#(certainly not the other way around at all)

[classyrbf]

SHE'S A SUCCUBUS! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...as a sex demon, she can always sense the horny virgin boy who’s dying to lose his virginity

INFO...choso x succubus!reader, sub!choso, virgin!choso, somnophilia, riding, overstim, creampie, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), slight ass eating, cum eating, doggy, squirting, choso is super needy and eager, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Choso always felt left out when his friend would constantly talk about all the girls they’ve been with, all the experiences they had and what crazy shit they always got into. He’d just sit there, silent. He couldn’t relate to them not one bit. The closest he’s ever to having sex is his right hand or a sex toy. No girl ever looked his way, and his confidence was crushed. They’d only go after his friends, practically drooling over them. Not one of them spared a glance towards Choso.

He was begging to lose his virginity, dying to know what real pussy felt like, how soft tits felt in his hands or even some ass. God, don’t even get him started on wondering what it feels like to receive head. His friends swear it’s the best thing ever as long as the girl knows what she’s doing. He always watches porn, the women on their knees, slobbering all over the man dick like it was some divine dessert. He loved watching the way their pussies wrapped around the mans dick, just imagining how wet and warm it is. He was a lost cause. At this point, he was ready to pay someone to take his virginity. Literally.

And just like any other night, he goes back home, ready to fuck his fist to another average porn video before dozing off to sleep. He’s been extremely horny lately, more than usual and he can’t understand why. Not to mention the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up to cum in his pants like he’s a damn teenager. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, feeling the need to cum more and more everyday.

Hours later, he’s fast asleep, tossing and turning as he has another wet dream of someone riding him. He can’t make out her face, but it feels so damn real. Everything does. Even her moans and the weight on top of him. “Mmm,” he hums. His brows furrow. He can even hear the sound of skin on skin. His entire body feels like it’s on fire right now, like he’s been hit with some sort of sex pollen. It’s more intense than ever.

Little does he know it’s not a wet dream, no, it’s you. The succubus who’s been watching him for weeks, feeling his urgency to cum, to lose his virginity. He’s summoned you without even realizing. And now you were riding him, gliding your wet pussy up and down his aching cock while he slept, waiting for the moment he wakes up and realizes he’s no longer a virgin. He twists and turns when you run your clawed nails down his pale skin, smiling at the way he moans and whimpers in his sleep.

Choso couldn’t take this overwhelming feeling anymore, forcing himself to wake up, prying his tired eyes open. But the feeling doesn’t stop. The sounds don’t stop. And certainly the woman is his dreams doesnt disappear when he opens his eyes. “Wha—ah—what? Who…? Oh fuck!” He rasps, eyes darting around the room and over your naked body. “What the fuck? Oh my goddd.” As confused and scared as he is right now, he can’t escape the pleasure coursing through him right now.

“Shhh, shhh, just let me make you feel good. You’ve been dying for this haven’t you? I’m here to give you exactly what you want.” You slightly lean back, spreading your legs to let him get a clear view of the way your pussy sucks his cock in.

He looks at you with awe and confusion, but he can’t help but give in, moaning so sweetly when you fully sink down. “Who…who are you?” He gasps, eyes widen when you clench your pussy around him.

“I know when cute virgins like you wanna lose their virginity. You summoned me, accidentally. You’ve been so worked up lately, huh? Well,” you smile, “that was because of me.” His cock twitches inside of you, your hips bouncing faster and harder, watching the way he mouth falls open.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s feels so good,” he heaves, breathing heavily. His cheeks dusted a light pink. “I don’t wanna cum just yet, please slow down. Please, please—nnghhh, fuckkkk.” Choso didn’t stand a chance, shooting sticky ropes of cum into your pussy, his entire body quivering with how intense his orgasm was. “Please, slow down—ah, oh my god. It feels too good—” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you kept fucking him.

“I’ll keep fucking you till there’s nothing left.” You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, placing your lips on his while you kiss him with such fervor, with such sloppiness. His hands reach down, gripping the plush flesh of your ass. He swears he’s in heaven right now. This can’t be real. No way a sex demon was taking his virginity right now. His dick was so sensitive, but still so hard. He knew he had so much cum left, the only thoughts he had were to fill you up over and over until it was dripping out.

He felt like he was losing his mind, fucking him so hard, creating a sloppy mess where you two met just so you can get him to cum again. Your devilish yet sweet giggles send chills up his spine and straight down to his already throbbing dick. With labored breaths, and his heart rattling against his rib cage, he already knows he’s going to cum again. So soon. “Come don’t hold back on me. I want it all,” you growl in his ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to empty you dry and fuck you stupid.”

His trembling fingers grip onto your ass harder as he cries out, broken moans swallowed by your kisses and he can’t help but cum again, filling up your tight pussy to the brim. You pull away from the heated kiss looking at the way his hazy eyes stare up at you with such desperation. You halt the movement of your hips and get up from his lap. “No, no, wait. Where are you going?! Please, keep fucking me.” He sits up, watching you get on your knees. Poor thing looks like he’s almost about to cry.

And now he can get a real good view of you. The tail that swayed around and the small little horns that pointed from the top of your head. You really were a sex demon. Your hand took a firm grip on his throbbing cock, his tip leaking like it was begging you to make it cum again. “I can see your thoughts. Your nasty little thoughts.” You run a long stripe from his balls all the way to his tip, licking the excess cum off. Your tongue was freakishly long, but god did it feel so good on him. You spit on his cock, massaging it in as you stroke him, moving your hand in circular motions that make his hips jump. “Say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Your lips curl into a smirk, running the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Put…put your mouth on it, please,” he says barely above a whisper, too shocked to even form proper words.

“Louder.” You massage his balls with your free hand, earning a guttural groan from him.

“Please, put your mouth on it! Fuck, I wanna know how good it feels!” His lip quivers, his breathing quickening the closer your lips get.

“Good boy.” You smile, darting your tongue out and wrapping it around the base of his cock, swirling it around the head before you take him in your mouth. You stare at him through thick lashes, bobbing your head up and down his thick shaft, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth. Glug, glug, glug.

The sound of you choking on his dick was like music to his hears, taking his all the way down your throat with no problem. How is he supposed to keep up? His brain is fried and his body already feels so weak from cumming two times in a row. But he can’t stop. It’s like you’ve put some kind of spell on him to make him want more. “Shit, I’m all the way in,” he gasps, fall back onto the pillows. You pull him out of your throat, string of saliva connect from your lips to his cock as you continue stroking him. You were so messy, so nasty, but he loved it so fucking much because this is always how he’d picture it.

You spit back on his cock before taking him down your throat again without warning. “Oh my—fuck me, I’m gonna fucking cum again!” He whimpers. His body jolts and his abs tense up at the sensation, pleasure shooting through his body like electricity. He’s so sensitive he can’t help it. His hips buck up into your mouth and next thing he knows, he’s cumming down your throat. “Nnngh shit!” He groans, each orgasm more intense than the last. It’s like as time goes on, he can’t help but get more horny, more greedy.

Within seconds he’s pulling you off his dick on bending you over, pulling your ass in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I can’t,” he’s muttering to himself, sweat dripping down his body. He pushes every inch into you with such ease, like your pussy was made for him. “Feels so good, feels so good I can’t stop stop,” he cries, rummaging his hips into you, fucking hard and fast.

“You’re learning so quickly.” You smile from below him, pushing your ass back against his hips. He watches the way your ass bounces back on his dick and he becomes mesmerized. “That’s it! Fuck me harder. Show me how badly you wanna cum in my pussy again,” you giggle.

Choso pushes your head into the mattress, broken moans falling from his lips. “I need it so badly, so fucking badly.” Your pussy grips him like a vice and he hisses at the tempting feeling.

“Make me squirt all over your cock! Come on, fuck me like you mean it!” You grip the sheets below you, feeling his swollen head press against your sweet spot over and over with each grueling thrust. Upon hearing your words, Choso remembers all those videos he’s watching of girls squirting, and to make you squirt just because of him makes his brain fuzzy. He keeps the same pace, huffing and panting when your pussy grows tighter. “Yes! Yes!” You laugh, sighing in relief when he pulls out and clear liquid shoots from your pussy, coating his cock and sheets.

His eyebrows raise in amazement. “Holy fuck,” he watches the way your pussy leaks before urgently ramming his cock back inside of you. “Do it again. Squirt all over me again! Please! It’s so fucking hot!” He begs as he pounds your pussy like his life depends on it. “Wanna watch you—nnngh—squirt again!”

As if on cue, your pushy gushes around him again, soaking his thighs and his cock and just the sight of it makes him cum so hard he’s toppling over you. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” He thrusts deep inside of you, making sure not to waste even a drop. “Yes, yes!” He huffs, bucking his hips. “I need to taste you, need to fucking—mmm.” He drops to his knees, pulling your ass back against his face while his tongue slurps every drop his cum and your juices, licking through your sloppy folds and sucking on your clit.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Such a good, good boy.” You praise, reaching behind you, taking a fistful of his hair and pushing his face deeper into your cunt. His moans at your taste, his free hand reaching down to stroke his swollen and sensitive cock. He moves his tongue up and down, running back and forth between your clit and your ass, and back down to your hole. You quickly pull him away before sitting up.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop?” He looks at with sad eyes.

“You’re done.” You look down at his cock.

“No, no, I’m not. I promise I still have more. Just keep fucking me, let me eat your pussy or something! Don’t leave!” He pouts, watching you crawl towards him.

“As much as I’d like to keep playing with you, you’re all out of cum, pretty boy.” You smirk. “I’ve got other desperate virgins like you to attend to.” You ghost your lips over his and Choso leans in for a kiss but you pull back from him. “You’re welcome.”

You disappear into a dark corner in his room, like you faded away into it. He runs to turn on his light and sees you’re completely gone. He’s at a loss for words, standing in the middle of his room completely naked. He looks towards his bed, seeing the wet spots you had left. So it was real? No? Yes? He didn’t know what to believe. He accidentally summoned a sex demon to take his virginity. If only he could do it again.

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[softness-and-shattering]

Thats a good point, I see all kinds of neurodivergence in my family but only a couple of us in my generation, afaik, have a diagnosis.

However, my gp attended a recent talk about overlap of queer folk with neurodivergence and also a group of comorbid illnesses including, iirc, POTS/MCAS/EDS/CFS theres a couple others Im just blanking. Digestive issues? Things that we've broadly noticed as a community, and it seems like its starting to be studied.

And also, everyone has some kind of trauma, idk how many people if any have no kind of disability whatsoever, humanity is vast and diverse. And we're wired to look for patterns. Interpret this information how you will, I certainly cant say for sure if these patterns are broader than trans people, or are more people trans than we expect, are we seeing correlation or causation or is there a mechanism in common with all these labels thats the deeper cause, is queerness an interchangeable/'sometimes' factor or a central one, we are way too early to know that yet.

I think its probably not nothing. But we're also not uniquely fucked up. Maybe we're just sticking out, so to speak, so thats where the research is starting. Many people werent taking ME/CFS seriously until long covid prompted more research bc, iirc, there was now a lot more people affected who were harder to ignore. And who were seeking help. Like a lot of people have an allergy or a dodgy wrist or "that weird thing with my digestion" and they dont consider it a disability or seek treatment, yknow? And especially mental health and especially what runs in families, it looks normal to you so why would you ever bring it up to a dr? "Everyone struggles with these things. Everyone feels this way" well you do and your parents and aunts and uncles do and your siblings do, and maybe you told a dr forty years ago you were in pain and they brushed you off so you thought everyone was walking around in agony.

And that gets into an adjacent conversation about medicalising and diagnosing and when does that help and when is it like, making a negative thing of normal human experiences and variations, its not a disorder till its negatively impacting your life, if youre surviving but treatment could help you thrive is it worth the side effects etc etc plus the whole discussion of psychiatry in particular which can be an amount of guesswork and diagnostic labels are often just patterns of symptoms that we see oftrn go together and we dont always yet understand the underlying neurology. (One of my all time best therapists kept up with the latest neuroscience and always had very good and effective suggestions. I only stopped seeing her bc I moved away. If you can be seeing professionals who are keeping up with research, definitely prefer them over someone who hasnt learned anything since they completed training 50 years ago. Always.)

Tl;dr I agree with OP and also this stuff is extremely complex and we're always learning new things about us!

something that should be taken with a grain of salt are the statistics talking about the high rates of mental illness + neurodivergence among trans people (ocd, bpd, adhd, autism, etc)

I see both sides of the political spectrum taking these studies at face value - conservatives say we're broken, and trans people try to come up with reasons why for example autism + gender dysphoria makes sense and why one of them feeds into another

at the end of the day you have to remember that we're the one category of people on this planet who are legally required to go see a psychiatrist in order to receive non-psychiatric medication and surgeries.

more trans people are in therapy by law than any other demographic of people, and as a result, this captures more comorbidities.

if I had to look at my own family & rates of mental illness?

mom, dad, 2 maternal aunts, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, sister, sibling, and me all have OCD.

7/9 of them are cishet, never been to therapy, never diagnosed. 2/9 are trans, required therapy for hormone treatment, and were diagnosed.

you don't have to do any math to just see that the resulting statistics end up intensely skewed.

and we can think back to how autism was virtually never diagnosed more than 50 years ago - ruling out any grandparents being included in statistics - and even my parents' generation (they're in their 60s now) wouldn't have been included either.

I don't think it's to anyone's benefit to accept these studies uncritically. a lot of these things are hereditary and far more prevalent in the overall population than people realize

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[deathbxnny]

Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

[foolishaetherguardian]

“… and be sure to report any further unusual tectonic activity. Dismissed.” Bats finally finished the report. Why was he here? Right the first five minutes had been about the possibility of magic having been used. This really should have been an email he just ignored or left Zatanna to deal with. Bunny girl was better at feigning interest than he was after all. “John, Zatanna if you would both remain.”

Damn the brat. Why did the inter dimensional brat decide today to bug him? John knew he could pop up at literally any point in time like it was normal. It was revenge. For what offense he didn’t know. Or maybe he hadn’t even done it yet. Stupid fifth dimensional traveling.

“… stantine. CONSTANTINE.” “Bugger off.”

“John.”

Shit. Okay first names were bad with the cape. Like find a new existence and disappear off the face of the planet bad.

“Right sorry mate just, distracted.”

“The fact that an eldritch horror from who knows where was hanging off you like a scarf actually had some effect on you? You must be getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Love we both know that if it was weighing on me I wouldn’t be around to talk. You wouldn’t be either.” John had some respect for Zatanna. She was a good mage. Understood the proper importance of a cigarette and a blokes need to keep up appearances. Usually at least. “Got a cig?”

“Those will kill you someday.” The disapproval and sarcasm rolled off her tongue as smooth as the honeyed lies the lass would use with magic. John wanted to quip back but settled for a death glare as the big bad bat threatened to perfect his own death glare on him. Why did the bat have to be such a stickler? Rules rules rules. Rules don’t save lives when they shackle you from good. Damnit. Why were all the big dogs so damn… good?

“Hrm.”

Right the bat. The bat that right now probably wanted to string him up by his ankles and let the archdemons sort out how to cut him into nice even thirds if his damned rules didn’t stop him. Why did he have a cigarette?

“Uh bats?”

“Hrm.”

Just as loquacious as always that cape. Keep that thought inside. Definitely keep the thought inside. Especially as you take that stupidly expensive cigarette.

“Thanks. I could really…” The cig was hard. It was candy. The bat almost had an actual expression under the cowl, there was the slightest tightness of the lips. A smirk. He was smirking. ”You know what? Fuck you.” The fake cig crunched in his mouth. It actually tasted pretty good. Not that he was going to ever let anyone know that. “I’m going home. Hopefully to eat my leftovers. The brat isn’t a threat. If you want to know just ask the lass about the between or the Infinite. Or better yet go ask Grundy about The Protector.”

God he needed a drink. And a smoke. And maybe another drink. John was pretty sure that his food was gone too.

“How old is he?”

Dammit lass. Why did you always know just what to say? “14…. I think.” John replied stopping at the door to the stupid tech magic tubes that Supes had insisted on. “He’s some other world’s hero.”

The lass had to think on that one. Not every day you meet an alternate. “Is he… okay?”

“He’s doing alright. Insists his parents couldn’t understand though, so he always carries it alone. Protects people that way, or so he says.” John finally let himself laugh. It was a fitting description of most of the capes who worked with the league. And himself. If he was generous. Pity he couldn’t afford to be generous with himself anymore. “I’m just his fallback. And debit card.”

“It would do him some good to meet others. If you can invite him to the next picnic.”

John blinked slowly. Then turned. The Bat had a smile. A proper smile. Soft and understanding. How? The man was almost certainly just a mass inhuman muscle and brains with the bare minimum speech capability bundled into a bat suit. “I’ll make sure to offer it. But he’s still weird about his… abilities.”

“I’ll get him added to the budget.”

“Budget?” Now this was sounding promising. While the league did pay it wasn’t much more than rent for the closet he used to access the house.

“For young heroes or metas under league guidance. One of the points Bruce Wayne insisted on when he decided to find us officially. So they have a safe place.”

“I’m a safe place?” John’s incredulity was finally outweighing his paranoia. A hefty feat considering even he considered himself to be 90% paranoia by volume.

“Sure sounds like it mate.” Only the lass could say something so damning like it was a good thing.

“{Guess so}” Why did he understand the grunt? Are the grunts some secret dad cape speak? Why was he suddenly qualified for…. Nope. Nope. He’s going home. Sleep liquor and maybe a bit of tele. No he wasn’t tearing up. And no one could see his face to tell you otherwise.

Danny has met Constantine.

Constantine has a coat.

Danny regularly pops out of it to say hi or when Constantine calls him for something.

Nobody in the JL knew this, so when Danny popped right on out in the middle of a meeting.

Well.

[livinghalfway]

Right Reasons; Wrong Kid

Summary: Batfam thinks Damian is being kidnapped when they see Danny getting manhandled into a car by Vlad; Danny loves to make Vlad's life difficult and puts up a fight getting into the car.

Word Count: 1450

Being in Gotham was the last place Danny wanted to be today, especially when he had to be here with Vlad. The fruitloop had somehow convinced his parents that he should go to this stupid three day business conference with him.

While Danny can't make any decisions right now he can certainly make Vlad regret his. Which is why Danny doesn't feel an ounce of embarrassment at what he is currently doing.

"Daniel, get in the car." Vlad hissed at him with a tight smile as they both stood outside of the building the conference was being hosted in.

"No." He said; even going as far as to take a step backwards to further spite the man in front of him.

It was clear Vlad was losing his patience with him if the subtle flash of red in his eyes is anything to go off of. "Daniel, I won't ask again. Get in the car now, or I can drag you in. The choice is yours, but you will be getting in this car one way or another."

"You really gonna drag a kid into your car in front of all these people you're trying so hard to impress?" Danny looked from side to side at all the people congregating on the sidewalk and steps as they wait for their vehicles to arrive.

"I'm hardly the first person they've seen that has had to deal with a stubborn child refusing to listen." Vlad says as he takes a threatening step forward, "Now get in the car."

"No."

Seemingly annoyed but not surprised Vlad takes a deep breath before his hand, like a snake, strikes forward and grabs a hold of him before beginning to pull. Just as quickly though Danny is trying to pull away with just as much strength. Quickly taking a moment to look around he sees that others are already starting to look in their direction; perfect.

With him distracted though Vlad was able to get a sharp tug on him causing him to stubble towards the car. Before he can fall into the car though Danny is shooting his foot forward, firmly planting it down as his hands land on both sides of the open car door.

"Gonna have to try harder than that, fruitloop. I can't make it too easy for you." Danny teased as he fought against Vlad’s pushing.

Vlad doesn't say anything back to him besides giving a low growl. This situation is clearly not going the way he wanted to and Vlad’s frustration was starting to show, and Danny was determined to watch this man break in front of all these people he so desperately wanted to impress.

He locked his arms and knees when he felt Vlad start pushing harder against his back. Preparing himself to jump to the side the moment Vlad loosened his grip even slightly. What he wasn't prepared for though was for the weight pushing against him to suddenly disappear.

"What is going on here?" A deceivingly friendly voice sounds out behind him.

Before Danny can realize what has just happened though a much stronger hand is gripping his shoulder and yanking him away from the open car door. Finally able to see more than just the car's interior Danny see's that three other men are now standing by the car.

