#and it matters a lot whether something has happened in the world one time

[tanadrin]

So when I see things like that EA guy's substack article about how AI energy use is fine and nobody should worry about it, and then I see another article about how coal use is ramping back up to meet AI demands for energy, and both are providing their statistics in the form of hard-to-parse visualizations ... this isn't really a question so much as complaint that someone has to be lying here, and I wish I knew who. It seems like it has to be the AI people, as they have the incentive, but ...

So I have a few of reactions to this.

It would be easier to debate the relative merits of two articles if you had linked me the other one, or at least given me some indication about what its title was, who it was by, and where to find it. Since you didn't, all we have is the bare claim that "coal use is ramping back up to meet AI demands for energy." Coal use for the United States as a whole has been steadily falling from 2007-2023 (the most recent year for which I can find data), and aside from small increases in 2010, 2013, and 2021 relative to the previous year, this decline has been almost completely monotonic.

Perhaps you mean this Register article, about how the lifetime of some coal powers plants is being extended because of data center power requirements? But that's not the claim you made. These are very different claims. "Coal use is declining more slowly" vs "coal use is increasing" no doubt sounds to some people like a small quibble, but I think it's really important, because this kind of sloppy equivocation between two substantively very distinct claims entails very distinct substantive consequences! The amount of power data centers have to consume to cause a coal power plant in one city to remain open longer than originally planned while other capacity is built vs the amount of power data centers have to consume to cause consumption of a resource whose usage has been falling steadily for sixteen years to reverse the trend of decline is a considerable difference. In short, if you saw the Register headline, and turned it into the claim presented in your anon ask, you are a liar misrepresenting the state of the world maliciously. If you simply heard the claim you present in your ask as-is, and repeated it, you were lied to.

If your response to the distinction between these two claims is "ah, what's the difference," and you continue to repeat the claim as you presented it in the anon ask, you are also a liar, and we can conclude that the reason you are confused about which claim is true is that you do not care to differentiate between true and false things. Someone like that would stumble through the world in a fog of confusion, not because the truth is hard (it sometimes is), but because they are uninterested in it.

The article I linked I found interesting because it provided very specific numbers, of the form you could check yourself if you doubted them. Again, you don't tell me which article you read that you felt provided a countervailing claim, is pretty light on numbers and pretty speculative on how future energy trends due to use of AI might look. Notably, a lot of claims about the future power needs of AI seem to be coming from companies promoting AI, and who therefore are publicly bullish about its widespread adoption, since they want to justify their investments in the technology to investors.

Andy Masley does not in any sense seem to be "an AI person"? He doesn't work for Google or Meta or OpenAI, or seem to have special background in this technology. My read of your ask seems to be that you think he has incentive to lie about the power consumption of AI technology, even though (again) he seems to provide a lot of numbers you could check yourself if you were so inclined.

You seem also to think that people who are opposed to the development of AI technology have no reason to misrepresent how costly the energy consumption of AI is. That is silly. People taken in by false claims have a strong incentive not to admit they were taken in by false claims! This might not be lying in the classical sense of "knowingly repeating something that is untrue," but I would not say that people who reflexively cleave to false claims because it would be embarrassing to admit they were wrong are being honest. Indeed, I think a huge amount of the misinformation that gets spread online and in-person is spread by people who are at best apathetic to the truth of the claims they are making, and who are more interested in winning individual arguments on a rhetorical basis.

If someone genuinely labors under confusion as to which of two sets of competing claims is correct, you can of course do the admittedly effortful task of trying to learn more, to see if you can achieve a little clarity on the subject. You don't have to look at two different articles, see that they seem to point in two different directions when it comes to a general conclusion about an issue ("Is AI very bad for the environment?") and throw your hands up helplessly and go "there is no way to know the truth here." I believe in you, anon.

That said, I don't think either the Register article nor the Masley article do point in two different directions. "People wildly exaggerate the energy and water consumption of AI" and "building or expanding a data center changes the local energy economy of a city, especially a smallish one like Omaha" are not even contradictory claims.

Unless, of course, you are not interested in building an accurate model of the world through acquiring information about it, but only in slotting each article you click on or social media post you read into one side or another in a rhetorical struggle, because you view everything through the lens of whether it will help you dunk on someone in an argument later. But those people are really annoying, so please don't be one of them.

[honourablejester]

I don’t know why that affected me so strongly, but I’m watching a youtube video on disasters on Lake Huron, and the first one involves a coal freighter that was lost in the White Hurricane of 1913 called the SS Argus. Everyone on the ship was lost. But it’s mentioned that the captain’s body washed up later, and was found without a life jacket. So they thought, based partly on testimony of another ship that thought they saw them go down, that it just happened too fast for him to have time to get his jacket. But then another body was found, that of the second cook, and she was found wearing the life jacket marked ‘captain’. And that’s …

It didn’t work. It didn’t save her. But it’s so very possible that he spent his last moments alive trying to save someone else, one of his crew, and they probably both knew that it wouldn’t work, that there wasn’t a lot of hope in a blizzard on the lakes in November, but he tried … he tried anyway. Even if it did nothing but maybe make her body easier for her family to find.

You know that Mr Rogers thing of ‘look for the helpers’? How many times has someone, facing the end, done something tiny and fragile and maybe hopeless just to try and help someone else? Whether it works or not. How many people went to their graves at least trying?

That has to say something about us. As a people. As monstrous as we sometimes (perhaps often) are, so many times we were also …

Whoever saves one life, saves the whole world.

And sometimes you can’t save one life, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes there’s no getting out of this for anyone, but … try anyway. Because it matters anyway.

And maybe no one will ever know. But maybe also some day more than a century down the line, maybe some idiot will be crying into her coffee because of what you died trying.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm sorry, I just thought—”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you—” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it—” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[cvnntagious]

♱ ⋮ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⸝⸝

all my fratboy!chris blurbs, fics, and wips : here

fuckboy!matt ver. here

⇢ SFW

✱ fratboy!chris who, of course, met you at a party his fraternity threw and instantly decided you were comin' up to his room at some point, even if it wasn't gonna happen that night

" y'look good "

" me? "

" yeah, you— wa's y'name? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's known all too well by girls at boston university, though, despite contrary belief, he doesn't actually entertain most of them... guess you got lucky?

✱ fratboy!chris who's BU's resident dealer, known by every fiend on campus and more

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't fuck with relationship labels whatsoever

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't mess with anyone else, and doesn't want you to either, even though you guys aren't really 'dating'

✱ fratboy!chris who has no problem letting everyone know you're his with pride

✱ fratboy!chris who would rather focus on his lacrosse career than "some shitty college romances", or at least that's how he explains it to you

" and why are you telling me this? "

" jus' thought y'should know... i'on want you gettin' any funny ideas about what we got goin' on here "

✱ fratboy!chris who avoids any conversations about the future, or anything that requires him to even think about committing

✱ fratboy!chris who constantly needs you with him, whether he's just lounging around, at practice/games, or out making moves. ironic, isn't it?

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't call you anything but mama, not even ma, no matter the occasion

" y'see how crazy you're bein' right now? mama, m'jus sittin' here, see? can't stand when y'do allat whinin' shit "

" don't call me mama right now, chris, i'm done with all your fake nonchalant ass games "

✱ fratboy!chris who, even with being admired for his outgoing and charming personality, has such a rotten temper, especially when things don't go his way

✱ fratboy!chris who always says what's on his mind - to you, his friends, random people, anyone - even if it's completely unnecessary

✱ fratboy!chris who absolutely relishes in the respect he has from not only his peers, but the staff as well. humble's simply not a word in his world

⇢ NSFW

✱ fratboy!chris who's big and knows how to use it

✱ fratboy!chris who favors doggy, but can also get down with some rough missionary

" nah, s'okay mama... we'll switch it up tonight, don't worry "

✱ fratboy!chris who likes giving, but loves receiving. the image of your lips wrapped around his length is what helps him to sleep at night

✱ fratboy!chris who's a huge hair puller and thigh slapper (as well as occasional cheek squeezer)

✱ fratboy!chris who will take any opportunity he possibly can to either roll up or puff his joints while you use him

✱ fratboy!chris who makes sure to leave marks. usually where only you two can see, but if he feels like a guy's paying too much attention to you, he'll mark you on your neck or something for him to see

" chris, it's so obvious. how am i even gonna cover this up? "

" don't cover it. i'd like to see m'try an' get in your pants again when he sees allat "

" he literally asked for the material in our class..? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's almost always down for trying something new, but isn't usually one to suggest it

✱ fratboy!chris who loves when you praise him, even if it's unintentional. simple things like "so big," or "so good," really get him going

" yeah, s'good? y'wan more of that good shit? "

✱ fratboy!chris who, to no surprise, is horrible at aftercare.

a/n : i fear this took a lot longer than i thought it would to make... but i'll be making at least one of these for each of my au's since a) i'm unmotivated/don't have time to actually write, and b) want to develop the characters (and some of their pairings) further

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[kamaluhkhan]

anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

[adascore]

The Winner Takes It All

pairings: alexia putellas x england!reader / engwnt x captain!reader / aitana bonmati x england!reader / jenni hermoso x alexia putellas

warnings: swearing. angst. jealousy. world cup loss for england. crying. strong language.

author’s note: right when everything seems to finally fall into place, the world is witness to the fall of an all-time great.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

August, 2023 - Sydney, Australia

''And Y/N Y/L puts England into the World Cup final for the first time in their history! Captain Fantastic!''

Even 4 days later, the echoes of their semifinal win against the Australian team continued to send shivers down her spine. The heartbreak of the previous World Cup defeats was still present within her, but the captain felt empowered and ready to face anyone that would be sent her way.

The looks on the girls' faces as she had put another ball into the back of the net were ingrained in her mind, the sheer happiness with which they ran to her is something she will not forget any time soon.

They would play the final against Spain, a final they must absolutely win- not only for the title, but for the dignity and integrity of the game.

Y/N had been supportive of the 15 Spanish players that had taken a stance against the treatment the team had received from their coach and federation. She didn't know any of them on a personal level, but the England player has always been one of the biggest advocates of the women's game, so she wanted everyone to know on which side she stood.

Some of the girls had reached out, thanking her for lifting them up and shedding more light on the situation. However, none of those girls would be playing against her in the final as they did not receive a call-up.

She found it difficult to decipher whether most of the Spanish players liked her or not. A lot of them were from the Barcelona team and well… she did not have the best history with them when she wore the Lyon shirt.

There wasn't any hostility, but the striker had stopped them from winning several more trophies, so she figured they would gladly maximize any chance to take one away from her as well.

Unlike last year's Champions League final, this one wasn't being dubbed as ''Putellas vs. Y/L'', instead Alexia's name had been replaced with Aitana's.

''What's it going to take to win against a very in-form Spain tomorrow?'' One of the reporters asked the England captain.

''Goals.'' Y/N answered, matter-of-fact, having the media room chuckling.

She had been relieved to not have to share the press conference with the Spanish team, having to act cordially with Vilda was not on her agenda.

It was the morning of the final when she first encountered the Spaniards, both squads being allowed to do their pitch inspections. Their opponents were already spread out on the pitch when the English side entered the stadium, decked in black suits while the Lionesses wore their light blue tracksuits. 

Keira and Lucy clung to their Barcelona teammates, delighted to see them. Alessia, Ella and Mary walked over to Ona, while the remaining Brits stayed in their own smaller groups.

Y/N was the last player to make her way onto the grass, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. She entered with Arjan, in an engaged conversation with the Dutchman about something that had happened during training.

As if there was an AirTag on the England captain, Alexia's eyes immediately found her from where she was standing with Lucy, Jenni and Laia. She immediately noted the confidence and aura that was radiating off of the younger woman, seemingly not bothered about the major final that would be happening that night.

Alexia observed how she gave the assistant coach a pat on the arm before inspecting the stadium on her own, walking on the sidelines without anyone by her side.

The Catalan's attention was solely on the Brit, long forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with her teammates.

Should I? No, I shouldn't bother her, she seems content on her own. I kinda want to talk to her, though. Alexia's thoughts were clouded with the dilemma on whether to approach Y/N or not, finding it a great opportunity to see where they currently stood with one another.

