mouth. He glanced at me questioningly before taking a sip. “I can give you cash.” He said too casually. “You seem to be in a rush.” Hank stared pointedly at my nails and jittering leg. “You going somewhere?”

I forced myself to stay still. “Out of town. But like indefinitely. So…” I trailed off and moved my attention to the bar top, tracing the old scars absentmindedly.

“So you’re quitting.” He clarified.

“Yes.” I said. “Not because I didn’t like it or anything. It’s been good. I just have some personal stuff going on. And it’s best if I leave today.” I don’t know if it was his silent nature or the prolonged eye contact but I could feel myself rambling. Which was probably making it more obvious.

“Is this about that letter you got?” EZ cut in from the back of the bar. I almost jumped a foot in the air, not realizing that he was buzzing around the area for all of our chat.

“Letter?” Hank repeated curiously.

Before I could say anything, EZ started explaining. “It was the night of that party with the other Charters.”

“The one where Angel got his ass kicked in the cage?” Hank interrupted, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Yeah, that one. She was fine at the beginning of the night until she found this letter in the storage room. Had her name on the front and everything.” He turned towards me with concern. “You seemed shaken up. And you were sorta spacey the rest of the night.” Damn EZ and that stupid memory thing.

“I wasn’t spacey.” I argued. “And he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe I’m just like that normally.” Hank barely regarded the interruption..

“Note was found in the clubhouse?” The Mayans’s full attention was on me now. I could feel the sweat starting to roll down my back. “Was it a threat?”

I gulped. “Not exactly a threat. It was shoved in between the boxes that were just shipped.”

“Well it didn’t seem like a good thing.” If I could kill someone with a look, EZ would be 6 feet under.

“You don’t have to worry about what the letter said, Hank, because I’m leaving. Today, so crisis averted!”

“So it’s a crisis now..” EZ had completely forgotten his bar duties and was now resting both elbows on the table, staring at me intently. “And probably dangerous, based on the way you’re acting.”

Hank seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a minute. Not concerned with our bickering. “Stay here until I talk this out with Bishop.” It was an order. Before I could even argue, he was crossing the room heading straight for the Pres.

I blew out a puff of air in annoyance. “Well this hasn’t gone as expected.” I said to no one in particular. There goes that quick in and out idea. I stared intently at my hands, not wanting to see the conversation happening across the room.

Angel had wandered over at some point, wearing the uniform shirt buttoned straight to the top. LIke usual Coco and Gilly also made an appearance. I swear the three were like a packaged deal. “What’s got Bish’s feathers ruffled?” He asked us.

“Probably you.” Gilly joked. He turned towards me and nodded a greeting. “I didn’t think you worked today.”

“I don’t.” I mumbled, still staring at my hands intently. “Just here to get my check.”

“Cause she’s leaving town.” EZ supplied.

“Are you out to get me or something?” I glared daggers at EZ. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned.”

Hurt flashed across his face. “Cause it’s obvious that something’s up and I don’t think running away is gonna solve anything.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” It came out more defensive than intended. And while I had only been here a couple of months, EZ and I had come pretty close. In fact the longer I worked there the harder it was to keep those pieces of me hidden.

Coco whistled low and I swear I heard Gilly utter ‘damn’. Angel just watched the back and forth like it was a tennis match. “It’s only obvious to you because of your whole thing.” I motioned towards his head. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying that memory trick is?”

“All the time,” Angel confirmed.

Before EZ could fire off a response, Bishop had finished his conversation with Hank and they were both making their way over. With an exasperated sigh, the President grabbed the stool next to me while Hank stood right behind him. “Heard you’re leaving.” There was always something more intimidating about Bishop. Something that went beyond the title, like a complete assuredness of his abilities or the confidence in himself. Whatever it was made my mouth dry and heart rate shoot up.

At this point just about all the Mayans were hanging around. EZ behind the bar. Coco, Gilly, Angel, and Creeper leaning against the bar on the other side of me. Creeper, Riz, and Taza were sitting at one of the shorter tables within earshot. I looked around, focusing on EZ for a bit longer. Sure, I could try to play this whole thing off or play it down but there was something stopping me.

“Fine,” I sighed in defeat and pulled out a joint from my front pocket.. “But I’m gonna need a couple hits before I tell you everything.”