Two of them, a teen not much older than himself and a middle aged man, are standing in front of him as if forming a wall between him and Vlad. Who is being held in place by the third man.

Danny can see that Vlad was just as thrown off by these strangers as he is based on the startled look on his face. What confuses him though is when instead of becoming angry like he expects Vlad only looks surprised as he takes in the three guys with them.

"Bruce Wayne!" Vlad announces with a tight grin, "I was just trying to get my son to cooperate with me and get in the car. I'm sure you understand how teenage boys are."

"I'm not your son!" Danny instinctively yells out; no way in hell was he going to let Vlad tell people they were any way related.

It took him a second to register what name Vlad had even said.

Bruce Wayne? He remembers Sam and Tucker talking about that guy and his family when they found out he was going to Gotham. Which means if he's remembering correctly then the young man next to Vlad is most likely Dick Grayson and the older teen next to him is Tim Drake.

Without looking at him Bruce leans towards him and whispers, "Shh Damian, let me handle this."

Wait. What?

"I'm not-" Danny tried to say that his name wasn't Damian, but was quickly interrupted before he could.

"Damian, quiet." Bruce lowly growls; still not moving his gaze to look at Danny. "Actually, Mr. Masters, you'll find that this is my son, and I don't think you should be putting your hands on him."

Vlad looks from Bruce to Danny and then back to Bruce, "While I do agree that you and Daniel share some resemblance this is not your son Mr. Wayne."

It seems Bruce wasn't going to entertain Vlad's "lie" because he still doesn't bother to even look at Danny. Tim on the other hand seems to consider what Vlad said, and turns to actually look at his face.

Danny almost laughs out loud when he sees shock immediately overtake Tim's face. At least one of these fruit loops is smart enough to recognize that he isn't the youngest Wayne.

"Bruce, this isn't Damian." Tim states with wide eyes still locked with his.

Upon hearing this the other two Wayne's finally take a hard look at Danny for themselves.

"Oh my God B, that's not Damian!" Dick exclaims before releasing his hold on Vlad.

Bruce on the other hand is frozen in shock as he stares at Danny as he comes to the realization that the boy in front of him is in fact not his youngest son. Snapping himself out of his stupor, the older man finally addresses Vlad. "Mr. Masters, my deepest apologies. It seems this young man and my son look remarkably alike, and I assumed the worst when I saw him fighting to get into the car."

Vlad takes a step forward towards Danny clear with his intentions of getting them into the car now, but before he can grab him Bruce is once more taking a step in front of Danny. "I would actually like to have a quick word with Daniel if you won't mind."

"And why is that?"

"I have a son his age after all, maybe I can help ease this teenage rebellion phase, and cause less fights when it comes to getting in the car."

Danny must have been more focused on the growing argument in front of him more than he thought because he ends up slightly jumping when he feels a sudden hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right he sees that Dick is now standing next him with a soft smile. "Daniel, right?"

“Danny actually, and you’re Dick?”

"Yup! That's me," He gestures to the boy standing on Danny's other side, "and this is Tim. Sorry about all this; we thought our brother was being kidnapped."

"Do I seriously look that much like him?" At this point Danny had to meet Damian if the guy's family was even confusing the two of them.

Tim is giving him a concentrated look when he replies, "It's like the two of you could be twins or maybe even clones. The eye color is the biggest difference between the two of you."

If Danny didn't know any better he would think Tim was accusing him of being a clone based on the tone of his voice. He knew Gotham was weird, but he didn't think he would have to worry about cloning here. "While I was adopted when I was pretty young, but I think I'd know if I had a twin or if I was a clone."

"Crazy things happen all the time in Gotham."

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Danny can't believe saying this, but it's probably time to get Vlad's attention and get the hell out of here. He already has one crazy fruitloop to worry about; he doesn't need more. "Vlad, I think we really need to-."

“Father, what is the meaning of all this?” A new voice interrupts him, and when he sees who it is truly shocking to see a mirror of his own face. The other is also now looking at him with something akin to shock and grief.

“Damian?”

“Danyal.”

[misctf]

A Team Player

Hey everyone! This is part of a story trade with @axeeglitter. Highly recommend you check out some of their stuff. This story is a combination of inanimate and jock tf. Enjoy!

Conner couldn’t even begin to understand what happened. His mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions- trying desperately to understand his new reality. His body unable to move despite him desperately wanting to. He could feel a rough hand press against what had been his face. Forcing it up against the hardening member of his tormentor.

“God, this always feels good.” He could hear Coach Phillips’ voice echo around him.

The pleasure was certainly intense. And Conner could barely string together a thought. But he could remember bits and pieces of what happened. The young twink was worried about his football star boyfriend. Liam was always busy around this time of year- football practice took up most of his time. But ever since Coach Phillips took over, it was far worse. And sure there were pros. He loved the way his boyfriend’s thick arms felt around him. And Liam’s increased sex drive wasn’t something Conner complained about. But the young twink also noticed other changes. Liam was usually warm and kind, but now he was somewhat robotic. Eat, practice, eat, workout, bed. Other aspects of his life like school and dates were pushed aside.

“Coach... please... don’t...” Conner could hear Liam’s voice. He sounded so scared; straining to get his words out. And Conner wanted to hug and comfort his boyfriend. But he couldn’t. The reality of his new situation slowly dawning on him. 

He only wanted to help. When Liam missed another planned date, Conner finally went to confront him. He went to the football team’s weight room, where he found his boyfriend working out. And no matter how he tried to get Liam’s attention, his boyfriend was in a trance-like state. It then happened so quickly. Coach Phillips appeared, led both of them back to his office, and then... He could remember his arms wrapping around coach’s waist, the man’s cock deep in his throat. He remembers his body shifting and deflating. His face flattening and cupping coach’s cock. And then... and then... Conner could feel Coach’s dick start to throb and he knew what was coming. And in that moment, the fabric of Conner’s new body was saturated in Coach Phillips’ seed.

“Fuck... that felt good...” Coach Phillips moaned, his cock softening, “You know Liam, your boyfriend makes a great jockstrap.” Conner felt a hand smear the cum into his new fabric body, his thoughts fogging over, “Oh is that a tear? I told you, I needed focus and no distractions. Now, get back to your work out.”

“Yes coach.” Came Liam’s defeated and robotic voice. No resistance left in his hypnotized little brain. His mind caving after witnessing the love of his life turned into a mere undergarment.  

Conner could hear the door to the office close as Liam left. The pleasure of the last few minutes was dissipating now, and the horror of his situation began to dawn on him. He was a jockstrap. Coach Phillips’ jockstrap. The musky smell emanating from the coach’s thick cock and cum were unbearable.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him.” Coach Phillips said, “He’ll be so much easier to keep under my thumb with you out of the way.” Conner wanted to cry- frustrated he couldn’t save his boyfriend from this, “Honestly, I’d be more concerned for yourself.” Coach chuckled, “After all, we’ve got plenty of time together.”

He wasn’t lying. Day after day, Conner would experience the same routine. Coach would wake up with a fierce morning wood that pressed unbearably into Conner’s fabric face. He’d quickly unload and go for a jog, his sweat and musk permeating deeply into Conner’s body. Afterwards, he’d drive to campus where he’d lift weights and continue pouring sweat into his jockstrap.

“Hey Liam.” He could hear Coach Phillips say, “Your boyfriend is awfully comfortable.” He’d mock. Liam would only nod, his mind completely broken- just another drone on coach’s football team.

And this cycle would continue. Days would turn into weeks and weeks into months. Conner’s mind was slowly deteriorating. If he wasn’t being worn, he’d be thrown into a pile with other smelly jockstraps. Unwashed and abused. Resisting the realization that not being worn was far worse for his mental state. After a few days of sitting in the pile, Conner began to miss coach’s cock. He missed the feeling of the warm sweat and musk. And to his horror, he came to realize he was accepting his new existence. Crave it actually. What else was left for him anyway? When Coach Phillips eventually did put him back on, Conner was gone. Just a jockstrap, thirsty for coach’s cum and sweat. And he couldn’t be happier.

It was perhaps a few weeks later when coach removed the jockstrap. Coach Phillips grinned as he threw it to the ground in his office and mumbled a few words. And suddenly, fabric became flesh. Bones hardened into existence, muscles expanding into a godly physique, veins pulsed with blood, and the former jockstrap looked up at Coach Phillips with curiosity. The new man slowly moved muscular limbs that had been frozen for at least a year. He felt his warm, tanned skin. His squeezed his thick pecs. He ran a hand through his short blond hair. Part of him confused- wasn’t he a jockstrap? And before that, wasn’t he a twink? Coach’s essence had molded the former twink into the perfect specimen of masculinity- his new perfect football player.

“Conner.” Coach Phillips said.

“Conner?” Conner’s deep voice echoed throughout the office, “Coach.” He couldn’t help but stare at coach’s semi-hard member. Drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. He was already missing it.

“I think someone would like to see you.”

And Conner turned to see a man he vaguely recognized walk into the office. He knew this man was important to him. But he didn’t recognize the massive pecs and arms, gleaming with sweat from an intense workout, nor the cocky grin and vacant eyes on his chiseled face- features that the old Liam never possessed. Now just a product of at least a year of coach’s unrelenting hypnosis. But in Liam’s vacant eyes, Conner could see a sudden spark of recognition.

“This is Conner, our new teammate.” Coach Phillips says, “I’d like you to give him a tour. You have the whole place to yourself.”

“Yes coach.” Liam’s now cocky, deep voice echoed through the room. He was nothing more than coach’s himbo football drone now.

And as Liam led Conner around the weight room, the two would bump into one another. Taking every possible opportunity to feel each other’s muscles. And finally, after a year of separation, Liam pulled Conner into a deep and loving kiss. The two squeezing each other’s pecs and running their hands passionately through each other’s hair. Their tongues did battle as the two boyfriends quickly made up for lost time, uncaring that it was in the middle of the workout room. And when Liam finally topped Conner for the first time in a year, the two lovers howled in passion.

“I love you, babe.” Liam said, his eyes still vacant, “I’m so glad you’re on the team.”

“I love you too.” Conner’s equally vacant eyes stared into Liam’s.

The two were nothing more than coach’s drones. Muscular men, both of whom were beasts on the field. But despite their broken minds and utter devotion to their master, the two had one another. The remnants of an old life guiding them and an unexplainable feeling saying they needed to enjoy this time while it lasted. Both unsure what would happen when the season ended and master had no further use for the pair of sweaty, meaty football jocks.

[luckyladylily]

The negative reactions to HDG are really interesting to me because the "problematic" elements are certainly not new or even presented in an extreme form. I think there are a lot of people in the political left who treat independence and self determination as sacred concerns that should be placed above all other concerns - it is morally better to cling to scraps or even the illusion of self determination than to give it up for a significant increase in quality of life.

Several years ago, well before the first HDG stories, I had a discussion with one such person based around the idea of daily food preparation and how much of a burden it could be. The discussion came down to this: I put forward the idea a "freedom" is only useful to a person if they value it. Otherwise it simply becomes a burden. I made the claim that if I never had to manage determining when to eat, what to eat, or preparing that food again at the cost of never being able to choose what I eat, then I would make that trade without hesitation (assuming a benevolent someone choosing for me). The person I was discussing this with could not accept this, and we ran through all the reasons why until, ultimately, all they had left was "It feels like giving up." which they insisted important enough to override all other concerns.

My time, my peace of mind, my health, my happiness, even the fact that I have very little practical choice in what I eat anyway due to fatigue and financial limits, did not matter as much as what they saw as a moral imperative to cling to a scrap of self determination.

I think a lot of people who react so negatively to HDG that they have to go out of their way to harp on it are dealing with it on that level. Self determination and Independence are moral imperatives, and in that respect HDG is a deal with the devil. You get everything you ever want or need, and the only price is your soul self determination.

It brings up a few very uncomfortable ideas that challenge their world view, including: First, many people do not consider the pursuit of self determination for its own sake as an overriding moral concern - meaning their set of values are not necessarily objective. Second, many rational people would make this bargain. Finally, the amount of people in the world that would be much better off having made such a bargain is uncomfortably high because the scraps and illusions of self determination they have are basically without real value and our standard of living is just that low.

Makes people very uncomfortable to think about it, so it's easier to just say "You shouldn't enjoy HDG stuff because it's problematic!"

TL:DR - The fact is that we are so very far below the bar of a society that is acceptable on even basic levels that many people's standard of living has them looking up at being a favored pet to a benevolent owner. As a kink setup? That's hot. As an assessment of the state of affairs of our society? Very uncomfortable for some people to think about, so they get mad when people have fun thinking about it.

A critique I've seen of HDG is "you'd have no control over your life" and idk, I feel like I have so little control over my life now.

the main difference is here it's due to capitalism, ableism, and transphobia and I have to largely take care of myself. Whereas in HDG, I would be fed, clothed, my disabilities accommodated for, my transition would be done in a week And I'd have a large hot plant person caring for me the entire time.

If I'd have no control over my life, at least HDG is safe and sexy

[spxllcxstxr]

Being in an Established Relationship with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: I am desperate for more Jayce x Viktor x Reader content! Would I be able to request headcanons for what an established relationship with them would be like?? 🥺 -- @spatialwave

Warnings: gn!reader, first time writing arcane and jayvik so I hope it's all good!!

A.N: Andy (@spatialwave) has inspired me so much so PLEASE go read their beautiful writing! You need to understand I got this request LAST NIGHT, I just had to bang it out I was writing like a FIEND. I loved writing this so much, I hope to write more in the future!! Hope you enjoy!

•

Being in a relationship with Jayce and Viktor is like being a part of an old married couple that simultaneously bickers all the time and is just falling in love all over again every day

Jayce is like a ray of sunshine on a summer afternoon

He's clingy--but not overwhelmingly so. Jayce just has to have some sort of body part on either of you at all times (except in the lab unless he's feeling especially in love that day)

He loves putting his arms around your waist, chest pressed up against your back and lips ghosting over your neck. Jayce is a bit more subtle with Viktor, since your other partner prefers smaller touches, so their fingers are always tangled together. Some days Jayce will even sneak his hand into Vik's back pocket, making the slimmer boy light up red from the neck up

Jayce is also the type of boyfriend that will always have you two on his mind. He picks a flower from someone's garden to give it to you because "the vibrancy of its color reminded me of your eyes," or buys a little knick knack for Viktor because "I thought you would find it hilariously stupid" (Viktor will put it on his already cluttered desk at the lab because Jayce was right, it is stupidly funny)

Jayce will always get an A for effort because even if he can't remember how you like your coffee or tea, it's the thought that counts

Has bigass puppy dog eyes and he fucking knows how to use them against you two

All he has to do is look between you and Vik with those golden eyes are you're both putty in his hands

Speaking of being putty in hands, Jayce is the cuddler of the relationship

Which is good because he is also the space heater of the relationship too

Will basically have Viktor curled up on one side and you on the other. His face will be buried in Viktor's hair, placing sleepy kissed on his scalp. His fingers will rub circles on the small of your back. Jayce is the best pillow and blanket in all of Piltover AND Zaun

Viktor, on the other hand, is like the moon at midnight

He loves the both of you in a slightly different way than Jayce

While Jayce is more touchy and exuberant with his love, Vik is certainly more subtle, though that doesn't mean he loves you two any less

He is actually exceptionally smitten with you and Jayce. It's like his walls come crashing down whenever you two are with him. He could come back from having a disagreement about a project with Heimer, with his jaw clenched and brows furrowed, and then he'll spot you and Jayce in your shared apartment and it all melts away

Viktor isn't carrying the world on his shoulders with his partners around him. He knows that you guys will lift the hefty weight from his shoulders

While Viktor isn't as touchy ad you or Jayce, he shows his presence in other ways.

Viktor will always have at least one eye on you at all times. It's not that he doesn't trust you two (on the contrary, you two are the only people he trusts with his life), he just needs to know his lovers are ok

Jayce could be tinkering with something in the lab and 50% of Viktor's attention will be on him. Making sure he doesn't shock himself or mix the wrong chemicals together. And if that does ever happen, Viktor drops everything to help him. He masks his worry with wit, but the mask is transparent for you and Jayce

Viktor is also the one with the extreme attention to detail. Your coffee or tea is always right and always the right temperature in the morning. A scarf is always hanging on the coat rack near the front door on chilly days for you. Puts a bookmark in the book you're reading when you unexpectedly fall asleep reading on the couch

He is so big on being a gentleman. Will open doors for you two, pull out seats during a nice dinner. Also is the type to lift up your hand so he can kiss your knuckles (he knows this drives you wild and he struggles to hide a smirk at your heated face)

The three of you are witty and biting and funny in your own ways, quips are basically thrown around every hour of the day. The day isn't complete without someone rolling their eyes. Teasing knows no bounds--the apartment, the lab, a fancy dinner, in front of councilmen and women--doesn't matter

Every day you feel lucky to have these two as your partners, you really hit the jackpot with them. They're caring and attentive and loving in ways no one else is

And they feel the exact same way

•

[heelix1r]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 LET ME ROCK YOUR WORLD , BABY ! 🍒

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ they’ll stop at nothing from getting their hands on the prize — you. too bad for them, since you couldn’t care less.

bela is typing . . . this is purely self indulgent ,, totally not my guilty pleasure 🫡 I WILL HAVE A MAKNAE LINE VER TOO TRUST

hyung line x f!reader | drabble | a little suggestive ? | playboy!enha | college au

masterlist | guidelines

content : swearing , skinship , lots of persistence and nonstop pursuing , suggestive for hyung line only !

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ LEE HEESEUNG ]

heeseung stood in the kitchen, his bottle nearly empty from the soju he had been drinking.

amidst the chaos, the loud noises, his shit-faced peers enjoying life without a care in the world, he was on the prowl. he could feel it in his senses that someone was out there for him. here, at this party. his eyes were narrowed as he observed the rooms before him, amidst the faces that blurred together.

he was waiting for that spark. that feeling he knew all too well — the adrenaline rush, the chase of finding someone worth his time. someone he could satisfy like no other; sure, there were others, but he had to get that experience somewhere.

as he was lost in thought, someone bumped into him as he prepared to reenter the party, and he huffed as he looked down.

he had bumped into none other than you.

“sorry,” you mumbled, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of soju. he never budged, forcing you to press your chest against his. “needed this.”

in a flash, he felt his heart race. there it was. he had gotten the signal he had been waiting for all night—and he didn’t even have to look that hard. here you were, giving yourself to him like that. it was meant to be.

“hold on, princess.” he called out to you as you turned to leave, grabbing you by your free hand and pulling him back to you with ease. it was enough to press your chest against his once more, and he felt his body light on fire. fuck, you definitely were the one.

his lips curled into a knowing smirk as he slowly grabbed the bottle of soju from your hand. “let me open that for you.” you didn’t protest as he popped the cap open in one swift motion, and he returned the bottle, soon opening another one to share with you. “i haven’t seen your pretty face around here before,” he cooed, his eyes shamelessly scanning your figure. “are you new here?”

his eyebrow cocked upwards as you took a step back from him, and he took note of the lack of amusement on your face. “no,” you responded bluntly. “i know who you are, lee heeseung.”

he felt his heart thumping wildly as you said his name. it sounded so sweet, he could taste the honey that dripped from your voice. he almost wanted you to say it again.

he couldn’t help but laugh at this predicament — god, you were so adorable. he could eat you right up.

and he really, really wanted to.

“i guess i am,” he confessed, holding up his hands as if to feign innocence. “there’s just a lot of names to remember… mind if you give me yours?” he reached over and took your hand in his, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it. “i promise i’ll never forget it.”

“like you need to know.” shaking your head, you pulled your hand back, taking a sip of the soju in your hand. “if you didn’t know it before, you don’t need to learn it today.”

he raised both eyebrows this time. if he was unsure of your lack of interest, he certainly got the hint. he had his fair share of rejections, but this early on? it jabbed at his ego.

but that anticipation in his chest bubbled, threatening to overflow. he wasn’t one to pursue the chase for too long, but by the way you snapped at him, the way you leaned against a hip and stared him down as if he meant nothing more than a fly on the wall — shit, is he actually into that?

he cleared his throat, composing himself before pushing himself off the table. he approached you slowly, a charming smile stretched across his lips.