She knew there was a chance it could lead to an awkward encounter again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she at least needed to try. However, another part of her held back, afraid of rejection.

Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet towards the striker. ''Sorry, just one minute.'' Alexia excused herself from their small huddle, biting the bullet.

Lucy, before anyone else, noticed where she was headed. ''Ale, I wouldn't do that- oh, she can't hear me, anyway.'' The defender brushed her own warning off, realizing it had no use as the skipper was already too far.

''Why shouldn't she talk to her?'' Laia inquired, confused about Lucy's attempt to stop her friend.

''Y/N has this thing where she likes to be on her own while doing the pitch inspections, I don't know where it came from, but she doesn't like to be bothered.'' The Brit explained to them.

The trio, lacking any subtlety, stared as Alexia walked to the sidelines, the unaware England captain clearly her target. ''For an introvert she sure likes to put herself in uncomfortable situations.'' Jenni bluntly remarked, soliciting chuckles from Laia and Lucy.

''Nah, she'll be fine.'' The Spanish defender said, choosing to be optimistic about it.

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia was feeling anything but fine as she got closer to Y/N with each step she took. She'd faintly heard Lucy calling out for her, but she'd pressed on, determined to make this work.

''Hey,'' Alexia greeted Y/N, her voice coming out smaller than she would have wanted.

The striker turned to her, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. ''Oh, hey.'' She replied, her tone cautious yet not unfriendly.

''How are you?'' The midfielder asked, internally cursing at herself for startling her.

Y/N nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. ''Good, how are you?''

''Me too, thanks,'' Alexia's voice was steadier now, feeling the tension slightly dissipate between them, ''I'm excited for tonight.''

The younger woman nodded in understanding, her expression softening. ''Same, will be tough.''

There was a moment of awkward silence, neither quite sure how to proceed further. Y/N expectantly looked at Alexia, wishing for the midfielder to either extend the conversation or go back to her original conversation on the other side of the field.

''Uh, that was a nice goal against Australia, by the way. Really good.'' Alexia quickly offered, breaking the silence.

Y/n chuckled at the mention of her goal, her eyes twinkling. ''Thank you,'' she said, ''it's great to see you back with Spain.'' The sincerity was evident in her voice, almost catching the Spanish skipper off guard.

''Thank you, it's nice to be here with the team.'' 

''How's your knee doing?'' Y/N briefly glanced down to her competitor's leg, curious about the status. 

Alexia hesitantly nodded. ''A lot better. Not a total 100%, but the recovery is going well.'' 

''That's great, I'm happy for you.'' 

The Spaniard smiled, a warm feeling embracing her. ''Thank you.'' 

A silence fell over them again, though it might have been the least awkward one so far out of all the interactions they've had. 

''Uh, I have to get back to my, uh, thing,'' Y/N held up her earphones that were connected to her phone, ''but, uh, good luck tonight.'' 

''Yeah, sorry, uh, you too.'' Alexia stumbled, nervously taking a step back and giving the Brit an uneasy smile. 

Y/N gave her a quick nod before turning away, slipping her earphones back in and walking on the sidelines of the pitch. She was the only person on the pitch who was actually taking the inspection in ''pitch inspection'' seriously as she observed the grass while strolling around the stadium. 

Alexia stood there for a moment, watching her go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of something she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back to her teammates.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as her club captain rejoined the group. ''You seemed to get more out of her than I usually do.'' 

Alexia shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. ''Just catching up.'' 

''Catching up… nice.'' Jenni recited her words, a skeptical look in her eyes. 

''Yes, very nice,'' the Barcelona captain dropped her smile, ''anyway- where were we?'' 

So the winner takes it all, the loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain? 

The stadium was alive with cheers and celebrations, but for Y/N, the echoes of disappointment drowned out the jubilant sounds. She stood on the pitch, staring blankly at the sea of happy faces, her mind replaying the moments that led to England's defeat against the Spanish.

In the midst of the celebrations for the opposing team, Y/N's gaze lingered on the blue jerseys scattered around the pitch, a lot of them on the ground now.

Her feet were nailed to the ground, unable to move herself towards her team and help them up like the leader she is.

However, she could do nothing but stare at their agony.

She failed.

She had fucking failed.

There had been many opportunities for her to equalize the score, yet she hadn't been clinical enough. Shots that usually would find the back of the net, went wide or were blocked by a defender or by Coll. 

A few minutes passed as she finally managed to force herself towards the other players, almost walking in shame to her teammates.

Ella and Alessia were the first two she encountered, both girls with tears in their eyes, a drastic contrast to their usual demeanor.

''Come here, my girls.'' Y/N motioned for them to walk into her arms, which they immediately did, seeking comfort in their captain.

Their heads rested on either sides of her shoulders, both sniffling in her neck as she felt their tears staining her kit. She caressed their backs, while observing how their other teammates were being consoled.

Y/N was the one to pull away first, silently signaling she would go up to the remaining members of their squad.

She passed Lucy, who was embraced by Mariona. The striker briefly ruffled the defender's head, while muttering a congratulations to the Barcelona player.

A bit further down the pitch, she saw Mary being helped up by a bunch of teammates, the Manchester United goalkeeper in complete despair.

But before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

''Hey, Y/N.''

Sarina appeared in front of her, her expression somber yet supportive.

She gave the coach a sad smile as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her player. ''You did very well.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N whispered back, the disappointment audible.

''Don't apologize, I'm very proud of you,'' the older woman reassured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

The coach pulled her back, her hands resting on her shoulders. ''You can let go, you know? The match is done, don't keep everything inside.'' Sarina softly mumbled, lightly concerned over the captain's stoic face and the visible tremor in her hands.

Y/N simply nodded, not saying anything further. Despite the encouragement, she remained outwardly composed. Though, Sarina could see the raw emotion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Sarina offered one last glimmer of solace before reluctantly stepping back, leaving the captain to herself.

Y/N's original destination had been Mary, though by the time her conversation with her coach had finished, the goalkeeper was nowhere in sight.

''Good match, you still give me trouble after all these years.'' Irene interjected her thoughts, her stuck-out hand appearing before her.

The Brit chuckled at her words, shaking her hand. ''Thanks, and congrats. You've had a good tournament.''

''Thank you, Y/L. You too.''

They shared a quick hug before going their own ways again, the respect from their Lyon-PSG days never having withered away.

As she traversed the pitch, she encountered various teammates, each bearing the weight of defeat in their own way. With a comforting touch on the shoulder, a shared look of understanding or a warm embrace, she conveyed her support without needing to utter a single word.

Among the Spanish players, there were nods of acknowledgment and brief exchanges of congratulations.

While she wasn't particularly close with any of them compared to her teammates, her facial expression and overall posture didn't invite further interaction. She managed to convey her respect and acknowledgment of their achievement without seeking deeper engagement.

She also made her way to the three officials in the center of the pitch, extending her hand towards them.

Meanwhile, the other captain on the pitch observed her from afar, her eyes tracing the familiar figure moving through the post-match formalities.

Alexia made note of the way Y/N's shoulders were tense, and how her movements were almost robotic.

As she further analyzed her, a strange and unfamiliar feeling settled inside her. It was a sensation she couldn't quite put into words, a mixture of empathy, sadness, and a strange sense of connection.

She had never experienced such intense empathy for an opponent, especially not in the aftermath of a major final victory. Typically, her focus would be on celebrating with her teammates and reveling in the joy of winning. But now, she found herself feeling more sorrow for Y/N's defeat than happiness for her own success.

Memories of the previous year's Champions League final flooded Alexia's mind, where she had been in her position, grappling with the crushing weight of failure as the leader of her team. She saw a reflection of herself in the English striker, recognizing the familiar struggle of trying to mask one's emotions in the aftermath of defeat.

Recalling the moment when Y/N had offered her comfort and admiration after that match, Alexia felt a sudden urge to reciprocate. The Brit's words had given her a lot of strength when she lost, and now, she wanted to do the same. With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

Alexia's expression softened with sympathy and understanding as she made it to the center of the field. ''Y/N,'' she said gently, her arm instinctively reaching out to wrap around the Brit's shoulders, ''I know it's not the result you wanted, but you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You were one of the best this World Cup.''

Y/N managed a tight-lipped smile, though her eyes betrayed the lingering disappointment. ''Thanks,'' she replied, her tone tinged with bitterness, ''it's good to see you back on the field. Even if it's only for 10 minutes.''

The Spaniard chose to ignore the passive-aggressive comment, recognizing it as a product of frustration rather than genuine malice. ''Thank you,'' she replied calmly, ''it was a great battle today.''

The England captain gave a curt nod, subtly attempting to shrug off Alexia's comforting embrace. But the Catalan held tight, refusing to let her go.

''Seriously, Y/N, you were amazing these few weeks,'' Alexia persisted, her voice gentle yet firm, ''you led your team to this moment.'' She attempted again to console her rival, or former rival… friend? It wasn't clear. It had never been clear. 

''I appreciate it,'' Y/N responded, her tone softening slightly, ''you guys worked hard, considering the circumstances. Congrats, enjoy it.''

With a gentle yet deliberate movement, Y/N extricated herself from the embrace, offering a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was acutely aware of the cameras capturing every moment of their interaction, and the potential backlash she might face for her indifference. But in that moment, consumed by the sting of defeat, she couldn't bring herself to care one bit.

Alexia watched her for a few seconds, feeling something that felt equivalent to a slap in the face. She perfectly understood Y/N's pain, and could imagine what the England captain was thinking in her head. But she'd only meant well by her words, and affection.

She didn't stare too long at her departing figure, knowing how miserable it might look to other people. The midfielder resumed her small tour of shaking hands with all the opponents, while also congratulating her own teammates.

It irritated her how effortlessly the striker's indifference had dampened her spirits. Alexia couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness, resentful of the power Y/N seemed to hold over the Spanish captain's emotions without even remotely trying.

Why is she allowing it to sour her mood?

''Y/N.'' She heard her name being called somewhere in the dressing room, turning around without knowing who to even look for.

Keira appeared in front of her, already showered and changed into something clean. ''Hey, don't feel obligated to do this, but I kinda need a favor from you…'' The Barcelona midfielder looked a bit flushed speaking to the captain.

Y/N slowly nodded, not sure where this was heading.

''Uh, Aitana- you know Aitana, right?'' She quickly asked, suddenly feeling insecure about the player's knowledge of her teammate.

The captain snorted, finding the question a bit ridiculous considering they just played a final against her. ''Yeah, I know her.''

Keira nodded, cringing at herself for even asking. ''Right, so you're kind of like, one of her idols, and she would really love for you two to swap kits.''

Y/N softly smiled at the sweet gesture, while also feeling immensely honored by the fact that Aitana considers her somewhat of a role model. ''Uh, yeah, that's fine. Do you know where she is?''

''She's standing outside the dressing room right now.'' Keira sheepishly grinned.

''Of course she is,'' the older player sighed with affection, ''uh, I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll go outside, okay? I want to wash this entire day away.'' She grimaced.

''Alright, I'll tell her,'' Keira said before briefly stopping the striker from walking to the shower area, ''thank you.'' She sincerely said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

''Ah, don't mention it.'' Y/N brushed it off, squeezing the midfielder's arm.

It took her about 20 minutes to actually make it outside the changing room. Had she wasted time on purpose to keep the person who had just robbed her of a World Cup title waiting for her? No one could tell.

''Hey, congrats again.'' Y/N greeted the Spaniard, who looked incredibly nervous.

Aitana smiled brightly, carefully holding her own shirt in her hands. ''Thank you. Congrats on your tournament, you played great the entire time.''

''Thanks. Here you go.'' The England captain handed her shirt over, the Barcelona player doing the same.

''Gracias,'' Aitana thanked her, looking like a kid at Christmas, ''you've been my idol for a long time, and it's amazing to play these kinds of matches against you. You're an amazing player.'' She continued her complimenting, not able to stop herself from praising her.

Y/N awkwardly accepted her words, she'd never been the best at accepting such loving compliments, especially when they came from fellow players. ''That means a lot, thank you. But you're like the best player in the world right now, I'm much more honored, believe me,'' Y/N chuckled, making Aitana blush, ''also congrats on the Champions League, you were seriously one of the best players the entire tournament, and also in the Spanish League. I've been a big fan of you since Budapest.''

