#(consider all the angst potential consider him almost telling her consider him actually telling her there are so many directions to take)

[angelicjackles]

— reckless heroine.

cw: fem!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a smidge of fluff, injuries and blood descriptions — 2.2k a/n: this is the first time I've posted anything publicly in years so consider this a testing the waters fic, trying to find my groove and decide if i want to make this a regular thing.

summary: after a rough, but successful hunt, you and dean arrive back at the motel, only you were reckless and got injured, some duct tape patching up ensues from an angry dean.

The storm had arrived just as Dean and her pulled into the grimy parking lot of the Twin Pines Motel, how very Montana. The heavy raindrops pummeled against the windows like a stark warning. The sky rumbled with low growls, and flashes of jagged light illuminated the dim, rundown building. Inside their basic motel room, the air was thick with tension and the unmistakable smell of almost damp carpet—a cheerful welcome after a semi-successful hunt with a werewolf.

Dean slammed the creaky motel door shut behind them, the force alone almost enough to splinter the plaster around the hinges, his expression a maelstrom of anger and concern blended into one explosive temper as he flicked the lightswitch, the gross orange-ish glow of the overhead bulb highlighted the unsavoury nature of their accommodation. They’d come a long way from Kansas for this hunt.

Sam and Cas took off East together for a potential case, something something bizarre circumstances, frankly, there’d been little resistance offered when the duo took off to the east coast, leaving her and Dean to take Montana—although if they were real, they’d probably have taken anywhere over the east coast.

The door was barely closed for a moment before his gruff voice crackled through the air like a whip. “Did that brewing concussion knock all damn common sense out of your head?” Dean snapped angrily, his demandingly sharp voice rising above the impending storm. “You got a fucking death wish or something?”

She grimaced, carefully moving to sit on one of the twin beds, feeling the throbbing pain radiating from the gash on the back of her shoulder, the wound still steadily leaking blood, instinctively rubbing the spot on the back of your head that had collided with the concrete earlier in the night when he mentioned a concussion.

“Very funny,” she retorted in deadpan, infusing her tone with a touch of biting sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defence mechanism, and all but guaranteed to rile him up further. “The victim needed help, she was bleeding out and scared, and unlike you I actually gave a shit about more than ganking the mutt.” The implication that he didn’t care if the victim survived so long as they handled the werewolf wasn’t helping Dean’s mood, but the remorse she showed was negligible. “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I? And it worked—aren’t you always telling me ‘trust your instincts, your instincts are good’.” she added on before he had a chance to respond, putting an emphasis on the drawl of his voice. The mock only made that muscle in his jaw clench so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if his teeth shattered. Heed the warning.

A growl bubbled in the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to keep it partially contained and tossed both his and her bags down onto the bed she hadn’t plopped down on. He may be pissed at her right now but that didn’t mean he was going to let his injured best friend carry her own bag. “Trust your instincts?” He gestured wildly with his hand, like that would somehow show just how worked up he was right now. She was getting to him, bad, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he was summoning from Chuck only knows where to stop from lashing out at her. “You were reckless and got yourself attacked in the process of playing heroine!” He rasped, his low voice reverberating off the thin motel walls with how loud his words escaped. 

Just for good measure he had to force his eyes elsewhere, just so he’d stop being faced with those claw marks on your shoulder, every glance at them made something in him coil and burn. Stomping towards the foot of the unoccupied bed, he aggressively unzipped his duffle bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile she was busy shedding herself of the unnecessary clothing and gear, kicking her shoes off and abandoning them on the mysteriously patchy carpet next to the bed, unbuckling her belt and unlatching the clasp on the blade sheath on her hip, tossing both onto the lone chair off to the side of the beds.

Finally after a few long moments his fingers found the squished edges of the first-aid kit he’d grown used to keeping in there—the first-aid kit that only remained stocked up because she meticulously replenished what she, him and Sam went through after every hunt—Snagging it up, deft fingers were quick to unzip and flick through it haphazardly, plucking out several different medical supplies.

When he realised she hadn’t responded to his last few retorts, which was uncharacteristic for her, his eyes flickered back towards her, forest green eyes darkening at the blood leaking against her pale skin. “You put yourself in danger, again, and walked away with a souvenir I’m not too keen on.” He continued despite his better judgement, gesturing angrily at the deep werewolf claw marks on the back of your shoulder blade, having torn through her flannel and undershirt, soaking both in bright crimson and leaving her down to a base layer tank top.

The retort had her glancing over her shoulder, but able to see little more than the dark streaks of blood sticking to wet skin. The amount of blood she’d lost so far wasn’t enough to be life-threatening, but it was definitely a worrying situation that needed attention. God forbid the pair didn’t do their back-and-forth arguing before that though, not like she was bleeding out over here or anything. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.” He grumbled, not so hotly as before, the edges of concern leaking into his voice. “These are gonna scar ugly...” The last part was more of an afterthought.

“More to add to the collection,” she mused out far too casually for the situation. “What did you ju—” He interjected, a warning hiss in his voice, but she was quick to wave a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Forget it.” She brushed off, cutting off his warning remark.

‘It’s like she’s trying to piss me off,’ Dean thought to himself, and hell maybe she was. “For once, couldn’t you have followed the game plan, sweetheart? Fuckin’ hell…” His tone was a mixture of worried fondness and scolding terseness. Either way, she was quick to turn her entire body around on the bed to glare at him, ignoring the searing pain from her wound with the quick movement.

“Oh? Am I supposed to bow down to Dean Winchester’s expert advice? Follow orders blindly?” She shot back at him, a chilling kind of coolness to her voice. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s your speciality,” she added, venomously, the tension in her voice masking the discomfort that coiled within her body.

And she could have sworn she saw him flinch as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, making a low simmering pit of guilt fester inside her, knowing she was out of line. Low blow. His gaze pained for a fleeting moment, pretty green eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest amount like those words had quite literally taken the breath from his lungs; but it quickly hardened again as he stewed on those words, cracking open a bottle of antiseptic with more force than necessary. “Just— shut up, for once.” It was almost a plea, more of a pained demand, but she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sit still and let me patch you up, okay? I may not be a doctor, but I can keep your ass from bleeding out.”

She rolled your eyes, watching as he pulled out a smorgasbord of supplies from the first-aid kit. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own medical emergencies. This isn’t my first skirmish with fangs and claws, Dean. I don’t need your help,” her voice came out more snapped than intended.

Despite the fact they both knew the precocious positioning of this wound left her unable to attend to it herself, she’d have to be a pretty fine contortionist to deal with it without help. Dean opened his mouth to inform his best friend of just that but thought better of it in the final second, slowly his mouth slipped closed.

A frustrated grunt slipped past his lips and one hand racked impatiently through his short, messy locks. “Well, congratulations on surviving past encounters, but this looks like a crime scene,” he replied tersely before sighing in frustration, the adrenaline of the situation beginning to die. “—plus, you’re bleeding on my marginally clean bed,” he added on, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which pulled a scoffed laugh from her mouth before it could be helped.

His tense shoulders dropped slightly in relief when she responded by gingerly peeling the fabric of her black tank top away from the wound, letting it slip down off her slender shoulder so he’d have access. 

The next fifteen minutes were deafeningly quiet, the only sounds were the soft pained noises that left her mouth, and the heavy breaths of concentration from Dean as he worked at disinfecting and patching up the wound on her shoulder as best as possible - Would this be easier to do in the bathroom instead of on the bed? Absolutely, but here they were.

Thankfully the wound didn’t need stitches, the claw marks the werewolf had left her with were nasty but not deep enough to be genuinely worrisome—not that it would stop Dean from worrying like a motherfucker. They’d leave some impressively disgusting scars, and hurt like a bitch for the next couple weeks as they healed, and as much as he was tempted to suggest going to the nearest a&e to get her properly seen to, just to be safe, he knew what her answer would be, so that wasn’t a battle he’d win. His basic hunter duct-taping would have to suffice.

The mood wasn’t great, both seething with worry and anger and pain that blended together into a chokingly intense thickness that lingered like smoke in the air, so it was in everyone’s best interests that they shut up.

“Done.”

Those words out of his mouth seemed to break the atmosphere and she slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder right in time for his thumbs to smooth out the medical tape that adhered the thick, white dressings to her pale skin, his touch extremely gentle despite everything, ensuring the tape wouldn’t come loose.

Turning on the bed so she was facing him as he remained stood up, her shoulders rolled back slowly, testing out the movement with the fresh patch up, it seemed to be healing. “How’s it looking, doc?” She quipped, her voice slightly lilted, making a weak attempt to lighten the mood up, too damn tired to argue further with him. His mouth quirked up in what could be described as a lazy grin. “Think you might just survive the night, thanks to the tireless effort of your handsome doctor.” He teased, only because he wanted to see her roll her eyes in that fondly affectionate way, and he got his wish.

The way she made a point to shake her head at him was all he needed to see to know that the sparky atmosphere had diminished; even though it was likely due to the adrenaline dying out and the pain kicking in.

His eyes followed her when she pushed herself to stand up, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Mm, I don’t know, can’t say the bloody hands add to the sex appeal.” She hummed, eyes flicking down to his hands that were stained with her blood, hands that were now staining her arm in deep crimson too, her brows furrowing in distaste, but he didn’t seem in a rush to pull his hand back so she didn’t move to knock him off either. His gaze dropped to the offending hands in question, nose scrunching up at the sight of the blood as his thumb stroked against her elbow. “So… you’re saying I have sex appeal?” 

The tone of his voice in that moment was the most playful thing she’d heard from him in a long time. She couldn’t help but laugh, a real hearty ‘you’re such an idiot’ kind of laugh, the kind that had him grinning crookedly at her in return.

“Your ego needs no further stroking, I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” She held her hands up in mock surrender, which only rumbled an amused laugh from deep in his chest.

“That’s my girl.” Dean beamed, running his tongue over his teeth with a soft sigh. The adrenaline had long since faded and now he was left with that anxious worry and tired stress lingering in his body. “Fuck… C’mere, you,” he beckoned suddenly, barely giving her time to register his words before he was pulling her in against his chest, strong arms wrapping around her in such a delicate way, careful of her injuries while somehow managing to squish her into him. The height difference leaving the top of her head tucked perfectly underneath his chin as his fingers carted through her messy hair.

“Look... Call a truce, sweetheart?” The gruff hunter muttered into her hair, his arms cradling her close to his larger body. “Truce.” She conceded, placing a complacent kiss against his clothed shoulder, which earned a soft little rumbly hum from him.

The storm raged outside, but within the cramped motel room, a warmth had blossomed between the pair of them—a reminder that despite all the chaos of the job, it was them against the world and in this tempest, as the thunder rolled across the darkening horizon and the lightning split the sky, they both knew they’d face them together, side by side.

[wanderingsoul6261]

I'm Here Now

Credit for gif goes to mauraeyk

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: follows the plot of a few requests, mostly pregnancy, angst, etc. In this one, Reader finds out she is pregnant. She tells James and he gets cold feet. Events in this fix are probably unlikely, but Y/N had been understanding, considering who his parents were. And then they meet several years later.

warnings: none, I don't think? If I'm wrong, please let me know and I can change it. My brain isn't working right now.

expect two more within the next 24 to 48 hours.

-------

The plastic stick stared hauntingly at her. This was it. The next nine months of her life and everything that came after, already laid for her. Ultimately, she had a different route, but she couldn’t do it. She would never do it. 

Her parents stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Silence filled the air and Y/N felt like she could suffocate in it. She picked at her fingernails, her eyes on the floor, looking everywhere but at her parents. It was already known how disappointed they were in her. How they had expected and hoped that she would get through the first few of her life after Maxton Hall before anything like this happened. She knew that they hoped that she would get through college and make a life for herself. 

But here it was, all thrown back in their faces. And it wasn’t just her parents. Y/N expected something completely different, and this was definitely not it. 

“Does he know?” Her mother finally spoke, breaking the silence. Y/N casted her eyes briefly in her parents direction. Her father leaned against the door frame, a hand on the bottom half of his face, and her mother stood a few steps closer, her eyes focusing solely on the pregnancy test. 

Y/N was silent for several seconds. 

“No.” She averted her eyes back to the ground in front of her. “He doesn’t” 

“Do you plan on telling him?” Her eyes snapped her father this time, who now stared back directly at her. 

“Yea. I just don’t know how. It’s not exactly an easy subject to talk about. Especially at your ages.” 

“It’s definitely the right thing to do.” He agreed. Her father let out a heavy sigh. “But… you might not like the response and actions that he might have.” Her mother nodded.

“This will be just as hard for him as it is for you at this moment.” 

“And you’re sure you want to keep the child?” She had been asked this question twice already minutes before. Y/N turned her gaze back to the ground, swallowing thickly as thoughts ran through her mind. 

“Because if not, we can pull some strings, and-” 

“Stop.” Y/N cut her father off, and he went silent. He had almost surprisingly looked dejected, and it was likely genuine. Y/N should have known. Her parents weren’t like other parents of rich kids. They meant well and actually cared for her well being. She knew that no matter what she decided to do, they would have her back no matter what. “I’m sorry.” She apologized. “But yea, I’d like to keep the child.” 

—

“What?” James was pale, and if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him to be sick. She swallowed thickly, picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers. He had seen and slapped her hands, telling her to stop it. Then he took a step back. 

She stared at him. James had obviously not liked the news, shock and fear written all over his face. Y/N had been scared that this was going to happen. In fact, she had almost expected it. But she had been surprised when he still showed enough care to stop her from picking at her fingers until they bled. 

Maybe there was a potential for hope. 

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Mine?” She nodded. 

“Yours.” James mumbled under his breath. Y/N watched as he paced back and forth in front of the pool. Y/N watched him, growing slightly more stressed with each stride he took. Her eyes followed his feet, repeating her mannerisms from the other night. She refused to look in his face. She had let so many people down by allowing this to happen, and in the end, she still wasn’t sure what she would lose or keep. “Can you stop pacing please?” Y/N asked quietly. “You’re stressing me out.” 