“well,” he began, returning your gaze with one that spoke of a challenge. “will you give me a chance to earn it then, baby?” as he spoke, his hand snaked its way around your waist, wasting no time to pull you back to him. he couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him, digging his fingers a little deeper into your curves, and he felt something stirring within himself.

god, he needed to earn you.

you scoffed at his advances, pressing a hand against his chest and pushing him away. “in your dreams, heeseung.” but he noticed the way you took in the sight of him for a moment longer, a ghost of a smile creeping to the corners of your lips as you turned away.

his heart was pounding as he took another sip of his soju as he watched you walk away. his eyes lowered, to the way your hips swayed with each step. he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, the adrenaline swallowing him whole.

this was a challenge worth chasing.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK JONGSEONG ]

you were just so… good.

something about you screamed exuberance. you attained a higher level of goodness that every time you walked into a room, jay’s eyes couldn’t get enough of you. you were a magnet, a siren call that lured him in. you never tried to—that was just your charm.

and god, he wanted a piece of that goodness.

he found you in the library while perusing the campus, a glint in his eye twinkling with want as he watched you type away on your laptop, that mesmerizing, angelic goodness reverberating from you. you were here, alone, and his for the taking. that siren call made its way back into his brain, and he made up his mind.

slowly, he made his way over to you, his mind made up. this was his chance to move, his chance to make him yours. there were so many ways he wanted to rock your world, and it drove him crazy just thinking about it. his heart raced with fervent anticipation as he closed the distance between the two of you—you were clueless as to how hard he was going to rock your world. he was going to be the experience of a lifetime.

without hesitating, he pulled a chair across from you and plopped down, his eyes locked onto yours as he waited for you to notice him. it took a few seconds, but you sensed your presence, you stopped typing, your eyes made its way to him, and his breath hitched at the eye contact. you were right there.

“can i help you?” you asked, a growing look of confusing spreading across your features. god, you were so goddamn cute. jay’s lips curled into a smile, that same charming smile that had won the hearts of so many women before you. but none of them mattered right now—only you were in his crosshairs.

he had a lot of different ways you could help him playing in his mind, but he kept it cool. he was no stranger to playing it cool, even if the truth was that his desire to pounce surged throughout his body.

“maybe,” he hummed, leaning forward from his seat, his eyes fixated on yours. “are you interested in helping me, angel?”

“do you need… tutoring lessons?” you asked him, not catching his drift.

the idea appalled him, until he realized what that could mean. the smirk on his face made it clear. “will that include alone time with you?” he asked, pushing your laptop to close in order to get a better look at you. his gaze intensified, moving his eyes shamelessly across your profile. you were right here in front of him. he never needed you more than he did in this moment.

but you didn’t seem to catch on. you sat a little straighter, lifting your laptop back upwards. “i guess,” you replied, looking around. “if the library is empty. but it usually isn’t.”

no, not the goddamn library.

“i wasn’t thinking here, angel,” he corrected you. “i was more thinking…” he began, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “… private tutoring lessons back in your room. or mine.”

he observed your face closely, watching with excitement as he noticed a faint blush spread to your cheeks. there was no way he missed the way you slowly moved your hands to rest on your cheeks, and he bit his bottom lip as he soaked in his triumph. hook, line, and sinker.

just as he was thinking that he was finally going to have you wrapped around his finger, his eyebrows scrunched in frustration as you flashed him an awkward smile, closing your laptop and swiftly returning it into your bag.

“oh—i don’t do that.” you shook your head, standing up as quickly as you zipped your backpack. “i’m flattered, though. if you ever do need any tutoring lessons, i’m more than happy to help.” with a final wave and a smile, you were gone.

jay sat there, stunned. by the time he snapped out of it, he looked around and realized you weren’t anywhere in sight. you didn’t even consider his offer.

what the hell was that?

he ran a hand through his hair, wondering where he went wrong. there was no way you could just say no so quickly and leave, right?

he saw the way you reacted to his proposal. you were intrigued. he piqued your interest.

he wanted the chase. oh god, the things he would do to win you over. he desperately needed you, thoughts of you swirling in his head as he exited the library.

he’ll have a piece of that goodness, or he’ll die trying.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ SIM JAEYUN ]

“jake, what do you want?” you asked, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips as he sauntered over to you, grinning widely in return.

“i know you’re so excited to see me again, princess.” he towered over you, bending down enough to have you at eye level. “i just wouldn’t wait to see you. i’ve been thinking about you all day.”

you took a step back from him, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and shaking your head. “really?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips. “how many other girls have you said that to today?”

laughing at your response, he clutched his chest in mock pain. “you wound me,” he cried, approaching you yet again. this close proximity was so much fun, it was part of the exhilaration that came with pursuing you. “you know i’m all yours, baby.” as he said so, he quickly snaked a hand around your waist, as if to prove his point.

even as he closed the distance between you, you never wavered. “you never answered my question, jake.”

“baby, does that really matter?” he asked, pouting softly. “it’s meaningless, unless it’s for you.”

“it does, actually.” you tentatively removed his hold of your waist, the lack of amusement clear on your face. “i know you better than that, jake sim.”

even when you were so aloof, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. it excited him, this dynamic where he could say whatever he wanted to charm you. and even though you turned him down each time, you still entertained him. it was so much fun watching your eyebrows scrunch at him, falling for each attempt to hold you close. the end goal wasn’t to have you close, it was to have you touch him, even if it was just his hand, his chest, or anything that would make you push him away. the connection was enough for him. you were electrifying to him, in a way that drove him crazy for you.

this game, or whatever it was, made jake desire you that much more. your sharp gaze makes his heart skip a beat, and the way you said his name put his mind in a frenzy. it was like a song he could put on repeat—he desperately craved the adrenaline rush you gave him.

he craved you.

“you know i can’t resist a good time with anyone, baby.” confessing to your question, he smiled innocently. “but if you really just wanted all of that attention for yourself, you know i’d do anything for you.”

“you always know what to say,” you muttered under your breath. his lips curled into a teasing smirk as he caught you rolling your eyes. you were so easy to tease, and he loved it. you were just too easy.

if only he could have you, it would make things that much more fun.

“anything to entertain you, princess.” jake leaned in closer to you, his heart racing as he cupped your face.

“come on, baby. just one day. a whole day to let me rock your world.” his eyes narrowed, trailing your body in a fit of desperation. “you know i would never disappoint you. i’ll make it worth your time, more than you could ever imagine.” his voice lowered intimately, so only you could hear him. “say yes, baby. i promise you’ll be begging to have more of me.”

he watched silently as you pressed your lips together, letting out a huff as you rejected his advances once more, taking another step back from him and crossing your arms. you never hesitated. “in your dreams, jake.”

watching you step back away from him, he stood back up straight, a sweet smile spread across his face as he placed his hands in his pockets. “i tried,” he hummed, seemingly unaffected by yet another failed attempt to get you to give him a chance. “i’ll just have to try harder. i’ll make you want me sooner or later.”

“yeah, sure.” when he tried leaning in again, you wasted no time in pushing his face away. “okay, that’s enough out of you. i’m going to class.” slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you began to walk away without looking back. jake was hoping you’d give him one last look, but to no avail. it gave him a chance to watch you walk from behind, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

but when you turned the corner and left his line of sight, his eyes narrowed. this was more than just a game. his body desperately craved you—he was addicted to the way you carried yourself around him, and it made him want you that much more. you thrilled him, made him work for something. imagining the day he would finally triumph over you kept him focused on chasing you.

he knows you’ll say yes one day if he tries hard enough.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK SUNGHOON ]

sunghoon was warned against pursuing you. you, notoriously known for minding your own business, were the flame that ignited a challenge in him.

he just wanted to prove that he could have you.

sunghoon was on alert now, now that he had a goal in mind. just a few nice words, a smile, and his eyes focused on you was all you would need to fold for him. the satisfaction of wrapping you around his finger was intoxicating. no matter how many times he did this, it never gets old. he was addicted the rush of the satisfaction, the high of knowing he could have anyone he wanted.

he found you after a class you two shared—he never noticed you before, but after learning what he now knows about you, he had his eyes on the prize. as he approached you, an excited grin tugged the corners of his lips. he was going to have so much fun with you.

by the time he was done, you’d be begging for him. you’ll need him after this.

“hey.” you turned to face him, and he graced you with a soft, endearing smile. “the professor was talking about the final project being done in groups, right?”

he kept note of your reaction to him as he kept up the nice guy act. he was slightly ticked at your nonchalance, but nothing that fazed him.

“yeah,” you replied, “that’s right.”

he waited for you to say something else. his face dropped as soon as he realized that was all he was going to get from you.

“i see.” you were giving him nothing to work with, and he was starting to see that notoriety of yours for himself. he paused, trying to make sense of the way you looked at him without a bother, without a care. this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

he cleared his throat before running a hand through his hair. “well,” he began, hesitating with his words. “since the professor hasn’t chosen any specific groups… i was wondering if you wanted to work with me?” he tilted his head slightly, as if to prove his “innocent” intentions. “i think we’d make a really good team.”

instead of the nod he was expecting, you stared at him blankly. you didn’t even look slightly interested—just confused.

“why?” was the only thing you asked him.

his eye twitched. what the hell was wrong with you?

he gritted his teeth, realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. but sunghoon was not the type to back down from a challenge, and you were right here, for the taking. he’d find ways to make you more interested, and not this insufferable bluntness.

taking a new direction, he composed himself, his eyes looking at you with a newfound gentleness. this had to work. he’d drive himself crazy otherwise.

“if i’m being honest,” he confessed, “i think you’re beautiful.” as he spoke, he approached you slowly. “i’ve been wanting to get to know you for a while, and i figured working on this project together would be the perfect chance to become well acquainted together.” he spoke sweetly, trying hard to entice you to consider his offer. “and maybe after this,” he added, delicately enveloping your hand within his own, “i could take you out. you know, as a way of celebrating our work.”

he waited with bated breath. was he really this desperate for you to say yes? he almost couldn’t believe that the words really came from his mouth.

you pressed your lips together awkwardly, removing your hand away to maintain the distance between the two of you. “that’s real sweet,” you began, awkwardly offering you a half-smile. “but i already made plans with my friends to work on the project together. i’ll have to pass, sorry.”

his eyes widened as you gave him a sad excuse of a wave, turning away from him. “i’ll see you around,” you mumbled, leaving him behind to meet with your friends elsewhere.

sunghoon frowned, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear. he was appalled that he was almost desperate to get you to say yes, and you still said no.

he couldn’t accept it. there was no way.

he clicked his tongue, feeling his heart thumping in a way that felt foreign to him. this was infuriating—you were infuriating.

and yet, he didn’t want to give up.

he couldn’t leave it at that. he felt a newfound desire surging into his body, and he realized that he needed you, whether he wanted to or not. it angered and excited him all at once as the realization dawned on him.

you were going to be a challenge, alright. he was the fool for underestimating you.

but he would have the last laugh, without a doubt. everyone had their weakness, a point where they give in. sunghoon knew you were no different, and the thought comforted him.

he crossed his arms lightly, a twisted smile spread across his face. this was the chase he had been wanting all along. you were going to be his favorite challenge. he’d make you want him more than you’d ever want anything else—he’ll make you feel a fraction of the frustration you made him go through.

and he’ll love every minute of it.

2024 © heelix1r.

[dissapointu]

heey!! i know this ask is kind of "basic" (?), but how u think the main arcane characters would act when jealous?

hope ur having an amazing day! 💗💗

Hey! Not a basic ask at all! I’m so happy you asked about it! Here’s how I think each of the main characters would act when they’re jealous:

————————————————————————

Jinx

When Jinx is jealous, it’s explosive. She’s fiery and impulsive, so if she sees someone giving you attention she feels should be hers, she’ll act out in her usual chaotic manner. You might find her stealing you away from the conversation or making snarky comments about the other person. Sometimes, she might do something drastic—like creating a distraction to get all eyes on her, just to pull the attention back to you both.

Her jealousy comes from a deep place of fear—fear of being left behind, fear of losing you. After she’s had a moment to cool down, she might feel guilty and try to apologize, likely with an overly affectionate gesture like hugging you too tightly or showering you with small, quirky gifts.

Vi

Vi’s jealousy is a little more reserved but still pretty obvious. She’ll start to get more protective and territorial, maybe by giving the other person a cold look or stepping in between you and anyone she feels is getting too close. Vi tends to bottle up her emotions until they boil over, so you might catch her being more snappy or distant if she feels threatened.

She doesn’t like to show weakness, but if she’s jealous, she’ll likely show it through her actions: touching your arm more often or pulling you into her space to remind everyone who you belong to. Once the tension passes, she’ll probably pull you aside and let you know, in her own way, that you mean the world to her.

Sevika

Sevika’s jealousy is subtle but intense. She’s the type to not raise her voice but to make her presence known. If someone is getting too close to you, she’ll give them a cold, calculating look that could freeze anyone in their tracks. Sevika’s jealous side is about control—she wants to make sure no one thinks they can take you from her.

She’ll often keep a closer eye on you, standing next to you, her hand brushing yours just to mark her territory. While she doesn’t usually show it outwardly, her jealousy can be felt in her sharp gaze or the slightly tense way she holds herself around others.

Silco

Silco’s jealousy is all about power dynamics. He won’t throw tantrums or act out, but he’ll certainly make it known that you’re his. If another person seems to be encroaching on his territory, he might lean in a little too close to you, making sure they see the way you belong to him. Silco will subtly remind you of his control, perhaps with a quiet comment or a possessive gesture that lets everyone know where his claim lies.

Silco’s jealousy is more calculating. He may play it cool on the outside, but inside, he’s stewing. You might notice him becoming quieter and more intense, his usual charm replaced by a steely, possessive edge when the other person is around.

Vander

Vander’s jealousy is quiet but deep. He’s protective by nature, and when he feels someone is paying attention to you, he’ll subtly step in, putting himself between you and the other person, though he might do so without saying a word. He has this quiet, brooding aura when he’s jealous, but he doesn’t let it consume him like some of the others.

Vander might not show his jealousy openly, but you’ll feel the subtle shift in the way he treats you. More hand-on-your-back gestures, longer gazes, and moments where he just wants to be closer to you. It’s his way of reassuring himself—and you—that you’re his.

Ekko

Ekko’s jealousy is playful at first, but you can tell when it starts to bother him. He’s usually laid-back, but when someone starts flirting with you or paying too much attention to you, he’ll try to act casual about it. He might throw out a teasing comment or two, or he’ll subtly remind you of his presence by getting a little closer to you. His jealousy is less about being possessive and more about wanting your attention back on him.

If Ekko’s really feeling jealous, he might act a bit pouty, rolling his eyes when someone flirts with you or trying to distract you with his own charm. His jealousy is wrapped in humor, but there’s definitely a layer of seriousness underneath.

Jayce

Jayce’s jealousy is a mix of insecurity and pride. He’s used to being admired, and when he sees someone else getting your attention, his ego takes a hit. He won’t confront the person directly, but you’ll definitely notice him getting more competitive or assertive. Jayce might try to impress you more than usual, showing off his intellect or skills to remind you of what he has to offer.

He might also get a little possessive, subtly pulling you into his space or touching you more often to show the other person that you’re with him. His jealousy makes him a little more vulnerable, but it’s wrapped up in a need to prove himself to you.

Viktor

Viktor’s jealousy is quiet but sharp. He’s usually more reserved, and he doesn’t like to show his emotions much. However, when he’s jealous, his calm demeanor shifts slightly. You might notice him giving cold stares or becoming a bit more distant with the other person. Viktor’s jealousy comes from a place of fear—he doesn’t want to lose you, and it makes him protective, though in a subtle, intellectual way.

He won’t make a scene, but you might notice that he’s paying more attention to you, giving you small tokens or compliments to make sure you know how much you mean to him. His jealousy is all about reassurance, both for himself and for you.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s jealousy is quiet, but it’s also straightforward. If she feels someone is giving you more attention than she should, she’ll get a little snappy. She’s usually so calm and controlled, but her jealousy shows through in the way she gets defensive of you. She might wrap her arm around you possessively or pull you closer to her side, making sure the other person knows where her loyalties lie.

She’ll try to be subtle about it, but you’ll notice the little hints—like her narrowed gaze or the way she holds you a little tighter than usual. Caitlyn’s jealousy comes from her desire to protect you and keep you close, though she won’t admit it easily.

Mel Medarda

Mel’s jealousy is calculated. She’s used to being in control, and when she sees someone getting close to you, she’ll start playing the game of power, making sure they know she’s the one in charge. She’ll likely become a little colder toward you, testing your loyalty without directly confronting the situation. Mel’s jealousy is more about dominance and ensuring that no one can take what’s hers.

You might notice her becoming more distant, though in reality, she’s just observing the situation carefully and making sure she keeps your attention focused on her.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s jealousy is regal but possessive. She’s a woman who knows her worth, and when someone steps into her territory, she’ll let it be known. Ambessa is likely to make a grand gesture to remind everyone—including you—that you belong to her. Her jealousy manifests in subtle but forceful ways, like ordering someone away or giving you a pointed look that says, “Don’t forget where you stand.”

Her jealousy comes from her pride—she expects loyalty and respect, and when that’s threatened, she responds with power and authority.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie’s jealousy is direct and fierce. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, so if she sees someone getting too close to you, she’ll let them know without hesitation. Maddie won’t be shy about pulling you away from someone else, using her body language and sharp words to assert that she’s the one who belongs by your side.

Her jealousy is rooted in a deep desire to protect and hold onto the person she loves. While she may seem cold or intimidating when she’s jealous, it’s simply because she’s fiercely protective of you.

Lest

Lest’s jealousy is quiet but intense. She doesn’t like to show it, but if she’s feeling possessive or threatened, she’ll subtly change her behavior toward you. Lest might get more clingy or affectionate in public, giving you more touches and attention than usual to remind the others that you’re hers. She’ll become more possessive of your time, subtly pushing others away without confrontation.

She’s not one for confrontation, but her jealousy comes out in small, quiet ways, often through the way she touches you or holds your attention.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 8

Summary: It's Thanksgiving, your first official holiday with Wanda. Someone stops by to create a little havoc.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

All the houses look the same, at least to him. The navigation system in his rental car isn’t any better.

Or maybe his sister gave him a fake address just to mess with him.

After a while, he decides it’s enough, pulling over when he sees someone jogging around the neighborhood.

“Excuse me”

“Hey” the woman says, stopping. Her smile is wide, and Pietro’s taken aback by how friendly she seems with a stranger.

“I’m looking for an address, can you help me out?”

“Sure”

“It’s Hill Drive 216”

“Right, well all you have to do is drive straight ahead for five blocks. Then turn right and then left” the woman says, leaning over the car window. As she’s giving directions, he can’t help but stare at her toned legs in full display.

“I really appreciate it. Maybe I can buy you some coffee to thank you?”

“Sure. See ya around” she says with a smirk, running in the opposite direction. Pietro didn’t get her number, but he figures she might know Wanda. So they’ll meet again.

In no time, he finds Wanda’s house. The woman is already sitting in the porch, as if she can feel her twin brother coming.

“This was supposed to be a surprise. You don’t look surprised”

“You asked my neighbor for my address. She called to know if you were a creep so she’d call the cops on you”

“What? She was so nice. And she’s very hot. You should have told me you had hot neighbors”

Wanda gives him a cryptic smile, but he doesn’t have time to ask the meaning behind it, as Tommy and Billy come running down the stairs.

“Uncle Pietro!”

“Bratan” he says, allowing the boys to tackle him to the ground. “You’re so big! What is your mom feeding you two?”

The boys laugh, pulling him inside so they can tell him all about school, soccer and their videogames.

A half hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it” he volunteers. To his surprise, the girl he spoke to earlier is on the other side. She’s now wearing jeans and a long sleeved sweater.

“Hey, Pietro”

“I didn’t… tell you my name”

But before he can connect the dots, Wanda walks past him, standing on her toes to kiss the woman.

“Hey, baby. Apparently you already met Pietro”

“Oh, yeah. Heard he was hoping to get a hot date out of some simple directions”

At that, his sister and her girlfriend let out a laugh, and he groans, hiding his face in his hands.

—

It was totally worth it, to see Pietro’s face as realization hit him. You were Wanda’s girlfriend.

He looks shocked, and embarrassed as you walk past him, Wanda’s hand in yours.