Aitana looked overwhelmed to say the least. The Champions League final in Budapest had taken place in 2019, meaning the Lyon striker had been a fan of hers for over 4 years.

''No, thank you so much, but you're the best, always.'' The Spaniard brushed it off, genuinely not believing there was a better player than Y/N in women's football.

The Brit grinned at the reply. ''Well, I can't wait to see you lift the Ballon d'Or this year.'' She winked.

''I- I don't know about that.'' Aitana stammered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Y/N laughed softly, a warmth in her face that made the midfielder flustered. ''Trust me, you should pick out an outfit already,'' she teased, ''but, seriously, keep doing what you're doing right now, players like you are really rare, and all of us are so blessed to watch you play right now.'' She encouraged, her tone genuine.

''Thank you, that is very kind.'' Aitana responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

''You're very welcome.''

''Did you get it?'' Ona asked Aitana as soon as the midfielder entered the dressing room.

The Catalan held up the shirt to her friend, proudly showing off the emblazoned ''Y/L'' on the back of it. ''I had to wait 20 minutes.'' She sighed, sitting down in her cubby.

''She probably made you wait on purpose.'' Mariona remarked, taking a sip of her water.

''No, she was very kind.'' Aitana brushed the comment off with a shake of her head. The Barcelona star neatly folded the jersey on her lap, delicately brushing away the remaining stains of grass and dirt.

''Ale, you're not listening to me.'' Jenni nudged the captain, an offended look on her face as her friend didn't seem to be paying much attention to her rambling.

''Huh, what?'' Alexia stuttered, caught off guard, looking to her side.

A playful eye roll accompanied a light slap on the arm. ''Am I boring you?''

''No, no, please continue,'' the captain insisted, realizing she had drifted off again. She forced herself to listen attentively, though her mind kept drifting back to the jersey exchange between Aitana and Y/N.

''Okay, what is it? You're clearly not focused on me right now.'' The midfielder sighed, observing her friend's distracted gaze.

Shaking her head, Alexia tried to dismiss her thoughts. ''No, continue, I'm sorry- nothing on my mind.''

Jenni's eyes followed the captain's gaze to the blue England jersey on Aitana's lap. She looked back at her teammate, noticing her fixated expression. ''You're not telling me that even a damn shirt with her name on it bothers you.''

''What do you mean?'' Alexia asked, embarrassed as she was called out.

Jenni's eyes shot up in judgment. ''I get that the comparisons weren't nice while they were happening, but letting her bother you this much is crazy, Ale.''

''She doesn't bother me.'' Alexia retorted immediately.

A snicker followed. ''Yeah, and I'm Jesus.'' She responded, sarcastically.

''Just forget about it.'' Alexia started, but Jenni interjected.

''Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You don't want to talk about it?'' The Spaniard apologized, realizing her friend wasn't enjoying the teasing.

''No, I do. Just… not here, I don't need the whole room to know about it.'' Alexia whispered, eyes darting around. 

Jenni nodded, sending her friend's discomfort with the others. ''Alright, should we go to the bathroom?'' She suggested, trying to make it seem as subtle as possible.

The captain nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. ''Yeah,'' she smiled, ''thanks.'' She softly muttered as they made their way outside.

As they stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom, Alexia let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Jenni's understanding. Leaning against the sink, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jenni stood beside her, offering a reassuring smile. ''You okay?''

The Ballon d'Or winner hesitated for a moment before responding. ''Yeah, just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but the shirt does make me upset.''

The Tigres player slowly nodded, trying to understand her point. ''Okay… and do you know why?''

She remained silent for a few moments, almost too full of shame over the answer- the true answer to that question. ''I think- you know, we've never exchanged shirts… and she does it with so many other people on our team.''

Jenni reached out, gently squeezing her friend's shoulder. ''It's not just the shirt, is it?''

She knew her friend too well to think this was all about a stupid football jersey- there was more, and Jenni wanted to know what that entailed.

Alexia remained quiet, glancing down at the floor.

''Ale, I'm not dumb. I see what she does to you.''

''She doesn't do anything-''

''Shut up,'' Jenni shook her head, cutting her off, ''I want to listen to you, and help you, but you have to start being honest to yourself, Putellas.''

Alexia's facade crumbled under Jenni's persistent gaze, her defenses weakening with each passing moment. She let out a resigned sigh, knowing she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"She… she is so freaking annoying. You have no idea, Jenni. She makes my blood boil. Every single time we're on the pitch together, it's like she knows exactly how to get under my skin. It's the way she plays, the way she talks, the way she looks at me like she's already won. And I know it's all part of the game, but fuck, it's so fucking annoying,"

Jenni leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and nodded for her to continue.

''But then, the match is over, and all I want is for her to come up to me and ask me for a freaking shirt swap. It's so ridiculous, I know. But it's always someone else that she goes to. First it was Patri, in Turin. Then, at the friendly last year, I thought she was going to ask me, but no, she asked me to give my jersey to a fucking teammate of hers. And now Aitana has one as well? It's so fucking stupid. She can exchange with Aitana, but not with me?'' 

Alexia's frustration was palpable as she continued to vent. "And the worst part is, I don't even know where we fucking stand with each other. Like, in Turin, she was so nice and she comforted me when the match was done, and she was, yeah, just so nice. But today, it was like she wanted nothing to do with me, and I get it, it's a big final to lose, but still! I can't stand it. I want to be mad at her, but she makes it impossible.'' 

Jenni watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Ale, maybe she doesn't realize how much it bothers you." 

Alexia threw her hands up, a bitter laugh escaping. ''She knows exactly what she's doing. She does this on purpose, it's like she gets some kind of twisted pleasure out of it.'' 

Her friend raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. ''Or maybe she doesn't know either. You're giving her too much power, Ale.'' 

The captain shook her head. ''It doesn't feel like that.'' 

''What does it feel like?'' Jenni asked. 

''Like she's playing mind games with me.'' 

Jenni remained silent, having Alexia almost hanging her head in shame. ''It's fucking stupid.'' She cursed under her breath. 

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''First off, it's not stupid, your feelings are valid,'' Jenni reassured her, ''and secondly… I have never seen you like this, and it kind of worries me, Ale.'' 

Alexia let out a heavy sigh. ''Sorry, you don't need to worry. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like an idiot for caring this much about a shirt.'' 

''You're not an idiot,'' Jenni denied with a smile, ''you want her to acknowledge you. It's not a crime, she's a great player, it's normal.'' 

Her younger teammate nodded, though not convinced. 

Jenni sighed, stepping closer to her friend. ''Why don't you take the first step? Ask her for a swap yourself.'' 

''Ask her myself?'' Alexia laughed mockingly. 

''What's the worst that can happen? She says no? At least you'd have your answer.'' She pointed out. 

''I don't think I can…'' Alexia muttered in response, looking down at the bathroom floor.

''Why not?'' Jenni pressed gently.

Alexia hesitated, her words coming out in a rush. ''Wha- what if she, you know, enjoys that I want her- her shirt,'' she quickly corrected herself, ''I honestly think she would enjoy rejecting me.''

''Ale,'' Jenni broke the silence in the room, ''do you… do you like her?''

Alexia's eyes shot to Jenni's before darting away again. ''What?'' She stammered, caught off guard by the question. 

''I know how you act when you like someone,'' Jenni raised an eyebrow.

She adamantly shook her head in response. ''No. What the hell.''

Jenni held up her hands, a faint smile playing on her lips.. ''Hey, I wouldn't judge you. She's good-looking, she plays amazing football, has a nice accent.'' 

''No, I don't like her.'' She insisted, though her conviction sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

The older midfielder snickered at the weak reply, her amusement evident. 

''Jenni, I don't like her. That's insane.'' Alexia continued protesting. 

''Ale, you're kinda obsessed with her.'' Her friend pointed out. 

'' I am not obsessed wi-''

''How many hours of footage have you dedicated to studying her before every match you play against her?'' Jenni interrupted her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Alexia rolled her eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, but she stayed silent. 

''See. Absolutely obsessed. You probably know her stats better than she does.'' Her fellow midfielder continued, her teasing tone relentless. 

''I am not crazy. I'm just strategically analyzing the opponent.'' Alexia defended herself, though her words faltered slightly. 

Jenni raised an eyebrow. ''You know there are 10 other players on the pitch, right?''

Alexia huffed in exasperation. ''Oh, come on. There is nothing to like about her.'' She reacted defensively.

Jenni smirked at her words. ''Not her good looks, her intelligence, her advocacy, her football skills, her sexy accent, her knowing all those different languages, her-''

''Shut up.'' Alexia interjected Jenni's teasing, her cheeks completely burned up. 

Jenni chuckled, knowing she had hit a nerve. ''Okay, okay, I'll stop. You're obviously still in the denial stage.''

Alexia huffed loudly. ''You're delusional.'' 

''Yeah,'' the older woman sarcastically said, ''after we've had this whole conversation, I am the delusional one, Ale.'' Jenni rolled her eyes. 

The Barcelona captain crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. "You're making this much bigger than it actually is.'' 

"Because it is a big deal," Jenni immediately retorted, ''you're clearly affected by this, and this goes way beyond whatever rivalry you two have going on.'' 

Alexia sighed, realizing her mask was slipping and her friend had her completely figured out. 

Jenni silently stared at her friend for a few moments, wondering how long these thoughts had been brewing inside her mind. She pulled the younger woman into an embrace, gently caressing her back. 

''It's okay to have these feelings, Ale. It really is. But don't bottle them up the way you have been doing, don't ignore them. That's not healthy.'' 

Alexia let her head rest on Jenni's shoulder, the truth of her words sinking in. ''I just hate feeling like this,'' she admitted, ''I don't even know what I want from her.'' 

Jenni nodded sympathetically, continuing her caressing. ''I understand that,'' she kissed the side of her head, ''I don't know when you'll see her again, but maybe, like, ask her for a shirt swap yourself? I know you think it's stupid, but you'll get a better understanding of where you stand with her.'' 

Alexia shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

''You can,'' her teammate assured her, ''I really believe you've got it all wrong. I think she'd happily exchange kits with you.'' 

''Maybe… yeah, maybe you're right.'' She mumbled in response. 

Jenni pulled her back, not looking into her eyes. ''Just try, please. And if she doesn't want to? Guess what? There are thousands of other people who would gladly receive your shirt.'' 

Her friend's encouragement caused a smile to finally appear on Alexia's face, something Jenni was happy to see. ''Thanks, I really appreciate it.'' 

"Anytime," Jenni replied, giving her a supportive pat on the back, ''now let's get out of here, and fucking celebrate, alright?'' 

Alexia nodded, feeling much lighter than when they'd first walked into the bathroom. ''Yeah, let's go.'' 

''Let's go, chica!'' 

suggestions/ideas/opinions for or about the series are always welcome in my inbox!

[rainerioun]

WHAT'S HAPPENING IN 2025? | pick a card.

— It's been quite a while since I’ve shared a reading, and I want to apologize for that. I’ve been dealing with a lack of motivation and a busy schedule, but I’m feeling better now and eager to share more! I’m still working on a "pick a card" reading that someone requested—it’s on the way. Wishing you all a wonderful 2025, thank you!

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

What's Happening In 2025? Five of Swords, Ten of Swords, Six of Pentacles [Reversed].

This new year will teach you what it feels like to face disappointment, but also how to accept it, grow from it, and pursue something better. You may have stepped into 2025 already carrying a sense of failure or conflict in some way. This year is all about focusing on yourself and finding ways to truly support your well-being—not out of obligation, but because you want to. Let go of one-sided dynamics; there’s no need to hold onto imbalances, even if they seem harmless right now. This is your time to reclaim balance and prioritize what you deserve.

Extra! - The Garden and the Gate : Abundant Prosperity, Staying Safe. - Alchemist : Transformation of base motives and goals into golden wisdom. - Saboteur : Highlights your fear of self-empowerment and the changes it would bring into your life.