Everyone had rearranged themselves more comfortably and a cold rum and coke was placed on the bartop. I stared blankly at the counter, recounting the story that I’ve recounted god knows how many times. “HIs name’s Andrew. I’ve never actually met him. I mean there’s a chance he was around before and I just didn’t know it.” Maybe they knew where this was going. “It started when I was a sophomore, a couple months after school started. At first it was just monthly letters; not addressed to anyone in particular. They showed up in easy access places; under my door, under the windshield wipers of my car, my usual seat at the library.” I took a strong puff, trying to stamp down the feeling of deja vu..

“They didn’t include anything super specific. It was wierd; almost like someone’s diary. As time went on they became more frequent, detailed, and they started showing up in impossible places. Inside the car, inside the shelves of my bathroom, at work. Then they became more personal. Talking less about his day and more about mine. They just got creepier every time. It was like he wanted me to know that he was watching me at every point in the day. Started getting into my head too.” It didn’t matter where I moved or where my next job was, they kept appearing.” I took a deep breath, clearly remembering the fear that gripped me every time I saw that navy blue envelope. Couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. EZ noticed. His large hand covered my own in support.

“The fucker make any specific demands? Say anything about meeting up?” Coco asked.

“In the six years that he’s been around?” I snorted, “It’d be almost more relieving if he did.” EZ topped off my drink. “It’s like he’s content just watching me.”

“Watching or controlling?” Angel asked.

That took a second of contemplation. “He’s never been direct. But It’s easy to tell when he’s…upset at my choices.” Memories flashed through my mind like a movie. “If he was happy, I’d come home to rose petals on every surface, teddy bears, perfume, clothes. When he wasn’t it was slashed tires, gutted animals. People I got close to would always end up getting hurt. Accidents that weren’t really accidents but nothing could be proven.”

“I’m sure the police weren’t helpful.” Hank added.

That got a chuckle out of me. “No, not at all.” After a second thought I added, “but that might not be all their fault. I’ve never had a physical confrontation with the guy, there’s no surveillance video of him following me. I used to report the break ins but it was useless because there was never any forced entry. Or prints. He’s a ghost.”

“Or a professional.” It was the first time Bishop said anything. While he didn’t look happy, not that he ever did, there was some slight trace of concern in the pinch of the eyebrows and tilt of his mouth. He glanced at the group, making eye contact with each brother before making a decision. “All your stuff is in your car? Do you have enough for a night here?” He asked, turning towards me.

“Yes, there’s a black and white checkered bag in the passenger seat that should have enough. But…”

Bishop started barking out orders before I could utter another word. “EZ, grab her stuff. Set it in one of the back rooms.” He uttered something in Spanish that I didn’t quite get before continuing. “Rest of us. Templo. Gotta figure this shit out.” Most of the guys offered a somewhat comforting smile. Angel gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as they headed towards those stained glass doors.

There was a point during all of this, maybe three years ago, that I succumbed to this idea that my life would look like this forever. But If I focused hard enough, I could feel an inkling of hope trying to cut through the doubt and fear. Hope that I would maybe get out of this situation alive.

[omgitsshrimp]

[SPOILERS from Manga!] Attack on Titan Theory: The baby was NOT PLANNED.

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!! IF YOU’RE ANIME ONLY SKIP THIS POST! 

I thought I’d share my own theory on the whole situation with Eren and Historia. Keep in mind this is just my opinion/interpretation of everything so far. I just want to get my two cents in. 

I know suggesting that the baby isn’t planned sounds nuts, but hear me out. In Ch 130 we’re shown panels of Eren and Historia discussing the military’s plans for her, Eren telling her his plan, and Historia discussing a baby with Eren. 

In one panel, Historia is standing in front of the wooden fence, on the left side of the panel; then in a later panel she’s standing in front of the wooden fence on the right side of the panel. 

I don’t think this is by accident. This implies that Eren and Historia met up more than once, which opens up a strong possibility of them meeting up several times in the past. So when Historia asks Eren about having a baby, we don’t know if she said that in the same conversation as the earlier panels. It could have happened at a completely different time. We only have a close up of her face when she says it, and we dont see the whole convo, which means we don’t know the full context around her bringing up a baby to Eren.  

*Assuming they have met up several times, it begs the question, why does Eren even meet up with Historia? In my opinion, it’s because he has feelings for her, and they might be involved romantically.

 We know that the songs for AoT can allude to or foreshadow events in the story. I feel like Eren and Historia’s meet ups were alluded to in two songs (that I know of) in AoT OST, “Zero Eclipse” and “Yuugure no Tori” (ed3).