“Stressing you out-” James paused, finally stopping to stare at Y/N. She had shrunk into herself and despite his attempt at stopping her from picking at her fingers, she still continued to do so. His breath got caught in his throat. What was he to do? His parents, especially his father, would not allow this. He would see it as a scandal and do everything in his power to separate Y/N from him and keep it that way. 

James had to do something first. 

He stopped his pacing, and sat on the opposite end of the bench that she sat on. James hunched forward, running his hand down his face as he ran through different possibilities in his mind. 

“You don’t want this right now, do you?” Y/N asked. His head whipped up and towards her. She was staring at him, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. James opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, willing himself to say anything, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, but kept eye contact with her. Y/N searched his eyes for anything, anything that might tell her what exactly it was that he wanted. 

“I don’t know.” He finally said. 

Even if it wasn’t a definitive answer, those three words still punched a hole in Y/N’s stomach. She swallowed thickly, turning her head away from him and looked towards the pool. Her eyes flickered over the waving surface, suddenly interested in the way that the sun showed on the ripples created by the slight breeze, watching as the sun rays bounced off the bottom floor. 

“I mean. You have to understand, Y/N.” James went silent again for a few seconds. “This is a tough thing at our ages. And your parents might be more accommodating, but mine-” 

“Are you basing your decision off of what you want, or what they would want?” Y/N turned back to him. He didn’t even have to answer it. She knew the answer before he answered it himself. 

“Y/N, you know how my parents-” 

“And that’s enough to potentially think about walking away from me and your unborn child?” She asked. James went silent and averted his gaze. His eyes peered down at his shoes, taking note of the scuff and dirt marks that he had never really noticed until now. They were dirt and scuff marks that his father wouldn’t stand for. 

His father. 

He turned back to Y/N, who now had tears streaming down her face. A sigh escaped her lips and James was almost expecting more to come from her mouth. He had already felt bad enough that he was leaning more towards the thoughts of his father, but the more he thought about it, he was almost protecting her. If his father ever found out, he didn’t know what would happen. 

“I won’t be mad.” She finally spoke, and James was beyond surprised. He had indeed expected more from her. Not this. He didn’t expect her to be as understanding in this moment that she currently was being. A child was supposed to have their father in their lives. And this one wouldn’t. 

James was silent for several moments. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry.” Looking in her face, James knew she was being genuine. “I should have done more.” 

“No stop.” He said. “We both had a part to play in this.” 

And with that, both went silent. They remained on opposite ends of the bench, until enough time had passed and James had decided it was time to leave. He itched to hold her one last time, knowing that once he walked out of the front door, things were going to change. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

But she did. 

As he walked by her, she grabbed his hand, staring up at him. He stared down at her, but couldn’t offer her a smile, not that she had one to give back.

“Can I find you in a few years?” He asked. ‘When I don’t have to answer to my father?,’ he almost wanted to say, but he stayed silent. 

“Maybe.” Her heart broke some more. 

And then he was gone. 

—--

After finding out that she was pregnant, Y/N had opted to continue her classwork remotely, only making visits to Maxton Hall in the first few months of her pregnancy. After she started showing, she had stopped, not wanting to raise questions or a potential scandal amongst the students there. 

When the children were born, Y/N knew that things would be okay. 

Twins. She had twins, and the only thing that she could think of were the Beauforts. A boy and a girl. The baby girl definitely had the looks of James more than the baby boy did. Y/N figured that she might be the troublemaker of the two in the coming years. The baby boy was quiet and good, the opposite of his sister, which was ironic, considering it was the other way around for both Lydia and James. 

Raising the twins though had actually been easier than she expected, especially with the help of her parents. Certain moments had been a bit tougher, like when Y/N had to take them in for vaccinations and doctor appointments. Listening to them cry their little hearts out because of being poked had broken her own heart. Many moments, she had wished that James was around to witness his kids grow up into the young children they were growing up to be. 

Even as they grew up, even if James wasn’t there, she still acted as if he was. Y/N told the kids stories about their father and what he was like. After all this time, she still loved him.She loved him enough that she wished that he had been around to witness their first steps, to experience their first words, etc. In general, Y/N had just wished that he was there. 

Especially now, walking through the park. The twins were a little over the age of four. They stomped around Y/N, giggling and laughing. They brought a smile to her face, making her happy when she thought that things were turning for the worst. She now knew that things weren’t going to turn out as bad as she had expected the day she found out she was pregnant. 

She came back to earth after hearing one of her kids let out a surprised shout. Y/N looked around, seeing her son on the ground, seemingly unhurt and okay. D/N had hurried over in an attempt to help him up, but the man S/N had ran into had helped him up first. 

“Sorry kiddo. Didn’t see you.” The man looked up and around, seeing Y/N. 

Her world stopped at that very moment, for the man that stood before her, she never expected to see again. 

“James.” 

“Y/N” The two a few feet apart and S/N and D/N were now next to their mother. James had already put two and two together, his eyes now focused on his kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing was spoken. His eyes moved to look at Y/N, who only smiled softly at him. It almost seemed sad. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked. 

“On a walk with the kids. Wanted to give mom and dad some peace and quiet.” Y/N explained. “What about you?” she asked. 

“I was just at a business meeting. I decided to cut through the park to get to my car.” His eyes were focused back on the kids, who stared up at him with large eyes. They hid partially behind Y/N. He could definitely see himself in both of them. 

“What are their names?” 

“D/N and S/N” Their names rolled off James tongue easily. Y/N followed his gaze to the kids, before shooing them away. “How about you two go play on the slide? I’m right here, I’ll be watching you.” The two ran off towards the slide without any hesitation, their giggles could be heard as they raced. 

“How are they?” he asked, watching their movement. Y/N watched James, taking in his appearance. He really hadn’t changed much. James still looked like himself. 

“They are good kids. Healthy. Take after us, that’s for sure.” She laughed a little, took a step closer to James as they now both watched the kids. 

“Do they know about me?” 

“Yea.” Y/N spoke softly. “I tell them stories about you. From school, what you’re like, just a bunch of things about you.” She said, “They’ve been coming up with their own questions lately.” James turned his attention to her. His eyes trailed over her form, taking her in, before looking back at the kids. 

“Like what?” He hesitated in looking back at her, before finally turning his head back towards her, but their eyes didn’t meet. She watched her children, a sad look in her eyes. Like she wanted to give them so much more than they already had in that moment. “Y/N.” She turned to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Would you be mad or upset with me now, if I asked if I could be in their lives?” he asked. Her smile looked a little less sad. 

“Never. You have every right to be in their lives. I can tell you right now that they want you in their lives. I can guarantee it.” Y/N turned to face him. “We can do whatever works. We can set up visitation times. Or you can take them whenever you want. We can work something out.” James nodded along, listening to her and the suggestions. He was silent for several seconds, and he knew that she was waiting for something from him. 

“Could we, maybe. Perhaps…could we try things over again?” Her smile seemed even brighter. 

“I think so.” She said softly. “I understood why you didn’t want anything at first. Yea, it took some time to adjust and get used to. I missed you terribly, but I want to work on things, especially between us. And that’s not only for us, but for them.” The two turned their attention back to the kids, who were running around, their high pitched giggles filling the air as they laughed. 

By the end of the night, after being invited for dinner with Y/N, her kids, and her parents, James had started to wedge himself back into their lives. His son and daughter were latched to him, never really letting him out of their sight. They told him everything that they could, as James stared at them, love apparent in his eyes and he listened to what they had to say. 

This was it. This is what he wanted. After everything that he already had, this was it. 

And as he looked up and his eyes found Y/N’s, already staring at him with the kids, and he had seen the smile she had adorned her face, he knew already that he was willing to give up anything to keep this. 

And she would let him. 

------

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

[minhxn]

Need Your Attention — Han Jisung + partial Lee Minho.

In which you and Han make each other a little too jealous over each other, and it leads to you both realizing you want more than just friends... who sometimes sleep together. | Fluff, little angst, mention of smut.

Warnings: drinking, slightly implied Minsung, jealousy, friends with benefits, slight NSFW, minors do not interact!. potential sub!han (probably in part two)

Wordcount: 2.6k

part one. | part two. (coming soon) | part three ???

You weren’t sure how long you’d been staring. 

With your eyes fixed across the club, all you really could do was watch. It tore a pit into your chest so deep you almost thought your heart would fall right through. 

All of your senses were on edge, and there was a heat burning in your core so hot it felt like fire. 

Something like this happening was far from your kind when you first entered the club with the members. Han had practically begged you to come out with them. 

You knew you should’ve said no, but there was just something so convincing in the way he asked you with big pleading eyes. You broke with just a simple tilt of his head, the small smile that always seemed to ghost across his lips was seared into your mind now. Look what your weak resolve had gotten you now. 

Your hand clenched a bit around the glass. The drink sat so long in your hand that beads of  condensation rolled down your fingers, dripping onto the dark wood of the bar below. 

You could put the blame onto someone else, but it really was your own fault for still staying in your seat at the bar. There were a couple moments you considered leaving. It would’ve been so easy to go back home without saying a word. 

But then, you’d miss the way Han looked on the dance floor. 

It was as if he’d forgotten all about you. His hands sliding up and down the person he danced with. The tension was so palpable between them as they danced to the slow rhythm of the song, you could feel it in your seat across the club. 

It wasn’t just that one person though. If it was, you were sure you’d be less affected. Everyone knew Han was a flirt, but there was something different now. Every single person he interacted with, in moments they were wrapped around his finger. 

You could tell he was enjoying the attention. The cocky grin plastered on his face was one he really only used when he was on stage. He was putting on a show, and it pissed you off. 

His eyes met yours in a slow deliberate stare, making sure you were still watching him. That he still had the attention of the only person in the club that he actually wanted. Even from his spot on the dance floor, he could see the darkness swirling in your eyes, and he wanted to push you even further. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he pulled the girl he was dancing with flush to his body. Her hands roamed his broad back as they grinded together. 

You felt the fire in your veins grow hotter, he was toying with you. He must’ve gotten the reaction he wanted because he dropped his head back, a shit eating grin on his face now. You’ve had enough of his games.

It only took a couple moments for you to make your way back to the table where everyone had sat. It was like fate was on your side in your revenge, because as soon as you got back to the table, Minho slid into his seat. 

With your drink in one hand, you slipped your other arm around the man’s shoulders. Minho gave you a slightly confused look before he saw where you were looking. 

Han still danced with the girl from before, but now,  her lips seemed to be closer to his neck. It didn’t look like he noticed though, his eyes were trained on you and Minho. 

“What kind of game are you two playing now?” Minho’s hand rested on the small of your back as you leaned into him, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He wasn’t a stranger to yours and Han’s antics. He also didn’t mind being thrown into the middle of them, sometimes. “Hannie looks like he’s having fun”

“Yeah, he’s having loads.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the burn in your chest again. It was hard to convince yourself that it was due to sipping your drink. 

“Hm, so you’re jealous” Minho nodded looking up to you fully now, his hand felt heavy against your back and you tried to protest. 

“I’m not jealous-“ 

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’m going to believe that” He grunted out a laugh, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as he spoke. “You know I can read you like a damn book” 

Your cheeks were burning now, and heat crept up the back of your neck. Everything was so hot. It was damn near suffocating and when you tried to pull yourself from Minho’s arms, he just tugged you even closer. 

“Mmm, nope. You came to me, I’m not going to let you go that easily” He hummed softly as if he were thinking, and you couldn’t help but turn your gaze back to Han. You were stopped though. Minho’s fingers tugged your chin to force you to look at him once more. “Eyes on me, baby.” 

The way his voice dropped a little had your stomach fluttering. 

“If you want to make him jealous, staring at him won’t do a thing” He chided a little, as if he were saying something that was common sense. Before you could say anything, he pulled you to sit on his lap.

“Minho-“

“Shhh, let’s make Hannie see what exactly he’s missing” He whispered into your ear, leaning on to press a quick kiss to your neck. The quickness of it drew a gasp from your lips and he chuckled at the sound. You giggled in response and relaxed in his lap. 

You always wondered what was going through Minho’s thoughts when either you or Han sought him out during these “games”. Especially when you found his hands gripping your waist so tightly it forced a breathy moan out of you. He never seemed to mind getting a little close with you two, but he also never crossed over the line fully. 

Before you could really start letting your thoughts wander, you felt Minho pull away from your neck, it took everything in you to stifle the whine that wanted to come out. 

“Damn, looks like it already worked.” Minho mumbled, his eyes following something across the club. He quickly stole a kiss from you before patting the side of your ass. “My time’s up, baby. Think Hannie needs you now” 

You slid off his lap, a little more hesitant than you’d like to admit, and looked to where Han had gone. In a moment, whatever desire that had been building for Minho slipped away. Replaced with a burning ache for the brat that had tested you all night. 

It really only took you a few minutes to find Han. Because the guys had decided to go to one of the nicer clubs they liked, there was an abundance of rooms for certain things. Once again, luck seemed to be on your side. 

Han stood in the third room you’d checked, arms crossed over his chest with a pout that you thought was a tad too dramatic. 

“Why do you always have to go to Minho?”

He whined, out of context the question would’ve placed all the blame onto you. Which was not even close to the trust. 

“You have fun dancing?” You asked, mirroring the way he crossed his arms. It hadn’t been the fact he was flirting and grinding with other people, it was that he was doing it solely to get your attention. You hated that. 

You and Han had been going back and forth in a sort of relationship, sort of best friends with benefits for months. It had damn near been a year since he’d approached you, and still, nothing had changed. It was beyond tiring. There was no sense of normalcy between you two anymore, and the constant push and pull was giving you whiplash.

Your eyes dragged down Han’s face, taking in the expression that had your chest clenching once more. This time, there was a feeling within the tightness that you couldn’t quite name. There had been plenty of times where both of you had played the game of who could make the other more jealous. But this time? It felt different. 

“Why did you even invite me out if you were going to nearly fuck every god damn person in the club?” 

You weren’t really sure why you were so angry, it wasn’t like he actually fucked anyone. And the both of you weren’t dating, you had no right to be so upset. But there you were, seething as images of Han grinding with the last girl you’d seen plagued your mind. 

Han’s cheeks burned at your words, hues of pink and red dancing across his tanned skin. When you put it like that, he couldn’t really defend himself. 