Every year has felt the same because of your fear of the unknown. What would really happen if you made even a small change? You have the resources—and perhaps even the desire—to explore and follow the path meant for you, but you’ve grown too comfortable where you are. Don’t hold yourself back. It’s time to shift your motives and reignite your drive. That’s how you’ll achieve your true goals. The time for change is now—let go of self-sabotaging tendencies.

PILE TWO

What's Happening In 2025? Ace of Swords [Reversed], King of Wands, Ten of Cups.

In 2025, it's time to step into a "king role" and take charge of your life. Embrace leadership, not just in practical matters but in shaping the bigger picture of your journey. You’ll have a greater purpose to work toward, which might shake things up or even draw judgment from others. But remember, this process is about achieving clarity—both within yourself and in your external world.

When these challenges come your way, rise to the occasion with confidence and boldness. By doing so, you'll attract more stable, lasting relationships—both romantic and platonic—that align with this new phase of your life. Everything will begin to fall into place.

For some, existing relationships may deepen and progress to the next level. For others, new opportunities to connect with the right person may arise. Ultimately, this year is about building a foundation of stability and security in every area of your life.

Extra! - Hostilities : Defenses Up, Aggressive Energy. - The World : Expansion, Opening Up. - The Temple Path : Spiritual Purpose and Support. - Shape-Shifter : Skill at navigating through different levels of consciousness. Ability to see the potential in everything. - Priest : Facilitates spiritual commitments. Serves as a channel for spiritual energy.

A lot of cards came out for this message, reinforcing the idea of standing in your power and holding your ground when faced with challenges or questions. This isn’t the time to fall into people-pleasing, stay true to yourself and your values.

There’s a sense of expansion—this could manifest in your career, relationships, online presence, or general resources. However, a key message I heard is that your location might change. You could be moving to a new place, possibly even returning to your roots or closer to where you or your family originally come from. This shift will bring growth and help ground you in the process.

Everything unfolding now is part of a greater journey. To grow stronger, pay attention to life’s lessons. Whether you lean toward spirituality, religion, or simply what brings you joy, embrace what uplifts you this year. This could also mean leaning on your support system—those people whose wisdom and presence help guide you forward. Let their insights become a part of your strength.

PILE THREE

SENSITIVE TOPICS BELOW ! ↴

What's Happening In 2025? Queen of Swords, Nine of Swords [Reversed], The Devil.

Take this as an opportunity to care for yourself, to treat yourself with love and compassion, as well as believe in the process.

You may need to confront some inner struggles—fear, worry, or unresolved pain—but know that facing these emotions is part of healing. It's crucial to remember that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, or shame. On the contrary, it is an act of courage. Reaching out for support, whether from professionals, loved ones, or trusted resources, can provide clarity and guidance. Honest communication and a willingness to face the truth—however difficult—are vital steps in your journey.

At times, you may feel held back by attachment to an older version of yourself or by habits that no longer serve you. Letting go of this attachment is not easy, but it is necessary. You should not depend on the past or allow it to dictate your future. Progress comes when you take the steps yourself; no one else can do it for you. With effort and perseverance, you will leave behind desperation, rediscover your strength, and find a sense of calm and fulfillment within. Trust in your ability to move forward.

Extra! - Patience : Peaceful Presence, Letting Go of Desperation. - Man Holding A Heart : Male Dealing with Family, Love, or Emotions. - Queen : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. - Child — Magical : Seeing the potential sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible.

Again, you will find peace—trust in yourself and your ability to get there. Along this journey, a masculine figure in your life, whether romantic or not, may play a significant role in supporting and guiding you. This could be someone new entering your life or someone you already know who steps up.

If this doesn’t resonate, it could reflect your own growth—embracing both emotional and physical strength while balancing qualities often labeled as masculine or feminine. (Stereotypes aside, it’s about finding harmony within yourself.)

As you heal and learn to love yourself fully, this transformation will radiate outward, inspiring and uplifting those around you. I love you!

[illyabata]

diluc x subby f!reader

content: nsfw but not explicit/descriptive writing (lots of talk of dynamics and preferences i think diluc would have for intimacy), vanilla diluc and reader at first, ur married, dom/sub dynamics, soft dom/service top diluc, talk of kids at the end, bratty reader, hint of breeding kink at the end as well if you squint and if you want to interpret it that way. diluc is really just an upstanding gentleman i love him very much and want to marry a man like him someday

diluc is one character i feel strongly to be a taker of zero risks with intimacy—neither would he enjoy such risks if he were to partake. to him, the act of sex is reverent, the purest display of love between him and his partner. never should that act be tainted by fear of discovery, discomfort, or shame.

diluc would want his lover to feel completely safe and secure during such vulnerable moments. i think he’s generally very “vanilla”, and that’s not a bad thing at all. he just enjoys making you feel loved in the most intimate way, and to him, that way is in the setting of a bedroom, lights dimmed, without the company of any other save for his beloved. his favorite position is missionary, of course it is—he can see you, see your face, kiss you silly, all while protecting you from the world. he’s the perfect husband for a pillow princess, truly—just lay down and let him do all the work, sweetheart. he’d be happy to indulge in anything new you suggest, but i feel that a relationship with diluc is steady, conservative, and gently paced, as he is so very much a gentleman. should you desire to explore more, he would never stop you, but his own desires tend to remain consistent. if you are content, he is content.

diluc’s honor and gentlemanly nature will always take precedence over any sexual desire he may harbor for you, however much he may feel. he is simply an honorable man. therefore i feel strongly that he cannot even will himself to think of doing anything promiscuous with you in any sort of public setting, no matter how hidden it may be, and no matter how much he may want you, or how much you want him. it’s not comfortable, and it’s not appropriate—it’s just not his jam. i think that is probably his only hard ‘no’ when it comes to things you may ask for. he will take you home swiftly if he is able, or you will both simply endure the yearning until night falls.

i think the furthest he’d stray into kinky territory is dom/sub dynamics (this is surprising to no one). really anything where he gets to be the protector, the guiding hand, the gentle touch with a firm grip—he’s the definition of a soft dom. his demeanor is too gentle, his heart too bleedy, his soul too pure, to do anything other than love you sweetly unless you should explicitly ask for something else.

for example, if you ask him to be meaner, rougher, or crueler, i honestly think he’d be quite perplexed, and it would take him some time to adjust to the idea. that’s definitely not something to spring on him in the moment. it goes against his nature, to be honest, because he could never imagine bringing harm or even risk of harm to someone he loves so much, whether that harm be physical, mental, or emotional. diluc would have to mull over it for a while before he’s able to approach you and say he’s ready if that’s something you would enjoy, because if it’s for you, he’d try anything. once it happens and he gets into it, oh i think he’d be into it—it’s just not something he ever would have known he’d like unless you bring it up, because he is naturally selfless in love.

the diluc soft dom to hard(er) dom pipeline is crazy cause when he gets the okay from you to be firmer, he naturally takes on that role as if it was made for him, and he remains a service top through everything. his pleasure comes second to yours, and that’s how he has always operated (which also makes for very interesting flip dynamics whenever he gets desperate👁️). if you ask for him to be firm, if you tell him you want him to be in control, that you want to submit to him, that you want him to be strong, to guide you, to take what he wants?

he’s putty.

he’d ask you several times if you’re sure. if that’s really what you want. when you say yes, it is, i’m telling you that it is—he’s still rather nervous at first. at first he wonders if he even knows what he wants, because he’s always so focused on what you want.

but truly, what he wants is just to love you in a way that is safe and comfortable for the both of you. if you are pleasured, he is pleasured. that’s honestly the baseline for anything he ever does.

perhaps, though, just once, he can focus on his own pleasure a bit more. you’ve given him the explicit go-ahead, many times, and even asked for him to be rougher, after all.

so he becomes more truly dominant, giving you more directions, and asking for more from you. he even takes, sometimes, and he has never taken anything before. it makes you feel very giddy.

his new firmness opens up the opportunity for you to explore being bratty. you’ve found yourself becoming increasingly playful, while he remains rather stoic and hard-assed as he learns to deal with you, and you love it—you know he does, too, because he has told you. taming you is a nice fun precursor to the intimate and very romantic missionary sex that you two will have.

and if you’ve talked about kids in your marriage before, this is the point where a hidden desire will finally emerge in him.

he really wants kids. more than he let you realize before. and he really wants to get you pregnant. like whenever you’re ready, he is rearing to go. as soon as you give him consent, he is more needy and wanton than you’ve ever seen before. he takes more, manhandles you, and loves you firmly, and it’s literaly awesome sauce : 3

sorry lost my energy to write more and forgot how to be serious : 3 just got inflicted with the diluc brainrot for a solid 45 minutes and got the urge to write about it bc i for some reason was thinking about people having public-ish/risky sex and how i would never be comfortable with that personally for multiple reasons . and then i thought about diluc and i was like oh my glorious king he’s like a mr darcy dreamboat i swear ugh anyways

[humdrummoloch]

Here's an exercise to apply to your story: pick any scene and build up its stakes.

Most scenes should have at least a tiny bit of tension. Not every scene has to drip with artificial melodrama, but if the audience doesn't see a good reason to care about what's happening, they probably won't.

Using this 3-part exercise I just made up, just with a few quick bullet lists, you can dissect that scene's stakes and make them mean something.

PART 1: THE TELLING

Take a moment to focus on the stakes in your scene. What's the worst that could happen? List them.

Here's the rule: if a stake is obvious, don't count it.

Wrong: "If he kills me, I die."

Wrong: "If the villain fails to get the artefact, he fails."

Wrong: "If I lose this match, I lose."

Sure, yeah. But what ELSE?

Correct: "If I die, there'll be no one to protect my family."

Correct: "If I don't get this magical artefact before the hero stops me, my plans to take over the world will be sabotaged."

Correct: "If I lose this match, I'll never make it to the championships and show the world what I can do."

The stronger these stakes are, the better (within reason). "So-and-so might die" isn't a compelling (as it could be) narrative stake even in stories where people do die.

Even in low-stakes stories, the characters care about those low stakes. If it's important to them that they impress that client or get that job, tell us WHY they care. Is it their lifelong dream, or the promise they made to their dying mother, or the job that'll take them away from a horrible living situation? Will failure embarrass them in front of their crush?

PART 2: THE SHOWING

Now you know what could go bad, let the audience feel it. Just take things that matter and tweak them so that they're tangible.

"If I don't join the fight, my friend might die!" -> Show us an enemy raising a sword about to strike their friend down if the character doesn't rush in to save them NOW.

"If I drop out, I'll be a bad daughter!" -> Show us her parents bragging about their kid's academic performance and telling her they're happy they have a good kid with a bright future instead of some "no-good delinquent."

"If I don't pay by next week the bank's gonna take our house!" -> Show us the character begging for just a few more days, show their reaction to overhearing someone talking about buying the house from the bank to bulldoze the property. Show what the house means to them and how they made it their home.

PART 3: THE HAPPENING

Remember, a bullet seems a whole lot deadlier when it doesn't literally miss every time. But it would be strange if every scifi involved the whole planet blowing up, right? Or if the main characters all died? So, you have to show us you're not kidding by employing a secret third thing. Here's the trick to this: divide up the stakes into pieces and make one of the pieces happen.

If the protag's team is in actual danger, just one of them can die. Maybe even someone "essential" -- the climax will be boosted from the team overcoming this setback, the story becoming more clutch and unpredictable to the audience.

A marriage on the rocks? Show that their previously happy kid is suddenly hiding things from them and failing in school.

The city in danger? Show us buildings being knocked over.

Hell, the protag themselves in danger? They've got a leg they might not be using.

If a stake can't be split down like this, it might be better to have the bulldozers show up at the house during the climax. Maybe even let the house fall.

After this exercise, your scene should now feel a whole lot more weighty, whether it's a job application or a final battle to the death. Again, not every scene needs tension and it can go too far and become silly, but I hope this exercise helps you the way it helps me.