Zero Eclipse (only later part of the song is related to Eren):

“Make a promise that I cannot regret, As long as I can see you but in secret”

Yuugure no Tori:

“I’ll sing out with my girl, Go to the meeting place sing alone”

If the Baby was Planned, It Would Contradict Eren’s ideals/motivation

Another reason I don’t think the baby is planned is because if the point is to not produce kids just for a strategic purpose then why would Eren and Historia make a plan to do just that? (ie having a baby to put off Historia eating Zeke). Having the reason for making a child be reduced to convenience/serving your plan doesn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t align with Eren’s beliefs, in my opinion.

Assuming that Eren and Historia are romantically involved and have been physically intimate for some time, I think its fair to consider that this baby was conceived by chance (as well as love) rather than some sort of necessity brought on by a situation. I think upon hearing what the military was planning for Historia, Eren decided to make plans for another way that wouldn’t sacrifice her. I don’t think that involved making a child. I think the child came about by chance and the panel of Historia asking Eren about a baby was maybe part of a longer conversation where she was telling him that she was pregnant. I know I’m making a lot of assumptions, but I don’t think its impossible. 

I think from there, Eren and Historia came up with a plan to hide the pregnancy in order to protect Historia from being connected to Eren, since he knew he was going to start going against the military and wanted to protect Historia from any association with that. And also, kept it secret because if Zeke some how found out, it would compromise Zeke’s confidence in Eren and mess up Eren’s plans. Eren and Historia’s plan to keep the paternity a secret involved lying about the due date and using the Farmer as a cover. I suspect the farmer guy agreed because he really did feel guilty about bullying Historia as a child. The fact that he felt guilty enough to work there for years opens the possibility of him willing to go along with Eren and Historia’s plan, so he can make up for everything.

Paneling Choices

Now I want to talk about Isayama’s choices when it comes to the panels in ch 130, specifically in regards to the scene of Eren making his plans, Eren and Historia talking, and Eren and Zeke discussing Mikasa. How Isayama chose to order these panels seemed to me, very intentional and meticulous. 

In the previous panels in the same chapter we see Eren refusing to allow Historia to be sacrificed and we see him willing to go against humanity for her (and Paradis as a whole). Isayama decided to shows us the process of Eren deciding to carry out this plan through his interactions with Historia, as if to convey that she’s a big reason for why he’s doing all this. He’s emphasizing her importance in how Eren came to start this mission by positoning her front and center. This sequence ends with Eren telling Historia that she saved him, paralleling Mikasa in a big way.

Then, we go to a conversation between Zeke and Eren about the Ackerman bloodline. Zeke is clarifying to Eren that there is no ingrained behavior and that Mikasa does all these things for him because she loves him. And right after Zeke says that, there is a panel of Eren and Historia. I feel like Isayama gave us an explanation of Eren’s actions right here. A discussion about Mikasa’s affection and devotion juxtaposed with images of Eren and Historia right after we saw several panels of Eren doing exactly what Zeke described Mikasa does for Eren, in my opinion, was meant to indirectly allude to why Eren is doing this and how he feels about Historia. Isayama doesn’t want to give it away just yet, but is giving subtle breadcrumbs. Using Mikasa’s feelings to juxtapose probably threw people off too.    

It’s my opinion that Eren loves Historia. There’s other evidence that people have pointed out that I also agree with, but I won’t delve deep I’ll just mention them here:

 -Hanji noticing Eren smiling at Historia and defending her wellbeing, then asking Eren about it. Eren snaps at Hanji when she brings up Historia.

-Historia getting teary eyed when Eren defends her in the meeting. 

The only person Eren has been consistent with protecting this whole time has been Historia. His desire to protect her never wavered. He’s been talking about protecting her since the end of season 3. The only person we’ve seen Eren confide in (about his plans etc.) is Historia. She’s clearly significant to him.

What Eren Kruger Said to Grisha

Another reason I think Eren loves Historia and is romantically involved with her is because of what Eren Kruger said to Grisha. The Attack titan shifter can see future memories as well as past ones. Kruger told Grisha to “love someone in the walls, build a family. If you can’t do that, the same cycle will repeat itself. If you want to save Mikasa and Armin, carry out your mission to the end”. I think Kruger was also talking to Eren here, OR Isayama was alluding to what Eren will need to do in order to save everyone. In the anime, they added a line for Kruger, he says “someone in the future might see this [moment/memory of their conversation]”. I think it was added to establish that there may be a link between what Kruger said and what Eren is doing. Afterall, we know Eren saw this conversation. 