“At least the Maximoffs have consistency in their taste” you comment, making Wanda laugh and Pietro blushes.

“She never sent me a picture of you, ok? How was I to know?”

“I didn’t send it because I knew you’d fall for her and she is all mine” Wanda rolls her eyes, arms around your waist. You kiss her temple, smiling.

“Are you staying for Thanksgiving?” you ask, curious about his plans for the holidays.

“That’s the idea”

“You’re little buddy Rogers isn’t joining us?” you glare, so he knows you know what he tried to do.

“Oh, yeah. Heard you felt threatened by him. Still jealous, Y/N?”

“Jealous? I’m a Trauma surgeon, for goodness sake. What is your job, by the way? Snowboarding? Or do you call it snow? You know, like Ken in the Barbie movie”

“It gets me all the girl’s phone numbers” he arches an eyebrow.

“You certainly didn’t get mine”

“Stop it” Wanda laughs it off to ease the tension, standing between you two. “It’s Thanksgiving. The holidays. A time to forgive and enjoy”

“Fine,” he agrees. “Truce?”

“Not until you take the kids for a movie so we have an afternoon to ourselves” you say, because now that you’re back to work it’s been harder to get alone time with your girlfriend.

“Alright”

—

“It’s very important to me” Wanda says, stuttering lightly as you kiss down her neck.

“Of course, baby” you say, holding her hips as she tries to continue the conversation. She’s saying something against your lips, so you roll her nipple between your fingers, which makes her quiet for a few minutes.

Then, you’re between her legs when she starts talking again.

“He’s my brother, we’ve known each other our whole lives. I really want him to get to know you”

“Wanda” you sigh, defeated. You look up, with a smile at her disheveled state. “Can we not talk about your brother when I’m eating you out?”

“Sorry”

You kiss her thighs, going up to lie next to her.

“Or am I that bad at giving you head these days, baby?”

“It’s not that” she rushes to say, straddling your lap. Wanda pecks your lips to appease you, hands going up and down your arms. You squeeze her hips, encouraging her to continue. “But I mean it, I want you to get along”

“I was joking before. Mostly”

“Y/N” she whines and you smile.

“Ok, I just feel… the last time we almost broke up because he was trying to test me using Steve, right? I’m a bit butthurt about it, you know I’m proud and petty like that. And I’m not… I’ve never met someone’s family. I told you I’m not good with this relationship stuff”

“All you have to do is try” she says, leaning down to kiss you. “And absolutely nothing will break us apart, my love”

“Promise?”

“Swear” she says against your lips. You kiss her again, hands going down to her ass.

“Can I carry on now or would you like to talk about more family members?”

“Carry on” Wanda giggles when you flip her on her back, but those turn to moans pretty soon, feeling how your tongue works through her folds.

—

“Ok, guys, just like we practiced” Pietro says as he parks in the street, looking at the twins. They nod, staying inside the car while their uncle walks to the door.

“Hey, sestra… ah, seriously?!”

All he sees as he walks in is his sister’s head thrown back on the couch, and he can guess where you are.

“I thought you locked the door” Wanda reprimands you, but you just smirk, getting dressed. You make sure that only Pietro is within earshot when you smack Wanda’s ass, and she yelps.

The man is glaring when Wanda opens the door, her hair a mess and your shirt all wrinkled.

“Where are the kids? Why are they waiting in the car?”

In that moment, the twins open the car door, and you can see they are carrying a small, white dog. You want to cackle, because Pietro is so dead. But you keep a neutral expression, staying behind Wanda.

“You idiot” Wanda says, followed by a string of curses in Sokovian. You’ve never seen her this upset and it’s kinda hot.

“Come on, kids. Let’s go back to my place and bathe this little dude”

“No, please don’t leave me alone with her” Pietro pleads as Wanda pulls him by the ear.

“Sorry, I don’t want to be a witness to whatever it is she’ll do to you” you give him finger guns, hurrying back to take the kids to your place. It’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t appreciate you using her bathtub to take care of the pup.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?” you say once you’re in the bathroom.

“Well, we found Sparky outside the cinema. He was looking for food in the garbage and was so sad and alone”

“Do you think Mom will let us keep him?” Tommy says.

“Let’s take him to the vet tomorrow. Maybe he escaped home and his owners are looking for him”

The boys remain silent as you rinse the soap from Sparky’s fur. Of course, he shakes as soon as you’re done, drops of water flying everywhere. Billy and Tommy laugh, which makes you smile.

They had never brought up the subject of pets, but you have a feeling that it’s because Wanda had told them that the answer was going to be no, no matter what.

You use an old t-shirt and your blow dryer to get him all fluffy. He is a cute dog, that’s for sure.

“Come on, let’s get back home” you tell the kids, letting Tommy carry Sparky.

Pietro is in the porch, hand on his cheek as he sulks around the stairs. His ear is so red from all the pulling that Wanda did and you almost want to laugh.

“She won’t talk to me” he mumbles like a grumpy teenager.

“Jeez, I wonder why”

You walk inside, going straight to Wanda’s room. Still, you knock and let her know it’s you.

“Hey, love. Woah” as soon as you open the door she’s hugging you, and you don’t know if her tears are from anger or sadness. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Pietro is so… immature! Why would he think it’s a good idea to bring a dog into my home? He is always like this. Now, I’ll have to tell the kids we can’t keep him and they will hate me”

“Wanda, they won’t hate you. Breathe for me” you run your hands up and down her back. “Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow I will drive with the kids to the vet, they’ll check for a microchip or anything else that tells us if he has a family”

“They always wanted a pet and I just couldn’t do it, it was too much work for one person and I…”

“And you are not alone anymore, ok? You have me. And as it happens, my family’s always had dogs. Don’t stress, leave it to me” you say, kissing her temple.

“Thank you. I’m staying here. Can you make sure the kids have dinner?”

“Of course, baby”

You make a couple of sandwiches and let the kids eat in the living room, while Sparky walks around and smells everything. It’s a good sign that he’s not peeing in every surface of the house.

Once the kids have dinner, you take the dog to the backyard, noticing the wooden fence needs some work, or Sparky will be able to escape.

Another thing on your list.

“Is Mom mad at us?” Billy asks when you’re upstairs, tucking them in. Sparky is in the corner, sleeping between Tommy’s shoes.

“Not at all, kiddo. She’s just not sure we can take care of Sparky. Dogs can be a lot of work, ya know?”

“Did you have dogs?” Tommy says from his bed and you nod.

“Yeah, we had all kinds of dogs. Big ones, small like Sparky. You have to walk them, feed them, take them to the doctor…”

“Maybe it is a lot of work” Billy says, dropping his shoulders.

“Hey, no worries, we will figure it out. Just make sure you’re nice to your mom. She just wants the best for everyone. Rest now. And Sparky doesn’t sleep on anyone’s bed, got it?”

The kids giggle at that, and you roll your eyes, knowing they’ll probably break that rule.

—

“We’re home” you announce.

“How did it go?” Wanda says, while Pietro is in the living room, pretending to read.

“No microchip. But he did get blood work and everything seems fine, we also got him dewormed and he can start with vaccination in two weeks”

“You know a lot about dogs” Pietro says, but shuts his mouth the minute Wanda turns to glare.

“So, yeah. We could call a shelter and ask if they can take him”

“But he would be in one of those cages, alone” Wanda says, sounding sad.

“I guess”

“Let’s just keep him until we figure something out” she decides, looking as the kids play with the dog in the front yard.

“Yeah, ok. We got him some kibble, plates, a new leash and a bed, so he’s all set. I’ll just have to fix the fence”

“Oh? Will you wear your tool belt?” she says, biting her lip. Pietro gags from his place in the couch. Wanda turns to scold him. “Keep it up and you’re staying in a hotel”

“Bossy. And mean. I love it” you say, pulling her closer. You share a quick, but passionate kiss.

“I could fix the fence” Pietro offers.

“You don’t even know how to drive a nail,” Wanda argues.

“I’m trying to do something nice, sestra”

“You’ve done enough”

They begin to argue like a couple of teenagers so you have to step between them, raising your hands.

“Enough. Pietro can help me when I fix the fence. We all win. Isn’t that great? Two of your favorite people working together” you say.

“Only one” Wanda says and Pietro is ready to fight when you snap your fingers.

“To your corner, Pietro” you warn him, dragging Wanda to the kitchen. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Mmm?” she melts when you rub that spot in her lower back that always relaxes her.

“I don’t think Pietro meant to do any harm with this. At most, he thought you’d end up loving Sparky more than me” Wanda laughs, and she leans against you. “He’s visiting and you’re always talking about how much you miss him, so try to forgive him”

“You’re right”

“You sound surprised,” you joke, kissing her softly. “I have work. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t leave. I know nothing about dogs” she pleads.

“I’m always one call away, love of my life” you promise.

—

Five missed calls. You sigh when you leave the OR, though it is from an unknown number.

Before you can return the call or contact Wanda to make sure she’s fine, Darcy finds you, dragging you by the hand without any explanation.

“Does this belong to you?” she says, pulling the curtain to reveal Pietro, holding an ice pack against his right hand.

“It belongs to my girlfriend”

“It? Seriously?” he complains, but Darcy ignores him.

“Came in with hammered fingers and cries every time I try to examine him”

“I will take a look. Thanks, pal” you force him to remove the ice pack, ignoring his protests. “What happened?”

“I tried to fix the fence”

“Mhm” you bend his fingers and move them around, trying to check if there’s a fracture. He complains and tries to jank his hand back, but you don’t let him.

“Can’t you take some X-Rays?”

Now, where’s the fun in that?

“Honestly, I think you’ll just have some swelling and pain. Let’s put a bandage in those three fingers and make sure you don’t move them too much”

“At least Wanda’s less mad at me”

You smile.

“Glad to hear it. Did she drive you here?”

“No, I wasn't in the mood to be lectured. I just told her I needed something from the hardware store and came straight to the ER”

You nod, writing a prescription for him. Once you’re done, you take the hand, bandaging the three fingers together.

“You know, I just worry” he interrupts the silence.

“About what?”

“Well, has she ever told you about the twins’ father?”

You glance back at him, arching an eyebrow.

“No, and I respect that. If she ever feels like telling me, I’m sure she will. So I’d appreciate it if we keep it at that, Pietro”

“I’ll just say, he was the biggest asshole. And it almost destroyed her. I promised myself no one would hurt her again”

You nod, still working in silence. Of course, the shovel talk. After the stunt he pulled with Rogers, this is nothing, really. Going along and nodding a few times might just do the trick.

“To be fair, I never liked him. You’re fine, I guess”

“I can live with being just fine in the eyes of Frosty the snowman” you mutter, finishing the bandaging and giving him some pills. “Now go back home and let me take care of the fence when I’m there”

An ambulance parks right outside of the ER and you excuse yourself. You don’t notice Pietro hanging back, watching as you help the paramedics move a woman from their gurney to a hospital bed.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re out of the OR and see a text from Wanda that you remember the incident.

Wanda: Thank you for checking Pietro.

Y/N: Happy to help the evil twin, love.

Wanda: What would that make me? The good twin?

Y/N: The hot, beautiful, angel twin.

The sound of your pager snaps you back to reality, which means the last hours of your shift will be busy.

—

“I should go and help”

“Please, don’t”

Wanda and Pietro are sitting in the backyard’s deck, watching as you fix the fence.

“Did you get Sparky as a test? To see how she’d react?”

“That is actually a great idea but no” Pietro laughs, stretching his arms. “I can’t believe you don’t remember”

“Remember what?”

“We were at school, back in Sokovia when we were five or six. The teacher asked us to draw our pet, but we didn’t have one so…”

“So you drew a dragon and said you wanted one for our birthday” Wanda suddenly remembers, frowning. “But what did I draw?”

“A white dog, with a very pink nose and fuzzy hair. And when we were at the theater, I saw him and thought, that’s my sister’s dog”

Wanda laughs, trying not to cry at her brother’s antics, wiping the corner of her eyes before she gets emotional. She reaches for his hand and he squeezes it, smiling.

“Why haven’t you told her about how you had the twins?” Pietro asks after a while, his voice soft.

“Because… I’m afraid she’ll see me differently. And I don’t know if it’s worth it, dwelling in the past. It’s done and nothing can change it”

“It’s not about dwelling in the past, it’s about sharing everything that makes you who you are. And that’s a big part of it” Pietro insists, standing up when the boys show up with Sparky. “We’re going to the park. See you for dinner”

Wanda stays on the deck, watching as you finish replacing the last wooden panel.

“I am so ready for a shower and a nap” you sigh, plopping down next to her. “At least Sparky can be out safely now”

“How can I pay for your very hard work?” Wanda says, and your hand squeezes her thigh.

“I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Maximoff. But when I’m not all sweaty”

“You’ll have to leave the toolbelt on, though” she says, making you laugh as you kiss the spot behind her ear.

You enjoy the breeze as you sit together on the deck, drinking a beer while Wanda looks out her yard.

“If I told you something, would you promise not to judge me?”

“I would never, my love” you say, putting a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “What is it?”

“It’s about the twins”

“Uh. Did Pietro put you up for this?” you click your tongue. “You don’t have to tell me anything; whatever the situation is, I imagine it’s not easy”

“I think… It would help explain why he’s so protective of me. And I want you to know, I do”

“Alright, then. I’m listening”

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, looking at her clasped hands.

“We met in college” she begins. “I was 20 and he was on an exchange program. Came from Oxford University, I think. We were in different faculties but somehow crossed paths at a party and got talking. It was the first time I was in love”

“He was elegant and acted like a gentleman, and said funny things without being crass. He acted differently than the rest of guys I ever tried to date. So we were together the whole semester, until winter break came. I was considering inviting him over to spend Christmas with us when he got an unexpected visit from his fiance”

You breathe deeply, knowing where this is going. Wanda still won’t look at you, and she takes a moment to continue.

“Uhm. So, yeah. The minute I saw them together I wanted to scream, but all I could do was hide. I felt like such an idiot. He didn’t even try to find me and apologize. And for a few weeks I was… sick. I threw up every morning, and felt tired. But I thought it was stress”

“Wanda, I’m so sorry” you say, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She leans against you, letting your touch ground her. Wanda’s hand goes to hold your own, and you squeeze it, trying to show your support.

“When I realized what it was, I tried talking to him. I thought he at least deserved to know. But he just wanted to give me some money to deal with it, in his words”

Those words make your heart ache, but you grit your teeth. You admire Pietro’s self control more than ever.

“I’m gonna need you to give me a name so I can find him and kill him”

“I let that go, for my sake. I had two babies to care for. No matter how it happened, I knew I always wanted them. So I told my parents everything and then Pietro, well…”

“He went crazy, I can imagine. Can’t really blame him”

“So, now you know it all. I still have things to figure out, because sometimes the kids ask me about their father and I don’t know how to tell them he never cared about us” she sighs, leaning against you.

“We’ll figure it out together, when the time comes” you promise, kissing her cheek. “And you don’t have to be afraid of me judging you, you did nothing wrong, Wands. I’m so sorry you had to go through that”

“I just thought… I wanted you to know”

“Did you ever see him again? I mean, does he even know their names?”

“No, and I hope it stays that way. If he comes back, I don’t want him anywhere near Tommy and Billy” her voice shakes with emotion, and a bit of her accent comes back.

“That’s ok. We won’t let it happen” you promise, kissing her temple.

“I love you”

“I love you too. And our boys”

“And our dog” she says, which makes you look back at her. She smiles at your shocked expression. “We’re keeping Sparky. No further comment”

“Yes, Ma’am”

—

The twins couldn’t believe it when Wanda told them they could keep Sparky. Pietro smiled as the kids hugged their mother, promising to always take care of him.

“You’re the best mom ever!” Tommy says, running around the living room.

“You’re welcome” Pietro mocks as he walks past her, and she elbows him.

You spend the evening watching a movie in the living room, Sparky sitting between both boys.

The 36 hour shift, coupled with the work on the backyard leaves you exhausted, so 15 minutes into the movie you begin to fall asleep.

“Come on, sweetheart” Wanda says when your head keeps loling to the side. “You need to rest”

“No, but I wanna know what happens with Big Welder” you mumble. Wanda stands up, kissing your forehead and pulling you all the way to the stairs. After brushing your teeth and almost sleeping while standing up, you plop down in bed, taking everything off and deciding to sleep in nothing but your underwear.

“Very tempting” Wanda comments when she sees you.

“I thought you’d be watching the movie” you stretch, appreciating how Wanda’s eyes linger on your breasts.

“Uh, they started playing video games. So that was my cue to go” she crawls into bed with you, not ready to go to sleep but wanting to share some alone time. “Before I forget, who are you inviting for Thanksgiving?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, dinner. We’re having turkey, the Barton’s are stopping by…. You do know it’s this Thursday, right?”

“I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner in like 15 years”

“You’re kidding” Wanda says, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I started volunteering when I was 16 to avoid being home. And you know I rarely went back for that stuff. I think the most I’ve done is eat pizza with Darcy while we’re working”

“Well, Darcy should come too! Have her over, I only get to see her at the hospital”

“You sure?” you say, smiling nervously. All you know about holidays in the last decade has been the chaos of a hospital.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great, you’ll love it” she promises, kissing you.

—

Chaos isn’t exclusive to the ER, it seems. You’ve had a busy morning, mowing the lawn, cleaning the deck and getting ready to set a large table for everyone who’s joining. To your annoyance, Pietro is using his bruised hand as an excuse to not help.

“You’re doing great” he gives you a thumbs up and you want to throw the broom straight to his head.

“You could help your sister in the kitchen” you say, wiping the sweat from your forehead and coming to look over his shoulder. “Tinder? Seriously?”

“Yeah, check this out” he says, showing you some of the matches he’s had.

“Oh, wow” you whistle at a picture of a blonde woman in a bikini. You’re about to comment something else when you hear a cough behind you. Of course, Wanda is staring, her signature head tilt letting you know you’re in danger.

“I mean, oh, wow, what a horrible, unattractive person. Blegh. So not my type” you say, pretending to gag.

“I’m only letting it slide because it’s Thanksgiving” she warns and you nod.

“Yes, love. I’m sorry”

Pietro snorts and you turn to slap the back of his head.

“Sestra, are you gonna let her do that to your brother?”

“Yes” Wanda says, leaning forward to snatch his phone. “Come help me in the kitchen. Now”

“You know, I’m twelve minutes older” he says as they go back inside.

Once you’re done with mowing and picking up the dry leaves, you set a table across the backyard and some lights for extra decoration. Hoping the kids won’t look, you set up a trampoline you know they’ve been asking for.

“Alright, come supervise” you ask Wanda, and for some reason the entire Maximoff entourage follows behind.

“It looks amazing!” she says, inspecting the lights you installed. “I love these”

“I know. I may have stalked your Pinterest board, @witchy16”

“Billy, look!” Tommy points at the trampoline, running to try it out, his brother close behind.

“Be careful” Wanda warns. “I’m not sure I love that”

“They can use it only when I’m around” you promise, turning to her. “That way I can get more alone time with my girl”

Wanda laughs, but the sound is drowned out by your lips on hers, and your hands travel south to squeeze her ass.

“I’m right here!” Pietro complains, which makes you smirk.

“I didn’t see you, sorry” Wanda says.

“I did” you smile, earning a slap on the shoulder from your girlfriend. Something pings in the kitchen, so she excuses herself.

“You know, we usually save the presents for last”

“What presents? This isn’t Christmas” you say.

“People give each other presents during Thanksgiving too. Isn’t it obvious? How do you give thanks to someone? You get them something” he insists, which makes you doubt yourself. Pietro leaves to join the twins on the trampoline.

Maybe he’s right. What if Wanda got you something and after everything she’s done to make sure you enjoy this holiday, you have nothing to give back.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you done in the backyard?” Wanda says when you walk in.

“I… yeah. Do you want me to do anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m just letting everything in the oven for now. Come sit” 

“Actually… I need to go check something” you lie, feeling awful about it. But you have to get her a present.

“At the hospital?”

“Yes. I won’t take long, I promise” you say when she looks disappointed. “I’ll be back in an hour and I’ll help with whatever’s missing” 

“I just want us to spend time together,” she smiles, taking your hands. You lean forward, kissing her. “Oh, and call Darcy, I just want to confirm she’s coming”

“Yes, my love” 

Pretending to be super calm, you walk to your car. You only let panic take over when you’re driving around, finding the traffic to be awful. Seems like people always leave everything for the last minute, and you hate yourself for not thinking about this sooner.