“Oh, like you weren’t practically fucking Minho at the table.” 

He knew that would make things worse. He knew that it wasn’t fair to you, but you weren’t being fair to him! How could you stand there and basically yell at him when you were doing things to make him jealous too!

Anger flared in your chest, followed by hurt and ultimately disappointment. You stayed silent for a long moment, eyes dropping down to the floor as you tried to piece together the thoughts swirling around in your mind. 

“Han what are we doing?” You finally asked the question that had been begging to come out for months. 

Han froze, at first he didn’t really understand what you meant, but when you looked back to him he saw the anger had died down a bit. You looked sad. His heart broke. 

“I…” He trailed off, eyes flicking between yours while he processed your question. It’s not like he hadn’t thought of it himself. He had. More times than he would’ve liked. Over the past few months especially, there were times where he’d lay awake late at night when he was supposed to be resting for practice the next day. His mind drowning in what he could have with you. “We’re friends… right?” 

It was pathetic, and he knew that.

“Right, we’re friends.” You scoffed at his answer, expecting him to come up with a little more than that. “Friends who just sleep together, and do everything couples do… but not exclusively of course. Heaven forbid we attempt a little commitment.” 

Your words dripped with a venom that Han had never heard from you before, and his eyes widened as he listened to you. He’d been so needy for your attention earlier, but also a little stubborn to let himself actually ask for it. He couldn’t help but think if he’d gone straight to you, this would’ve never happened. 

“What are you trying to say?” Han whispered, his voice shaking a little now. Despite how badly he didn’t want to know the answer to that, he needed it. “Y/n..” 

“I think we should either call it quits on whatever this is,” You waved your hand between him and yourself, referring to the web of messy situations this ‘relationship’ had brought on between you. “Or, we actually try something real. I can’t keep… I can’t keep watching you with other people, and pretending that it doesn’t bother me. Because it does, Jisung!” 

Your voice was shaking now too, and all the emotions that had piled up in your chest from the night spilled out at once. 

“Do you know how many times I begged myself to not care that you could go out and sleep with other people?” You pushed a hand through your hair, trying to fight against the tears that were threatening to fill your eyes. Han was no better, just like any other fight you’d had with him, tears were already nearly spilling over. “I know we’re not exclusive, but… fuck it, I’ve never slept with anyone else besides you this whole time!” 

“You… wait,” Han closed the distance between the two of you now, his hands desperately gripping yours. Despite knowing how upset you were, he needed some form of contact with you. It felt as if his chest were going to burst if he didn’t “You thought I was sleeping with other people?”

“It sure looked like it sometimes.” You sighed, remembering all the nights you saw him leaving parties with other people. 

“Y/n, I only agreed to that because I thought you were sleeping with other people!” His voice picked up at the end of his words, turning in a whine that normally would’ve made you laugh. “You’re telling me that you’ve never slept with Minho?” 

“What? No, I definitely have not.” You looked at him with wide eyes now, a frown pulling your lips down. 

“What the fuck?” Han whispered, he was having a hard time processing all of this. All those times he tried to make you jealous was so your attention was on him instead of Minho, and all the times you’d gone to Minho to make Han jealous was so Han was looking at you instead of the other people. 

It only took you a moment to figure out how utterly stupid both of you were. Han opened his mouth again to speak, but you grabbed his face with both of your hands and crashed your lips to his. The kiss was sloppy, your teeth scraped against each other at first and it nearly made you cringe. 

Once Han’s hands found their normal place on your waist, and your hands threaded into his hair, he melted into you. Whining loudly when you traced your tongue along the slant of his lips, he parted them to let you in. You loved how little always made him fall apart in your arms. 

And now that you knew this whole time it had only been you to make him melt like this, it made you want to push him even further. 

You both panted heavily when you broke the kiss off, resting your forehead against his. 

“You…” You whispered breathlessly, still gripping his hair gently. He didn’t let you actually speak before he moved his lips to your neck, growing even more needier as he pictured Minho kissing you there earlier. “Stop.” 

You tugged on his hair, pulling him from your neck which forced a whine from his throat as he looked at you with flushed cheeks. 

“Whyyy?” Han whimpered, trying to lean back in to kiss you, but you stopped him once again. Slipping your other hand to cover his mouth with a soft grin 

“If you keep kissing me like that, I won't be able to hold myself back.” You mumbled, moving your hand from his mouth to cup his face. 

“Then don’t” 

You could tell how needy he was getting now, his hands on your waist had pulled you flush to him and the hardness of his erection in his pants pressed into your hip. You knew he was moments away from grinding into your hip. 

“Jisung, I’m not fucking you in this club. We’ll go back to my apartment.” 

“Fuck, okay..” He whined again when you pulled away from his body completely, but grinned when he saw how flustered you looked as well. He reached back toward you and you nudged his hands away. 

“No, keep your hands to yourself.” You said firmly, pushing him towards the door, his jacket had covered the bulge in his pants just enough to where it wasn’t noticeable unless you looked really hard. “Be good.” 

“Only if you keep telling me what to do when we get back to your apartment” Han grinned when you rolled your eyes at him, but he saw the way your eyes grew a little darker under the neon lights of the club. 

[kteezy997]

Daddy’s Boy- Part Seven//t.c.

Warning: some angst

It was an extremely filling breakfast at the local diner, and you had a great time with the two boys. A part of you felt giddy, like you were on a date that your son just happened to join. You felt like something was really blossoming between you and Timmy again.

Timmy had forbidden you to pay the breakfast bill, and Theo was playing the claw machine piled high with stuffed animals nearby. You had an idea that had been brewing during the meal.

“So I was just thinking: maybe tonight Theo and I could stay at your place? Or maybe just him, if you want to spend time with him one on one.” you hoped he would say “Oh no, I would love for you to come, too.”

Timmy's eyes widened, and he didn’t immediately agree.

Your heart dropped and you were instantly embarrassed.

“Oh, well I would love to have you both, but I have plans tonight, actually.” he slid his hand into his pocket, retrieving his wallet to pay.

You nodded, feeling almost sick to your stomach, “I see. What plans do you have?” you shook your head, knowing you had overstepped, and maybe assumed too much. “No, it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just…I’m meeting someone for dinner. A coworker. She, um, asked me to dinner. It’s not that big of a deal.” Timmy tried to brush the whole thing off in front of you.

“She? It’s a date? That’s nice, Timmy.” you weren’t being condescending, but you were masking your true feelings.

He looked at you, shook his head, his curls going wild just for a second, “Not really a date. It’s just dinner.”

“I bet she likes you. Everyone likes you.” And I have fumbled you.

“I hate that stupid game!” Theo grumbled as he came back over to the table.

You cleared your throat, looking at your son, “Hey, we don’t say those words, and you know that.”

“Sorry, Mom. It’s just that I never win anything.” the boy frowned, picking up his little cup of chocolate milk and taking a swig.

“It’s okay, bud, you have plenty of toys at home. And I’ll tell you something that’ll make you feel better.” Timmy said, leaning across the table.

Theo perked up, his eyes glued to his father, “What, what is it?”

“You are gonna come spend the night with me tomorrow night.” he grinned.

“Yeah!" Theo cheered, throwing his arms up in the air like he had won a prize from the claw machine after all, "Sleepover at Daddy’s! Can I bring my Hot Wheels?”

"You can bring whatever you want." Timmy said.

You gave him a look from across the table.

"Within reason." he added.

.............

You were a bit of an emotional wreck for the rest of the day. Timmy went home and you talked Theo into spending the night at your parents' house. You needed a break. You needed time to think.

You needed to talk to someone about your situation with Timmy. You had begun to think that you had let him slip through your fingers, and now you were worried that you would only be Theo's mom in Timmy’s eyes and not a potential partner.

You asked your best friend Lucie to come over and she came through with pizza and her listening, compassionate ears. You had told her everything. She had always liked Timmy; she thought that you were a great match together, and she adored Theo.

"I don't know, Luce, what if he goes out with this other woman and they start dating? My life would be ruined having to see him with someone else.” you put your hand to your head, “And it would be another thing that Theo would have to get used to. Things were going so good. I should have just told him that I wanted to be with him."

"Y/n, you have trauma, not necessarily from Timmy, but from the breakup and not having Theo's father around. Of course, you were skeptical about putting yourself back out there, and you were right to not rush something that you weren't sure about. Especially since you also have Theo’s well-being to consider.”

You sighed, knowing that she was right. "But if it was the right thing, why do I feel like this? It's too late to do anything now."

Lucie frowned, "Who says it's too late? You could leave right now, and stop him from going on that date."

You laughed, "Right now? That's crazy! He could be gone already.

"Let's go, let's go right now!" she said, "We can try to catch him." Lucie grabbed your hand, pulling you, and rushing out of your home. "You are going to tell that man that you love him, and you want to raise Theo together and make more babies." she said, matter-of-factly.

"This is insane!" you yelled, getting into your best friend's car and she sped off into the night. You could feel the adrenaline and exhilaration that the moment was bringing.

…….

You knocked the door of Timmy's apartment, not even certain if he was home. All you had was hope. After a moment, your stomach went sour as there was no answer. You decided to give up, as he was probably out on his date.

You swallowed your pride and realized that it was time to come to terms with your relationship, or lack thereof, with Timmy. This night could be detrimental to your life going forward. He could have a new girlfriend, and everything between you and him would wash away with the changing tide. You decided to walk away.

You were walking away from the door, when suddenly, you heard the turning of a the door knob.

"Y/n?"

You turned around quickly, seeing Timmy standing in the doorway that you had just left. "Timmy." you said, going back over to him, feeling a little dazed because you couldn't believe he was actually there. It wasn't too late!

"Are you okay? Is Theo okay, wh-where is he?" the concern in his eyes made you feel terrible guilt. You had caused him to needlessly worry.

"Oh we're fine! Everything is fine! He's with my parents for the night." you assured him. "I just had to come and see you."

"Y/n, what's going on?" his face softened as he looked at you.

"Timothee, I don't, I don't want you to go on this date tonight, I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. And maybe I have no right to say that to you, but-"

"I won't go if you don't want me to." he shook his head, gazing down at you, so tenderly.

You couldn't help but smile a little at what he had said, and for the first time, you felt like your feelings and assumptions were validated. "I love you, Timmy. I've always loved you. I love the man you are and the father you are becoming to our son. I think we... should be together." you felt your throat tighten up with the nerves you were feeling.

He grinned, saying, "I hate that we were ever apart." He took your hand, pulling you close to him.

In an instant, you felt warm and tingly in the best way. You were mush when you were this close to him. You felt at home.

"Come here." He put his forehead to yours, wrapping his arms around you and shutting the door behind you. "I love you too." he kissed your lips softly, then parting to add, "And I love our boy more than anything."

You threw your arms around him as well, and you pressed your lips to his. Your heart and your body were on fire. After a moment, you were making out shamelessly.

Timmy picked you up and took you over to the couch.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @mel-vaz @thatoneweirdgirl17 @iwishchalamet @jindongdongie @elloise0 @rennyd26 @briefkittenearthquake @that-one-fangirl69 @sammy-halpert

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 422 rant

For a MCs rising chapter this chapter definitely didn't revolve around the MC in any major way.

Izuku intropsection where, I have never heard of her! This is a major issue I have with how hori writes Izuku. Almost every character at least gets their pov probably said and presented in their rising chapters except of izuku whose own rising chapter felt like a true let down and disappointment to me

Inko is back! I guess. I was way more interested to what was happening to inko when izuku had to go through that whole painful process of losing his quirks and an arm and then regaining it but I guess she stayed in a default status and just crying for her son which understandable but i was expecting more from her. Heck I think I expected too much i thought that hori might do something with her character, something angst worthy. Heck I am seeing the dfo theorist and if it ends up being true then that would be cool angst potential but a horrible canon event considering that hori has stretched this far too long.

Izuku midoriya rising just for izuku to be a side character in this chapter. Like i said this is a rising chapter and we get almost nothing personal from Izuku himself no intropsection no nothing. This chapter was simply full of other characters reactions and trying to help him to get up and do his job which is sad. I don't know but how come no one in the story sees just how unethical and bad the situation is like that's a 16 year old boy running to his death basically on live television. Also Iam enjoying the izu and all might parallels yet Iam worried that this might actually be Izuku's last fight. Also aren't we gonna talk about AFO is attacking izuku with OFA's own quirks I just find it cruel.

Still not a huge fan of everyone needing to get their moments like this. Yeah my opinion didn't change I just felt like the moments and reactions were given to characters like asui and shoji and then we had to continue glossing over them. It feels Hella fast paced and at this point IAM not sure if hori wants to end or prolong the series🤷‍♀️. Also I had to check but can we talk about MOMO AND TORU LIKE !!!!

Melissa and Rody my favourites and Iam bias.

I wish we had more of ochako, iida and izu. Again another moment falls flat in there seires because we lack build up and development. I liked ochakos comment and the parallels with iida holding izu's hand and still holding it again but all of this seems empty because the original nerdy tiro that we had at the beginning of the series was scrapped for the boring todoroki, bakugo and izuku one. Heck we could of had an izucrew/dekusquad and that would of helped with the build up of this unlike what's going on now .

Bakugo didn't need to be mentioned in this chapter but he is 😑. As far as anyone can tell Iam not a fan of bakugo and I don't think he needed to be mentioned like the guy got his arc and whatever so why don't we just focus on the current situation instead of thinking about how we wished he was here with Izuku and all like it felt pretty useless.

In conclusion, it was an average meh chapter but I got annoyed considering the title being midoriya rising for it to not have any proper focus on midoriya.

Like I absolutely loved some of the character moments even though they lacked build up and were short AF but this chapter DOESN'T deserve to be called midoriya's rising.

[justsomemusingsandthoughts]

Now about season 3 of Bridgerton....some thought from a Greys Anatomy fan of the first hour cause I need to get it off my chest :)

I was really excited to see Polins story unfold even though I didn't watch Bridgerton before or read the books but I was swept up by the excitement on tiktok and got invested in their story.