[geneviveleocardius]

ellie williams romantic headcanons

wlw, my wifey

ellie’s sense of humor is her way of flirting, and she can’t resist poking fun at you. whether it’s mocking the way you hum while doing chores or exaggerating your quirks, she lives for your reactions.

if you get embarrassed easily, ellie will lean into it, loving how your cheeks turn red when she teases you in public.

she never lets it go too far—one look at your pout, and she’s backtracking with a cheeky grin and a quiet “hey, you know i’m just messing, right?”

the best conversations with ellie happen at night, under dim lights or the stars. her guard comes down, and you see a softer, more thoughtful side of her.

she’s not great at expressing herself, but when it matters, she’ll stumble her way through a heartfelt confession. “i know i’m not good at this stuff, but… you mean a lot to me, okay? don’t laugh.”

these quiet moments always leave her vulnerable but make you feel even closer to her.

ellie loves making things for you. she’ll carve a tiny figure from wood or doodle little sketches of you in her notebook when you’re not looking.

she pretends it’s no big deal when she gives you something, tossing it to you with a casual “thought you might like this.” but the red on her ears gives her away.

once, she made you a bracelet from scraps she scavenged, and when you wore it everywhere, she couldn’t stop smiling.

ellie loves serenading you, even if she doesn’t have the best singing voice. she’s always practicing a new song just so she can impress you.

sometimes, she’ll improvise silly songs to make you laugh, like narrating your day through her guitar playing.

if you’re feeling down, she’ll sit beside you with her guitar and softly play until you feel better. she won’t ask what’s wrong, but her music says enough.

ellie has a hard time trusting others, so her protective side comes out a lot. she always keeps an eye out for danger, even in peaceful moments.

if anyone messes with you, ellie won’t hesitate to step in, no matter how reckless it might seem. she doesn’t let people get away with hurting the person she loves.

after the danger passes, she’ll check on you, her hands trembling slightly as she cups your face. “you okay? i’m not letting anything happen to you. not ever.”

ellie isn’t super touchy in public, but in private, she melts into you. she’ll lay her head on your lap or drape an arm around you while you talk.

she loves it when you play with her hair, though she’ll never admit it. she gets this relaxed, dreamy look whenever your fingers tangle through her messy locks.

her love language is quiet moments, like leaning against you while reading or tracing patterns on your hand when you’re sitting close.

ellie is the type to leave little surprises for you, like slipping a wildflower she picked into your pocket or writing you tiny notes that say things like, “don’t forget i love you.”

she always notices when you’re stressed or upset and goes out of her way to cheer you up, even if it’s just cracking terrible jokes or bringing you your favorite snack.

she has this unspoken way of making you feel cared for, always watching out for your comfort without saying much.

ellie struggles with vulnerability, but being with you teaches her how to let someone in. every time she opens up, it’s a big step for her.

she’s terrified of losing you, so she treasures every moment you spend together. when she thinks about her life before you, she realizes how much happier she’s become with you in it.

sometimes, when she thinks you’re asleep, she’ll whisper, “i love you,” testing the words like they’re brand new. hearing you say it back is her favorite thing in the world.

ellie’s kisses are unhurried, soft, and full of feeling. she’ll hold your face in her hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks as her lips move against yours, like she’s trying to memorize the moment.

she loves pressing quick kisses to your temple or the corner of your mouth when you’re talking, catching you off guard just to see you smile.

when she’s feeling playful, she’ll pepper kisses all over your face, laughing as you squirm, only to end it with a deep, lingering kiss that leaves you breathless.

while ellie might seem reserved in public, the truth is she can’t keep her hands off you. she’s always reaching for you, whether it’s holding your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist, or resting her chin on your shoulder.

she loves cuddling and will shamelessly pull you into her lap just to feel close to you. “what? you’re comfy,” she’ll mumble, though the blush on her face gives away how much she enjoys it.

her favorite thing is tangling her legs with yours when you’re lying in bed. it’s her way of grounding herself and feeling safe with you.

ellie is obsessed with your hands. she loves the way they move, whether you’re brushing her hair out of her face or fiddling with something. she’ll hold your hands just to feel the warmth of your skin, occasionally tracing the lines on your palms.

your smile is another weakness for her. she’ll do anything to make you laugh or grin, even if it means embarrassing herself. “there it is,” she’ll say with a smirk when you finally crack.

she’s secretly infatuated with your neck—kissing, nuzzling, or resting her head there is her ultimate comfort zone. she loves the way you shiver when her lips graze the skin.

physical touch is ellie’s dominant love language. every brush of your hand or casual lean against her reminds her she’s loved and not alone.

she also expresses her love through acts of service, often in subtle ways. whether it’s fixing something you didn’t notice was broken or saving you the best parts of her scavenged meals, she shows she’s always thinking of you.

words of affirmation don’t come easy to her, but when she speaks, her words carry weight. a simple “you’re amazing, you know that?” from ellie feels like poetry.

for ellie, loving a woman feels natural, like breathing. she never questioned it; it’s just who she is. but being with you taught her how deeply love could run.

she feels a quiet pride in the way you move through the world, finding beauty in your strength and softness. she’s often in awe of you, though she’d never admit how much she admires you outright.

in a world that’s unkind to love like yours, she’s fiercely protective of what you share. every stolen moment and shared smile reminds her why it’s worth fighting for.

loving you feels like the safest thing ellie’s ever known. she never thought she’d find someone who made her feel at peace, but you’re her anchor in a chaotic world.

she’s constantly in awe of how you look at her, as though you see past her scars and mistakes. it makes her want to be better, even if she doesn’t always believe she deserves you.

sometimes, she’ll catch herself staring at you with a soft smile, and when you ask her what’s on her mind, she’ll shrug and say, “just thinking how lucky i am.”

owww my baby

[doumadono]

Warnings: intermittent explosive disorder (IED), mentions of PTSD, a lot of angst, Bakugo dealing with impulsive anger outbursts, Bakugo being mean, aged-up Bakugo, pro hero Dynamight

A/N: yesterday, while chatting with my partner about Bakugo, a thought struck me (though it's just a personal theory, subject to disagreement) - Bakugo might exhibit signs of intermittent explosive disorder. His frequent bouts of anger, his brusque and often unkind demeanor, and occasional lack of control over his temper could be indicative of this. These headcanons delves into Bakugo's life as the second-ranked pro hero, Dynamight, as he grapples with the aftermath of the war

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

You meet Bakugo when he's the second-ranked pro hero, right after Deku. You're drawn to his charisma, confident personality, and the way he becomes protective of you.

Unfortunately, over time, you start to notice a lot of things that are just not right. His temper is extremely short, and he can explode with anger no matter what happens. It could be something he dislikes or someone doing something he doesn't approve of, and it immediately triggers a massive rage outburst. This can lead to him losing control of his own quirk, resulting in him destroying things.

After a routine checkup, the doctor suggests taking some tests, and the results are devastating: Bakugo is diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder.

Naturally, this news infuriates him, and when he returns to your shared flat, he destroys his own little office in a fit of rage.

Bakugo's intermittent explosive disorder makes it difficult for him to control his anger, and he will often lash out in violent outbursts.

Bakugo's intermittent explosive disorder manifests in unpredictable outbursts of anger and aggression, often triggered by seemingly minor frustrations or perceived slights. His explosions can range from verbal tirades to physical violence, leaving destruction in their wake.

During his outbursts, Bakugo lashes out verbally and physically, unaware of the damage he inflicts on those around him.

Despite his efforts to control it, Bakugo's explosive temper often alienates him from his friends and loved ones.

His relationships with people he considered colleagues or sometimes friends become strained as they struggle to understand and cope with his unpredictable behavior anymore.

You're often the target of his outbursts but refuses to give up on him, believing that beneath his volatile exterior lies a wounded soul in need of understanding and support.

Even Mitsuki tries to intervene. "Honey, you need help. This isn't healthy for you or anyone around you! We're here for you, son. We want to help you get through this."

But of course Katsuki declines. "I don't need your help! I can handle this on my own!"

Bakugo's disorder takes a toll on your relationship, testing the limits of your love and patience. There are moments when you feel helpless and overwhelmed, questioning whether you can handle the emotional rollercoaster of being with him.

You learn to recognize the signs of an impending outburst and try to diffuse the situation before it escalates, using gentle words and gestures of affection to calm him down.

Bakugo's disorder has left him feeling like a monster, like a beast that's been unleashed upon the world with no hope of redemption. He's consumed by guilt and self-loathing, convinced that he's unworthy of love or forgiveness.

Deep down, Bakugo is aware of his condition and the pain he causes, but his overwhelming anger blinds him to the consequences of his actions.

Bakugo's disorder causes him to push you away frequently, convinced that he's too dangerous to be around. He believes that he's protecting you by keeping his distance, even though it breaks his heart to do so.

Bakugo's disorder becomes a constant source of tension between the two of you, with every interaction tinged with the fear of setting him off.

Finally, after months of suggesting and almost begging, Bakugo agrees to try something new and allows you to take him to a psychiatrist. The doctor prescribes him Fluoxetine, and after some time of taking the medication, his rage and anger outbursts become smaller and less frequent.

You don't just leave it there. You suggest he should think about therapy, and after some reluctance, he agrees.

After attending several sessions, you both discover that Bakugo's disorder is linked to PTSD he developed post-war and after being dead for a while. Suddenly, everything becomes clear, and you not only understand your boyfriend better but also know how to help him effectively. Hearing about his traumatic experiences brings tears to your eyes, and you cry a river upon realizing the extent of his suffering.

Over time, and with the combined efforts of you, his parents, and his friends, Katsuki starts to make progress in managing his disorders and becomes a bit calmer with his emotions. Of course, everyone remains super careful not to do anything that might set him off.

Being Dynamight's partner is tough, and you know it better than anyone. But despite the challenges, you're not about to leave him. He's the love of your life after all, with all his strengths and weaknesses.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

➳ Warnings; Mentions of injuries, Cursing, Kissing, Marijuana Use, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Fem Reader

➳ Or: You just want to spend one more easy night with Dabi before the entirety of Japan goes to hell.

Note; this is a completely re-edited, revised, reworked version of my previous Dabi/Reader — I deleted the previous one.

♡ Touya / Fem Reader

It’s almost funny, you think, as you lean against the wall of the Leagues newest hideout. The reason you were convinced to join the A team in the first place—to go a long with Shigaraki’s convoluted plans.

It wasn’t Stain. Hell, it wasn’t even Shigaraki himself. It sure as fuck wasn’t All for One.

No, it was the scarred, absolutely deranged, blue eyed psycho that has daddy issues. The man who creates flames that burn over 2500 degrees celsius at their hottest, higher than Endeavors. The bastard.

To be fair, you didn’t know he had daddy issues when you saw him on TV for the first time. Yet, you saw the emotion in his eyes. Rage.

It flared, crackling brightly—hotter than the flames he produces himself.

It forced something to melt and seep into your bones, making your skin feel too tight, itchy, in an all too familiar way. You recognized another emotion on his face, one you were well acquainted with. Revenge.

You stopped at nothing to seek him out after that. Inevitably, you found him.

Now here you are, watching Dabi make, what equates to, a self-introduction video.

You’ve heard the story from him multiple times, you’ve seen him make the video over and over again. He’s shared his past and you’ve shared yours. You know people say Dabi may not feel much, hell even he says that. They say he’s heartless, cold, insane.

And—he is, but he’s also much more than that to you.

He’s kind to you, in his own twisted way, but he loves you, as much as he’s able to.

Which compared to “normal people” is actually quite a lot. Some would place him on the level of obsessed, unhealthy.

Although, who are you to judge? You act the exact same way towards him. Both of you would incinerate the world for each other, literally.

You also know he wants this video to be his own version of Dantes Inferno, about his journey navigating through hell since he was a kid.

You’ve had many conversations with Dabi about how much of a toll this takes on him. As if he’s weighted down by concrete tied to his ankles. Usually he gets so worked up that smoke ends up seeping through the seams of his staples by the end of it.

Nevertheless, he’s releasing the video tomorrow—whether it’s time for Shiagaraki to wake the hell up or not. No matter what, it’s going to rock the hero society. It’ll crumble the facade they have worked so hard to maintain. You’re lucky enough to know who he really is, the rest of the league, and the world, doesn’t. Yet.

You’re here for support, to make sure he actually gets the video fucking done, before you’re heading off for the day. Doing some sort of asinine errand for the Doc to help keep Shigaraki’s ass alive while he soaks in that vat.