You can’t let Wanda down.

Darcy’s the only person who can help out, so you call her while you try to find a place to park.

“Hello”

“Hey. Wanda wanted to confirm you’re coming to dinner”

“I am, only for the amazing food. But the hospital will page me if there’s an emergency so don’t expect me to stay for long”

“Got it. By the way, did uh, your family happen to give each other presents during Thanksgiving?”

“No, they only get drunk and yell at each other. Why? Do I have to bring a present? Because then I’m out”

“No, that was just me being stupid, never mind. See you at seven”

You hang up, leaving the car to walk around the shops. Most of them are closed, because of course, it’s a holiday. The only places still working are supermarkets. So, what? Will you have to get your perfect girlfriend toilet paper and say “happy holidays”?

After walking down several blocks, you finally find a jewelry store open. 

“Welcome. How can I help you?” a woman says.

“Hi. I can’t believe you’re open at this time of day” you comment, looking around the store. Wanda never really wears bracelets, or earrings. Necklaces, yes. Though they’re always very discreet. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who have to buy a peace offering for the holidays” 

“Huh”

“Or last minute engagements” 

“Oh. That’s definitely not the case” you smile, and something behind the woman catches your eye. “That’s a nice pearl necklace”

The woman puts on her sales hat, telling you every detail about the very elegant, very real pearls and how it is an absolute must for any woman. It honestly doesn’t take a lot of convincing. It’s beautiful and you remember how Wanda mentioned she always wanted one, but considered it a bit of a silly expense with two kids and no real use for it.

“I’ll take it” 

“You don’t want to look at the price?”

“I imagine it’s those four figures there”

“Yes”

“Yeah. That’s fine. I’m a trauma surgeon” you explain with a smile, feeling a little smug. 

“She’s a lucky lady”

You don’t really agree, considering this is very last minute. For the twins, you decide to take some of the Christmas presents you started to buy for them and store at your house.

And as much as Pietro annoys you, you’ll have to get him something too. 

Looking at the time, you decide to keep shopping for a bit longer, hoping no one notices if you’re gone too long. 

Wanda definitely notices. By the time you come back home, you’re sneaking around with a few boxes but she comes out of the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” 

Her tone makes you jump, and you look at her with wide eyes.

“I…”

“Doesn’t matter. I need you to go to the supermarket and get me some boxes of mac and cheese for all the kids. And a few bottles of wine, in case Laura and Clint stay longer” 

“Ok” you say, wishing she had called you since you were around the supermarket not long ago. 

By the time you finish all her errands, it’s four and you’ll only have an hour or two to rest. 

“Hey, here’s everything you asked for” you greet with a smile, hoping Wanda is less stressed now.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I think the Bartons aren’t even staying for dinner so I made you go for no reason, I’m sorry”

“It’s ok” you say, putting your arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want this to be perfect. For you to know that having a family is nice so you won’t…” she trails off, trying not to look at you.

“So I won’t, what?”

“So you won’t leave. It’s silly”

“Hey, I’d never leave… sorry” you grumble, looking at your phone and ignoring the call.

“If you need to pick up...”

“It’s just my landlord asking about the lease renewal” you roll your eyes which makes her laugh. “As I was saying, I don’t need a perfect Thanksgiving as a reason to stay. I love you. That’s it”

“I love you too” she smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. With your hands on her cheeks, you deepen the kiss, enjoying how she sighs against your lips when your tongue darts out. Then, your hands travel south to squeeze her ass, encouraging her to put her legs around your waist. 

“Hey, can we…? Ugh, not again” Pietro says, covering his eyes. “We’re thirsty”

Without dropping Wanda, you go through the stuff in the fridge and hand him some drinks.

“We’ll be upstairs, don’t go up in… 20 minutes” you say, making Wanda giggle.

“You guys are gross,” Pietro complains, crashing against the table as he keeps his eyes closed.

“Come on, let’s make those 20 minutes count” you say, carrying Wanda to the bedroom.

—

The Bartons arrive at 7, just like Wanda told them to. Sparky is the main attraction, as all the kids coo and aw at the funky little dog that loves all the attention.

“Pietro, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you” Laura says.

“Only good things, I hope”

“That must have been a short conversation” you laugh at your own joke, while Pietro glares.

The kids run around the yard as Laura and Wanda chat, Clint handing over Nathaniel to you while Pietro talks about his job.

Darcy shows up a little later, and you make your rounds, introducing her to everyone that hasn’t met her yet. 

“You again” she says when her eyes land on Pietro. 

“What? You’ve heard a lot about me too?” 

“Yeah, mostly bad shit”

“Bad word” all the kids turn to point at her, and she facepalms.

“Fuck”

“Two bad words!” Cooper says. Laura covers Lila’s ears, though she is laughing. You clasp your hands over Darcy‘s mouth because you know she can keep going forever.

“Kids, have you tried going on our brand new trampoline? You can take Sparky with you” that gets them distracted enough, running away to the backyard. “There. Don’t worry, it took me a minute to get used to the no swearing”

“This is why I don’t hang out at PG-13 events. Anyways, I brought some stuff to make pumpkin cocktails and guacamole. Help yourselves” Darcy says, holding a bag of tortilla chips.

“Nobody eats guacamole at Thanksgiving” Pietro says. 

“They do if they’re Mexican. We can pretend. I’ll call you Pedro all night long” Darcy says just to annoy him. “Plus, this is all I can make” 

“Are all surgeons bad cooks?” Wanda teases, and you’re dumb enough to answer honestly.

“Not all! Carol is actually a great… huh” you scratch the back of your neck at Wanda’s glare. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” Pietro guesses.

“Yeah” Wanda tilts her head, making you smile weakly. 

“I’m making cocktails” Darcy interrupts everyone, dragging you to the kitchen. For a while, you talk about some patients that arrived during the day, but it was still a strangely calm shift at the hospital. It was usually busy during dinner or after that some people got injured, while driving back home. 

“Take this to Wanda, that will make her forget that Carol comment” 

Approaching slowly, you put the drink in front of your girlfriend, who takes a sip and then coughs.

“Wow, what is this?” she laughs, the alcohol strong enough to knock her off her feet.

“A fire hazard” Clint comments, able to smell it across the table. Still, Wanda sips on the drink and nods, enjoying the taste.

“Go easy, Miss Maximoff” you joke, which makes her smile.

“I still remember why I’m mad at you”

“Then forget what I said, take these like tequila shots”

“Carol is an ex,” Pietro says, putting together the information. 

“As in Carol Danvers? Nice” Clint comments, earning a slap on the arm by Laura.

“Thread carefully” 

“Ah, jeez. Look what you made me do” Clint laughs, looking at you.

“Pumpkin cocktail for Laura coming right up”

“I’ll bring it, I have to check the turkey” Wanda says, slightly slurring her words. 

“If you go anywhere near the oven, leave that thing here” Clint points out, not wanting to put out fires on his day off.

You take Wanda’s place, sipping casually on the rest of her drink. Everyone stares as you don’t even make a face to the amount of alcohol on it.

“We’ve known each other since college” you explain. ”So this is just like drinking water”

While you keep chatting in the backyard, Darcy and Wanda are both in the kitchen, your friend making herself a drink while Wanda turns off the oven to get the turkey ready.

“Want another cocktail?” she says, pushing a glass towards Wanda. The woman grabs it, sipping again. The sweet taste of the pumpkin hides a bit of the alcohol, so the punch isn’t hitting quite yet. 

“Listen, I know your brother already gave my friend the shovel talk” 

“Really? When?” Wanda says, a little too loudly. 

”Back in the hospital. And I had to hold off on mine because you were always in my territory and I didn’t want to seem like a bully. However, now is the time to tell you… she’s my best friend, has been since college. Life hasn’t been particularly fair and her mother certainly didn’t help, though I’m sure she’s made it seem like no big deal, but Y/N really does deserve someone nice and kind. So don’t break her heart. Under any circumstance”

“I’m not planning to, Daisy” Wanda nods her head, her thoughts a little fuzzy.

“Nobody plans to hurt someone they love. And I’m Darcy”

“I’m a little drunk” Wanda clicks her tongue, leaning on Darcy as they go back to the backyard. 

“Everything ok, love?” you say when Wanda comes back, and to your surprise, she sits on your lap instead of a chair.

“These things are strong. A couple more and I’ll consider doing that thing you wanted to try in bed”

“Oh, dear God” you blush, while Clint, Laura and Darcy whistle. Pietro covers his ears, gagging. “No more cocktails for you… at least with the kids around”

The Bartons stay a little while longer, eating and drinking until Lila and Cooper approach Clint.

“Can we get a dog?”

“That’s our cue to go” he sighs, standing up.

“Please, we want one!” Lila insists, and you laugh at Clint’s defeated expression.

“We’ll see” he compromises. “Come on, we gotta stop by at your grandparents”

They leave, thanking you for the food and you promise to take the twins and Sparky to play at the farm very soon.

Pietro finally gets off his ass to bring the turkey, which looks absolutely delicious. He carves it, saving the biggest piece for his sister.

“I love Thanksgiving” you say, enjoying what’s probably the best meal you’ve ever had.

“Me too” Darcy agrees, getting seconds and thirds of everything. Truth be told, you never get to sit around and eat as much as you like so this is a total luxury for a workaholic doctor.

As you’re finishing up, Wanda takes out a pecan pie. 

“I’m in heaven” Darcy comments upon the first bite.

On the other hand, you cannot hold back a moan, which makes Wanda bite her lip, one of her hands going to squeeze your thigh. 

“Hey, quick question, will you marry me?” Darcy says to Wanda and you elbow her.

“Right in front of my pecan pie?”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t, I will”

“She better get a ring then” Wanda says, smiling at you. Your mind goes back to the woman at the shop, telling you about those last minute engagements.

Surprisingly, Pietro is the one that changes the subject.

“You know what I always find funny? How the flavor makes my throat all tingly. And my tongue numb”

Everyone looks at him in silence, until Darcy speaks.

“That’s an allergic reaction”

“What? No” Pietro dismisses her point.

“It is” you insist, which earns another hand gesture from the man. “Oh, you’re right, what do we know? We only went to medical school”

“You’re so dumb” Wanda says, laughing and holding her sides. “You’ve been allergic our whole lives? Oh, my God!”

“Very funny, sestra. But now you can’t make this anymore”

“Hey, eat a granola bar or something” Darcy snaps, getting a second slice. “Why should we pay the price for your weakness?”

“Let’s finish the pie so he doesn’t get an allergy” you tease.

Darcy and you keep eating while Pietro is instructed to clean up the table and load the dishwasher. As the celebration ends, Darcy goes back home with tons of leftovers.

“I’ll walk you out ” you say, accompanying your friend. As you’re chatting, your phone rings again.

“Your mother?” Darcy guesses when you ignore the call. You click your tongue, putting the phone back in your pocket. “Let me guess, she’s calling for the usual wish you were here bullshit while never calling in advance”

“Yeah, that’s our thing. This year I’m not in the mood to do it, though”

“Well, she’ll hopefully get the hint” Darcy’s pager goes off and she sighs. “There it is”

“Want me to tag along?”

“It’s fine. I’ll call if it gets too crazy. Bye, pal”

You wave as she drives away, walking back with Sparky. For a second, you feel guilty and think about calling your mother back, but this day has been perfect and you don’t want to ruin it.

“Hey, kiddos, did you have fun?” you ruffle Tommy’s hair when you get home, getting Sparky his dinner.

“Yeah, it was awesome!”

“Well, you better check your rooms because I got you a little present”

As usual, Tommy is faster, but Billy is right behind him, both of them shouting excitedly.

“What is all that noise?” Wanda says, alarmed.

“Just following tradition” you explain with a smile, waiting for the kids to open their presents.

“What tradition?” Wanda says, looking confused.

“Thanksgiving presents”

Then you hear it. Pietro snorts a laughter from his spot in the kitchen.

Motherfucker.

“I’m gonna kill you, Evil Twin” you say, going straight to where he’s standing. Pietro runs around the kitchen island, putting distance between you two.

“Stop it, you two!” Wanda says, hands on her hips.

“Sorry, love. But he’s got it coming” you throw a towel his way, and take advantage of the distraction to jump over the counter, falling on top of him.

“Cool!” Billy says, watching as you have Pietro in a headlock.

“How are you so strong?” he complains, unable to free himself.

“I’m in the ER, do you really think I don’t have to deal with drunk assholes?”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling you by the belt loop of your pants until you’re off balance. “Explain” she asks standing between you two.

“He told me you gave each other presents during Thanksgiving!”

“We love ours!” Tommy says, showing the stands for their controls. You smile, fixing your shirt.

“Well, you’re the only ones getting one. Your uncle is definitely not”

“You got me something?”

“Yes, and it was a damn good present” you smile, knowing the curiosity will drive him crazy.

“Come on, can I have it?”

“No” Wanda and you say at the same time.

You make fun of him, and then Wanda tilts her head.

“Did you get me something?”

“Of course I did” you pat the back of your jeans, finding the necklace box there. “Here”

Wanda’s eyes widen as soon as she opens it, her hand covering her mouth.

“What? You don’t like it? I can return it. Or maybe I can’t. But you don’t have to wear it” you rant, afraid that it’s too much for a tradition that isn’t even real.

“Sweetheart, stop” she says, smiling. “I-I love it. Thank you”

“Well, I love you” you lean forward, letting her kiss you. Billy and Tommy protest at the contact, something that they have unfortunately picked up from their uncle.

“Can I have my present? Please?” Pietro says.

“No, wait until Christmas” you say.

“And for this little joke you’re gonna clean the kitchen” Wanda says, pointing at all the dirty pots and pans.

“My joke got you a pearl necklace”

“Chop, chop, Pietro” she ignores him, pushing the kids upstairs so they can get ready for bed. “You two stink, go and take a shower”

“Where do you want me, Bossypants?” you joke, standing next to her.

“Mhm” she smiles, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “You like it when I’m bossy?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Then go shower too. And stay in bed. You were running around all day”

“Wanna join me in the shower?”

“I’ll help Pietro clean. Or we’ll never hear the end of it” she says, smiling when you pull her close, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t be long”

By the time Wanda comes up, you’re asleep, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.

The gentleness of her lips against your neck wakes you up with a shudder, and you bring your hand to rub up and down her back.

“Are you done with cleaning?” you say, trying not to yawn. Wanda’s teeth, marking the spot between your shoulder and neck jolt you awake. “Baby?”

“You always give me so much. I want to thank you” she says, moving down your lap. You lean on your elbows, unsure if you’re understanding what she’s saying.

“Wanda?” you’re about to ask something else, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel her rubbing her nose against your clit through your shorts. “I… uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong” you say, having trouble breathing when she pulls down your shorts, revealing you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Perfect” Wanda smiles, leaning down. You can tell she’s hovering, teasing you with anticipation. Even when she kisses the inside of your thighs, it feels heavenly.

You make the mistake of looking down, and Wanda’s eyes meet yours. She has a predatory smirk on her face, one you’ve never seen before. She knows how much you want this, she can see it, smell it. You’re about to plead for her to continue when she goes down, tongue licking a strip down your center.

“Fuck” you say, your legs instantly going to close around her head. You’re so sensitive and she’s sucking on your clit with such abandonment. Wanda lets you ride her face, enjoying the feeling of your juices coating every inch of her chin.

When you’re close to coming, she manages to pull free of your hold, pushing her hair back. Her chest is heaving, face glistening with your arousal.

“Wha-“ she doesn’t let you finish, pulling down her own shorts, and crawling on top of you.

“I want you to come with me” she sighs against your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. Her pussy comes in contact with yours, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her wetness.

“Be quiet for me” she hisses, though there’s certain tenderness in her voice. Her palm covers your mouth, and Wanda only moves when you nod, pushing her hips against yours.

“Wanda” you plead, not knowing exactly what you’re after. Even though she’s also getting pleasure out of this, she’s still very much in control, keeping you steady as she rocks her hips, setting the pace.

As your breathing quickens, Wanda picks up the pace, and your arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer until she drops her body on top of yours, moving and panting next to your ear.

“I’m close” you breathe, and the way she bites down your neck is what pushes you over the edge, letting out a groan and a string of curse words that would put your best friend to shame.

Wanda’s release follows, and you let her dig her nails in your shoulders as she comes. She relaxes against your chest, her heart slowing down as you run your hand up and down her back.

You don’t need to look to know there’s a mess of sheets and clothes around you. Wanda is too far gone to care, the intensity of her orgasm and the exhaustion of the day making her doze off.

“Can we make this into a tradition?” you whisper against her temple. She laughs, cuddling against your side.

“Totally”

—

Wanda: Hey

Y/N: Hey, gorgeous

Wanda: Miss you

Y/N: Miss you more.

Y/N: Thinking about that mindblowing orgasm too.

“Someone got laid for Thanksgiving” Carol reads over your shoulder and you huff.

“Mind your business, Danvers”

“Darcy said it was the best meal of her life. What do we have to do to get invited next year?” she says as you walk down the hospital halls.

“Go back in time and not sleep with me”

“Damn. Wanda’s still jealous? Would it change if I’m a married gal?”

“You set a date?” you stop Carol, excited to hear more.

“Your invitation should be in the mail soon”

“Congrats!” you smile, pulling her for a hug.

“There’s one more thing… I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor…”

The request catches you completely off guard. Carol had been your friend since you arrived at the hospital, but considering everything that happened, you’d figure Maria wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

“I mean… I would love to, but Maria”

“She’s fine with it. Understands it was just a distraction”

“Aww, that makes me feel so special” you put your hands over your chest, sighing dramatically.

“You know what I mean” Carol says, making you walk to the ER. “So, you in? You’ll have to do dress fittings. Organize a bachelorette party. Make sure I’m there on time”

“Fine, yes. Oh, did I mention we got a dog?”

On the way to the ER, you show Carol a bunch of pictures of Sparky, and she’s still obsessing over his funky hair when you find Kate, finishing some charts.

“How was your night, Bishop?”

“A bit crazy. Some accidents on the road, and cuts with kitchen knives… but it’s been pretty quiet now”

Carol gasps and you want to scream.

“Don’t say the q word, Bishop” you plead.

“Why?”

Two ambulances park right outside and you nod towards them.

“That’s why”

True to the lore, the word quiet attracts a wave of emergencies and freak accidents that take up most of your shift.

That’s not what has you on the edge of a nervouse breakdown, though.

During your first break of the night, you answer a text from Wanda, telling her you’ll be sure to be there for Pietro’s dinner tomorrow, as he’s finally leaving on Monday morning.

No one ever leaves a voicemail so you check out the notification, and you wish you hadn’t.

“For someone who works in the ER, you sure as hell aren’t around for family emergencies” your mother says. “Well, it’s not really an emergency, but you get my point. We’re gonna be in town, Jane’s probably applying to Westview university next year. Call me when you can, it would help if you give us a tour around the city. And pick up the damn phone, it’s Thanksgiving”

Kate finds you in that moment, making you jump out of your seat.

“You wanted me to…”

“Follow up with the patient in 403, yes. I’m going out for a while. Call me if it’s urgent”

The first thing you want to do is throw your phone away, but you settle for walking to a nearby store, looking for a pack of cigarrettes and a lighter. If you didn’t have a shift to go back to, you’d certainly get a bottle of cheap booze.

As you sit on the sidewalk, your hands tremble when you light up a cigarrette. It’s been ten minutes and you’re through the third one when Darcy stops by.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Since you can’t find the strenght to explain it, you hand over your phone. Your friend physically recoils at the sound of your mother’s voice, that’s how much she dislikes her.

“I’m sorry” Darcy says, sitting next to you. “She might not even make time to see you, she’s probably just pretending, like with every holiday”

“It’s not just that, Darcy. What if Jane goes to Westview University? I’m going to… I’m going to be worrying about whether or not she’ll be around. If her daughter needs anything, she’ll call me, if something goes wrong and I don’t find a way to fix it immediately, I’ll be the screw up of a daughter who never cares about her family. I’m gonna have to move, there’s just no way I can…”

“Slow down” Darcy sits next to you, her hand on your shoulder. Her touch helps you stay calm, and you breathe slowly. “That’s a massive if. You don’t know if it’s happening. And we’re both very much aware that you could do everything your mother asks and it still wouldn’t be enough. Don’t let her control you”

“I don’t know how” you admit, your voice breaking down.