But as soon as I heard Shona was involved I was like okayyyyyy, I gotta keep my expectations in check cause the women is not one to write healthy and lasting relationships and reasonable men who communicate well😬

Looking at how the season played out, I completely understand why so many people are disappointed cause there was so much potential wasted, so many scenes that could have made clear to the viewer what was going on in Colins head. I think I filled in the gaps in my mind but there are still some moments, some things he said and did that were almost character destroying, specially the comment about the entrapment, cause dude, she didn't even know what sex was🙄 Also, not even trying to have a converation with her about why LW started and has such significance to her was not sth Colin would do.

And that's the crux of why I think for many die hard fans, the season was a let down. They didn't show any true discussions or enough moments of passion alongside the argument cause in truth, there was no time with all the unnecessary side plots and so few episodes. If you saw the season you know, I won't list them all but I will say they better put a proper Polin side story and spicy scene in Ben's season cause the amount of pointless threesomes I had to skip through is almost offensive, especially cause it should be clear people want intimate scenes of the main couple😮‍💨

But looking at all of it considering this show is part of Shondaland, I am not the least bit surprised. The number of downright character assasinations I watched on Grey's (and other shows of hers) after over a decade watching the development of some of them is kinda ridiculous. The number of ruined relationships and the horrible ways most of them were ruined (I almost cannot believe I'm saying this now but thank god they killed off Derek before completely undoing who he actually was and what Meredith meant to him😭).

Untimately, Shonda loves the drama and the angst and very clearly doesn't think there is much entertainment value in showing happy couples resolving their issues in a healthy way. If you watch a project she's involved in, you gotta be prepared for the couple to not make it and in that way, Bridgerton fans are rather lucky considering no matter how the seasons play out, it's gonna end with a happy couple that's not gonna split up again.

She also was never gonna just take books and keep to the narrative cause I don't believe that would be any fun to her. Especially this season, since she has said that Pen is her favorite character. I was immediately thinking Colin will be taking a back seat and have moments viewers will hate him for to have Pen in the forefront individually.

I guess I'm gonna take away and rewatch the beautiful moments, even some of the angsty ones and wait for what little side plots Polin will have in future seasons. I don't believe I will watch the entirety of future seasons cause I'm not interested to be disappointed by Shonda Rhimes' story telling anymore. Been there done that😂

But my little obsession with Polin was still worth it cause they're just an amazing fictional couple and I might just read their book now☺️

And I have definitely found a new actress to follow along for her future roles cause Nicola is just amazing as an actress and as a person🥰

(Also find it deeply offensive to make an audience wait for 2 years (!!!) for 8 episodes but that's for another day😅)

[archiveofourcrows]

I was wondering if you had any thoughts on how the Kuwie kiss would go now that Jesper and wylan are already in a relationship (and oh yeah, LIVE TOGETHER). I want to see the hilarious hatred Wylan has for Kuwie on screen

oh my god anon do I have THOUGHTS about this.

obviously these are my own thoughts on what I think/want to happen (as an angst fueled individual as well) and is also just a fic concept I'll never write and tbh if I had the ability to write a whole fic about this I so would. 

this is ending up being a whole mess of thoughts of the lead up and all that and I'm almost sorry about it but I want to talk about this so bad.

Okay, one thing about this scene that I don’t see mentioned a lot is that Jesper is not doing well in the lead up to it. He’s just fought with Kaz—when Kaz calls him Jordie no less—and then immediately fought with his father about the farm and him being Grisha and all Jesper has been keeping from him. When he finds Kuwei at the piano he isn’t exactly processing literally anything. And that is why he mistakes him for Wylan, not because he can’t tell them apart. Yes, Kuwei does realize this and keeps up the act to deceive him, but initially, Kuwei is sitting at the piano. Jesper is in distress. He’s looking for Wylan, and he thinks he’s found him. And what does Jesper do in emotion heavy moments? He jokes, he flirts, so he flirts with Wylan. When Kuwei responds differently than Wylan to these advances he’s actually confused for a second, he even says ‘really?’, but again he isn’t exactly thinking clearly and decides to go for it. As soon as the real Wylan interrupts, as soon as his mind is clear again he instantly sees even their minute differences down to the narrowness of their faces. ‘I was paying attention’ comes to mind, because when he is he can tell them apart instantly.

My point is it’s a specific set of circumstances that lead up to this moment, and I think they can all continue to exist in show canon. I think the argument with Colm could potentially be even worse, considering Jesper has been away for longer and has been actively using and practicing his Grisha powers. I also think this is partially why they cut the deleted wesper scene, because it in a sense displays Jesper at least beginning to give up gambling, and I don’t think they can get rid of that storyline just yet because of the things it causes in SoC when they’ve closed out some of the other storylines that are also catalysts in that plot. Am I happy with that is another conversation….

Anyways I bring all of this up to say that while the circumstances have every possibility of staying the same the Jesper going into the room and the Wylan discovering them are very different. And their relationship as a whole is very different. There’s no confirmation them living together will be carried from the deleted scene so I’m gonna leave that out, but they’ve been together for at least a significant amount of time. And they’ve just gone through this whole patch of uncertainty.

I think that after the Van Eck reveal there will be a bit of a split between them like we saw this season. I don't think they'll break up but it'll get a bit rocky through the journey to Fjerda and the beginnings of the ice court heist. and with Wylan's trauma/his father in general being their client I don't think he would really fault Jesper for being upset? Especially with the 'I don't want to hide anymore' scene between them this season. This would all naturally come to head towards the middle/end of the heist after they climb the incinerator shaft and are working to trigger the alarm. Specifically when Wylan pretends to be a drunk to save Jesper and then the Grisha attacks them and Jesper has to kill her to save Wylan. This scene with Jesper already coming to accept and develop his powers will be SO interesting to see, because even in the books when he has only just been revealed as Grisha to the crows he is remorseful and upset to kill one of his kind (another Fabrikator at that) even though he knows he had no choice in that moment. Exploring that in a universe where he is 1) older, and more importantly 2) accepting or at least beginning to accept his powers and his place in the world as a Grisha is something I really hope they explore. It’d even be cool to see it mirror the scene in season 1 when Inej kills Pavel to save Kaz. This would lead to a kind of ‘we’ll talk when we aren’t actively looking death in the face’ situation.

Except now Wylan is faced with Kaz thinking he’s actual leverage against Van Eck, and I don’t think his decision to let Nina tailor him would change in this new canon. In fact it would probably make him even more willing, because he is that much more attached to the Crows and to Jesper. He’d probably fight against lying to Jesper but conceded to Kaz in the end because Kaz. I think too that there is more room for a heartfelt scene outside of ‘maybe I liked your stupid face’ and that’s possibly why they used it this season. Because now that they're together it would make more sense for Jesper to express genuine emotions about Wylan being tailored—into someone who is actively wanted by multiple nations no less—and lying to him about it. Of course, Kaz asked him too and I think that would also be such an interesting conversation between Kaz and Jesper but I’ve already gone so off track.

Wylan will also probably be either more or less jealous of Kuwei because he and Jesper are already together, though I think more considering his self esteem issues. I would expect only in body language/action alone unless Jesper or someone explicitly asks him because again, it’s Wylan. I do legally require them to include the ‘how about I push you in the canal and we see if you know how to swim line’ because it is so iconic and they already took just girls from us. 

I’m going way to in depth with this. 

Anyways.

I wonder too what direction they will go with Wylan being tailored in the sense that he doesn’t just look like anyone, he looks like Kuwei. In the original scene Jesper says he misses Wylan’s actual features but would take any version of Wylan, but in this new canon does that stay the same when he ‘had’ un-tailored Wylan? And how would Wylan feel being with Jesper as ‘Kuwei’ knowing Kuwei has a crush on him and makes advances on him later on? I think it’s a very interesting topic and I really look forward to seeing if they delve into that at all. Personally I think they’d agree on waiting for Wylan to have his features back so that’s what I’m going with.

So considering all that, and the circumstances surrounding the scene, with the idea that his argument with Colm could also be worse, this scene gets very interesting.

Obviously now he is going to be actively seeking Wylan out, I feel like I don’t need to explain why. When he finds Kuwei he’s probably incredibly relieved, and I think he would actually confide in ‘Wylan’ about his argument with Colm. In the book, he just kind of paces the room and flirts with him, but him and Wylan are together. They already went through all of season 2, and now all of the Ice Court situation. And Kuwei not responding would probably confuse him a bit, but much like the first scene he really isn’t in his right mind. And being upset, I think he’d default back emotional avoidance and this is where we’d see that flirting from the original scene, maybe less of a ‘wanna get out of here’ and more of a ‘let’s blow off some steam’ in this situation considering. And he would know, the second Kuwei kisses him, that this isn’t Wylan. Even in the book he knows something is off, but now he already knows exactly how this kiss should go. The thing is we don’t know how long Wylan was standing there. I think Jesper would be so upset at himself for not realising and at Kuwei for tricking him, but if Wylan still sees? There’d be no doubt who is standing in the doorway, and I think the scene after this will really be so different. Maybe they’ll still have the sitting room scene before they can talk, or maybe Jesper will actually rush after him in this version. And so much changes in that conversation, because he can’t just ‘kiss whoever he wants’ in this canon. The entire rest of his POV really, Wylan being tailored back and their original first kiss would be very different. And those scenes are just, 80 million more thoughts.

What’s interesting about this too is it moves Kuwei from just having a crush on Jesper and shooting his shot (through deceiving him but still, they’re teenagers in the books) to being a bit of a villain. Not in a big SoC villain sense obviously, but knowing Jesper and Wylan are together and still deceiving Jesper and letting him talk about his dad thinking it’s a conversation with his boyfriend is a lot different than the circumstances in the books, especially aged up. I do actually like Kuwei, I think his character was interesting and would be cool to explore away from the SoC plot where he served a specific purpose (disclaimer I haven't read KoS), and I know I’m not the only one so that will be a very interesting deviation to take that really separates him from book canon and how he’s perceived by fans. But I need to shut tf up now because this is way longer than I think anyone wanted. Though feel free to ask me more questions that I can elaborate forever on.

[thecustomcosplayed]

aw man this is "in the midst of rewatching legends S2 and thinking abt Sara too much" part two because I have so many thoughts

(once again, semi spoilery if you care and me rambling)

OKAY LISTEN

Season 2, episode 11 is one of my favorite episodes in the entire series. There's so much happening with all the characters, and a lot of growth in most of them (also Sara angst potentials are through the roof)

I think this episode is one of my most rewatched in the entire bc of how much I love it. Some of the parallels with Sara go so hard in this episode it's actually insane

So obviously Rip appears in front of Sara, Rory and Washington (go with it) and bc he's all brainwashed and stuff he shoots her and leaves her for dead

AND JUST THINK ABT IT FOR ME. JUST FOR A SECOND

Sara dies/is left for dead by somebody she once considered a close friend who is no longer a friend because they were brainwashed by an evil force and she got shot.

ITS LITERALLY PARALLELING HER GETTING KILLED BY THEA???

Obviously it's not a one for one (arrows vs bullets, motives, etc) BUT ITS THERE? And the brainwashed friends were brainwashed in association with Malcom Merlyn????

Please tell me somebody else sees this because what the heck? This is such good writing (even if it wasn't fully intended)

And also, slightly more far fetched, but I think it also included her kind of "passing the torch." She makes Laurel want to become the Black Canary, and she makes Jax the captain/puts him in charge.

Maybe I'm just crazy and like this show a little too much but like tell me you can't see it a little bit?? This episode is telling/helping move along like three different plot points at once and one of them is a parallel to Sara's first actual death.

And she does die! Rip snaps her neck and she just dies (thank Gideon for her not staying dead 🙏). The show doesn't pull a "aww no rip finds the goodness of his heart-' no he kills her!! Jjst like Thea did!!

He does it without a second thought. Thea does as well (though she does regret it later when she finds out). They both kill her and Sara literally doesn't talk about it

Like maybe I haven't watched S3 in a while but I don't remember it ever really being brought up again?? They just don't mention the fact that Sara died again? To Rip no less?

And it makes me wonder how much Rip actually tells the bureau. Did he tell them about that time he got brainwashed and killed the captain and tried to kill the rest of the team?? Does Ava know? How does she react when she finds out? How much does Sara tell her about that entire shenanigan? I want so many answers that can't be solved 😭

ALSO I AM ALMOST FORGOT BUT. This happens on December 25th, which yes is Christmas Day BUT ITS ALSO SARA'S BIRTHDAY. She died on her birthday. like she legitimately died for a bit on her birthday. That's so insane????

tl/Dr: Season 2, episode 11 is an amazing episode and my favorite of the entire series!!! It raises so many questions and a lot of great fic opportunities (imo)

[splendidissimus]

2005ish - Excising Voldemort

((Content warning: Draco is trying to remove the Dark Mark from his arm. With a knife. For five pages.))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 22: Alternate prompt: Body modification ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: none

Angst level: 3/5

Draco's headspace: fixated / seemingly fine

((words: 2800))

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

Knives reminded Draco of Death Eaters. He had never, as far as he knew, met a wizard who carried one who didn't have the Dark Mark. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rowle… real sadists who wanted to be able to hurt people without a wand. It seemed fitting, then. 

"Master Draco." Tolly slid the knife onto the desk and looked up at him with her ears drooped almost completely flat against her back. "Please, please choose something else…"

"It's all right, Tolly," he assured the house elf firmly. "I'll be okay. I forbid you from telling anyone what I'm doing." She wrung her hands together anxiously. "Unless I pass out," he added thoughtfully. "Or die. Then I would like to be found." 

She pulled on her ears with a squeal so alarmed it didn't even make words. 

"Merlin, you're going to make me nervous." He patted her head. "I don't think you should stay. You can come check on me in an hour." 

She resisted the order, just a little bit. "Please, Master Draco," she squeaked, and then vanished, hitting herself on the head as she did to punish herself for that resistance. Draco did feel a bit bad for her stress, but she was worrying unnecessarily. 

Draco rested his palms on the edge of the desk and looked over his preparations, taking a final inventory. Knife, belt, wand, bowl of water and cloth, towel, blood clotting potion, blood thinning potion, blood replenishing potion, plate. He'd already taken the Wit Sharpening potion to make sure his mind was clear and focused.