I think Eren did fall in love, with Historia, and is building a family (conceived a baby by chance), and something about the experience of love and impending fatherhood has played an important role in Eren carrying out this mission and ultimately saving Armin, Mikasa and Paradis, while also ending the cycle of hate.

In Ch 130, we see Eren saying that he has to do the rumbling in order for the cycle of hate to end. Similar to what Kruger said. Everything is happening exactly as Eren saw it, we saw that with that little boy Halil (or was it Ramzi?). The future memories were all correct, so if Kruger was speaking based on future memories then what he said about love, building a family, saving Armin and Mikasa, probably had truth to it.

 Eren’s Talk with Mikasa in Ch 123

A lot of people see this as an ErenxMikasa moment but since Eren and Zeke’s conversation in Ch 130, I don’t think that’s the case. In Ch 123, Eren asks Mikasa “what am I to you?”. Mikasa flusters and says “family”. I think Eren asked her this because he was suspecting that her Ackerman bloodline was influencing her decisions. This probably worried him because he didn’t want Mikasa to be a slave to her bloodline. Mikasa’s answer didn’t clarify anything for him. He was left ambivalent on the subject and that’s why he asked Zeke about the Ackerman bloodline. 

Mikasa says in Ch 123, that maybe if she gave a different answer things would have happened differently, but Zeke did give Eren a clear answer about how Mikasa felt. Eren knew how she felt and it didn’t change anything. Eren was concerned about the Ackerman bloodline influence because he wanted Mikasa to be free, not because he’s romantically interested in her.

I do realize I could be dead wrong. I know suggesting the baby wasn’t planned is a huge stretch but I just thought I’d put it out there. I just want it to be true so badly lol. Even if the baby is planned, I think there’s still some truth to some of the other things I pointed out. This was just a fun thing for me to do. I normally don’t write long theory posts, but I figured why not since it’s so close to the end and everyone is speculating. Why not join in?

I think that’s it. I hope I’m not missing anything. As for how I think the whole story will end? I think because Eren freed Ymir, titan powers might cease to exist. But I don’t know how that’ll affect the 13 year Ymir curse if that does happen. So I guess we’ll see. 

Feel free to share your thoughts. I’m not AntiMikasa or anything. Please be respectful! Thanks for reading!

[crisis34]

So I’ve had this irondad idea that I would KILL for someone to write. I’ve wanted to write it too but I don’t think I’ll get to it.

I started kinda sorta actually writing this in a few scenes 😂 don’t mind my weird idea writing style. Feel free to change what you want or add your own twist on things!! And please tell me if you do write this idea. I’ve had it stuck in my mind and I wanted to make it at least 10k-30k words.

I sadly, don’t have time for that though haha! Soooo hopefully someone wants to write this so I can read it lol

———

The idea is that after Tony passes away the rest of the Avengers talk to Peter for about two years, since Peter spends time at the compound and all that.

But at a random point Peter notices he’s getting ignored by the Avengers for months, they won’t say anything on why they’re all stressed and won’t talk to Peter AT ALL.

One day one of them (most likely Sam/Rhodey) let’s it slip that they have an imposing threat on earth they’re trying to find and it’s so classified that Peter can’t get his hands on the information.

So Peters bummed they don’t trust him, probably gets a line said to him like “Look kid, we really don’t need your help on this. Trust me.” And it destroys Peters self esteem because he’s already 18 and they still see him as the kid.

He goes home one day after school/compound/work or something and when he walks in his spidey senses act up.

Looking into his apartment (moved away from aunt May assumingly) he sees nothing at first so he’s suspicious but not taking any drastic measures.

And then he walks into the living room, where he has a view of the kitchen. And who happens to be standing there eating the fucking blueberries?

Tony motherfucking Stark.

Peter flips out, because he saw Tony die. He’s rambling about how he thought he was dead and all that but then he sees something that tells him -it’s not his Tony-.

The Tony Stark eyes he always remembered were whiskey brown. This guy had glowing blue eyes.

And now Peter’s heart drops. He’s trying to get information out of the imposter and that’s when the guy finally speaks.

He tells Peter about how he’s been on this earth for a few months, the Avengers spotted him through satellite, and how he’s from an alternate reality.

Peter refers to the guy as Anthony since he isn’t his Tony Stark. But he also realizes this is what the Avengers were keeping from him.

Anthony explains how he was drawn here as first (which we later get a point of view from Anthony when he first got on this earth and he wasn’t drawn there, he was told to go there. By Tony Stark whispering in his head).

Anthony also tells Peter that there’s a bigger threat than him on their way, and the Avengers are so caught up looking for him they’re ignoring the other threat.