“That’s ok” Darcy pulls you in, hugging you. “We’ll figure it out. Or just take her to the nastiest places in town, she’ll never let Jane come here again”

You let out a laugh at that, wiping your tears.

“I love you, friend” you say, feeling exhausted.

“Ugh, you always get so emotional when that witch is lurking around. Careful or you’ll end up proposing to Wanda”

“I don’t want my mother anywhere near Wanda. If she says anything hurtful to her, I swear to God she’ll really regret the minute she pushed me out of her fucking insides”

“Damn, bitch, now that’s the fire I want to see in you” Darcy claps, pulling you up. “Come back inside. Heard it’s been non stop since your minion summoned the entire city”

“Yeah, she said the q word”

“Queef” Darcy sighs and you cackle.

“Sassy queef”

—

The last thing you want to do when your shift is over is have dinner and be social, but you promised Wanda.

So you walk through the door with a smile on your face and some flowers for your girlfriend. Wanda greets you with a kiss, but quickly pulls apart.

“Did you smoke?”

“Uh…”

Seems like the entire pack of gum after smoking for the last 48 hours didn’t do the trick.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll go use some mouthwash and change clothes”

“Hold on” Wanda pulls your hand, looking at you. “What’s wrong? You only smoke if you’re stressed”

“Sestra!” her brother calls, and you’re actually grateful for the interruption.

“I’ll tell you later. Pietro needs your help”

Thankfully the conversation centers on the other Maximoff and his plans for the upcoming weeks, now that the conditions seem more favorable for snowboarding.

You ask a question here and there, but mostly keep to yourself, eating the chicken paprikash and drinking wine. Yeah, you definitely drink a couple of glasses to keep your cool.

If Wanda notices, she keeps it to herself once again.

“Well, sounds like you’ll be needing a pair of brand new gloves” you say to Pietro at one point, taking out a box from behind the tv. “Hidden in plain sight”

“She’s a keeper!” he exclaims when he notices the fine material. “I’m definitely coming back for Christmas now”

“Hey, you better get me something nice too”

You’re halfway the second bottle of wine when everyone’s done with dinner, and the kids are debating between going for ice cream or watching a movie. It’s safer to stay in the kitchen, cleaning everything and hoping you can excuse yourself early.

Truth is, you really want to drink until you pass out but that would raise too many questions with Wanda.

“They settled on Jumanji” Wanda announces when you’re drying your hands.

“Mmkay. I’ll take Sparky out for his walk then” you volunteer, rushing to get his leash before she can ask anything else.

The cold air makes you sober up a little, remembering what Darcy told you.

Don’t let her control you, don’t let her ruin your life.

You’ve told Wanda your relationship with your mother is not the best, but how could you possibly explain that’s a wild understatement?

“Isn’t that the cutest dog?” Agatha greets Sparky, who wags his tail. “What’s their name?”

“Sparky”

“Oh, wow” Agatha waves her hand in front of her nose. “Booze and cigarrettes, did you have fun at the casino?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll get you a special tea. It always helps”

She rushes you to her porch, making you sit while Sparky is on your lap, comfortably napping.

“One cup of “specialty”. Hah! Get it? Special tea, specialty”

“Very clever… oh, wow! Does this have peppermint?”

“Yes, clever girl”

“My grandmother grew peppermint on her front yard. I always loved the smell of it… even the taste when she made tea” you smile, sipping slowly.

“Everything ok, kiddo?” she asks after a beat of silence.

“No, not really”

“Well, I’m here if you want to…” your neighbor says, petting Sparky.

“I mean, thank you, but I feel like I don’t have a lot of people to tell this to, without being judged. Because you know what it is? I fucking hate my mother, Agatha”

To your surprise, the woman let’s out a loud laugh.

“Oh, honey, please. Tell me about it. My mother was a witch”

“Is that figuratively or…”

“I mean, who knows. She was evil, that’s for sure” Agatha rolls her eyes, and then looks at you. “Yeah, I get it. Most people say that you have to love your family, just because you share blood. Blood is thicker than water, they say. Meanwhile, they don’t know the full phrase is the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”

“Is that so?”

“Trust me, I know” Agatha nods. “My mother would tell me I was evil, I was bad. Just rotten to the core, in her own words.”

“I’m so sorry”

“Darling, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You have your own family with the Brady bunch over there.”

“I guess a part of me still believes she’ll apologize”

“Don’t hold your breath. And if she doesn’t, it still doesn’t mean you did something to deserve her shit”

“Thank you, Agatha”

The woman pats your leg, smiling.

“My love, are you coming back to bed?” a voice says from the inside of her house and you almost snap your neck looking back.

“Coming, Rio”

“I had no idea I was interrupting, I’ll leave right now” you stutter, carrying Sparky down the steps of the woman’s porch.

“Don’t sweat it, hot stuff. She needed a break after everything we just did” Agatha winks.

“Good talk, bye Agatha, bye Rio” you wave your hand, running back home all flustered.

The kids are with their uncle watching tv when you go inside. You let Sparky go so he can sit on the couch with them, and go upstairs to get changed and sleep.

Once you’re settling in bed, Wanda pushes the door open, eyeing you curiously.

“Sweetheart” is all she says. It’s both a question and an affirmation.

“It’s been a long day” you admit, too tired to pretend you’re ok, but also not in the mood to explain everything.

Maybe your mother won’t even come, and you’ll have shown Wanda how broken and fucked up you are for no reason. She doesn’t need to know it. Not now, at least.

“Let me help” she offers, climbing on your lap, kissing every inch of your face. You hold on to her waist, digging your fingers in her flesh. “I love you”

“I know. I love you too” you smile, finally connecting her lips with yours. She’s meant to comfort you with her touch, not wanting to start something else, because everyone’s downstairs. But when you swipe your tongue across her bottom lip, Wanda lets out a groan, nails scrapping your scalp as you deepen the kiss.

“Please” you say, switching positions so she’s on her back, you on top. You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but she can sense your desperation, holding on to your shoulders.

“It’s ok. I’m here. Use me, love. Take me”

Those words spurr you on, making you go down to kiss her neck, unbuttoning her shirt and leaving a trail of marks all the way to her hips. You desperately pull at her pants, immediately going down on her, your touch impatient as Wanda covers her mouth to keep quiet.

“Please” she manages to ask, and you give her more, stretching her with two of your fingers. “More”

You’re happy to comply, adding another digit and working them in and out of her clenching cunt, while you go back to meet her lips in a messy kiss.

“I fucking love you” you say against her mouth, and that sends Wanda over the edge, arousal gushing out of her with each of your final thrusts.

“I was… supposed to make you feel better” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, trust me. You did”

Wanda laughs, looking at you lovingly while you kiss her temple.

“I love you too” she says when your lips meet hers for a quick kiss.

“I know. I’m very lovable”

Her laugh makes you forget all the bad shit you’ve been carrying with you for the last day and a half.

—

“Take care, brat” Wanda says, her arms going around her brother. “See you soon”

“Yes” he then says something in Sokovian, making Wanda laugh.

“Do you guys know what they’re saying?” you approach Billy and Tommy.

“No, mama hasn’t taught us any Sokovian”

“We think it’s so they can say bad words without getting caught”

“Huh”

“What is all that mumbling I’m hearing?” Wanda says, making you stand straight.

“Nothing” the three of you say at the same time, making her laugh.

“Relax, sestra. You two, be good while I’m gone. And if you’re not good…”

“Be careful” they finish the sentence, laughing.

“And you…” Pietro points at you. Wanda is about to intervene, thinking he’s about to give you another shovel talk. but you wink at her, smiling. “Welcome to the family”

“Thank you, Evil Twin. See you at Christmas”

“You’re dressing up as Santa this year” he says in a low voice and you laugh.

The man gets in his car, waving goodbye one last time.

“Alright, you two, we’re gonna be late for school” Wanda says, and the routine slips you back to reality.

“Hey” you say, pulling her close to you. Before she can answer, you kiss her, hands on her cheeks. She squeezes your wrists, smiling. “Do I really have to be Santa?”

“We’ll see” she laughs, kissing you once again. “Come on. We got a busy day ahead of ourselves”

You smile, letting her take you back home.

Whatever happens next, you just need Wanda to get through it.

[pedropascallme]

Deny Me

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'I’m fine,' you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. 'I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.'”

Warnings: Allusions to smut (masturbation) (minors DNI!!!!), canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, hospital imagery, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences panic attacks and a bout of depersonalization, smoking, implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: So. Um. Never played COD. Barely understand the various plot lines it follows. But I DO understand that a man in a mask is inherently sexy. And that is my truth! Part two up soon <3

You hated Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

With every fiber of your being, you hated him.

You hated how he was so quick to pull rank; how swiftly his friends became his subordinates.

You hated the way he always spoke with such a cold, calculated indifference.

You hated the way he squared his shoulders to remind everybody of his stature; his status.

You hated his Britishisms, the way the pet names rolled off his tongue in your direction. And from anybody else, you might be fine with it, but when he called you sweetheart it made your stomach roll over itself.

You couldn’t tell why.

You hated how rookies acted as if he were some semi-legendary Adonis beneath his stupid fucking mask—which you’d also grown to hate.

You knew what he looked like under the balaclava; under the skull faceplate that made his eyes look so sunken and so attentive.

And who cares that his features matched so nicely? Who cares that his profile was just as carved as the rest of him? Who cares that the deep scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek looked almost silver under the fluorescent lighting of the barracks?

It didn’t matter that he was handsome. It didn’t matter that it was his face you thought about late at night, alone in your bed.

Certainly, he was no Adonis.

You hated the smirk in his voice, and the crease between his eyes, and the piercing edge of his gaze.

You hated that you knew, deep down, that your dislike of him was born out of convenience; that you loathed him for all the reasons that, in another life, you would’ve thrown yourself at him with open arms.

You hated that you knew you had become dead set on despising him because it was easier than the alternative.

He was an acquaintance, at best—a coworker you’d grab a beer with, under different circumstances. Mostly, though, he was a pain in the ass, and a detriment to your sanity.

You hated Ghost more by the second.

So why was it that, as you came to, bleeding out on the hard ground, he was the only thing you could think about.

You heard voices above you, a droning cacophony of accents and alarm that overlapped with each other, dissolving as they mingled with the ringing in your ears.

“Took a beating—”

“—fucking exploded before we—"

“—man down, but she’s—”

“—was beyond fucked.”

“She’s breathing,” you recognized Kyle’s voice above the panicked yelling. “Soap—she’s up.”

The first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth was, and a viscidness that clung to your side.

You tried to sit up, pushing back on your elbows against the dirt beneath you, and were met with a sharpness that ran up your lungs. You winced, coughing dry pain.

Your vision was blurry—almost watery, as if you were trapped beneath a sheet of ice and looking up through it. Still, you managed to track Gaz’s movements as he approached at a cautious speed to kneel beside you.

“Don’t move—” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to encourage you to lie still without having to touch you. “Where’s the worst of it?”

You stared at him blankly, only half registering his words.

“Everywhere,” you wheezed, and there was that same pain shooting up your lungs again, back with a vengeance. You squeezed your eyes shut, “Ribs. Left side.”

“Johnny!” Gaz’s voice carried in a way that made your skull vibrate, and you shuddered.

“C’mere, lass,” even in your sorry state, Soap’s accent was hard to miss. He gave Gaz a pat on the shoulder, encouraging him to stand and replacing him by your side. “Take yer kit off.”

“Buy me—me a fucking…” you heaved, “Drink…first…”

“Aye, she’s fine!” Johnny laughed, throwing a smile over his shoulder, though the wrinkles near his eyes weren’t deep enough for it to be sincere. “Yer bleedin’. Need t'let me dress the wound, Sergeant.”

You stared up at him, possibly concussed; definitely shell-shocked.

You swallowed the bile that rose in the back of your throat, trying to remember how you’d gotten here.

There had been open fire; there had been movement, and a tense argument between yourself and Ghost about who should lead the charge; there had been a brief period of satisfaction after you’d convinced him to let you stay up front.

There had been landmines.

“Nae, look here, lass—stay awake,” Soap snapped his fingers in front of your face. You must have begun to fade out when you tried to recall the details. He reached to unclip your chest rig, “Yer kit—”

“No.” you shook your head, and it made you feel like vomiting, but you didn’t stop. You felt a deep-seated dread pulse down your spine, and you needed answers.

You needed one answer.

“LT?” You looked at Soap, who stared back at you with a sympathetic frown, confused. “Where’s—where’s Ghost?”

“Oi,” a heavy boot stomped the dirt a few inches above your head, “Look up.”

And there he was—seemingly unscathed. It made your stomach burn, a sloppy mixture of frustration and something else. Maybe disappointment, maybe embarrassment.

Maybe.

If he had done things his way, it would probably be him on the ground right now. And if you could just hurry up and die, you wouldn’t have to eat your words about being able to front the line.

How long had he been standing there, anyway?

Your voice was shaky as you addressed him.

“Want—” you rasped, “Want you to do it.”

Soap exhaled audibly through his nose, glancing up at Simon with sharp eyes through a furrowed brow.

If words were exchanged, you didn’t hear them; and when Ghost took Johnny’s spot on the ground next to you, you didn’t see it happen, once again fading out.

“Gotta open your fuckin’ eyes, sweetheart.” Ghost’s words snapped you back to attention. He said it as if he were chastising you for forcing your way to the front of the line and, successively, getting yourself blown up.

You wanted to argue, tell him it was his fault for yielding to your demands, but all you could do was look up at him while he stripped you of your chest rig and pressed down hard around the sticky spot on your side. The action made your muscles flex, and you clenched your jaw through the unbearable pain that ran through you.

You might’ve grabbed at his forearm, but your body was numbing itself too quickly to register your own movements.

The last thing you saw were his eyes, almost frantic as he scanned your body.

But it couldn’t have been real fear—likely a figment of your imagination. Something to focus on as your body grew colder. Probably just a trick of the mask.

You wanted to rip it off.

~~~

You woke hesitantly.

You felt cold, but it was only skin deep; nothing like the chill that had infiltrated your bones when you’d started losing blood.

With a shallow sigh, you opened your eyes.

The infirmary.

You felt a level of reassurance in knowing that, if you died now, at least it would be in the comfort of a medical cot and not on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There was an IV stuck into the crook of your elbow, padded with cotton and medical tape to keep it in place. You couldn’t feel it, but you winced at the thought of the needle in your arm, and the bruises that were scattered around it.

“Morning.” You registered Gaz sitting on a chair next to the cot.

You breathed, happy to see him. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look concerned—you wondered if you had even been here for more than a few hours.

You shifted, propping yourself up with your pillow. The pain that had been plaguing your side seemed to have been reduced to a dull pulse, but you still huffed at the feeling as you resituated yourself.

There was a piece of fabric—a shirt—draped over your stomach that you didn’t recognize. You tugged at a loose string on the hem, noticing the blood stains that had crusted over the material.

It didn’t bother you; it was probably your blood.

“Hi.” You smiled halfheartedly at Kyle, who watched on as you made yourself comfortable.

“How ya feelin’?” He tilted his head forward, smiling back at you.

Gaz was one of the few people you had bothered to get close to.

It wasn’t on purpose, and it wasn’t as if you put effort into shutting everybody else out—Gaz was just easier.

As much as you appreciated Soap’s friendship, and Price’s guidance, Gaz had the innate ability to listen. He knew when to shut up, and when to keep himself scarce; he knew when to add his two cents, and when to make himself available. He managed to be kind and collected, even in the most outrageous of scenarios, and you found him to be a tranquil presence in an otherwise stressful line of work.

Maybe it was because he was closest in age to you; maybe it was because he knew where to get cigarettes; maybe it was just the urge you had to form a bond, to experience the type of friendship that was always depicted in old Vietnam War movies.

Whatever it was, Kyle was the closest friend you’d ever had in any platoon. And you appreciated him immensely.

“Like I got blown up.” Your smile morphed into something more sincere, and Gaz laughed quietly.

“Happens.”

“Sucks,” you responded pointedly. “But I feel better than I did.”

Gaz just nodded, his lips still curled into a soft smile.

The doors to the infirmary opened with a loud scrape against the linoleum of the floor, and Soap walked in carrying a tray of paper coffee cups. He tsked at the sound of the doors, cringing slightly as they swung shut and produced the same grating sound.

“Christ, haud yer wheesht.” Soap muttered, toeing the scratch on the floor before squaring his shoulders and making his way to your bedside.

“Come bearing gifts, Johnny?” You watched him put the tray down on your cot’s side table.

“Bottoms up, lass.” Soap handed you one of the cups, and you popped the lid off to hasten the cooling process of the coffee.

The aroma of the drink on its own was enough to perk you up, and you smiled at the men who sat beside you.

“You Irish it up?” You quirked a brow, smiling at Johnny as he sipped his own coffee.

“Scots have a bit more, eh, practicality than that.” He smirked.

“And I wouldn’t let him.” Gaz chuckled, blowing gently on his own coffee.

The three of you drank in silence. The coffee was black, bitter, but it warmed you up and helped you relocate your senses.

“So,” you popped the lid back onto your cup, putting it onto the tray that Soap had left on the side table. “How’d I end up here?”

“Passed out before evac,” Gaz sighed into his coffee, clearly not too keen on having you relive the series of events. “Got you here without much trouble.”

“Aye, y’were fine,” Soap finished the rest of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trashcan nearest to your bed. “Wound was shallower than we thought. Fucked up yer ankle, mild burns, couple cracked ribs, but—” He gestured to your chest, which was mostly bandaged. “Fixed ye up nice.”

You looked down at your body, really taking it in for a moment.

Your chest felt heavy, constricted by the bandages that covered your ribs and side, and your ankle was wrapped, but looked much less serious. There was something sticky on the irritated portions of your skin, probably bacitracin.

“What’s this?” You finally brought attention to the shirt that still rested on your lap.

“Ghost’s.” Soap didn’t explain.

“Couldn’t find anything to wrap ya up with—fucking disaster out there,” Gaz picked up Johnny’s slack, “Used his shirt instead. Couldn’t let you bleed out, though I doubt you would’ve, either way.”

The image of Simon removing so much of his kit just to get to the t-shirt beneath it in the middle of an evac zone made you smile. You tried not to dwell on the heat that crept into your abdomen.

That explained why it was covered in blood, at least.

You nodded, sighing. “I wasn’t out long, then?”

Soap pursed his lips, almost smiling. You looked at Kyle for a straight answer.

“How long have I been here?”

“Day and a half…maybe—little more like two,” Gaz smiled sheepishly. “They’ve had you pumped full of everything. Morphine, the works.”

“Knocked ye out good.” Soap laughed.

“Better than dying.” You sighed, shaking your head. You reached out for your coffee again, finishing it in a gulp before passing the cup off to Soap to toss it for you.

“Chest feels alright?” Gaz took the lull in conversation to ask again about your state of being.

“Tight, but…” The ache was still there, and the bandages were a bit snug, but you could manage. “Yeah. Feels ok…”

“Just rest.” Gaz still didn’t look worried, and that made you feel more at ease with the situation.

“Haven’t a thing goin’ on, next few days.” Soap nodded, doubling down on Kyle’s suggestion that you commit to relaxing.

The doors to the infirmary scraped against the floor again, but you didn’t bother looking at who had opened them, assuming it was a nurse coming in to check your IV or replace your bandages.

Soap and Gaz briefly made eye contact, glancing at each other in their peripheral after watching the doors open, but you ignored it as reflexive; a nod to each other in support of their insistence that you rest.

“And after that?” You knew you were looking too far ahead—you didn’t even know how long it took ribs to heal—but a little taste of optimism from your friends would be encouraging.

“You’re out of commission.”

The deep Manchester growl rattled your train of thought, and you turned to look at Simon, who stood in front of the doors.

“What?” You looked at him incredulously—surely he couldn’t be trying to punish you for nearly getting killed; surely you had misheard.

“You’re not goin’ back out there.” Simon’s eyes flickered over your body before he let his razor-edged gaze land on your face.

“Just—with the state yer in, lass—” Soap tried to soften the blow, brows furrowing into a gentle expression.

“Not in any state.” Ghost finally moved from his spot by the doors, and in several brisk strides he was by your bedside.

You tried to chalk it up to the fact that you were lying down, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he was looming.

“You were out o’line.” You could practically see his sneer beneath the balaclava, lip curling into an ugly, twisted shape as he lay into you.

And for what?

For the first time since waking up, there was a shock running down your body; not out of any physical discomfort, but out of pure rage.

“I was doing what I enlisted to do.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and trying to ignore the twinge of your muscles as bruised flesh rested on bruised flesh.

He stared at you for a moment; unmoving, unblinking.

“You join the army to get y'self killed?” He said it like he thought it was funny, and that’s what really did it for you.

He could’ve excluded you from any ops in the near future. He could’ve yelled until he was red in the face about how your stubbornness and lack of awareness consistently and unnecessarily put you in harm’s way.

That much you could’ve understood. Respectively, it made sense; it was true.

But the edge of mirth in his voice as he mocked you whilst you lay drugged-up in the infirmary made your blood boil, and the morphine could do nothing to stop that.

“You can’t do that.”

In an effort to save face, you turned your attention back to Soap and Gaz, trying to shut Simon out.

“He can’t do that,” you searched their eyes for signs of support, something you could leverage, “We have a pecking order. Price has to—to...”

Your sentence fell off when you saw Soap giving Ghost a pointed look, Gaz staring at the floor, frowning.

“It’s only six weeks,” Kyle tried to highlight the silver lining, looking back up at you and giving you a timespan to consider, “Just till we can be absolutely sure you’re okay.”

“We…” Soap sighed, still looking at Simon with a subtle glare, “It’s just to make sure yer in the best shape possible, lass—nothin’ personal.” He chanced a glance at you, smiling, and you scoffed.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to stare straight ahead at the foot of the cot. “Your idea, Lieutenant?”

Simon stared down at you, saying nothing, but when you side-eyed him you could see a glint of something in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know: It had definitely been his idea.

Even if you had only been bruised, you were certain that he would've suggested the same timeframe for you to stay on bed rest, under the guise of healthcare. A sadistic form of punishment that saw you wasting away while your friends continued business as usual.

“You’re being irrational,” you scowled at him, letting your arms drop down to your stomach to give your chest a break from supporting them. “And—not for nothing—kind of a dick.”

“Easy, Sergeant.” He glared down at you.

“I’m fine,” you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. “I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” Ghost, too, squared his shoulders, and it had the effect he surely desired; you shrunk into yourself slightly. “You wanna talk about appalling? You let me know when you ‘ave to dig shrapnel out of a subordinate.”

He turned on his heel without so much as a nod towards Soap and Gaz, and you felt just as upset about his disregard of them as his vitriol towards you.

“Lieutenant!” You called after him, “Ghost!” You were aware that the conversation was over, but you were still keen to argue. “Simon!”

The doors swung open and shut again with the same piercing scrape against the floor.

You glared at the doors, your disgust at Simon heightened in your state of exhaustion.

“Johnny?” You didn’t look back at Soap, still focusing your anger on the doors.

“Aye.”

“More coffee.”