He began rolling up his left sleeve, stoically. He hated the Dark Mark. He had set eyes on it probably only a dozen times in the years since Voldemort's death, and in the years of his reign, looking at it had been more like picking at a wound. He kept his arm covered at all times if he could help it. Any time it was exposed, he was acutely aware of it, and if it happened to brush against any other part of his skin he swore he could feel it, like something contagious, contaminating anything it touched.

He could also withstand a great deal of pain. He didn't like to, obviously — he was a coward, and pain hurt. But he'd had a lot more practice at it than anyone should.

The Dark Mark was completely indelible; it had faded, but it would never disappear, and no potion, spell, or artefact would ever lift it. However, Voldemort had completely despised all things nonmagical, and thoroughly undervalued and overlooked the potential power in anything not a wizard of pure blood.

Those three facts seemed to naturally go together, and culminate in the form of the knife he had asked Tolly to bring him. Would the great Lord Voldemort ever consider that someone would dare take something as banal as a kitchen knife to his distinguished mark?

The tattoo on his forearm leered at him as he folded the sleeve up one last turn above his knobby elbow. It was a trick of his eyes and his hatred for it, of course, but it gave the unsettling impression of moving under his skin as he moved his arm. The black of the skull and snake was faint; it would have taken a real effort to actually see, on a more normal skin colour, and even against his paleness it was only a grey blemish. But to him, it may as well have been glowing. 

He wrapped the belt around his arm, between the sleeve and his elbow, and yanked it tight, then a little tighter once it began to hurt. He knew he couldn't allow himself to bleed any more than necessary; his blood didn't clot, it just flowed unabated, and it could be dangerous. He had a potion standing by in case he absolutely had to, but the blood thickeners came with their own dangers: at least once they had cause a clot in his brain that affected his mind, a stroke, and that was one of the most terrifying things he had ever experienced. Which was why he had in turn a blood thinning potion, in case he needed to treat that. Ideally, he would use neither of them. 

He flexed his left hand to experiment with the way it was starting to go numb, then pulled the towel over to rest his arm upon, and picked up the knife, testing it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, not balanced like a wand; he swished it around a little to get accustomed to it. The dexterity of practised wand skills translated over well, and once he was used to the balance, he could control the tip of it with confidence. 

All right, now… 

He clenched his fist to tauten the skin, set the tip of the knife against his skin at the top of the skull, and pressed it in. The skin dimpled for a second, forced him to press harder than he'd thought he would have to, and then it suddenly went in. He hissed in pain and yanked the knife back out on reflex. A drop of blood welled up in the puncture, swelled and balanced on top of his arm, and when its weight became too much finally rolled over the edge of his arm and slid down to the towel, leaving a trail of red over the bare skin.

All right, that was all right. He just hadn't been prepared. But it proved he could do it. Now he just had to.

He put the knife point back to his skin near the first mark before he could think about it too much and pressed it in, drawing blood a second time. He hissed in a pained breath again, but it didn't stop him this time. The blade ploughed its way through the skin, digging a furrow across the top of the skull.

In a few seconds, that became too much, and he yanked the knife away and pressed it flat against the table, head bowed, shakily trying to catch his breath. His arm seared. But he was making progress.

When he opened his eyes and forced himself to look at Voldemort's mark, he was dismayed to realise the cut was maybe two inches long, weeping blood over the side of his arm but otherwise to very little effect. It had felt so much bigger than that. It wasn't even properly connected to the first puncture he had made. If that was all he could do at a time, he was going to chew his arm into dogmeat before he accomplished anything…

He wet the cloth and wiped away the blood with a hiss, and then pressed it firmly over the area. The cold felt good; it had a side effect of also covering the Dark Mark from view, which made him feel like he could think more clearly because it wasn't watching him. Feeling the throbbing of his arm under his hand gave him a moment to breathe. 

He set aside the cloth, flexing his left hand again — with some difficulty, as the numbness now had it feeling distant and clumsy — and watching the cuts move. The second one opened a tiny amount and let another line of blood escape, but the tourniquet was doing its job and he wasn't bleeding all that much. He traced the jagged line of the cuts with his eyes.

He was trying to be too gentle. Or too careful. There was nothing he was going to do that would mitigate the pain, so he shouldn't be trying to. He needed to be more decisive. Just do it. 

With an absent nod, he picked up the knife, then changed his mind and instead untucked the end of the belt that was wrapped around his upper arm, pulled it taut, and held it between his teeth. Then he set the blade against the long side of the skull, pressed until he felt it and saw blood, and then yanked it toward his wrist in one sharp motion. His cry of pain was muffled in the belt, and he slammed the knife back onto the desk, fumbling around for his wand. When his fingers found it, he Silenced himself and released the belt from his teeth, panting for breath.

The cut was better this time. Much longer and neater. And bleeding more. There was blood flowing from it in several distinct rivulets, soaking into the towel under his arm. The cut wasn't at the perfect angle, but it was most of the length of the mark.

Just do that again, a few more times… 

He pulled the belt tighter, trying to cut off the blood, held it in his teeth again, and picked up the knife. He told himself he wasn't going to put it down again until he was done. 

Starting at the upper long side of the mark, he made another long slice, and then a series of a few short ones around the bottom of the snake, carving straight lines in an approximation of a curve. The skin moved around, making it hard to pull a smooth line, leaving jagged starts and stops in the cuts; he needed another hand to hold himself down. He had to scream once, but he was Silenced so it didn't matter. 

When he had done as much as he could like that, he stopped for a moment, resting the edge of the knife on the desk, panting raggedly around the leather in his teeth. His right hand was shaking around the knife. He didn't let it go, though. He wasn't done. 

The Dark Mark was roughly outlined in straightish lines, not neat, but amateurish, overlapping where they should have started, sticking out unnecessarily far into the skin or leaving gaps of unbroken skin where they didn't meet, some at awkward angles where the skin had shifted or the curve of his arm sent the knife awry. Blood was running from the cuts, squeezed out and smeared onto the Dark Mark, running tickling down the sides of his arm to soak into the towel. There was blood not only on the knife, but the desk where it had touched, and soaked into the edge of his other sleeve where he had brushed it unknowingly. 

He lifted the blade again, and noticed how unsteadily it was shaking in his hand, so closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Opening his eyes, he breathed deeply and stared at the tip of the knife until it quavered under his will and behaved, going still. 

Carefully, he slid the point of the blade into the edge of one of the cuts, hissing a small breath through his nose, and then laid it almost flat, so that it wasn't going down into his arm but over it, under the edge of the skin by a few fractions of an inch. He made sharp, short slices at the corner of the cut that way, lengthening it step by step toward the next cut, and when they nearly joined he had to shift the knife so that he was digging the point into the thin wall of flesh between them and yank it up to break that last thread of skin. 

It hurt. It hurt like hell. But there was a kind of clarity and focus that went along with it, a satisfaction in seeing progress on his goal. He gritted his teeth on the belt, panted through his nose, and focused on joining the next pair of cuts. And the next. He could feel in his throat that he would be making noises, but he couldn't hear them and it was fine. He didn't pretend he was brave about pain. Just that it wouldn't stop him.

The first cuts, at the top of the skull, were the most problematic. The angle was awkward and the skin was torn up in small sections. He finally gave up on the careful approach, there, and instead laid the length of the blade half an inch below the original abortive cuts, took a breath, and sawed it forward in a swift slice. The skin shifted and dimpled instead of parting, needed more pressure, and then when it gave the knife bit deeply into the wasted muscle and scraped bone, and he screamed, ripping the knife out and shaking.

It took a very long moment before he got a grip on that screeching pulse of pain, and in that time, blood was running freely from that deep cut and into the towel, slowly spreading the red. But it was done. The entire Dark Mark was encircled in cuts, moats of blood, quarantined, separated from the rest of his skin. It was no longer part of him. Now it was just stuck to him.

His breath was ragged, but he lifted the trembling blade again. Nearly finished. Just to get it off, now.

He took up the wet cloth to wipe the blood from one section of the mark, squeezing the cut closed for a second to interrupt the flow so that he'd be able to see what he was doing. Then he carefully inserted the knife into the cut again and once again angled it so that he could slide it under the skin. Much further this time, not just the edges as before, but full inches, slowly working it back and forth, forward, between the skin and the muscle, biting back whimpers of pain with every stroke as the blade scraped under his skin. The snake seemed to writhe as it bulged with the knife under it, like it was trying to escape from his skin.

It wasn't neat work, at first. He got the angle wrong and shaved too close to the surface, and the tip of the knife came up through the skin, poking through the snake's mouth in a way that made him weirdly ill. Then, trying to adjust for the curve of his arm, he overcorrected and bit too deep, cutting into the muscle, and that made him cry out silently and stop for a long moment. 

Maybe it would have hurt less if he were quicker, but for this it only seemed right to be methodical and careful. 

It was quickly pointless to try to sop up the blood, and he let it flow. It got on his fingers and made the knife slick in his hand, and obscured what he was doing so he was operating almost entirely on feel. The towel was sodden and it was getting on the desk. 

He found the rhythm, though, the right angle and depth that let the skin part almost easily from the muscle beneath. He scraped through the connective tissues and worked his way up toward the elbow, and then it happened. The tip of the blade came out the top. With a few more quick, careful, painful slices of the knife, it was finished. The entire Dark Mark peeled up, on a single solid flap of skin wider than his hand and longer than the blade of the knife. He balanced it carefully on the blade and transferred it whole to the plate, adjusting the ragged edges just so to spread it out. A pathetic grey, faded testament to Voldemort's will and control, and it was gone. 

He was drunk on success. He didn't even care about the pain or the slightly woozy feeling of blood loss, it was done. He had done it. He was free. 

He hadn't meant to end the silencing spell on himself, but he must have because he heard himself laugh, and he didn't want to stop. He grabbed the cloth and pressed it over the skinned muscle, hissing in pain but still laughing as he slid down a bit in his chair, looking toward the ceiling. It was finally done. It was finally over. 

"Fuck you, Tom Riddle," he laugh-sobbed in a surprisingly hoarse voice. Maybe he'd been screaming more than he realised. 

Okay, his arm was really hurting. He made himself sit up and, with a wince, peeled the cloth from his arm, wiping away as much blood as possible from the exposed muscle. It was a weird sight, disturbing, glistening wet and red—

And black. As he wiped the space clean, the black loomed out of the blood, skull and snake as vibrantly dark as it had ever been on his skin, engrained in the twitching fibres of the working muscle.

He shrieked and staggered out of the chair like he could get away from his own arm, stumbling a step further and then falling to his knees, retching. His head was swimming, either from the blood loss or the cold laughter pounding through it… 

"Tolly," he croaked faintly, hand over his mouth, and heard her Apparate beside him. Her hand on his elbow was searing pain. "I think you should get some help now…"

[waywardxrhea]

Part Thirty-Four: The Prank War

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence, (potentially smut later on).

Word count: 3.3k

Emma, Steve, Sam, and Natasha engage in an all out prank war!

A few more months pass and spring arrives at the lodge. One evening when everyone is sitting outside enjoying the weather and eating sandwiches, Nat speaks up and asks, "You guys know what would be a lot of fun?"

"Not having to be stuck here?" Sam asks. "No offense Emma, this place is great, but we've been here almost a year and I've only left the property a handful of times."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Nat tells him. "Besides, what I have in mind is a lot better than sitting around here and training."

"And what may that be?"

"A prank war," she replies with a smirk.

"A prank war?" Steve asks curiously.

"That's what I said. You know, where everyone pulls pranks on one another?” Suddenly she smirks. “Oh that's right they probably didn't have stuff like this in the forties," Natasha says to Steve teasingly.

"Well considering I grew up in the Great Depression and then the actual war, Buck and I didn't have too much time for these so-called prank wars," he counters.

"And I grew up in the Red Room, we both have things to learn."

"Well, what did you have in mind for this prank war?" Emma asks. "Did you have any ideas, rules, and whatnot?"

Sam takes the opportunity to smart off, saying, "Well if she told you her idea it wouldn't be much of a prank now would it?"

"Oh shut up," Emma tells him with a laugh and a playful roll of her eyes.

After Sam and Emma finish their laughing, Nat speaks again, saying, "I mean some things to establish for this war could be that anything goes but no long-term harm can be inflicted, we'll all get a week to plan our prank, and everyone gets one trip into town with twenty bucks to get supplies if they need it."

"With the identity protecting tech of course," Steve says sternly.

"Of course," Nat agrees. "Now, if no one has any more questions, prank war starts in a week. Good luck to you all, but I plan on winning."

"Oh those are fighting words, Romanoff," Sam tells her.

"You bet your ass they are," she says as she heads into the lodge for the night to start formulating a plan.

A few days later, Emma still hasn't come up with an idea for her prank so she starts to go through the storage shed looking for something that would spark an idea. "Grammie used to craft all the time, there has got to be something I can use in here..." Emma mumbles to herself as she goes through a box.

Looking up at a shelving unit that holds more dust-covered boxes, Emma reaches up to try and get one down from a high-up shelf to start searching through it. When she does this though, a slightly smaller box that had been sitting on top of it falls down in a flourish of dust. When Emma looks at the box that had fallen, she sees her great aunt's name scribbled on the top along with a rough drawing of the American flag. The lid to the box had come slightly off and inside Emma can see some royal blue fabric. Curiosity gets the better of her and she opens the box to reveal a USO dancer's uniform from World War II. The same dancer's uniform that was worn in the Captain America stage show. Emma's jaw drops at the contents of the box and she whispers, "There's no freaking way..." While looking at the uniform though, a plan for a prank starts to make its way into her mind and she hopes the outfit will fit her.

After the initial shock wears off, Emma sits back and leans against the wall, remembering all those years back and one of her last conversations with Grammie. She had been telling her about Steve and some loose details of their work and Grammie told her she had a story about Steve but never got the chance to tell Emma before she passed. Maybe that was the story she was wanting to tell her... She smiles at the memory though and whispers, "Man I miss you Grammie..."

A few minutes pass and Emma heads back into the lodge with the box tightly gripped in her arms so Steve couldn't possibly see its contents. She heads to Natasha's room and knocks before entering to ask, "Hey Nat, you dance right? I think I'll need some quick lessons for my prank."