Peters skeptical, he really is. (If you do end up writing this please don’t make this another Quentin Beck. I don’t want Peter being too gullible or getting used by Anthony because that kinda ruins the plot/already been done in far from home)

Peter has close to no trust for Anthony, especially since he has no information at all from the Avengers. But he still partially believes the guy that there’s another threat.

And he knows he’d have a lot of guilt if he turned him in and there was a threat he could’ve stopped.

So him and Anthony team up.

They look for the bad guy, maybe go through goons/hydra agents for information. But now Peters stumped.

Because Anthony isn’t afraid to use a gun or kill. Anthony’s moral meter isn’t like Tony’s was, especially in front of the kid.

Peter scolds him, tells him that he won’t be killing around him or else he’s shutting the whole operation down.

After that Anthony only kills a few more times, and Peter tries to yell at him for those but he sees rage behind Anthony’s eyes.

Especially since the guys Anthony had killed almost hurt/killed Peter. Peter kept quiet for those deaths and they end up back at his apartment to sleep maybe.

Peters silent after he realizes that it seems Anthony cares about him. This is the night before they confront the big bad guy.

For reference they’ve been together looking for information for weeks!! Keep that in mind cause then you can add your own cute scenes in those weeks of maybe Anthony being protective or helping Peter with homework.

In the middle of the night Peters spidey senses go off, he wakes up and immediately looks for Anthony. He walks into the living area to see the guy peacefully sleeping on the couch.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he decides to go back to bed but can’t fall back asleep.

And then the Avengers break down the door of Peters apartment.

Peter freaks out l, hearing it and Sams familiar footsteps along with whoever else you want to be there. Rhodey would make the most sense with the rest of the Avengers waiting at the compound.

Peter runs back to the living room to where they’re already handcuffing Anthony and Anthony isn’t saying a word, but Peter is trying to convince them to stop and there’s a bigger threat out there they need to be after.

Rhodey or Sam would tell him sternly to get to the compound.

Apparently they had found out the two of them were working together while trying to find out where Anthony was after figuring out he was on this earth.

When he’s at the compound he finds out Anthony has been out in an interrogating place at the compound and each of the Avengers try to crack him but he won’t say a word.

Now(preferably Sam but you can have Peters main Friendship be with someone else, lol but this part of the friendship will be a bit rocky) Sam confronts Peter.

Goes something like this:

“Peter you knew better, why didn’t you contact an Avenger? Huh?”

“Because I knew you guys would do this shit Sam!! There’s a threat! I’ve seen it, we need to stop the threat.”

“Peter, there have been no signs of a threat against earth. At least nothing like he seems to be telling you. Because he won’t tell us anything. I need information on him! Because that damn well isn’t Tony Stark.”

“I know that, of course I fucking know that. You just.. you don’t know him Sam. I swear he’s a decent guy. Anthony is telling the truth.”

“No. He’s manipulating you, he knew you were an easy target and that’s why he went to you!”

Peter pauses for a second, tears catching up with his emotions as he begins to cry. “That’s what you think? That’s what you all think.. of course.”

Sam seems to realize he messed up, but he keeps his mouth shut and let’s Peter talk.

“You guys don’t trust me. I don’t even know why I hang around here, I’m obviously not welcome.” Peter laughs, pained.

“What? Of course we trust you.”

“That’s a god damn lie!! Because if you did this wouldn’t have happened.” Peter yelled.

Sam stays quiet again, remembering how he told Peter that he couldn’t tell him about the threat they were all worried about. Each of them didn’t trust that Peters reaction wouldn’t cause a hurricane of events, it seems it did anyway.

“Do you know.. how scared I was?” Peter whispered this time, wiping his tears away.

“What?”

“Do you know how fucking scared I was when Tony Stark ended up in my apartment! He died two years ago right in front of me and then there he was!! Eating blueberries in my kitchen with glowing blue eyes as if it never happened.” Peter said, watching as Sams face dropped.

Peter shakes his head and continues. “I’m going home, maybe think before you decide I’m to be untrusted next time.”

Sam doesn’t stop Peter because he’s already pissed the kid off.

Either way it was 2am and he assumed Peter wanted some sleep. The whole night Anthony doesn’t say a word.

The next morning the Avengers decide they need Peter to clarify what happened.

When one of them goes to Peter’s apartment, they can’t find him. At first they assumed he went somewhere but the tracker on his suit the compound has access to has been clipped. (If you can figure out a better way that they figure out Peter went after the threat on his own go for it).