You already decided that later tonight, you’re going make sure Dabi remembers he’s got you to come home too. No matter what happens after the world sees behind the veil.

After some time, you’re still leaning against the wall on the side of the room. Letting little flames ignite from your fingertips, just playing around, having one flame dance from finger to finger.

It’s another thing that had attracted you to Dabi. Even though flame quirks are a dime a dozen, and his flames burn hotter, it made you feel like you were similar, in a way.

Noticing that he’s stopped talking you look up, putting out the flame with a wave of your hand. You watch him walk to the camera to turn it off.

He was shirtless for the video. It shows off how lean he is, but it also shows all the burn scars that cross his chest and torso, up his neck and under his eyes. His hair is white right now and the staples holding him together shine under the light from overhead.

For a beat you remember how cool they feel pressing against your skin when Dabi pins you face down on the bed.

Your body flushes, warmth churning in your belly.

Being in love with a man like Dabi means he takes up most of the space in your brain, running wildly through your thoughts constantly.

To add on it’s not just Dabi you love, it’s Touya too.

You’re desperately aware of the fact that you’re not doing a very decent job of hiding the way your eyes trail his body when he speaks up. His smooth, smoky voice rumbling from his chest.

“You know, it’s rude to stare baby,” Dabi murmurs, inclining his head slightly to look at you. His gaze is sharp but his lips are pulled into a lazy catlike grin.

Embarrassment shoots through you, burrowing into your cheeks. A swarm of butterflies ravages you.

Using your hands, you set them behind you and you push off the wall, trying to form a response. Nobody else but Dabi makes you act like you’ve swallowed your tongue whole.

“Maybe I just like what I see,” you tease, trying to ignore the obvious flush of your chest and neck. Dabi turns to face you as you walk up to him.

You can’t get over the way he looms over you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. The grin never leaves his face. He tugs playfully at a lock of hair that had fallen from your bun, making it seem as if you’ve swallowed cotton balls.

“Oh? You’re one to talk. I could fuck you where you stand and you’d let me,” he flirts, looking oh so casual the whole time.

Dabi twirls the same strand of hair around his finger tightly, before letting it go.

The man radiates fucking heat and it’s a bit like standing too close to a bonfire. It toes the line of too hot, as if your skin would start to melt if you got too close.

Your eyes flutter shut from the familiar warmth, and you taking a deep, steadying breath — willing away the lust that threatens to turn your insides to ash.

You desperately try to remember that now is not the time to let Dabi fuck you silly.

You reluctantly take a step back, only now realizing how close the two of you had gotten. Later, you remind yourself, trying to cool down.

Dabi pushes out his lower lip, pretending to pout.

“Dabi, c’mon, you know I’ve got to go soon. I just wanted to make sure you got this finished today,” you say with hesitation.

Dabi rolls his eyes, no doubt irritated they have you doing bullshit errands. You get it, you feel the same, but you know it’s just less of a hassle to get it done.

It’s not like you don’t want Shigaraki to wake up soon. The crazy, itchy fucker has grown on you.

Besides, you want to get the plan moving and all. Dabi knows this, yet it still pisses him off. He waves a hand dismissively, before turning back to the camera.

“Whatever, go on then,” he bites coldly. Your lips press into a line, the sting of hurt pulsing in your chest briefly.

You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to leave without saying much else. You’re not willing to get into it with him right now, the video has clearly already got him riled up.

Before you can take a step, a blistering palm grabs your forearm, turning you back around. You raise an eyebrow as you meet his intense gaze.

“Yes?” you bite back. Dabi stares down at you, hand trailing down to grip your wrist, wrapping his fingers around as a bracelet. His expression stays sharp, blue eyes piercing.

“Just come back to me tonight, okay?” Dabi demands, an underlying note of concern lacing his tone.

You can’t hold back the smile that pulls at your lips, previous hurt washed away by your adoration for the deranged man in front of you. You nod.

“I will Touya,” you whisper softly.

You tend not to use his real name often, only when you need him to know you’re serious.

It makes his eye twitch, his stomach more often than not twisting in fury when he hears it.

Not with you though. The way his name falls from your lips—he’d be remiss if he didn’t admit it soothes the open wound it’s left behind.

Without another word, Dabi bends down, brushing a kiss over your cheek, letting your wrist go. Your skin tingles where his lips were, the rough texture of his lower one always tickles. You smile softly.

Swiftly you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in return.

“Love you too, dickhead!” You call out playfully, letting the door swing shut behind you. Dabi scoffs watching you go, but he wears, a small, loving smile at your jab.

He already wishes for the night. As long as can be with you again.

You’re covered in soot and ashes. Smelling like a fucking bonfire gone wrong. The flesh of your hands is singed, stinging, and you curse internally when you curl them into fists.

Generally, it happens when you overuse your quirk. The skin sizzles, steam rising from the reddened flesh. You shake your hands out as you walk, thanking God that it looks worse than it is. It’ll heal relatively quickly.

You’ve managed to procure only a couple bruises though, so you count yourself even luckier. You know Dabi will be fucking pissed either way.

You always have to talk him down from eviscerating the Doc when you wind up coming home banged up from one of his errands.

To top it off, it’s way later than when you normally return from these idiotic missions. It’s well past midnight and you’re sure Dabi is close to committing arson.

The job was a waste of your time. Granted, you admit you may have been a little distracted. You couldn’t stop thinking about the night that lay ahead of you and Dabi.

It’s hard to burn down that many buildings, discreetly, when you’re not focused 100%. You almost got caught at the last building.

Hence the new dark purple splotches covering your left bicep. They throb slightly when you accidentally brush your fingers over them. It’s a miracle you made it out, but you’re not telling Dabi that.

Walking into the front door of the, more or less mansion that is the hideout, you notice it’s quiet in the living room.

None of the usuals that hang out are down here. You look around quickly, thinking maybe you’d catch a glance of Dabi. You scowl when you don’t see his spiky white hair anywhere. You swiped something on the way home, an item that will help the two of you relax. It sits heavy in your back pocket.

You desperately want the two of you to enjoy the night before the world explodes into chaos tomorrow.

You slip your hand into your pocket, just to make sure it’s still there. Your finger tips trace the pre-rolled joints you snagged. You smile coyly to yourself, feeling your heart beat harshly against your rib cage.

A pleasant shiver rolls down your spine as you recall the last time you and Dabi had sex higher than a kite.

Smoking weed isn’t necessarily something you and Dabi do often, but when you get the chance you certainly take advantage of it.

How could you say no? Your body feels relaxed and warm, like your joints are made of butter. The pleasure is always dialed to a 10.

You know Dabi fucking loves it, the one chance he gets to truly relax. You make your way to the stairs as you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your thoughts.

You’re hoping that once Dabi sees you’re okay, and that you have joints, he won’t be too tempted to set the mansion on fire.

You walk swiftly to your room. You pass by Mr. Compress on the way, the two of you wave in greeting. The sound of your combat boots echo on the wooden floor as you round the corner, stopping at your door.

The door is closed but that’s not unusual. Eagerly, you turn the handle and push open the door. It’s pitch black inside. That…is odd actually. Your grin quickly fades as you step inside, curious, you flip on the low light to the room.

Dabi’s not here. You feel an unwarranted flash of irritation at the realization.

As cliche as it sounds, recently you’ve been finding him playing some sort of game on his desk top computer. You’re not sure he’s ever played one before now and he seems to thoroughly enjoy it. Your chest warms as you think about him getting to experience some sort of normalcy.

However, he’s not at the desk. He’s not anywhere in your room. You shut the door behind you and walk in further. Shoving the feeling of annoyance down your throat, you remind yourself that the villain has got to be somewhere around the hideout.

Hoping he’ll pop up soon you decide it’s best to take a shower. To wash off the layer of disgusting ash you’re covered in.

Setting the joints on your dresser, you strip your nasty clothes off and throw them to the side. You grab one of Dabi’s shirts, one with a skull on it and nothing else before making your way into the en-suite bathroom.

As you stand under the spray of the scalding water, it feels unbelievable. The water acting as a much needed massage for your sore muscles.

You scrub yourself clean, hissing as the soap causes a burning sensation in your hands. You examine the newly pink, sensitive skin of your palms and flex your sore fingers.

The curtain suddenly rips open halfway and you scream loudly, arms flailing wildly. Your head whips to the side, heart in your throat as you see a smug looking Dabi. You place a hand on your chest, pulse thundering.

“You fucking jack ass! You scared the shit out of me! Where the hell have you been?” you shout, angrily flinging water at his face.

Dabi laughs as he brings his hand up in surrender, covering his face from your retaliation. You let out a frustrated noise, quickly turning the water off to face him. You push roughly at his chest, wetting his shirt and he grips the shower curtain with one hand for balance. He’s still fucking laughing.

“I got restless waiting for you. I was with Spinner, who wouldn’t stop yapping about some new video game. I saw Compress and he told me he saw you on your way up. I wanted to fuck with you.” He grins wolfishly, pretending to wipe a fake tear of amusement from his eye. The staples near the corner of his mouth tug at his skin.

You scowl, glaring at him playfully.

“You’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, ya know that?” you chastise him, unable to stop yourself from grinning widely at his relaxed demeanor.

Truthfully, you know nobody else sees this playful side of Dabi. The fact that you’re privy to it, it’s like knowing the world’s greatest secret. You want to put it in a box and keep it safe forever.

“Is that right? And yet, you’re the one who continues to stay with me, princess. I’ve just got you that cock drunk for me, don’t I sweetheart?” You blush violently at his teasing, but there’s absolutely no denying it.

Dabi smirks, taking the chance to let his gaze lazily trail up and down your wet, naked body. Slowly appreciating your form, and biting the tip of his tongue.

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully, popping your hip out, placing your hand there. It pulls an amused laugh from him and he winks at you. The sound of it sets your nerves alight.

Suddenly, you feel Dabi go stock still. The air raises a few degrees as his expression distorts into something feral, his happy mood vanishing.

Your stomach knots up and you shift your weight from foot to foot. You know he’s found the new, rather large, bruises peppering your left bicep. Delicately, he trails his fingers over them with his free hand. You wince.

The sickening scent of burning plastic starts to flood your nose. You glance over, panicking slightly when you see Dabi’s melting the shower curtain in a death grip.

“Touya!” You gasp. “I’m okay, really, I’m fine. Please, look at me baby,” you soothe, gripping his wrist to try and yank him free, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. You place your free hand on his cheek, forcing his manic gaze to meet yours. “It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention,” you continue in a gentle voice, running your thumb over the scarred flesh under his left eye.

His snowy white eyebrows pinch together, and he lets out a pained sound, hesitantly letting go of the curtain. You swiftly take the opportunity to lace your fingers with his.

You take a peak at the curtain again, noticing a hand print has been permanently melted into it. Touya tugs on your hand harshly, asking for your attention.

He stares intensely at your face, pupils tracking back and forth rapidly, looking wild. When he speaks, it’s as if he’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

“Those goddamn idiots!” He snarls. “Sending you out, letting you get fucked up. If I fucking see that Doc again before Shigaraki wakes up, I’m incinerating him,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. He’s furious, tone low and menacing.

It definitely does not turn you on.

Touya tangles his fingers through the wet hair at the nape of your neck, squeezing painfully. Your breath catches, scalp tingling.

A torrent of warmth rushes through you, pussy clenching eagerly around air.

It never fails to turn your brain to mush when he’s like this. Protective, possessive. It makes syrupy heat drip down your spine.

You shiver, not just from the chill of being naked, when you realize you’re still dripping wet. Unfortunately, you need a towel.

“I know Touya,” You laugh shakily , wanting to redirect his anger. “ I won’t stop you, promise. Let’s not allow those dumbasses to ruin our night, okay?” You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I brought a surprise for us to share! So can you be a good boyfriend and please hand me a towel?” You plead, looking at him through your lashes.

Touya doesn’t move for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly as considers your words, before his expression mellows out. He sighs heavily.

Touya releases his grip on your hair, trailing his rough fingers over your jaw and patting your cheek twice softly. He frees your other hand and turns to grab a towel from the cabinet.