The week of the prank war comes quickly while everyone prepares for their pranks. Right after midnight on the first day of the war, Natasha emerges from her room and quietly moves every single piece of furniture five inches to the left of its normal spot and then carefully makes her way back to her room to sleep.

The next morning, before she even emerges from her room, Nat knows her prank is working when she hears Sam shout a curse from the living room. She emerges into the area and smirks, saying out loud, "I don't think that's Cap-approved language, Sam."

Steve navigates easily through the room due to his excellent reflexes, but Emma doesn't have as easy of a time when in her groggy state, she runs her shin straight into an end table. "Son of a-" she yelps at the pain.

Steve looks at Natasha and notices the subtle smirk on her face and realizes that this must be part of her prank, so he plays along and teases Emma, asking, "Everything all right sweetheart? Still a bit tired?" before wrapping her in a hug.

Throughout the day, Sam and Emma continue to bump into furniture around the living room but finally get used to it by the end of the night. This is all for naught though because that night Natasha moves the furniture again so they can't get used to the layout.

That night before heading off to bed, Emma sets SAM to connect to the speakers in her and Steve's room the next morning to act as an alarm playing Star Spangled Man from Steve's show days in the war. This of course wakes Steve up with a start, not knowing where the music is coming from and not being able to shut it off.

Making sure to hide any semblance of knowledge on her face, Emma flips over in bed while snuggling closer to him and asks, "What's going on?"

Steve sighs as he puts his pillow over his ears and replies, "Someone decided to prank me with this song..."

"Come here, try and ignore it," Emma says as she pulls him close and buries her face into his chest to hide the smirk that makes its way onto her lips.

Throughout the day, Steve continues to think about his prank idea and decides to pull it that night. After everyone has gone off to sleep, Steve sneaks out of bed to start his plan. He looks at Emma curled up in a blanket and almost feels bad as he picks her sleeping form up and moves her to the couch in the den. He then goes to Sam's room and lifts him over his shoulder gently and moves him out onto the hammock on the porch for the night.

Right as Steve is about to head into Natasha's room, he hears her voice behind him whispering, "Don't even think about it, Rogers." Steve quietly chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender as Nat starts to move the furniture around once again.

The next morning Steve wakes up to see the looks of confusion on their faces as Sam and Emma wake up in different places than they fell asleep the night before. He sits at the table in the kitchen after making himself a cup of coffee to enjoy the show with. Soon enough, Sam shuffles into the kitchen and mumbles, "Man, did we do some drinking last night that I don't remember? I could have sworn I went to sleep in my bed, but I woke up on the hammock outside..."

Steve hides his smirk behind his coffee cup as he takes a sip before replying, "That is really weird, Sam."

Meanwhile, around the corner in the den, Emma wakes up and goes to turn over to see Steve like she usually does every morning and falls off the couch with a thud. Steve quickly gets up from his seat at the table and makes his way over to Emma, asking, "Hey, are you okay?"

Emma looks around as she gets up and gives Steve a hug, saying, "That's so weird, I could have sworn I fell asleep in bed with you last night..."

After yet another day of tripping into furniture that always seemed to be changing position, Emma and Steve settle onto one of the couches to watch a movie together, but not before Emma sets SAM up to play the song to prank Steve again about halfway into the movie. 

Upon hearing the song, Steve leans his head back against the couch and sighs. "Sam is really gonna get it after this prank war is over..."

Emma tries not to laugh as she thinks to herself, Yeah go right ahead, but you've got the wrong Sam in mind.

While watching the movie and starting to think that Sam is behind the prank being pulled on him, Steve evolves his prank idea into targeting just Sam and not Emma anymore. That night Steve goes out to the storage shed and finds the blowup mattress that Emma stored in there after doing some spring cleaning. This would be the perfect finale for his prank on Sam.

The next morning, Steve wakes up bright and early before the sun comes up and blows up the mattress. After blowing it up, he carefully gets Sam from his room, making sure he stays asleep, and puts him on the mattress before pushing it out onto the lake. Steve then sits on the edge of the dock and watches the sunrise as he waits for Sam to wake up.

When Sam wakes up, he does exactly as Steve expects and falls into the water as soon as he realizes where he is. Steve laughs at his own prank before diving into the water and quickly swimming over to where Sam is to make sure he doesn't drown. Steve pulls Sam onto the dock and laughs once more at his work and Sam says to him, "Man that was so uncalled for!"

"I thought anything was fair game," Steve replies with a slap on Sam's back which finally earns a laugh after the shock wears off.

The two make their way into the kitchen after getting dried off to get coffee, but when they open up the cabinet door that usually contains the coffee cups, they are met with plates. Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion and opens up the cabinet beside it and still does not find them.

"Looking for something?" Natasha asks with a smirk as she sips from a mug at the table.

Sam sighs and says exasperatedly, "I just woke up in the middle of the lake woman, the least you can do is tell me where you moved the mugs."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sam," she replies with a laugh and a subtle jerk of her head to one of the bottom cabinets that usually houses the pots and pans.

The next evening rolls around and after cooking, Emma excuses herself to wash up before sitting down to eat. As she heads out of the kitchen, she sends a subtle wink in Nat's direction as a thank you for the dance lesson she is about to put to use.

While Emma is away, Star Spangled Man starts playing. Steve, finally having enough, drops his fork onto the table and glares at Sam, saying, "Damnit Sam, that's enough!"

"What? It's not me, man!" Sam defends himself, throwing his hands into the air.

Right as Sam says that, Emma comes back into the dining area dressed in the outfit and looking like a proper USO girl. Steve's mouth opens slightly at the sight of Emma and he is rendered speechless seeing her in that outfit. Natasha laughs at his reaction as he eyes Emma as she does some of the dance Nat taught her. She decides to tease Steve and says, "Don't keep your mouth open like that, you'll catch flies, Rogers."

Nearing the end of the song, Emma approaches Steve and sits on his lap to finish singing the lyrics and kisses him at the very end. Steve looks into Emma's eyes and says to her quietly, "Wow, I'm really loving this look on you," as he holds her close.

"Oh, well, I can't wait until you take it off of me later...Captain," Emma whispers into his ear with a smirk knowing her words would make him putty in her hands. Steve smiles as his heart skips a beat at the words, not letting the thoughts he's thinking show on his face in front of Sam and Nat.

Their moment is interrupted by Sam calling out with a laugh, "Oh hell no, this is not how you win this! You can't just seduce your way to victory!"

"I'm just using my resources, Wilson," Emma counters with a laugh.

"And doing a damn good job," Steve whispers into her ear, pulling her closer to him.

"Oh get a room you two," Nat says.

"Maybe we will," Emma retorts with a laugh and a wink in Steve's direction.

Before either has the chance to stand up though, Sam speaks up. "Okay, I have to ask, where did you even get that outfit?"

"Well you see, I learned a bit of family history while trying to get ideas for my prank and it turns out that my great aunt was actually a USO girl in the show Steve did back when he first became Captain America."

"No way," Sam says in disbelief.

Steve chuckles and asks, "Small world isn't it?"

"Guess so," Emma replies.

Steve then rests his chin on Emma's shoulder and tells her, "Well now I definitely know where you get your looks from because they only let the prettiest girls dance in that show." Emma can't help but blush at the comment as she leans more into his embrace.

The next morning comes and the prank war is coming to a close and Sam still hasn't had time to pull his prank. After breakfast, he pulls Steve aside and asks, "Hey man, can I get your help with my prank?"

Steve looks to make sure Emma and Nat aren't listening and nods, asking, "Yeah, what do you need help with?"

"Well first I need them out of the lodge for at least half an hour, to pull this off and I'll also need an extra set of hands."

"How did you plan on getting them out of here?"

"Well, I was hoping you could maybe tell them to go do some training outside since the weather is nice. Tell them to take a run around the property or something."

"You got it," Steve tells him with a nod and a clap on the back before heading off to talk with the girls. Once they are out of the lodge, Steve comes back and asks Sam, "What's your plan anyways?"

"Oh we're gonna wrap as much of their stuff as we can in tin foil and cling wrap," Sam says with a laugh as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"Oh I dunno Sam, I don't want to upset Emma with her anxiety and all," Steve tells him. "When she gets frustrated you know how she gets."

"Come on man! She annoyed the hell out of you with that song for days and then wore that outfit that drove you crazy! You have to get back at her!" He pauses and decides to take a teasing jab at Steve, continuing with, "And I don't mean get back at her for the outfit, I know you already did that."

Steve chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as Sam gathers what they need from the kitchen. He remembers the night before very well but tries not to let his mind wander too far thinking about it. Sam laughs as he comes back up with the supplies, saying, "Stop imagining it, I need your help doing this in time before they get back. Let's get to it, Cap."

The two divide and conquer with Sam assigning himself to Emma's things to make sure Steve doesn't jeopardize his prank. After about three-quarters of an hour, the guys hear Emma and Nat talking as they make their way back onto the porch and to the lodge.

Sam and Steve quickly toss out their supplies and make their way into the den, sitting on the couches trying to look as casual as possible, Steve grabbing a magazine to pretend to read. As the two make their way into the lodge, Steve calls out, "How was the run?"

"Great!" Emma calls out with a smile. "But it's starting to get hotter out there, I'm gonna go take a shower to clean up, I'll be back."

Sam and Steve nod, sending each other a look of mischief knowing what she's about to walk into. Natasha doesn't go into her room just yet, but into the kitchen to get a drink of water. She comes back into the den quickly though holding a glass wrapped in tin foil with an unamused look on her face, asking, "Really?"

Right as she asks this, Emma reemerges from her and Steve's room with a bundle of her clothes wrapped in cling wrap in her hands. She shoots the guys a look and asks calmly, "Steven Grant. Samuel Thomas. What in the hell did you do?"

"Ooh, you two got the middle names..." Natasha says with a smirk as she shows Emma the wrapped glass.

"They got everything, Nat. They even wrapped the bar of soap in the bathroom!"

From his spot on the couch, Sam smirks and says, "I think I won."

"Hey this would be a joint victory, pal," Steve tells him with a laugh as he gives him a fist bump.

Emma sighs and can't help but laugh, telling them as she rolls her eyes, "You two are crazy..."

"I'll help you get it all off later," Steve tells Emma as he stands up to hug her.

Emma embraces Steve and nods. "I will say, that was very well executed, you two."

Sam interrupts their moment by asking once more, "So I did win right?"

Emma pulls away from Steve's embrace and says back to him, "You remember I did a whole dance routine from the '40s for mine right? And got Steve to think the lead-up was you the whole time?"

"And did you not see all of your and Nat's stuff?" Sam counters.

Natasha then interrupts them to ask, "Do you two not still have bruises from where I moved the furniture every night to prank you?"

Steve then gets a word in, asking, "Does anyone not remember that I Parent Trapped Sam?"

The four of them all have a stare-down before breaking down laughing. "I guess there were good aspects in all our pranks," Emma admits. "How about a truce?"

The others think for a second before nodding. Natasha smiles and says, "No matter who did the best, this was one of the most fun weeks of my life, I mean it."

Everyone sits down to calm down after all the excitement, and Steve pulls Emma into his lap and whispers into her ear, "You may not have won, but your prank had the best outcome..."

Emma feels heat rush to her cheeks as she smiles and whispers back with a wink, "Oh I do agree...Captain."

a/n: okay writing this was like the literary equivalent of basket weaving but I am so happy with how it turned out and yes I absolutely think I'm hilarious in this chapter. Also feel free to comment who you think won the prank war because I could not decide!

also also I will once more be writing a blurb of what happened behind closed doors after dinner that one night because I didn't feel right putting a scene like that in the middle of such a light hearted funny chapter, whoops.

[thequarries]

i finally wrote another ollidon fic 🙈🙈

its angst with a happy ending so don’t worry

also, 2555 words enjoy

The bench was perfectly illuminated in the sunlight, the tree over it bending gently in the wind. The rustling of the leaves, the combination of the warm temperature surrounding the bench, and Gordie standing right in front of it was enough to make Oliver crazy. It was almost like a passage from a fanfiction in one of those Star Trek fanzines Oliver spent too much time reading.

“Gordie! Gordie!” Oliver dodged a few stray students, jogging to the bench.

The taller boy turned around, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

“What happened?” Oliver’s smile immediately faded.

Gordie wiped his hand under his nose, sniffing. It almost looked as if he had been crying.

“Nothing! Nothing,” he jumped.

Oliver squinted.

“Okay,” he broke. “Daisy asked me out on a date this weekend.” Gordie looked off into the distance, putting both of his hands in his pockets.

If Oliver hadn’t immediately shut down after Gordie mentioned the potential date, maybe he would have realized that Gordie wasn’t blushing at all (in fact, he was practically doing the opposite of blushing), that he seemed nervous, upset. Any person in their right mind would immediately notice that Gordie was not looking forward to his date.

But Oliver was too lost in his own world of jealousy. “Oh.”

“But that doesn’t matter, do you still want to go to the park?” Gordie tried looking Oliver in the eyes, but he could already tell that something set him off.

“Actually—something came up,” he lied. “See you tomorrow.”

Oliver laid on the picnic blanket underneath him, feeling the crisp warmth of the sun hitting his cheeks and the gentle breeze coming from the quarry’s water. Though his eyes were closed, he could feel his best friend, Gordie, sitting up next to him, taking in the scenery.

Gordie sighed. Oliver opened an eye.

“What’s up?”

The blanket moved as Gordie fiddled with the corners. “I don’t know what to do about Daisy.”

Oliver nodded. “Ah,” he sat himself up, resting his hands on his knees as he bent them. “Well, uhm, why don’t you tell her you need a break for a while?”

Because she thinks we’re dating, Gordie thought to himself. “That sounds a little passive-aggressive, though.”

“I guess.” Oliver’s heart sank. It was all about Daisy now—no more going to the quarry and nerding out about music, television or movies, no more talking about the latest drama at school, no more talking about their plans to run away from Hawkins. Daisy had erased all the topics of conversation.