After Sam figures out Peters gone he hurries into the cell that Anthony is in, guilt putting in his stomach because what if Peter was right and he was against a threat much larger than himself.

“Where is he?” Sam immediately asks after slamming the door shut behind himself.

Anthony stares at him, obviously planning on not saying anything.

“Where the fuck is Peter? C’mon asshole, you told him there was a threat and now I can’t fucking find him. Where is he?”

Sam watches as Anthony’s face pales and he looks down at the ground with his eyes wide.

Sams stomach churns. “Please? Come on, I don’t know your intentions but please tell me. He’s only 18, I-“

Anthony gets the watch as Sam regrets every word he ever said to Peter and holds back tears because there was a chance they wouldn’t find Peter and it would be Sams fault.

“Get me out of here.” Anthony tells Sam.

Sam stares at him, there’s a darkness behind Anthony’s eyes at that moment he’s only seen on Bucky when he had to act like the winter soldier with Zemo.

Sam thinks back to Peter voguing for Anthony and makes a decision. This time, he would trust Peter.

“Alright.”

None of the other Avengers had been consulted during this decision, but Sam leaves the tracking of his wings on just in case.

He and Anthony would go together to help Peter.

“What are we doing?” Anthony asked while Sam walked into his room at the compound.

“I don’t know what we’re up against, I gotta suit up.” Sam said.

Anthony hummed and nodded, leaning against the doorway while Sam picked up something familiar.

“Is that Captain America’s shield?” Anthony asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah, Steve gave it to me before he retired.” Sam nodded, picking up a duffel bag.

“Which makes you Captain America.” Anthony smiled.

“Yup.” Sam chuckled.

“Alright, grab your suit. You can change on the plane.” Anthony decided, already walking off.

“What?” Sam quickly slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, carrying the shield and jogging to catch up with Anthony.

“What do you mean, plane?” Sam asked.

Anthony lifted his hand, holding a pair of keys in it. “Snatched it before you guys locked me up. You should really have an AI looking over this place to tell you things.” He suggested.

Sam felt some deja vu, remembering when Tony was alive and the voice of Friday could be heard everywhere. Rhodey shut her down, unable to listen to her voice and be reminded of his friend.

—

Anthony takes them to where Peter is currently trying to get a good vantage point on the threat, he’s only getting minor goons outside the building(maybe? The antagonist is up to you).

Sam stays back for a bit, getting a call on his phone from Rhodey who he knows is pissed.

He hesitantly answers and listens to the scolding but gives them their location anyway, having more Avengers on their way.

Anthony and Peter are talking and planning as well as joking. Peter seems pleased that Sam decided to trust him.

The three of them start to infiltrate the threat, Anthony has a wrist gauntlet that’s ice blue and silver he uses as well as a gun.

The Avengers arrive rather quickly to help the fight, all very wary about Anthony.

Here’s the thing, they all know Anthony’s moral is messed up and he isn’t afraid of killing or anything like that. They know he isn’t Tony.

So when Peter gets injured/almost dies they are all very surprised to see Anthony freeze as Sam tries to help the wound on his body.

The threat is gone at this point and the Avengers are trying to help Peter while he’s screaming out in pain, and Anthony is unfamiliar with the liquid rolling down his face.

(You can also make it where everyone thinks Peters dead and he kinda wakes up in the middle of their mourning lol)

And then Anthony snaps back into it, rushing forward and sliding through The small crowd and leaning down next to Peter with Sam on the other side.

“Hey hey hey, you’re alright kid. You’re alright.” Anthony said, forcing and smile and putting his hand on the side of Peter face.

Peters crying while Sams trying to get the bullet/clean the wound.

Anthony grabs onto Peters hand and squeezes it, Peter squeezes back.

“You’re gonna be okay Peter, I know it hurts, Underoos.” Anthony whispered in Peters ear.

Peter looked like he was gonna say something but then looked up and locked eyes with Anthony.

“What?” Peter whispered.

For Anthony, that moment too felt unreal. Memories began to blend with his own.

~~

‘There’s this crazy car parked outside!’

‘Mr. Parker.’

‘Umm. What, what are you doing? Hey.. I- I- I’m Peter.’

‘Tony.’

~

‘If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it!’

~

‘I don’t want to go, please, I don’t want to go Mr. Stark.’

‘I’m sorry.’

~

‘Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? And I must've passed out because I woke up and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there right. And he said 'It's been five years. Come on, they need us.' And he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does. Anyway...’