You lift up your arms, very relieved, and wiggle your fingers happily as you wait. Touya sweetly wraps the cloth around your back and crosses it over your chest, tucking it into itself so it stays in place. You beam at him, letting your arms fall to hold it in place.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me not to commit murder tonight. Show me the surprise,” Touya concedes, catlike grin settling into his expression once again. You breathe another sigh of relief, stepping out of the shower. You balance with a hand on his arm.

“I got us joints! I figured some good weed would help us relax and,” you trail your finger over his jaw, biting your lip coyly. You lean in, whispering sensually to him. “I was hoping we could have some fun later, if you know what I mean.”

Standing up straight, you smile smugly, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, watching his reaction. His head tilts back in delighted laughter.

“That’s the best idea you could’ve had. Let’s go get high out of our minds baby, and then I’ll fuck you into the mattress,” he purrs, grabbing the shirt you left to change into and tugging you along out of the bathroom.

You watch his lean frame from behind, admiring him as he walks. Your man is stupid hot, and you don’t just mean literally.

Once you’re near the bed the two of you release each other. He hands you your shirt and you let your towel unwind, tossing it to the side.

Touya’s hand comes out of nowhere to roughly smack your bare ass. The pain flares, making you yelp.

“Touya!” You scold. “Fuck off for a second will you?” you joke. “Let me at least put my shirt on.” You slip the clothing over your head as you speak, gathering your wet hair into a braid.

Touya snorts. You look at him with a raised brow as he’s taking his own clothes off. Your eyes linger for a moment on the V shape that disappears into his underwear. He winks at you in return when he catches your stare, but you just roll your eyes.

“Why are you even putting clothes on? You know I’m just going to get you naked later,” Touya complains as he crawls onto your shared bed. He leans his back against the headboard. Touya looks at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him as he shoves his long, pale legs under the blanket.

“Yes I know, but I still get cold sometimes, plus I like this shirt, it’s soft,” you reply, picking up the joints from your dresser, turning the overhead light off, and shimmying up the bed to him.

You make it a point to sit so your thigh and arm are squished against his as you recline next him. You use a pillow to support your lower back.

“You know I can keep you just as warm baby,” Touya coos, pulling up the soft fuzzy blanket that covers your bed so you can get your own legs underneath. He lets it rest at your waist.

Touya gently warms the space beneath and you swallow a moan. It feels amazing. Turning your head to look at him, you smile lazily. He wiggles his eyebrows as you hold up a joint to him, urging him to light it.

“I know, and later on you’re gonna make me sweat,” you tease, watching as he smirks.

He doesn’t even pay attention as he uses his finger to light the joint. A little blue flame that instantly eats the paper, setting it alight.

You kiss his cheek in thanks, selfishly taking the first drag. Fuck, it tastes like heaven. A twisted version of lemon flavor bursts across your tongue. It’s sweet, but also bitter.

You let the smoke swirl in your lungs while you hold your breath. Letting it out in a long exhale, the smoke ghosts across Touya’s face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, groaning as he breathes out.

After a joint and a half in, you’re feeling the perfect level of high. You’re leaning your head on Touya’s shoulder, studying your fingertips.

You’re something akin to the warm butter that melts on top of pancakes. Your head feels fuzzy and you know Touya is in the clouds.

”Baby,” Touya softly calls for you, smooth like whiskey. His honeyed voice sends a shiver down your spine. Your head feels heavy when you lift it, looking at him with a dopey grin.

“Hmm?” you try to ask. Managing to giggle in response. He tilts his head down towards you. He’s wearing a matching lazy grin, his eyes half-lidded.

“Let me shot gun that pretty mouth,” he murmurs, taking the last large inhale from the joint. He holds his breath and puts out the joint on his palm, laying the roach on the bedside table.

You nod happily, stomach unbearably warm as you lean towards him. You let your mouth fall open obediently.

Touya looks sly, meeting you halfway. His different textured lips pressing to yours easily, slightly opened as he slowly pushes the smoke out of his lungs and into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed as the tendrils of smoke roll into your mouth. It makes you feel a bit feverish and everything feels like it’s rolling in slow motion.

You inhale equally as slow, taking your time, pulling it into your lungs. It makes you feel dizzy. You hold it for a moment, until your chest starts to burn and then you break from the kiss.

Turning your head minutely, you let it all out in one breath. Your tongue slips out to lick your lower lip, the aftertaste from the joint making your mouth water.

You slide your gaze to Touya’s. He brings his hand up, letting his fingers rest on your jaw as he runs a thumb over the lip you just licked. His eyes burn with a low heat, like embers.

“Feeling high princess?” he whispers, leaning a bit closer, lips only a couple centimeters from yours. He’s gentle, holding your jaw, fingers pressing in on both sides now.

Your eyes are lidded and it feels like his rich voice physically melts through your skin, into your veins. You admire how pretty his face is, feeling your pussy throb. You bite your lip and nod, tickling a hand over his collarbone. He shivers.

“So high,” you giggle and whisper your next sentence, as if you’re telling him a secret. “Will you fuck me now Touya?”

Touya’s fingers twitch before they slide down to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. The staples on his wrist scratch at your neck. He’s studying your face, letting his lips pull into a wicked grin as he inches forward, brushing his mouth against yours.

“With pleasure baby girl,” he rumbles, pressing the words into your lips. You moan into his mouth, kissing him slowly over and over.

You’re just starting to lick into his mouth when he puts pressure on your windpipe and you get the message, breaking the kiss with a whine.

He laughs softly as he releases your neck and you shift until you’re lying down flat on the bed, head resting on the pillow.

The change in position makes the room spin and you blink your eyes slowly. You’ve planted your feet on the bed, letting your legs fall open. Moving around makes your shirt rise up to your hips, slick pussy on display for Touya.

You’re vaguely aware of how wet you already are, and it’s too hot in the room, your face heats again and sweat trails down your temple.

The only light in the room is from the TV you had turned on absently. Yet, you can still see Touya’s chest. He has his own light sheen of sweat covering his skin, nipples stiff and perky.

The white haired man maneuvers to get in between your thighs. He sits back on his calves, palms resting on the tops of your knees as he takes a look at your soft pussy.

The sight makes his cock ache, straining to be free from his briefs. He feels his tip positively leaking, sticking to the soft material.

“C‘mere Touya,” you whine softly, reaching your arms out for him. His expression is relaxed, loving as he bends to your will, resting his forearms on either side of your head.

You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Your lips slide together eagerly, the heat between you blazing.

His bottom lip is rough but the texture makes you moan every time. He easily slips his tongue inside your mouth, rolling them together, and you bite the delicate muscle briefly.

A husky moan pushes past his lips, causing him to break the kiss.

“Goddammit baby, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groans, voice wrecked as he sucks dark marks in a line up your neck, gripping the hem of your shirt.

“Please,” you beg, the word sticking to the roof of your mouth. Touya doesn’t hesitate, sitting back momentarily to free you of your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The air brings a slight chill, making your nipples harden. Goosebumps erupt along your chest and you whine. Touya rests his hands on your soft belly, dick jumping, drooling as he takes in your naked body. His large, warm palms cover most of the skin there, fingers splayed on your ribs.

His eyes are red and glossy as they trail over your tits, noticing your nipples are pretty little pebbles. God, he’s so hard he could cut diamonds.

He quickly shoves his underwear off, the urge to be naked swallowing him whole. His cock bobs free as it catches on the waistband of his briefs. You watch, catching sight of the curly white hair resting just above the base.

He settles again between your legs, gripping his shaft and squeezing briefly for some relief. His own touch feels electric and he moans through his teeth. He knows you’ll feel a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s quick to swipe his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he drags it up to your clit, starting to massage slow circles there.

You choke on an inhale, head feeling heavy. Your limbs feel like jello, warmth flowing through you. You hum, reaching out to wrap a hand around the silky smooth skin of his shaft. He lets out a broken moan when you pump his cock, letting his foreskin pull back.

“Touya, c’mon, pretty please? Don’t wanna wait,” you say with breathy sigh. You keep stroking his cock, twisting your wrist upwards and he groans again, sounding breathless.

“You don’t have to ask me twice baby, you know how much I love fucking you,” he purrs, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat.

He places a hand on each of your inner thighs, spreading you open a little more. You tilt your hips up a little, so you can guide his thick cock inside of you. You tease yourself, sliding his tip over your swollen clit. You let out a low curse as it sends electricity up your spine.

A short whine slips through Touya’s lips as the head of his cock presses in smoothly. Removing your hand, you give him the reigns to do the rest as he stretches your pussy completely. You tilt your head back on the pillow as you start clenching around him.

“Oh,” you say as if you’ve been sucker punched. “Touya, you feel so good!” you cry out, thoughts disjointed. You tremble at the overwhelming pleasure, white knuckling the pillow under you.

You’re sure you could cum just from the stretch of his cock alone, your sensitivity at an all time high. You chance a look at your boyfriend, panting.

His eyebrows are scrunched and he’s gritting his teeth, eyes locked on where he’s disappeared inside you. Warm pussy wrapped around him perfectly.

“Shit,” he curses lowly. “You’re so fucking tight,” he laughs incredulously rocking his hips shallowly.

His own mind is fuzzy, body high so intense he could sob. You lay there and take it beautifully as he starts to fuck you for real, slow and deep.

Your limbs are like lead, and you’ve all but become one with the mattress, the pleasure all you can focus on. The sound of your skin smacking together makes your ears burn. You’re watching the way his fingers grip your thighs, the way the muscles in his lower abdomen flex with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot Touya, God - I can’t,” you all but sob. You can’t focus on anything else but the way his cock drags in and out of your pussy. Touya hums softly and leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed, caging you between. You look up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want baby? Hmm? Tell me,” he pants, voice smoldering. Your entire body flushes even hotter. Quirk raising up just below your skin and you keep your hands from the sheets for fear of turning them to ash.

Letting out a low moan, you grip his forearms, he can take the heat of your quirk. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your scalding palms make contact with his skin.

You’re able to keep it under control for now. You take note of the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. He watches them, eyes almost unfocused, unfazed by the blistering heat of your palms, before his gaze locks with yours when you start to speak.

“Want you to fuck me from behind, please,” you mumble, words blending together as you try to keep your eyes open. The pleasure is making your brain feel thick.

“Fuck yes, turn that pretty ass around,” he agrees, leaning back and pulling his cock free. It bounces slightly and you notice he’s glistening from your slick, notching your arousal up by a few degrees.

You don’t waste a second, rolling over onto your belly. The sensation of moving underwater is what you would compare it to.

You raise up on your knees, showing off the curve of your spine as you rest your cheek on the mattress below. The sheets are soft, caressing your skin as you nuzzle against it, distractedly.

You’re gripping the sheets by your head when you feel Touya’s palm crack harshly against your ass,forcing you to jolt forward.

“Ah!” You whine into the sheets. He must’ve heated his hand, because you can feel your ass almost blistering from where he spanked you.

You assume that’s some sort of revenge from what you did to his forearms earlier. Not that it matters, the pain and pleasure mix together even better.

“Look at you, so obedient. You want me to fuck you like a dog, don’t you?” He teases, words sitting heavy on his tongue.

He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head between your lips, parting them easily.

You open your mouth to answer but you’re cut off. He’s already bullying his way back into you without abandon.

Touya grips your hips tight enough you worry he’s gripping the bone. His cock throbs, your pussy feels tighter this way.

It’s making his head spin, watching himself pull out, cock shiny and slick, before filling you once again. His heart thumps hard in his rib cage, thinking about just how much he fucking loves you.

“Oh god.” You shove your face into the mattress as Touya starts to move hard and fast. His cock filling you out perfectly with each thrust.

The friction is blistering, pleasure burning through your limbs. He presses his hands into your lower back, pushing the arch in your spine to its breaking point and he uses his weight to fuck you.

His cock bullies your sweet spot again and again, ripping muffled screams from your throat and into the mattress.

You’re starting to squirm under him, overly sensitive while he pushes you closer to your peak. You unconsciously try to crawl away from him, but he notices. You’ve started to fist the sheets again, for any kind of leverage.