The worst part was Daisy wasn’t all that great either. She was rude at worst and tolerable at best. She had always had an attachment to Gordie (which always made Oliver internally jealous), and up until a couple of days ago, Oliver thought that Gordie did not reciprocate affectionate feelings towards Daisy. But something had changed. Something was different. Oliver found himself struggling to read Gordie for the first time in a long time.

“She’s just, I feel like she wants a lot from me. And I like her and all,”—a stab to Ollie’s heart—“but she’s so needy all the fucking time.”

Oliver reached into his bag, wanting to focus on Gordie but not finding the strength to do so. Oliver’s jealousy made him feel like shit. He should be happy that Gordon seemed to have a romantic interest. He should be grateful that Gordie even hangs out with him, and beyond grateful that Gordie considers Oliver a friend, but Daisy was too harsh of a subject for Oliver. He wanted to block her out entirely.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Ollie grabbed some of the fresh peaches he had put in the front pocket of his bag. They had been picked from his family’s peach tree that morning, Oliver beaming at the sight of the first peaches of summer. After picking them, he immediately called Gordie to hang out at the quarry. “Do you want a peach?”

“Oh—uhm—the peaches are ripe?”

Oliver smiled for the first time that day. “Yep! They were ready this morning, just in time for us to hang out. Crazy, right?”

Gordie smiled.

Hanging out at the quarry was still fresh in Oliver’s mind as he biked into school that Monday. Something about soaking up all the sun and knowing Gordie was right next to him—their hands and legs accidentally touching—the sound of the water, and the slight breeze was incredibly calming to Oliver. The most perfect boy, Oliver wrote in his journal. He feels like a sunset and pure serotonin.

I need to tell him how I feel. Even writing it made Oliver nervous. He makes me too happy to not say anything. And—this Daisy thing is killing me. He needs to know how I feel.

Oliver had come to school wearing his favorite pair of jeans as well as the shirt he knew Gordie liked. Daisy wasn’t going to ruin his day today. He was too happy to let a bitch like her interrupt Oliver’s rhythm.

He waited patiently for the last bell to ring, feeling a little déjà-vu from the day he saw Gordie standing perfectly in front of the bench. But things would go differently this time—he could feel it.

Finally the bell rang. Students rushed to the halls and Oliver found himself slightly shoving people to get to the exits. He didn’t even care when he shoved Troy, a boy Oliver was incredibly terrified of, out of the way. His ‘watch it faggot’ didn’t make Oliver’s nervous for a second. All there was was Gordie.

Once outside, he booked it to the tree, dodging stray students left and right, keeping focused on the big tree a couple yards away from him. He could see Gordie, once again standing in front of the bench, as well as some other person—wearing hideous outfit of red and green (What a fucking outfit, Oliver thought. Does she think it’s Christmas?). Only one person could make that terrible of fashion choices.

“Daisy,” Oliver said. “Gordie, hello!”

Daisy turned around dramatically, her blonde ponytail almost—almost—coming undone. Which would have been a shame, since Daisy had spent about twenty minutes doing it in the bathroom that morning. “Oh—uhm—”

“Oliver!” Gordie smiled.

Daisy’s face lit up. “Right! Oliver, hi.”

He didn’t even have time to process that Daisy had forgotten his name before he blurted out what he had planned to say since the previous night. “Can we talk privately for a second?” He said, looking at Gordie.

“Actually, we were just about to get lunch,” Daisy instinctively grabbed Gordie’s arm. “Sorry.”

Gordie looked at Oliver, confusedly. “No, it’s—”

“My dad wants me home by four-thirty, so we better get going!” Her smile was infuriating. “Isn’t that right Goosey?”

Oliver’s especially good mood was fading away. Goosey.

“Uhm—”

Daisy tugged on Gordie’s arm, wrinkling his sleeve and forcing him to bend down. She used the opportunity to grab his face, slowly planting a kiss on his lips for a little too long. She pulled away, grinning at Oliver.

“You’re like best friends or something, right?” She turned her head towards Oliver. “So you can hang out, like, another time?”

Oliver was too stunned to say anything.

“Okay! Toodles.” She slipped her fingers through Gordie’s, walking him away like a dog.

Ollie would sooner jump off a cliff than knowingly let his emotions influence his decisions—but he was too angry. Maybe it was the drink in his hand (note that he was not drunk, but he wasn’t exactly sober either), maybe it was Daisy holding Gordie’s arm, or maybe it was just the warm air of the party.

He so desperately wanted to be in the perfect mindset to talk to Gordie, to be the bigger man, to be able to compose himself and be mature. But he had to talk. Or—maybe it wasn’t that he had to talk, it was more that he couldn’t go much longer without talking. The loud booming of the music only heightened his emotions, the lack of a private and quiet space making it almost impossible to cope with the intense wave he was suffocating in. Oliver took another sip of his drink and walked over to Gordie.

“Hey!” Gordie looked at Oliver. If he wasn’t so dru—tipsy, he would have seen the pure relief in his eyes, the genuine heartfelt emotions he put into his greeting.

“Can we talk for a second?” Oliver asked, stone faced.

Gordie looked down, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

Oliver walked outside the back door, expecting Gordie to follow him. He did.

“Did something happen? Because, if something did, I can—”

“Why the fuck are you still with her?” Oliver boldly cut him off once they were fully outside, leaning against the walls of the house that seemed to move with the music. “Why did you even come with her?”

They weren’t so much questions as they were statements, accusations, raw jealousy and anger.

“Because she’s my girlfriend?” Suddenly, Gordie’s tone became more serious and sassy. “Seriously Ollie, why do you have a problem with her anyway?”

He shook his head. “You don’t even like her. You told me yourself. Why are you still hanging out with her?”

Gordie turned around, taking a few steps. “Are we seriously still talking about Tuesday? I thought we went over that.”

Oliver recalled the memory of a drunk Gordie venting to him about how uncomfortable Daisy made him feel over the phone the night after his lunch date. Though he was drunk, he still knew exactly what he saw and exactly what Gordie said. “Drunk words are sober thoughts. You’ve been blowing me off since then. Of course I’m not over it.”

“Listen: I don’t know what you think you heard, but I’m happy with Daisy. I’m happy with her.” Gordie emphasized, almost trying to convince himself.

(“I don’t even like her or anything,” his voice rang through the line. “Like, I don’t feel anything for her romantically. If that makes sense.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Oliver twirled the cord through his fingers.

“And everytime she touches me—I want to throw up,” his words were starting to blend together.)

“Someday, you’re gonna have to shut up and kiss who you want to kiss.” Oliver tried looking Gordie dead in the eyes, knowing he probably looked foolish. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re in love with someone else.”

Gordie turned pale, the anger almost entirely leaving his body, leaving him only with fear. “How—”

Another sip down Oliver’s throat. “So who is it then? Who do you actually love?”

The anger immediately returned to Gordie. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” He threw the cup to the ground. “My problem? My problem? This has always been about you. It always has been and it always will be, Gordie.”

He walked away, stopping about two yards away from his crush to pack in one final punch. “I hope you have a fun time seeing Child’s Play tomorrow. Maybe Daisy will take your extra ticket—unless she doesn’t like horror.”

Oliver walked off.

The next morning was rough to say the least.

Along with waking up with a headache, Oliver also had to wake up with the memories of the previous night. He had never been more angry with himself.

Most of his morning was spent in his bed, rehashing the events of last night, the hazy yelling, the tears almost spilling from his eyes as he clumsily walked. The hours melted away as Oliver drifted in and out of sleep.

He knew that Gordie wasn’t right with Daisy, and he knew it well. But he had been a Jerk. A bad friend. The thought of hurting Gordie in any way made Oliver want to die.

After it was past dinner time, Oliver heard a faint knocking on his door. He groggily wiped his eyes. “Hello?”

He heard the gentle turn of the doorknob. It was his mother. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I just need some space,” he sat up, fixing his shirt. “I just need today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The bed gave in under her. She made eye contact with Oliver, trying to read him. “It hurts to see you like this.”

Oliver shook his head, turning his attention to the window outside of his room. The weather was perfect, just like it had been when he was at the quarry with Gordie, but the sunset had made the scenery even more beautiful. Just thinking about the quarry made Oliver’s heartbreak. “I love him, Mom.”

His mom rubbed his back, understandingly. Oliver had never come out to her, but she had always known in the back of her head. Only a mother could notice the nuances in Ollie’s behavior around Gordie. “You should tell him that.”

��But—”

“You’re already dressed from last night,” she nodded. “Go.”

It was a race against the sunset. Oliver desperately ran, the sound of his sneakers hitting the ground almost deafening. His years of track and rugby had trained him for this moment.

As Oliver harshly turned the corner, he could see Gordie’s doorstep become more and more visible. He could almost smell the aroma of his house, see inside the windows of the front room.

Before he knew it he was climbing the steps of the front porch, too determined by the closeness of his destination. The door materialized in front of him as it seemed like his fist raised in slow motion to knock on the door.

The door swung open before he could even touch it. Gordie was standing behind it but Oliver had too much adrenaline to even read the look on Gordie’s face. He bent over as he tried to catch his breath and calm down.

“Gordie I’m…” he put his hands on his head and turned around, trying to form coherent sentences in his head. Usually he would plan out every line, every interaction he would have before he would step out of the house, but this was too important. He had to let his feelings out now. He was brought back to reality as he heard the door close behind Gordie.

The sunset was turning the sky a deep pink as Oliver turned around to face Gordie, finally calming down and taking the situation fully. “I’m really fucking sorry about last night, I was just—”

His sentence was cut off by Gordie’s lips, quickly stopping his sentence, his hands rising to cup both of Ollie’s cheeks. It didn’t take long for Ollie to kiss back as he only deepened the kiss by putting his arms around Gordie, who pulled away, breathless. He released one of his hands to open the door behind him.

“Your…?” He asked, not bothering to finish the sentence.

Gordie leaned in for another kiss. “They’re not home.”

This time, Oliver was the one that pulled away. “But…” he started, a crack in his voice. “Daisy…”

The taller boy looked in Oliver’s eyes, seeing the heartbreak in his eyes. “Fuck her. All I want is you.”

“Very dramatic,” Oliver laughed. “Okay keep kissing me please.”

“Right,” Gordie was almost out of breath as he dragged Ollie inside by the lips.

They never wanted the night to end.

[carelessgraces]

@worldelivered​​ said: “oh, a dark lake full of something shiny. let me put my hand into it.” from blackwall ( memes for starters | accepting )

She forgets, sometimes, that beneath the somber demeanor and carefully curated control, he has a wicked sense of humor. “You make me sound so irresponsible,” she says, and she laughs, but she winces all the same. The wound to her arm is shallow, but they’re running low on their poultices and potions, and they’re anticipating more injuries later on; the last thing that she needs is for a minor injury to get infected. 

     And in this place, it seems all too likely. The dead creep out of lakes, stagnant water filled with what she can only imagine is a frankly horrifying melange of muck and decomposition. All she needs to do is forget about this and, like a fool, shove her hand under the water to fetch something. A fine Inquisitor she’ll make, stark raving mad with fever and well on her way to death because she can’t resist something shiny at the bottom of a pool. 

     His fingers are careful as he winds the bandage around her arm. Perhaps the wound is a bit deeper than she’d wanted to acknowledge before. The bleeding, at least, has stopped, and she can move it without starting the bleeding up again, so that’s something. 

     When he finishes, she reaches for him, rests her hand gently on his arm. Crestwood is disgusting. Crestwood is terrifying. She would very much like to be just about anywhere else, but at least he’s here. It makes it slightly more bearable, having somewhere warm to lay her head when they stop to make camp, having someone to tease her for her injuries while she gets patched up. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says. She wonders if it troubles him, the loving tone to her voice, the open affection in her expression. He seems so uneasy sometimes, accepting that from anyone, from her especially.

     ( She likes, too, that Varric and Vivienne have made such an effort to give them space. Vivienne calls it charming. Varric pokes fun. But the two of them always keep watch together; they don’t comment when Blackwall doesn’t bother pitching a separate tent anymore. )

     ( She wants to tell him that she knows. She wants to tell him that she’s known all along. She wants to tell him that Leliana’s spies are good, but the Crows are better. ) 

     Her hand skates toward his shoulder, to curl gently at the side of his neck, and she strokes her thumb idly against his jaw. She doesn’t ask him if he knows about the business with the Wardens; she’s sure he doesn’t. And if she were a better woman she’d have left him at Skyhold, but she doesn’t want to arouse suspicion, doesn’t want to put him on the defensive, or make it seem as though she doesn’t trust him. Besides, she likes to have him near.

     “Will you start diving into lakes for me, then?” she asks, and her lips twitch into a crooked smile. “My knight in shining armor.” ( She wonders if he’ll ever tell her. Funny enough, she doesn’t think it matters. ) After a beat, she continues. “You were uneasy,” she says quietly, “in Halamshiral. I’ll ask why, unless I shouldn’t.”

[diefxrguns]

𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐄

✮pairings- reiner braunx afab! reader

✮a/n- sorry for any mistakes, please do not share on other platforms, tweak or steal.

✮synopsis- reiner brain, your husband for two years had begun to act strange. you may suspect the male is falling out of love

✮c/w- smut! fluff, angst, and more no under 18s!

"your lips my lips, apocalypse"｡✧

When you first met Reiner, he was a confident teenager, who had many friends. Infact, you met Reiner Braun in your first year of high school.

The incredibly tall, handsome athlete who was extremely popular with the girls. Typical highschool boy who loved nothing but partying, sex, sports and alcohol.

But one thing about Reiner was- as intelligent as the boy was he was failing school drastically.

He never took the time to study, even though he knew he had the potential.

Your teacher at the time, thought it'll be a great idea if you could tutor the older boy.

You being a bit young for the classes you were taking, and your A's/ A+ on almost every report card. You couldn't blame your teacher for pairing you and Braun up.

So as arranged, Braun would meet you every afternoon in the cafeteria to study and work on revision.

It wasn't easy, he was so fucking stubborn and grumpy, but over time you and the blonde grew close.

A little too close...

You and Reiner graduated high school successfully, but during your most important years. You never had the guts to tell him how you felt.

He knew you liked him though...

Oh how your cheeks would go red everytime you saw him walk down the hallway with Marco and Bertholdt, and how your little tummy got the most intense swarm of butterflies when he so much as looked at you, when he was practicing football.