Tony hugged Peter, feeling as the teens excitement wore down.

‘This is nice.’

~

‘Mr. Stark, hey, Mr. Stark?’

‘Can you hear me? it’s Peter. Hey..we won. Mr.Stark. We won, Mr.Stark. We won, You did it sir, you did it.’

~~

“Anthony? What did- what did you just call me?” Peter asked, sliding up against the wall nearby after Sam finished making sure his wound was okay.

The Avengers looked confused, Rhodey glancing at the Tony lookalike uneasily.

Anthony and Peter looked at each other, both pale and scared.

“I- I don’t understand.” Anthony muttered.

Peter seemed to be staring at Anthony’s eyes the whole time, tears going down his face.

“Your eyes, Mr. Stark.” Peter held his hand to his mouth, staring in disbelief.

“What?” Anthony asked, new found emotion for the kid and everyone around him.

“Your eyes, Tony. They’re brown.”

[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left. 

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter. 

Stuck in a... by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh  

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Enough for me

Series masterlist

Word count: 1796

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: None (lmk if I need to add any)

Summary: You decide to tell Natasha how serious you are about your relationship and things don’t go exactly as you hoped but it’s still good.

A/n: Thank you to the multiple people who wanted another part in the mini flustered series that I’ve totally made up as I went along. Also I want to clarify that although this could be read as a part four to flustered it honestly isn’t super related so you can definitely read it seperately and it wouldn’t matter to the plot bc there is no plot besides soft nat. Also I don’t know if this one is any good because I didn’t edit as usual but hopefully you all enjoy!

You admire your work as you gaze out over the table you had just finished setting up. It had taken some work dragging a table all the way up to the roof and then having to make multiple trips to bring up all the plates, glasses, cutlery and food, not to mention the other things like candles you had set up. The effort was totally worth it in your opinion though because anything for Natasha was worth it.

You’ve spent a lot of time together since your first date and have gone on a couple more but so far all of your dates have been pretty casual and nobody on the team knows about you so you want to do something special to prove that you’re serious about her. Although looking up at the sky you realize you probably should have chosen another night and you cross your fingers that it doesn’t start to rain until after you’re done.

Your cell phone ringing interrupts you. “Tasha?” You answer it, looking at the caller id as you pick it up.

“Hi Y/n.” She responds. “So why am I supposed to call you?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“You told me to call you at seven so I’m calling.” She says and you slap your hand up to your face because you can’t believe you forget that part of your plan.

“Right sorry, I forgot.” You tell her. “Anyways I need you to put on something nice and come up to the roof.”

“Mysterious, I like it.” She says which makes you smile. “I’ll be up there in five minutes.”

“Okay, see you then!” You respond before hanging up and panicking. You didn’t expect her to be so quick and five minutes really isn’t a lot of time. You still have approximately one hundred candles to light and you’re not sure that you can get it done on time. 

You run around, trying to be careful and not burn yourself, and start to light all the candles that were all over the ground surrounding the table and the pathway to the door. Just as you’re finishing lighting the last one and standing up the door to the roof opens and Natasha steps out. She’s gorgeous as always but you especially love this dress on her. It’s black like most things she wears and is tight fitting at the top but slowly gets looser until it flows around her legs. You love it because you can tell she’s dressing to look beautiful and not sexy which she only ever does if she’s letting her guard down (so not very often). You are well aware that your jaw is open and you’re blatantly staring but luckily she’s busy looking around at your setup so you have time to collect yourself.

“Do you like it?” You ask her.

“It’s beautiful.” She breaths in response.

“Not as beautiful as you.” You reply and it’s so cheesy that you nearly regret saying that but there’s a light blush on her face and she’s smiling so you smile back and take a seat at the table, gesturing for her to sit with you. 

“So what’s on the menu?” She asks lightly as she sits, still smiling.

“Just some paninis and lentil soup, hopefully it’s still warm.” You tell her.

“Well I’m sure it will be good either way.” She responds before taking a bite and moaning in delight. “It is amazing, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” You say. “Now how about you tell me about your day?”

You listen attentively as she complains about paperwork and schedules and as she practically glows as she tells you about a new move she had used to take down Steve in training today. You love listening to her, it makes you happy that she likes talking about mediocre things with you and there’s a level of domesticity to it that makes your heart feel full. You just want to know everything about her, no matter how boring people deem it to be because it’s important to her and therefore it matters a lot to you.