~~~

A week later, you were back on your feet.

The nurses had given you enough ibuprofen to last a lifetime, maybe two, and then they sent you on your way.

The hurt was still there; every time you coughed; every time you stretched your left arm too suddenly, but it was fading.

It wasn’t really the pain that bothered you now. It was more so the waking worries, the shakiness of your breath, and the way you jerked awake each night in a frenzy of twisted blankets and sweat and nausea.

You tried to suck it up; you were hardly the first soldier to have an experience like this. You tucked your head between your knees when you had to, but never your tail between your legs.

You refused your need for help. You refused to acknowledge any weakness.

You hated the notion that this stretch of forced bed rest was only proving a dismal point; you weren’t cut out for the task force. The people that whispered in the halls about you being nothing more than something for the men to look at were likely finding their evidence in this extreme shortcoming of yours.

You kept your distance from Simon in order to avoid any further conflict. But he always did a good job of making himself unavailable, even at the best of times, so you hadn’t had to tiptoe around the barracks.

You walked into the mess hall on a whim. Your appetite was still mostly touch-and-go, but you knew the least you could do for yourself after everything was eat.

Gaz waved you over to the usual table, and you set your tray down across from Johnny.

“Need a new callsign.”

“Don’t like Bravo-Nine?” Gaz looked at you over a spoonful of applesauce.

“No, not—you know what I mean. Soap; Gaz; Ghost; Berserker.”

You’d been doing a lot of thinking over the course of the week; maybe Berserker wasn’t you.

And you’d laughed at the thought initially—of course she wasn’t you. That was the whole point. She was a projection, symbolic of you. It’s not like Simon was Ghost.

You had rolled your eyes at the comparison, trying to stifle any more thoughts of him.

Eventually, you’d decided that the ritualistic version of yourself was inadequate—or perhaps you were inadequate to call her a representative.

You were no Berserker. You were the Sergeant who cracked three ribs in one go after going in blind and setting off a landmine.

"Hard thing to change," Gaz quirked a brow, "Sticks with you."

“It’s a good name.” Soap picked at his fingers.

“Feels wrong now,” you tried to explain, “A berserker would’ve been able to handle some scrapes.”

“A berserker would jump’t the chance to run onto a landmine.” Johnny countered with a smirk.

“Thought about your other options?” Gaz spoke up again, stopping an argument before it had the chance to begin.

He was always good at that.

“What about, uh…” He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to come up with something.

“Tits McGee?” Soap laughed at his own suggestion.

You flicked a pea from your tray at him, but it veered off track and hit Gaz in the cheek.

“Oi!” Gaz wiped the moist spot it had left on his face with his hand, cringing. “No friendly fire at the lunch table.”

Soap barked a laugh, and you kicked him under the table as you stifled your own laughter.

“What’re you lot on about?”

And there was Simon.

Always when you least expected him; ready and willing to ruin a good time.

Ghost sat down next to you like it was nothing; like he hadn’t just chewed you out a few days earlier for nearly dying.

He was taking up too much space—at the table and in your head. You tried to ignore him, but your smile wavered.

“She’s changing her callsign.” Soap gestured to you with his chin.

“Doesn’t feel like a true berserker,” Gaz smiled, eyes darting between you and Ghost. “Tell him.”

Kyle knew how upset you were, and he had said he wouldn’t get in the middle of it. But it was clear that he was now attempting to take on the role of peacekeeper, if only to keep mealtime pleasant.

You shot Simon a sidelong glance, nodding in response to Gaz’s prompt. You didn’t want to grace the Lieutenant with a verbal reply. He didn’t deserve one.

“I suggested Tits McGee.” Johnny smirked into his drinking glass, and this time you stomped on his foot under the table. He winced through a chuckle.

“Fair idea.” Ghost huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh.

You grit your teeth.

“What about something…scarier…?” Gaz spoke as the thought came to him, looking at you again. “Give Ghost a run for his money.”

Soap swallowed the water in his mouth, eager to toss out suggestions.

“Reaper.” He let his voice drop an octave for emphasis.

“Spirit.” Gaz quirked a brow at you, expectantly, as he silently asked for your input.

“She wouldn’t wear it right.” Simon shook his head, crossing his arms.

Your nails bit against your palms. It seemed like you couldn’t do anything right, as far as he was concerned.

“Shut up.” It came out muttered and withdrawn, but it felt good to get it out all the same.

“You ‘ave something t’say, love?” Simon looked down his shoulder at you, and the moment you looked back up at him, you knew you’d made a mistake in thinking you could keep it together.

“Yeah,” you glared, standing from the table. “Fuck you.”

You left without clearing your tray.

~~~

You never thought you’d find a barracks bed so spacious, but your own bed felt huge compared to the medical cot you’d recuperated in.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyelids, appreciating the silence and warring with yourself about why you always let Ghost get under your skin the way you did.

You heaved a sigh, stretching your arms out. You made sure to rest your left arm at a more practical angle even when you extended it.

Relief for the rest of your body wasn’t worth the jolt in your side.

After the incident at lunch, you fell into a repetitive pattern; mind wandering to Simon, chastising yourself for letting him live so comfortably in your head, then trying to focus on something—anything—else.

And you didn’t appreciate the way your body reacted to the thoughts of him, warmth swelling in your stomach and fingertips grazing your waistband.

It was a losing battle.

He had the ability to be kind, and it was a rarity, but a welcome one.

When you’d started as a rookie, you understood why people worshipped him; he was strong, capable, and, for the most part, managed to stay humble.

He was competent. And that was nice.

For a while, even you had fallen victim to the cult of personality that trailed him—it was hard not to.

He was just a person, a soldier like any other, but he could seem like so much more than that at times. You admired him, his drive, his passion.

He was merciless in his work ethic, unforgiving in his reproach, but he had his moments.

You’d knocked on his door early on into your time at the base.

It was nothing more than a work-related rendezvous, impromptu but necessary; you had reports he needed, and that was all. But you still felt a sort of buzz, a sense of pride nipping at your heels for being trusted enough to take on a task as menial as paperwork.

He’d opened the door, and you’d been left to stare up at him.

“What’s'is?” He nodded his chin down at your hands.

“I—the reports you needed,” you handed them to him, “They’re all in proper order.” You hesitated, “I think.”

He had stared down at you.

“You think?”

“No, I…I know. They are.” You didn’t want to be overly confident, but you did feel as though the reports looked good—better than good, even.

“Good to be certain.” He’d folded the reports, almost fidgeting with the paper.

“Yeah,” you nodded, unsure of what to say now. “It’s...all there.”

There was another pause. He let your words hang in the air, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the threshold of his room.

“But, uh—that’s all,” you nodded again, trying not to squirm in the silence he created. You looked at the ground. “Thanks for…trusting me, Simon.”

You turned to walk back to your own room, but he cleared his throat.

“Simon?” He seemed confused, and for a moment you wondered if you had gotten his name wrong, “We on a first name basis, love?”

“I just—that’s your name…” You'd probably gone pale at that point, but you tried to recover. “I figured, I mean, in your own room…do you want to be Lieutenant?” You stuttered through an explanation.

He had narrowed his eyes at you then, but there was no malice in his gaze; if anything, he just seemed more confused than he had been.

“Ghost is fine…” He spoke as if he were questioning himself.

“But you’re not Ghost,” you doubled down, smiling sheepishly, “I mean—not here, you’re not. Not to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really think of you as Ghost unless we’re…out, somewhere,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the words spilled out as you tried to avoid the repercussions of disrespecting a superior officer. “And—I dunno. You’re kinda scary when you’re Ghost. Your name…suits you…”

You searched his eyes, still trying to read whether his bewilderment would morph into anger.

“It humanizes you. And I…I like that.” 

“You like Simon.”

“Yeah.”

He shifted his weight. “A’right.”

You waited for more, but it never came.

“Yeah,” you repeated, finally finding the willpower to walk away. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“G’night.” He watched you leave before shutting the door.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, despite yourself. So you tried to remember what had made you hate him in the first place, just to torment yourself further.

It had been the day following that conversation.

He had been brusque, finding you in a common area with Gaz, playing a watered-down version of blackjack—no bets, just yelling and laughing as you continued to fall short.

“Redo them.”

“What?” You’d looked up from your hand.

“Redo them.” He repeated as he dropped the stack of reports onto the table in front of you.  

The reports you had been so excited to hand over to him.

“But what’s—”

“Fix. Them.” He’d gritted out, and you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes. “And be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart.”

“O—ok…” You conceded to his demand and rested your palm on the stack of paper in a gesture of submission.

He walked out without another word, leaving you to stare down at the reports he’d returned to you, feeling well and truly insufficient.

You had decided, in that moment, that you hated Ghost. And you hated Simon Riley just as much.

You had never been able to figure out why exactly he had switched up the way he had; if you had done something to get on his bad side, if it was delayed payback for calling him by his name. No matter how curious you got, you never asked, simply putting him on your bad side, too, just to keep things fair.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up in bed and staring at your room.

It was messy in a very minute way. You had clothes that needed washing, and a stray sock on the floor; your bed wasn’t made and there were reports on your desk that needed filing.

Clean to an onlooker; filthy to a soldier.

Your eyes wandered to Ghost’s shirt where it hung on your door.

You still hadn’t given it back to him, too dead set on eluding him at all costs after the ordeal in the infirmary, but it was casting a dreary shadow in your room. You didn’t want it near you, despite the way you’d clung to it when you’d woken up, and despite the way you’d managed to avoid returning it even when you’d had ample time to do something as simple as hanging it on his doorknob.

You didn’t know whether you should treat it as if it were a talisman or an omen, but given that it was stained in your blood, you leaned towards the latter. 

You stared at it for a few moments before finding the motivation to get up and grab it off the hook it had been dangling from.

Maybe you could treat it like an olive branch, even if it was only for this particular occasion.

He’d have to offer you a whole tree to make you consider allowing him on your good side for anything else he’d put you through.

~~~

It was relatively quiet in the barracks, and you felt like you were missing out on something. But you knew it got like this sometimes; weeks of high energy often resulted in a lull.

Simon’s room was at the end of the hallway, shrouded in shadows where one of the hall lights had gone out. His door had the same menacing energy that he did, and you felt insane for comparing the man to a door.

But were you really that far off?

Rigid, unfeeling; Ghost was essentially just another fixture—in the barracks, on the force, in the quiet corners of your mind.

You quickened your pace in an effort to get this over with. The sooner you gave him his shirt back, the sooner you could quell the feelings of frailty and lousiness, the sooner you could rid him from your thoughts—at least for a little while.

You stood in front of his door, and before you could question your true intentions, you knocked.

He opened the door in a huff, and you found yourself taking a step back. He didn’t say anything, fixing his unforgiving gaze on you.

“This is yours,” you held up the shirt, “Figured you might want it back.”

You watched his eyes scan the shirt in your hand before flicking back up to your face.

“Covered in your blood.” He looked like he was quirking a brow beneath the balaclava, and you suddenly felt irate—why wear the mask in his own room?

“Well, I haven’t really had time to wash it, considering…” You motioned up and down in front of your chest with your free hand. “But, um…Johnny said it was yours, and I felt bad holding onto it, given that I don’t really have any…need for it now.”

“Why would I want it back?” His tone was flat.

“It’s your fucking shirt.” You heaved a sigh, realizing that your attempt at diplomacy was going unheeded.  

“Don’t want it.”

Nothing else. Not a word—not a ‘thank you’ or a ‘happy to see you out of bed.’

Nothing to suggest he even cared about what had happened, or that he had any inkling of what was still going on in your head. He didn’t even question you about your outburst in the mess hall. He was completely cold, fully detached.

Typical.

“Well,” you swallowed the urge to push him, to see his feet slip out from under him and watch him stumble. “Fuck me for trying, Simon.”

You turned to make quick work of walking away, fidgeting angrily with the shirt in your hands. But he was clearly in the mood to argue.

“Oi—” You heard his footsteps behind you, “You mad?”

You scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Are you mad at me?” He clarified, catching up to you as you stormed down the hallway.

You didn’t answer him until you got back to the door of your room, opening it, and standing in the doorframe.

It gave you a sense of power, being in your own space.

“Am I mad at you?” You swiveled to stare up at him, your tone venomous. “Fuck you, Ghost.” You could no longer deny yourself the satisfaction of shoving him, and you pushed against his chest hard enough that he swayed back slightly.

“Watch it.” He glared down at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your head.

“Please—or what?” You challenged, “You’ll make me sit on the sidelines for an extra week? You gonna snap my neck in my own fucking room?”

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and every single issue you had with him was coming to the surface.

“You won’t do shit. You never do shit—not unless it’s in the job description. You ignore everything so dutifully, Simon, like it’ll just disappear if you don’t give it the time of day,” you were yelling now. “Cause that’s what you think, right? That problems and people will vanish when they realize they’re not good enough for Lieutenant Riley?”

“Wasn’t personal, sweetheart—you’re in no shape to be out there.” He sighed, and it just fueled your rage.

“I don’t take anything you do personally,” you pressed a finger into his chest for emphasis. “You walk around here like you own the place, Lieutenant, and you don’t. You don’t get to call all the shots—I don’t care what kind of hard-on you get for the authority you have in one-four-one.”

“Sergeant—” You could tell it was taking effort on his part to stay stoic as he stood in your line of fire, and a vicious part of you wanted to see him break and fight back.

You wanted him to give you a good reason to hate him. Something that might finally stick. 

“I’m not fucking finished,” you cut him off, eager to express every single detail about him that made you feel so incensed. “You are the epitome of ego, you are indisputably one of the most self aggrandizing people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. All you are is a fucking killer, just like the rest of us, but you seem to think you’re God’s gift to SAS—because what would one-four-one be without you, right, Simon? What would any of this be without you!”

You took a deep breath, and it made your ribs settle over your lungs uncomfortably, but you were nowhere near done.

“You act like you don’t care about the praise, the commendation—but you fucking do, and that’s why you turn your nose up at it. Cause you think you deserve it. And why the fuck should you acknowledge any compliment to your skill? Why should you acknowledge something that you already know to be true?”

Suddenly, you were cackling; manic with hatred, confused by your hostility towards him.

Ghost stood silent, and you wished he wasn’t wearing the mask so you could see his face and analyze how your words were hitting him.

You wanted to see the upset on his features—never mind how pretty he might look, carved in agitation.

“You don’t pay attention to the way people shy away from you, or the way the rookies worship you, or the—fuck, Simon, the women! You don’t care about how girls look at you! Because it’s what you think you deserve!” You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing that detail in, but you quickly recovered from your thinly veiled barb of jealousy.

You lowered your voice, wanting to hammer home how deeply, truly repulsed by him you were.

“You are so fucking aloof, it’s insane,” you hissed, “Ignore me all you want, Lieutenant, but I’m not fucking going anywhere. Am I mad at you? Fuck you, Simon.” You focused now on catching your breath, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant it: “Fuck. You.”

He hadn’t moved the whole time, staying in the same spot in front of you throughout your rant.

Maybe he was thinking about the situation at hand. You wondered if he had actually listened to anything you said, or if he was too baffled by the fact that he was being screamed at by a subordinate to even hear you.

Maybe he’d hit you. You would, in his position.

“S‘at all?” His tone was casual, maybe a bit gruffer than normal, but that did nothing to subdue your rage.

All you’d really wanted was a reaction, and he wouldn’t even give you that.

“Get the fuck out.” You took a step back, slamming the door in his face.

You leaned against the door, breathing. Your side felt like it was splitting—maybe the stitches were under pressure, or your ribs had been held too taut against your lungs when you yelled.