If you were lucky he'd even give you a little wink. Just to say thank you for helping him with his studies.

But the thing is, Reiner never spoke to you once when he was with his mates

He wasn't ashamed to be with you, oh not at all. However, he felt as if such a smart, goal orientated girl such as yourself would even go for a guy like him.

Everything about you made Braun crazy, your short little skirts and your cute little ponytail. He couldn't help but think of how a smaller framed girl such as yourself would look beneath him. Squirming and screaming, creaming all over his 8- inch length.

And how he'd just want to bend you over his table, in his dining room. Throwing all his books on the floor, and giving your ass a few spanks.

And your breasts, oh your breasts...

Reiner would sometimes stay up at night, asking you questions about the school work just so that you can stay on call with him.

He'd ask about stuff he already knew, he just wanted to hear your sweet voice.

So yes, Reiner did have a crush on you. He never told you, I guess he just want ready.

As for you, you would have dreams about Reiner. Really corny one's, but they were sexy nonetheless.

He'd be shirtless in the rain or some cheesy romance movie type shit.

Leaving your silk panties all wet when you wake up, and when he touched your thigh under the table during study sessions, just to comfort you oh how you'd go wild.

Once Reiner gave you his jacket when you were leaving his home, and he gave you a hug. Just to say thank you once again.

His scent, and his warm body against yours made you melt.

It broke your heart into pieces when Reiner didn't ask you to be his prom date.

Instead he asked the pretty girl, Historia to he his date instead. You couldn't blame him, Historia was drop dead gorgeous.

But despite Historia's obvious beauty and charm, she had her heart set on another. She just went with Reiner to avoid drama .

And even though Reiner had a crush on you, a part of him always hated you...

When highschool was over, you went to college with Reiner.

And it was back to square one, study sessions. Late night calls.

If we're being honest he never considered you as his "friend".

You were never actually invited to any of his parties.

Until you became friends with Sasha and Hitch. The two girls who got invited to almost everything.

They were in highschool with you, but you were never they're friends.

During university you had the best time of your life, despite the large work load and studying till morning. You went out and partied.

There was a time when you went to a college party, that Jean hosted.

Almost everyone was there, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Reiner, Connie...list goes on.

And you showed up in a skimpy black dress with heels, smoky makeup and your hair loose but straightened.

The dress barely even covered your ass, it wasn't even yours it belonged to Hitch.

And all eyes were on you, literally.

Your typical self never wore such apparel, but for the sake of " living life" you decided to let loose and show your body off a little.

The dress hugged your curves and made you look so goddamn sexy. With an immense amount of cleavage showing, your titts were practically hanging out.

After a few drinks you began to get dizzy and made your way to the kitchen to get some water, alcohol had a terrible affect on you since you never drank.

Tumbling over and almost falling, trying to keep your balance.

Reiner couldn't help but watch you like a hawk that night.

Everywhere you went his eyes were on you.

When you drank your water from the plastic cup, Reiner stood next to you leaning on the fridge with a beer in his hand.

He knew you were drunk and needed to get home.

He knew what the other men said about you, the vile things that came from Eren's mouth. Everybody knew you were a virgin, and seeing you in this black dress wanted to make them pop your cherry.

But Reiner couldn't let that slide.

Reiner never told you, but he drove you back to your dorm that night.

He carried you up the stairs( bridal style) and lay you in your bed.

When you woke up, you remembered nothing.

When you confronted Hitch and Sasha they told you Reiner took you home

And that's when you realised, a part of you always loved him...

You and Reiner Braun grew closer and closer, and started hanging out more.

Not to study, just to be in each other's company.

And what was once a mutual relationship turned into much more

So, you and him began to date.

At first he was reckless, and never considered your feelings. This caused arguments and fights

But over the span of two years, you and Reiner learned to love each other.

Or so you thought...

What was a relationship, turned into marriage..

On your wedding night Reiner made love to you.

He carried your delicate body up to the room, and lay you down on the bed. Dressed in silk sheets.

Your hair sprawled across the bed, and your makeup some what smudged. He slowly too your dress off, along with your stockings and heels.

He ate you out, his mouth sucking your puffy clitoris. Causing you to moan his name over and over.

And when you were ready for him, he inserted his cock into your virgin pussy.

Fucking you gently, as you gripped onto his hair. Moaning and moaning in pure bliss and pleasure.

Groans and grunts escaping his lips.

It was the way he made you feel, goddddd.

He made you feel so good, every thrust, every kiss and every whisper.

It was like heaven at the time.

After two years of marriage your bliss, your heaven on earth did not last.

Reiner became contaminated with mental disorders, it's like a switch inside him flipped and he couldn't control it.

He's personality came crashing down.

The flirty, confident, strong and reliable man you knew. Became fragile, weak, cold and broken.

The doctors said, he might have split personality.

But a part of you wondered if it was always there.

The part that really broke you, was when you found out your husband was cheating on you with another women, and the saddest part of that was how he wasn't ashamed of it.

Or how you caught him trying to take his life, it broke you. It broke you so much, seeing your man, your lover change and fall into such disarray.

Was it ever your fault? That's what you thought day and night.

You and Reiner stopped making love and hardly spoke to one another.

The house was quiet and dull, not lively and sexy as it was once before.

In your head you always loved him, ever since your teacher asked you to tutor him that day

For him, he only liked you when you tutored him, and he only began to love you when he spent time with you in college. But a part of Reiner Braun always hated you.

So here you sit on your bathroom floor, with tear filled eyes and your body shaking from the medication you just downed.

If you couldn't be with him, then what's the point of living...

If he stopped loving you, what's the point of him living.

And so Reiner now sits in the garage with a loaded gun, pointed to the roof of his mouth.

Because if he can't be with you, what's the point of living?

All rights reserved ©

[coffeeviolinist]

As anyone who's read any of my posts will know, Akam is my favorite ship in the Detective Conan fandom. It's also one of my only ships, not because I have anything against other ships in general, but because it takes a lot for me to get invested in romantic pairings anyway.

(I do like Shinran, though, and Hirorei is cute as well, not to mention tragic because of how that story ended. But that's a post for another time.)

Anyway, since it's the month of Valentine's Day and all that, I figured I would write a post explaining why this ship appeals to me so much. Is it necessary? Probably not. Am I going to do it anyway? Yep.

The first reason is that I love a good enemies-to-lovers story. Two characters who hate each other (well, I don't think Akai hates Rei, but you get the point) slowly learning to tolerate each other's presence, becoming friends and then falling in love with each other sets the stage for some incredible angst and drama. And the fact that the biggest driving force behind Rei's hatred for Akai is based on a misunderstanding (that might not quite be the word I'm looking for, but whatever) just makes it even better. It's incredible how Akai is willing to bear the brunt of Rei's anger just so Rei doesn't have to live with the knowledge that he's the reason Scotch is dead. I honestly feel like the fact that he's kept it to himself for so long is proof that he cares for Rei. Akai could easily have told him the truth, and to be quite honest, he doesn't benefit at all by keeping it a secret from him. If anything, telling Rei what actually happened would probably be more beneficial since it might get him off his back. The only reason he's chosen to stay silent is to protect Rei.

Another reason is that Akai and Rei have a lot of potential to be able to help each other heal from everything they've been through in their lives. Their conflict is such an integral part of their stories that I feel like there has to be a resolution of some sort eventually, and when that happens, the idea of them becoming each other's support system is just perfection. Personally, I think they would understand each other better than anyone else in their lives. Not just because they've known each other for years, but because they've both experienced firsthand just how tragic life can be. Rei had to watch as all of his friends from the police academy died one by one and he couldn't do anything to save them. Akai's father disappeared from his life when he was fifteen and is most likely dead, and the woman he loved and was planning to have a future with was murdered by Gin. On top of that, there's almost no one else in their lives who would understand just how terrible the Organization is. Everyone else knows they're a threat, sure, but Akai and Rei were both inside the Organization for years (and in Rei's case, he's still there), and they know firsthand exactly how cruel they're willing to be in order to achieve their goals. And since they both had covers to maintain, they've almost definitely had to directly commit their fair share of immoral acts. The only other person who would understand the Organization as well as Akai and Rei is Sherry, but personally I'm not considering her as a potential partner for either of them.

Third, I just love the idea of them being each other's safe space. There's something incredible about two people as dark as Akai and Rei finding comfort in each other. Both of them are incredibly tragic people, and to be honest, neither of them is a good person, at least not in the way that most of us would consider someone to be a good person. They're not irredeemably evil like Gin, Vodka, and Rum, and ultimately everything they do is for the right cause, but they're both willing and able to do some pretty terrible things to achieve said goals. Neither of them is particularly affectionate, so the idea of the two of them finding security and warmth with each other becomes even more special. And as I mentioned earlier, they would understand each other better than anyone, so they would be able to provide genuine comfort for each other. It would be a perfect case of "We've both been through hell, and no, it's not okay, and our lives have been pretty terrible all things considered, but I've got you and you've got me, and we're going to figure this out together."

Also, they would walk Haro together, and honestly I think that's beautiful.

Well, thanks for letting me ramble, everyone :)

[dienamights]

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

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[shadyteacup]

Boundaries

Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader

Warnings: spoilers for the bsd ova(very slight mentions of Aya), fluff to angst.

Word count: 1120

Laughter could be heard coming from behind the door to your office. It was late in the evening, most of the ADA members had gone home. But you stayed back with a colleague, who had offered to help you with your backlog. He was more of a distraction, though. Not that you would ever point it out to him. You loved his company. Maybe you loved it a little too much.

“Kunikida-kun had practically adopted that child, had it not been for her to ask his hand in marriage.”, Dazai mused, making you snort and shake your head in surprise.

“She asked him to marry her? Why?”

Dazai grinned as he remembered what had happened, reciting it for you.

“Apparently, someone was into heroic men.”

You giggled, feeling bad for poor Kunikida.

“Do you know why he said no to her?”, Dazai asked, grasping onto your attention once more.

“Because she’s too young, of course!”

“Nope!”

You gasped, horrified at the thought of the blonde not minding the young girl's age.

“Well, she didn’t meet 31 of the 58 criteria he had set for his ideal spouse.”

“You have got to be kidding me! He said that?!”

“He did!”

You laughed on, weirded out by how Kunikida even considered the poor child as a potential partner, and horrified that she actually met 27 criteria.

Dazai watched you wrap your head around his partner’s actions with an intensity he never portrayed for others. Well, he did inspect everyone around him with fierce logic and sincerity, constantly assessing potential dangers, and guessing their next moves and motives, but he had never spent even a second to admire and appreciate someone's laugh. It was funny how he observed you, but never judged you. He judged almost everyone, every day. Nothing slipped by him. Yet, he never seemed to be able to judge you or guess your next moves. You always managed to leave him speechless with your unpredictability. It was a few of the things that drew him to you.

You were equally drawn to him, and he was aware of that. He had that effect on women, and you were no different. If you were any other woman, he would have led you on, had some fun, and then left. He hated commitment and often found himself bored after spending time with someone for a while longer than one night. It was all too easy, he thought. He could easily predict what was going on in his female companions' minds and hearts and could read their emotions like an open book. Everything became redundant and monotonous after a while, and he realized way too early on, that it was better to leave before it got that way. Because that way, he would leave with good memories, rather than memories of boredom and frustration. Leave when it was ripe, not when it starts to rot, he kept telling himself. But with you, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take a chance. He refused to get close to you even once because he didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t want to hurt you. So he ignored his feelings and pretended to be just a friend, to keep you safe. He had to push you away.

“Earth to Dazai .”

Dazai blinked at your words. You mentally applauded yourself for catching the Dazai Osamu spacing out. He was almost always on alert, he never let his walls down. This also alarmed you, though, as it could mean something was wrong.

“Ah, sorry about that!”, he grinned, already ready with a new funny incident to entertain you with.

“Is something wrong?”, you asked, worry all over your face.

“No, nothing's wrong, y/n kun! Anyways, do you know-“

“No, something is wrong, Dazai, you never space out. What is it?”, you pushed the subject further, hoping to help the brunet.

Dazai sighed. He knew you were a stubborn person who wouldn’t let go of the topic. He could sidestep your questions, but you were too smart and would see right through his act. He also knew you would push it further if he did so, and his constant denial would leave you hurt.

“I was just thinking, that is all.”

“Oh.”, you said, looking away.

Your people skills annoyed Dazai. Why couldn’t you just ignore his reactions and not be so smart? You now knew that something was wrong and that he didn’t trust you enough to tell you what it is.

“Can we pretend I didn’t space out, and go back to talking about how Kunikida-kun is the funniest human on this planet?”, Dazai pleaded, hoping to get you to give up on him.

When you nodded and said a quick, “Sure!”, he didn’t know how to feel. He wanted you to give up on him, but now that you had, it ate him up. You never gave up on him, always bombarding him with questions and not letting go until he found a way to give you a half-true answer, that satisfied you. He would then spend the next hour getting advice and multiple offers of help from you, each of which he would politely turn down. What he didn’t know, was that you saw through his half-lies every time, but insisted on helping him out anyway, hoping that some of it was true. At least that way, you could help him somehow.

Today, you hadn’t done any of that, but had given up on him, so easily. It left him speechless, once again.

“Dazai. I won’t ask again if you don’t want to tell me, but you’re spacing out again.”

Dazai merely frowned at your words. When did you start giving him space? You never respected his boundaries, and he liked that you cared enough to push past them.

“Look, I don’t know if you do therapy, but if you are ready to give it a try, I have a friend who’s a psychiatrist. Do you want her number?”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m good, y/n kun.”

You gave him a half-smile and looked at the time.

“Man, it’s so late. And I haven’t completed filling a single file.”, you said, sighing at the ominously large pile of papers on your desk.

“No thanks to you, idiot.”, you laughed as you pat Dazai’s head, before packing up your things.

“You going to take the train?”, you asked him once you were ready to leave, and he shook his head no, before waving you goodbye.

“You go on ahead, I have a few things to do.”, he said, hoping that you would offer to stay longer.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Dazai.”

His heart shattered into a million pieces. He had succeeded in pushing you away.

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