You talk to her for hours comfortably as she continues to share but also asks you questions. There is never a lull in the conversation and you could listen to her voice forever. Eventually though, long after you both finish eating, the conversation dwindles to a comfortable silence. At least for her. You’re inwardly freaking out because you want to tell her exactly how much she means to you and although you think she’ll react well it’s not a guarantee. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asks, always observant. 

You gulp nervously but answer truthfully. “I’m thinking about how I am more serious about you than I’ve ever been about anyone before, even if it’s only been a few weeks.”

“I’m more serious about you than anyone too.” She replies. “But I think you already knew that.”

“I hoped so.” You tell her, continuing on your path since so far she is reacting well. “I was-I was thinking that maybe we could tell the others about us now, or at least stop hiding it and wait until they find out.”

“But I thought you were fine with it just being for us for now?” She asks, a frown tugging at your lips. Your heart sinks at her expression-you never meant to push boundaries that she wasn’t comfortable with yet.

“And I’m still fine with that.” You reassure her quickly. “I just thought it might be nice to tell the others but it’s totally cool if you aren’t okay with it.”

She stands up and starts to pace a little. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Hey, hey.” You stand up too and grab her gently by the arm so she stops and faces you. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do it, I just thought it would be nice so everyone knows how much I love you.”

Instead of calming her down your words only seem to make her more anxious. “You what? You-you love me?” She stutters out.

“Shit I am so sorry Natasha I promised not to rush you.” You immediately apologize, hoping that you didn’t mess things up to badly.

She picks her way through the candles carefully and sits down on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling over. You follow, sitting beside her, making sure you don’t accidentally do anything to further surprise her. She sits quietly, obviously deep in thought and you think as well. You know, or at least you hope, that Natasha won’t break up with you already because of this. You just wanted to give her a special night and the first part of it went great but you just had to push too far. You had promised that she would dictate the terms of the relationship when you had first asked her out but of course you weren’t able to follow through. You just wish that you could hear her thoughts so you could try to fix your mistakes. She stays silent and only speaks up after a few more agonizing minutes.

“I’m sorry-” She starts and you interrupt.

“It’s okay if you’re breaking up with me.” You say and she watches you with a strange look on her face.

“You just told me you love me-I’m not breaking up with you.” She tells you and you sigh in relief. “But I can’t say it back, not yet anyways.”

“That’s completely okay.” You reassure her, slightly disappointed but understanding and just happy she wasn’t breaking up with you.

“I want to but I can’t.” She explains, her face visibly upset, seeing a hint of your disappointment. “It just doesn’t work, I can’t say it, I’m sorry. But if you want to we can tell the team about us.” She turns away when she’s done, biting her lip, afraid of your reaction.

“Tasha. Tasha.” You say, waiting until she turns back to face you to continue. “We won’t do it unless you’re ready and it’s okay that you aren’t. I’m not going to take back my words, I do love you and being able to tell you that and be here with you is enough for me, you don’t need to do anything.”

She pauses a moment and you can’t read her expression so you start to get nervous. Maybe you should have taken back the ‘I love you’ part of your mini speech. Before you can overthink too much she throws herself at your side, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” She mumbles against your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m happy with this because having you is enough for me because I love you.” You tell her, awkwardly un-wedging your arm from between your side and her body and wrapping it around her, rubbing her back in mindless patterns.

She shivers slightly, not from the cold. “Can you say that again?”

“What, I love you?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah.” She says, almost shyly, nodding her head against your neck.

“I love you.” You tell her, kissing the side of her head at an awkward angle. “I love you. I love you so much Tasha.”

You repeat it over and over for a few minutes, feeling as though your heart is going to burst. You no longer care that she can’t say it back because she has her reasons but she wants you to say it and she’s cuddling with you and you never want to let her go because this moment is so perfect. 

Unfortunately the weather has other plans and just as your words start to die out the sky open, a few small drops then a complete downpour. The soft glow that once covered the roof from the candles disappears as they go out, releasing smoke. You know you have to clean things up but you figure it can wait until morning, once things are drier, so you take Natasha’s hand and pull her up. She starts to run towards the door, helping you so you don’t step on the candles, giggling the whole way. Technically things hadn’t gone to plan, her not wanting to tell the team or say she loved you and it raining at the end, but those things don’t seem to matter when you see her bright smile, her hair plastered to her face but somehow looking as beautiful as ever. And it matters even less when she pulls you inside and immediately presses you to the door, kissing you hard. You’re more than happy to fulfill her request when she pulls away, asking for you to say it again. Anything to keep her happy and make her feel loved.

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