You’d take an ibuprofen later. Now, you clutched his shirt in your fists, and tears slid off your cheeks to mingle with the bloodstains.

~~~

An hour or two later, you felt somewhat more under control.

You tried to shrug off your emotions, burying them somewhere to keep them guarded and stop them from getting to you.

You shoved Simon’s shirt under your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

You saw no point in wallowing—you’d had a week to do that in the infirmary. Now you just wanted some semblance of peace, a good night of sleep.

Distracting yourself with paperwork seemed just as good. But your hands were shaky, and you quickly grew frustrated.

Be fucking certain they’re in order. You heard the words in Simon’s voice, clear as day, as the memory bounced around in your head.

You shoved yourself up from your desk chair at the same moment you heard a knock on your door.

You hesitated.

“Yeah?” You called out, walking slowly towards the sound.

“Got you something.”

Gaz’s voice was cheery, and you let out a brief sigh of relief upon hearing him—initially worried that Ghost had come back for retribution.

Relief may not have been the proper word. Still, you opened the door.

“Didn’t even ask who it was.” Gaz smiled when you ushered him in.

“What’d you bring me?” You ignored his teasing with a grin.

“First," he made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, "Tell me if you’ve got a light.”

You quirked a brow at him, taking the hint. You rummaged through your nightstand to locate a lighter, finding one and handing it to him.

“Solid,” he took the lighter, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Go ’head.”

You smiled, shaking your head with an amused huff. “Inside?”

“You deserve it.”

“With my…” You tried to appeal to your better judgement, the stitches in your side a reminder of the turmoil your body had only just experienced.

Kyle looked at you expectantly, holding out the pack, and you let your sentence trail off as you fished a cigarette from the box.

“Terrible influence, Garrick.” You perched the cigarette between your lips, waiting for him to light it for you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he smiled, watching you puff smoke as he lit your cigarette. “You need a vice. Heard you tore LT a new one.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. You moved from the bed to open the small window in your room, resting your hand on the sill and watching the smoke trail up into the night air.

“Word travels fast,” you almost smirked at the knowledge that people had heard about your row with Ghost. “He had it coming.”

Gaz got up from your bed and walked over to lean opposite you against the window.

“Only person that’s ever done it,” he wedged the window up a bit more when the smoke blew back into his face. “Long as I've been here, at least. When Soap’s mad at him, he just listens to songs about stickin’ it to the English.”

“I know,” you ashed the cigarette, smiling, “I have his playlist.”

Gaz laughed, and you stamped the cigarette out on the outer part of the sill, walking back to your bed and taking a seat. Gaz watched you, analyzing your movements before he pulled the chair from your desk and sat.

“You, uh…” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “He was glued to you, Ghost was. Wouldn’t leave your side.”

You furrowed your brow, looking up at him in confusion. You didn’t know where this was coming from—or why Kyle would bother to tell you right now, rather than while you were still in the infirmary. Or why he'd tell you at all, for that matter.

“He wasn’t there when I woke up.” You scoffed halfheartedly, unsure of what point you were trying to argue, or why you were trying to argue it.

The thing is, you had questions—but it was easier to inquire with a reserved disbelief than it was to ask anything up front. 

“He was there before that, though,” Gaz fiddled with the lighter, flicking it on and off. “We—y’know, Johnny and Price and I—we made him leave.”

“Just because?” You tried to sound amused, but the curiosity gnawed at you.

“Needed a shower, hadn’t eaten.” Gaz put the lighter down on the desk. He rolled his shoulders back, pressing his palms to his thighs with a sigh.

“So?” You prompted when Gaz had stayed silent for longer than you anticipated.

“So, just…” He cracked his neck before looking back at you, “Maybe try not to take it all out on him.”

“Take what out on him?” Your tone went sharp, and Kyle made a face.

“You know what I mean,” he backed down slightly, but continued with his effort. “I think he’s…unhappy.”

“I get blown to smithereens and we all throw Simon a pity party?” You felt your skin growing hot, unnerved by the notion that you were supposed to go about business as usual after such an event, while everybody around you seemed to have more sympathy for Ghost and the grave he’d dug for himself.

“You cracked three ribs!” Gaz smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

“It was enough for LT to throw a hissy fit over!” You snapped back, perhaps a bit too harshly, and Gaz let his smile fade, ready to concede to you.

You continued to seethe for a moment longer, staring at Gaz’s feet. He dipped his head down, trying to get you to listen.

“I think he’s unhappy because he wasn’t there when you woke up.” He said simply, his voice gentle. He wasn’t trying to upset you, just attempting to share his opinion and see whether or not it improved anything.

“Hardly my fault…” You frowned, finding his gaze again and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, no, I know—believe me, I know,” Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, “But he was…so…He was fucking besides himself with worry—or, I mean, it seemed like it. Didn’t leave the infirmary til we pushed him out a few hours before you came to. And I think he was really set on being there to see you through it.”

Gaz looked at you. You looked back, tilting your head in silent encouragement; you were listening.

“It’s like he…built up this idea in his head about…” he trailed off, “And then it didn’t happen. And he doesn’t want to feel stupid, so he’s just angry instead.”

You nodded, taking in the revelation that maybe Ghost wasn’t mad at you, but at himself; that he was facing a similar struggle from you as you were from him.

It didn’t make you feel better. If anything, it made you want to knock sense into him all the more.

You’d laid out your cards—it was his turn now. If he had such big feelings, he could either suck it up and ignore them, or he could come out with them. And nothing Gaz said or suggested could make you change your mind.

You scoffed, shaking your head. But you smiled a little, subconsciously reassured.

“That’s my hypothesis, anyway.” Gaz shrugged, returning your smile ten-fold, and you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Big word.” You laughed softly.

Gaz grinned. “Read a book or two.”

You reached out to snatch the pack of cigarettes from him, fishing another out for yourself before pushing the box back into his hands. He put them away, handing you your lighter.

“Not joining me?” You nodded towards the pocket he’d shoved the pack into, speaking through your hands as you lit the cigarette.

“Nah,” he shook his head, sighing. “There’s…mm—I didn’t come to see you just so we could talk about Ghost.”

“You talked about him,” you mumbled, “I listened.” You moved to the window again. “What else?”

“We’re shipping out,” Gaz sighed, “Next week.”

You went quiet, picking at one of your fingernails and watching your cigarette burn.

“…Without me.” Your words came out small, disappointed.

“Yeah,” Gaz’s voice went soft around the edges. “First time in—”

“Yeah.” You cut him off.

You knew how long you’d been in 141; and it felt like eons to you, despite the fact that it had been only a tiny fraction of the time everybody else had been on the task force. You didn’t need the reminder now—not when you already felt like an outsider.

“All of you, then?”

You looked back over your shoulder at Kyle, and he nodded.

“Price too?”

He nodded again. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“In and out,” he tried to make it sound like fun—and really, it was, to an extent, but your thoughts were elsewhere. “Won’t even be a full forty-eight hours, way we’ve got it planned.”

You smiled—he always downplayed it, but you wanted to believe him.

Without Gaz and Soap around, you’d be bored out of your mind. You could handle a couple days, but anything longer than that seemed dreadful.

You didn’t let yourself fall into the vortex of thoughts that opened up relating to Simon; you refused to acknowledge the way your stomach tensed at the idea of him on a mission without you, the way sweat beaded on the skin of your back at the notion that you wouldn’t be there to watch him—you didn’t know what the feeling was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“I believe you.” You flicked the cigarette out the window.

“Good.” He said simply.

It was another hour of banter before Gaz decided to call it a night, by which time the strange feeling in your stomach had begun to feel more akin to a hunger pain.

“Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, “Don’t think too hard about it, yeah?”

“About what?”

“Ghost—and him being…”

“Being Ghost.” You offered sardonically with a smile to match, but Gaz took it in stride.

“Mm,” he nodded, “Ghost being Ghost.” He added, “You were the one that wanted his help, remember.”

He didn’t clarify, but you knew he was talking about how you’d pleaded for Ghost to be the one to treat your wounds as you lay bleeding.

You nodded, sighing an affirmative.

When you shut the door behind Gaz, you found yourself standing frozen in the same spot you had been in after shouting at Simon.

It was significantly more tranquil now, but it still made you feel a sense of unease.

Did you feel bad? And if the answer was yes—did you feel sorry for yourself, or for him?

You got in bed and curled into yourself, suddenly feeling like it was too big and almost wishing you could be back in the infirmary.

At least you could sleep in that cot; the morphine drip kept you in a steady, sleepy haze and removed all of the anxiety induced by your near-death experience.

Against your better judgement, you threw your hand over the edge of your bed, contorting yourself as comfortably as you could to lean down and grab Simon’s shirt from the spot you’d chucked it beneath the bedframe.

If he was so adamant that you keep it, you felt as though it was only fair for you to use it.

You draped his shirt over the foot of your mattress, and you instantly felt as though the bed had shrunk down to fit you exactly; it was cozy, it was made for you, and not hundreds of recruits just like you.

He took up too much space at the table and in your mind, so what was a little space in your bed?

It’s not like this changed anything. You were still upset, still frustrated, still completely and utterly confused. Simon’s shirt was simply an added presence that helped quell the shakiness in your hands as you moved to switch off the light.

And it added a bit of fuel to the thoughts you’d deemed taboo.

~~~

You hadn’t been trying to count down the days until the force left, but it was hard not to. You knew that them leaving base would mean radio silence and a consuming sense of loneliness.

You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your gut was a product of the unfortunate event you’d just lived through, your intense dosage of Advil, or just the crushing fear of being left behind.

So, you’d tried to make the most of things as the week went by; and maybe you sat at the dinner table a little longer than you needed to, even when Simon cared to join; maybe you didn’t say anything when Soap tried to look at Gaz’s cards over his shoulder.

You wandered into the transport bay on the morning they were set to leave, and they were all standing at the ready.

It almost had you laughing; little toy soldiers, all lined up.

“Where you off to?” You sidled up next to Soap as he fiddled with his chest rig.

“Need to know basis.” He grunted, pulling at the strap around his shoulder. He looked up at you with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes, returning the smile.

“Then tell me all about it if you come back in one piece.”

“Always do, lassie.”

You cringed. “Don’t tempt the fates, Johnny.”

Gaz appeared in your peripheral, and you turned to him.

You couldn’t decipher his gaze; if he was nervous or if he felt sorry for you.

“Gonna miss ya out there, Sergeant.” He smiled softly at you.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “I know.”

“Always the picture of humility, you are.” He smirked, and you punched him in the arm.

“Take care of yourselves.” You knew they would—they always did. And it wasn’t like you had anything to worry about; it was one operation, a brief mission to wherever the hell, and you’d see them in a few days’ time.

As cocky as Soap could be, he was right: they always came back in one piece.

Unlike you.

Price cleared his throat, cutting short the banter between you and the Sergeants that flanked you.

“Captain.” You looked up, offering him a nod.

“Sorry to see you sitting this one out.” He was being sincere—that was something you appreciated about Price; he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. “Won’t feel the same without you.”

“Yeah, well,” you still didn’t know how to take a compliment from him, “I’ll be good as new, soon enough.” You added; “Only a month left, and then I’ll be back at it.”

He nodded, and you saw his cheeks broaden, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t let that arm go stiff, Sergeant.”

“Roger that.” You responded with a similarly minute smile.

You turned your attention back to Gaz and Soap, hoping that getting enough face time with them now might hold you over while they were gone.

Ghost stood in the corner, checking guns for loose ammo and saying nothing. He barely looked your way, and when he did, you tried to hold eye contact.

Maybe you were trying to scare him, wear him down a bit and make him nervous. Realistically, though, the man that stood a few yards away from you would never consider you a threat.

And you knew that. But you couldn’t admit that you were looking at him just to look.

You wanted him to squirm under your gaze now the way that you always did under his.

The door to the bay opened and you knew it was best to see them off before they loaded—you were a soldier, not a would-be widow; you couldn’t bear the feeling of being left behind, but the idea of watching them leave was even worse.

“Alright,” you rolled your neck, trying to appear indifferent to their departure. “Be good.” You looked pointedly at Soap, who nodded, saluting.

“Aye.”

“You too.” Gaz pressed a finger to your chest, feigning menace, and you rolled your eyes as you watched the Sergeants gear up to go.

Ghost still hadn’t said a word, but you found yourself being pulled into his orbit as you turned to leave.

It was no big deal. He was standing by the exit, anyway.

Still, you stared at him as you walked out, waiting for him to say something. Or not.

He gave you a curt nod in an effort to catch your attention.

“See you in a few days, sweetheart.” He kept his voice low—maybe out of habit, maybe because he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to hear him.

You huffed at him, frowning at him but refusing to respond.

His eyes shifted beneath his mask, but he didn't speak anymore. And you didn’t care.

But when you walked out of the transport bay, you could feel your heart racing, challenging your mind.

~~~

Admittedly, it was calmer with them gone. But you were bored, and feeling more outcast and alone than you’d care to confess.

It gave you time to work on the reports that had started to pile up, and even more time to debate where exactly you stood with Simon.

And then you debated whether that was something even worth debating.

He was an asshole. He was your superior. But he was also, in a twisted sort of way, your friend.

And you’d never heard him call Soap or Gaz sweetheart.

He was an ally in dark times, who used his own clothes to stem your bleeding—something he’d only done because you, in your weakest state, had begged for his help.

And you still didn’t really know why you had asked. And you didn’t like the fact that the time you spent alone with your thoughts was bringing you closer and closer to figuring it out.

You thought a lot about Gaz's words, his explanation for Ghost’s behavior: he’s unhappy, he wanted to see you through it, he built up this idea.

You still couldn’t fully wrap your head around what the idea Gaz had mentioned was, and you had been too proud to ask for any clarification.

Simon’s shirt was still unceremoniously draped over your bed, and despite the comfort it brought you, you tried to ignore it.

Two days came and went, and by the third day you had allowed the initial drops of worry to seep in.

It didn’t last long before the whole dam exploded.

And then it all started to blur together, like you were lying on your back in the dirt again, feeling like your head was being held underwater.

In the early hours of day four, commotion in the hall roused you. It wasn’t as if you had been asleep, but facing such loud noise after midnight still made you grumble as you padded to the door and flung it open. Walking down the hall, you didn’t care that you were barefoot, too intent on giving into the curiosity that was tying your stomach in knots.

You heard Price’s voice first, the sharp pinch of his words as he demanded everybody move out.

That was your first tip off that something was wrong.

And then Soap rushed past you without so much as a first glance, let alone a second, as he booked it in the direction of the infirmary. There was a hand on your shoulder, then, and Gaz offered a look of sympathy, but his eyes were glazed over and intense in a manner that didn’t suit him at all.

He tripped over himself as he followed Soap.

“Gaz?” You called after him, suddenly frantic and in need of answers.

One answer.

“Garrick?” You started to follow him, but it didn’t feel real; you felt like you were looking down at yourself as an outsider, your legs moving on their own as you sped barefoot down the hall, floating. “Kyle!”

That finally got him to snap to attention, but he kept walking as he spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ghost—” his voice was shaky, and you had to wonder what had happened—what he had seen, “Direct shot.”

You felt a final tug at the knot in your stomach, and you thought you were going to be sick.

You stopped following Gaz, standing still in the middle of the hall. You felt directionless.

You drifted through the barracks in an unstable haze, almost numb but still all too capable of feeling the anger that had started to bubble within the uneasiness of your stomach.

He was supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable—invincible.

But he was bleeding out in the infirmary just like you had.

He was merciless, yes, and he was unforgiving—but he had his moments.

You wouldn’t have taken a bullet for him. Would you? Certainly, you would’ve done something.

You would’ve tried.

If you had been there, you would have forced him to do things the way you wanted to, the way you always did. Forced him to see it your way and come to an agreement in your favor; forced him to walk in the direction you chose; forced him to follow your pace, stayed in front of him like you always did; forced him to follow your trail.

And he would’ve listened, just like he always did. Because he, in his own way, seemed to approve of your drive.

And then maybe he would have walked back into base on his own two feet. And it could’ve been you lying on a cot in the infirmary.

As it was meant to be.

Somehow, you found your way back to your own room, some guiding force helping you shut the door, pushing you towards your bed.

The numb and the melancholy made way for a stronger sense of fury the moment your eyes fell onto his shirt, wrinkled and pushed to the foot of the bed.

In a fit of blind rage, you grabbed it and began whipping it against the bed; a toddler throwing a tantrum. You smacked it against your mattress as hard as you could, trying to strike fabric with fabric until the fear dissipated.

Because that’s what it was. Fear.

Because without Ghost, what was 141 worth?

Without Simon, what was any of this worth?

There was a knock on the door, and Gaz pushed himself into your room without waiting for a response.

“He’s—”

“Get out.” You were panting, still clutching the shirt in a white-knuckled fist.

“Listen, Ghost is—” Kyle looked exhausted.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed, burning your lungs in the process and letting the pain in your ribs punish you from the inside out.

You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Gaz closed the door in a hurry, and you continued to watch on. He cast a vague shadow beneath the door, and you waited to see if he’d venture back into your room.

“He’s going to be fine,” you heard him sigh behind the door, “He’s up. He—bloody hell—he tried to tell them how to do the stitches.”

You breathed.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

You heard Gaz’s footsteps echo through the hall as he walked away, and you crumpled over your mattress. The anger and fear didn’t vanish with this new revelation; it all worked together to create an anxious giddiness.

He tried to tell them how to do his stitches.

You knew he was a good nurse in a pinch, but you were fairly certain that he didn’t know how to do stitches. You didn’t even think he knew how to sew.

Cocky motherfucker.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that lingered from your outburst, or the sense of relief that flooded your senses, but when you pushed yourself up against the headboard of your bed, your hand found its way beneath your waistband.

You had to get this energy out somehow.

So you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about him—not for the first time, not for the last—and tried to find some kind of relief to distract yourself from the rollercoaster of emotion you’d just been on.

You reached for the shirt that you’d left in a heap on the bed, straining your fingers to curl against the spongy spot on your front wall. But the effort you put into stretching for the shirt where it lay on the edge of the bed made your side split at the exact moment you began to call his name.

And you started sobbing.

It was pained, not at all reluctant—an all at once reboot for your body, shedding itself of all the intensity you’d just put your mind and heart through; finally accepting that you yourself had been hurt, and that you had no idea how to bear this cross.

You stopped trying to make yourself cum, planting yourself face down on your pillow and biting into it to silence your wails. But the tears kept coming, and soon you were pressing your face into nothing but a sopping wet piece of bedding, stained with your tears and your drool and your snot.

You clung to the shirt, subconsciously bringing it up to your face.

It smelled like the iron in your blood, crusted over and lingering in the woven material. And beneath that, his scent still clung to it. You breathed deep, huffing the smell of him.

You must have looked absolutely insane. And you felt like you were; choking on your cries, burying your face in fabric that had been soaked in your own blood.

But it was ok.

He was ok.

And you were in love with him.

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[ellecdc]

hey elleeeee

could i pretty please do 🐻 the sharing a bed prompt, “cuddling in their sleep” + “waking up with their faces centimetres apart”. with remus but theyre not together just pinNING for eachother and this happens.

consider it done

Remus Lupin x roommate!reader who cuddle for warmth and that's totally it [641 words]

CW: fem!reader, Remus sort of pining, but maybe it's not one sided!?!?, fluff, sort of a continuation from this post

Remus thinks he should perhaps feel a little guilty having taken advantage of the current situation; his original offer certainly hadn’t been a selfless one. 

Was the flat sodding freezing? Yes, it was. Would he have been up worrying all night that you’d died of hypothermia in your own bed? Absolutely. Was it indeed warmer having consolidated every blanket and pillow the two of you owned into one bed and sharing body heat to stay more comfortable? Damn right it was. 

But, it was because of all these aforementioned reasons that Remus felt it was perhaps a touch unethical to be enjoying his current situation as much as he did. 

The two of you were gripping each other’s hands and arms as if you were both afraid the other would simply float away had you not been holding on for dear life. The soft, cloud filtered light bathing your face in its glow; your head resting on one of his pillows he hoped to god smelled like you, now, that was but a few measly centimetres away from his own face. 

He found himself nearly holding his breath as though he was afraid to disturb the peace of this moment, one that he'd been fighting against yet secretly yearning for since he realised how much he enjoyed your presence; perhaps a bit too much to be simply considered roommates, or even just friends. 

He catalogued the way your eyelashes fanned from beneath your closed eyes and kissed the tops of your cheeks, fluttering ever so slightly when something would happen in your dream. He revelled in the way that you seemed to be smiling, even in your sleep; your lips relaxed and pursed ever so slightly as you breathed through your nose. 

Your nose - it was stupid and foolish and silly, but fuck - he loved your nose.

And this might well and truly be the one and only time he got to enjoy you like this, so sue him for what he did next.

He hardly had to move at all, really, he simply pushed his chin forward so that his nose bumped into yours. He was checking, you see, because he knew his nose was cold from the cool air surrounding your nest of pillows and blankets and body heat, but he needed to see if yours was too. He couldn’t in good conscience sit here and admire your nose if you were about to lose it to frostbite, now could he? 

Remus found himself smiling at the fact that your nose, for whatever reason, was slightly warmer than his. Good, he thought, I’d like her to keep her nose. 

“You’re supposed t’be sleeping.” You blurt rather suddenly for Remus’ tastes, still never opening your eyes as Remus rears his head back, though you strengthen your hold on his hands and arms so that he can’t actually move away from you.

“How long have you been awake?” He accuses you instead of admitting he was being a creepy fuck and watching you sleep.

You don’t answer him, though. Instead, you let out a languid stretch before releasing your hold of his hands in favour of wrapping your arms around his torso and slotting yourself against him; legs tangled with his and your nose - colder than the skin of his collarbone - pushing into his neck as you tucked yourself under his chin. 

“Go t’sleep, Rem.” You order him, tightening your hold around his chest as he allows his arms to cautiously encircle you in his own embrace; one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, and the other cupping the back of your head lovingly. 

He didn’t follow your order, unfortunately. But he did spend the rest of the morning wondering, hoping, nearly begging the universe that perhaps this might not be the last time he gets to enjoy you like this.