“That’s the spot, isn’t baby? You’re so cute, trying to crawl away from me. You’re not fucking going anywhere. Be good, baby girl,” he demands, huffing lightly. He leans forward to brace one hand on the back of your neck, pinning you down.

He lets his other hand rest on the middle of your lower back, pressing down there too. How you’re able to keep your knees under you is beyond you. The first heavy thrust after that has you wailing, eyes stinging with tears.

“Fuck! Touya, right there, don’t stop,” you beg, feeling small underneath him. The pleasure is overwhelming. It’s not long at all before a knot starts to wind up taught in your lower abdomen, and you struggle to try and warn him.

“Go ahead princess, I’ve got you. Cum for me, I want to feel it,” Touya purrs, bending forward to brace one hand by your head. The other still pining you down by the back of the neck.

The staples adorning his wrist feel cold against your overheated flesh. Oddly enough, the difference in temperature is what pushes you over the edge.

You cum, brutally. Pussy fluttering, gripping Touya so tight you can’t believe he’s still sliding in and out of you. Heat gushes through you in waves, curling your toes.

“Oh!” you gasp, a pressure building in your bladder. “You’re gonna make me squirt,” you say in surprise. Fingernails bite into your skin, warm breath is against your ear.

“Then fucking do it baby,” he breathes, never slowing his pace. A thrill runs through you, fingers curling in the sheets.

Pleasure ripples through you as you squirt. Soaking the sheets and Touya’s inner thighs. Your mouth stays open in a silent scream.

Touya moans in your ear, whispering words of encouragement as he works you through it. You notice his cock start to twitch inside you as you come down from your high.

Touya murmurs sweet nothings against your ear, letting you know he’s about to cum.

You tell him just how much you want it, how much you need to him to fill you up—and he does just that. Pressing all the way in until his balls fit snugly against your pussy. 

Touya cums with a noise that sounds like it’s been punched from his chest. Panting as he nudges your knees out from you, so you both collapse to the mattress.

You both catch you breath for a moment, Touya letting himself go soft before he makes a move to pull out. 

Touya rolls off you gently, onto his back. You breathe a sigh of relief, turning your head to see if his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, cheeks flushed from the strenuous movements.

“I’m great,” you laugh, poking his ribs. He chuckles, giving you a half smile. “Can you get me a towel? Seeing as it’s your fault I’m a mess now,” you tease. Touya rolls his eyes playfully.

You flip over onto your back as retreats to get a towel, returning swiftly.

”Thank you,” you hum, cleaning yourself the best you can, not bothering to put clothes back on as you get under the blankets.

You sigh happily, turning on your side as the bed dips. Touya settles down facing you, snaking an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingers down the side of his face, stopping to press on one of his staples under his eye. 

“I love you,” he replies, just as softly.

”I’ll follow you to hell, you know that, right?” You say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs, leaning forward to brush a kiss over your forehead.

“I know. I’ll incinerate the world for you, you know that, right?” He teases, placing his forehead on yours. You laugh gently, nodding as you kiss him once more.

[apocalypseornaw]

It's Real

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean's back from Michael, everything should be ok but he's staying locked up in his room so you make it a point to find out why.

Smut with feelings

Dean was back. Michael was gone and Dean was back but it felt as if he was still gone. The moment he'd staggered in that door it'd taken everything in you to not rush straight to him. Once you were sure it was him you'd nearly dove into his arms. He'd hugged you tight, whispering in your ear “It's ok sweetheart, I'm ok”

Everything seemed ok on the ride back to the bunker, yeah Dean was a little on the quiet side but considering you could understand. When you parked and got out the impala he was even teasing Sam about his beard as the three of you walked into the bunker from the garage. The moment he walked into the war room and Sam was greeted with “Chief” and you with “Cap” you could see the wall slam into place but you weren't sure why.

In the last week you'd seen Dean a handful of times and that was when you happened to be in the hallway when he headed for a shower or the one to make a run into town and he wanted the snacks he'd added to the list. 

Every time you tried to talk to him he shut you down and it was driving you insane. Yeah he'd been through a lot and yeah it was his default setting to not talk about his feelings but not with you. Any other time he let you in but not this time. 

—-------------

You were sparring with a few hunters from the apocalypse world and had somehow managed to draw a crowd. Ryker and Tyler towered over you in height and Vivian was fast as hell but you were holding your own against the three of them.

You took Tyler out at the knees then ducked under Rykers arm, catching it and using his own momentum to flip him on his back then nodded to Vivian.

You went blow for blow with her but she happened to misstep one time and that was all you needed to pin her. When you offered her a hand up she took it with a grin “Damn Cap who taught you to fight?” You shrugged “I've taken self defense classes mixed with sparring with Sam and Dean along with on the job learning” 

She nodded “Think Dean will join us? I'd love to see you two spar” you didn't want to tell her he was avoiding you at all cost so you just smiled “I'll ask” you turned to grab your water bottle then headed to your room so you could grab a shower.

Dean knew he needed to integrate himself with the hunters inhabiting the bunker but he didn't know how many more times he could see you and Sam working shoulder to shoulder, sharing inside jokes with a look and leading an entire squadron of hunters together. 

He'd heard a few of the hunters talking about how “Cap” and “Chief” were always together, always worked every lead together, stayed up researching together and “Most of the time end up falling asleep together” one of the younger refugees from the apocalypse world had deemed you two a power couple and that was the straw Dean had to hear to know he needed to resign himself to his room for a while.

He'd lost you. Fifteen years of friendship, ten years of wanting you, eight years of loving you. If he'd just said something sooner, hadn't been afraid of losing you as his friend but now he'd lost you to his little brother and he couldn't even be angry, no matter the jealousy eating at him. 

You stepped into the hall and saw Sam had just come out of Dean's room. When he shut the door behind himself he spotted you so you raised your eyebrows “How is he?” He shrugged “He's watching horror movies and has pizza and beer” 

You glanced at Dean's door then asked “Why won't he come out the room? He barely talks to me or anyone for that matter when he does” Sam's eyes softened at your words “Maybe it's time you do that thing you always do with us” 

You waved a hand, asking for an explanation and he laughed “You never let us wallow for long. He won't react to me, Cas, hell even mom. He needs you whether he admits it or not” you laughed “You mean he needs someone as stubborn as he is to out stubborn him?” He nodded “Exactly”

You looked from him to Dean's door then nodded “Wish me luck” he patted your shoulder “Good luck” then headed down the hall.

—---------------

Dean heard a knock at his door and figured it was Sam again “Sammy, I said I'm good” the door creaked open and your face popped around it “Good to know. Can I come in?” 

He tried to ignore the way his chest clenched at your smile. “Of course sweetheart. C'mon” he watched you shut the door then walk further into the room, kicking your boots off before walking over to the bed. 

You grabbed a slice of pizza from the table near the bed then climbed in the bed, laying sideways with your head on his back so you could see the TV considering he was laying on his stomach “Comfy?” He asked with a laugh once you'd taken his beer out of his hand and took a swig before turning back to the pizza “Very much so. You're a wonderful pillow”

You shouldn't be in his bed, shouldn't be laying against him. If you and Sam were…well he didn't want to think too hard about it but he wasn't the type of man to take another man's woman, especially his little brother's. He told himself it was innocent enough. The two of you had done this dozens of times over the years even if this time his mind was running a lot faster than normal.

—-------------

You lay like that through the entirety of Halloween two and halfway through Freddy versus Jason before your mouth had a mind of its own “I miss you Dean. For weeks we had no idea where you were then by some turn Michael let you go and now you're home but I still miss you. You're pulling away from me, from everyone and I don't want to lose you again. You mean too much to me”

He looked over his shoulder at you and grabbed one of your hands, giving it a light squeeze “I'm here sweetheart. I just don't want to take up too much of your time. You got a lot going on Cap” you rolled your eyes at the nickname you'd been dubbed with “I've always got enough time for you. Talk to me”

He let go of your hand then pushed himself back so he could turn to face you as he sat up.“I miss you too but this, coming home to this is a lot” “What do you mean? The hunters?” 

He nodded “The hunters, you and Sam. You two are a unit, you run this whole operation like clockwork. You've built something and I don't know where I fit now”  you smiled slightly “You fit with us Dean. You and Sam are the most important people to me”

He sighed “But you and him are more or it feels that way” you knew the confusion was clear across your face because he just shook his head “Never mind. Can we just go back to the movie?” You nodded “Yeah, sure” 

—-------‐—----------

He laid back down on his stomach and this time you laid down next to him instead of on his back. You had no clue what he meant about you and Sam being more? Had someone said something to make him feel that way? You’d been running on damn near empty for weeks, Mary had taken to hiding your car keys to force you into eating and sleeping and when that didn't work she'd bring in the big guns and threaten to call Jody.

Sam hadn't fared much better. The two of you had been doing everything you could to keep each other's heads above water.  Dean was the person who raised Sam, he'd always been the most important person to him. As for yourself, you loved the man laying next to you. He'd claimed your heart years ago whether he knew it or not. Your chest had felt hollow knowing the man you loved was being used by some dickheaded angel. 

You reached for his hand closest to you, running your fingertips over the back of his hand. He smiled slightly then it was like his mood changed and he pulled his hand away. 

“Sorry” you murmured and moved to sit up but he was already grabbing your wrist to keep you on the bed “Wait sweetheart. Fuck” you sat down in front of him and he turned to face you “Just talk to me Dean. Whatever is going on, we can fix it”

—---------------------

He shook his head, hand dropping your wrist. “I know you and Sam have gotten even closer since I've been gone”

You smiled slightly “Well yeah, leading a bunch of wayward hunters and hunting down some douchey archangel to get you back will do that to ya. Still doesn't explain the change between me and you. Dean you're my best friend, you've always talked to me and now you're shutting me out. I'm not used to it and I don't like it” 

He hated seeing the pain in your eyes and knowing he was the cause of it. He sighed “I know you're with Sam” your head tilted to the side and you stared at him for a moment before you began to laugh. After a moment you covered your mouth with your hand then took a few deep breaths. He was confused as hell but figured you'd give an explanation “Oh Dean, honey you are so smart at times but so damn dumb at others” 

“What?” You shook your head “Me and Sam have gotten closer yeah but not like that. Someone else has my heart and it ain't Sammy”  his eyes flew to your face “Then who?” You shook your head again “Doesn't matter just know it's not your little brother”

He reached forward, cupping your chin with his hand “No way are you gonna tell me some lucky bastard has your heart then not tell me who” you wouldn't meet his eyes so he used his grip on you to turn your face where you had no choice. “You honestly have no idea do you?” You sounded almost sad when you asked and he felt his heart skip. 

Did you mean him?   “You have no idea how hard it's been with you not being here Dean. How many times I cried myself to sleep laying against Sam's chest because I knew he was the only person who could come close to knowing the pain I felt. You're his brother, you've been his parent and protector his whole life and I knew he was only person here who loved you anywhere as much as I do” 

“You love me?” He damn near whispered and you nodded “How could I not?” 

—-------------------

One moment you were spilling your heart out and the next Dean was claiming your lips in a hungry kiss. You were stunned for a moment then returned the kiss fully, when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth you gasped lightly and he used that to roll his tongue against yours. The heat roaring to life against every inch of your body from just a kiss seemed damn near impossible but this was Dean.

Holy hell this was Dean. You just confessed your feelings and instead of bolting he was kissing you in a way that had the wetness between your legs growing by the moment. 

When you were finally forced apart for air he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your chests heaving. “Not what I was expecting” you teased breathlessly and he chuckled “Sweetheart, I've been locked up in this room because the thought of you with Sam…I couldn't take it. You're supposed to be mine. The jealousy has been eating me alive, imagining you with him”

You pulled back from him and grinned “You were jealous?” He nodded “Damn right I was. I've loved you for years and the thought that out of all people my little brother would be the one to take you from me? I hated it” you laughed “In that case, come here” 

“No, you come here” he grabbed you by the hips pulling you towards him and turned putting your back down on the bed. He held his weight on his forearms as he hovered over you, catching your lips in another kiss. “Dean” you spoke and he pulled back to look you in the eyes and saw the love and desire there “I want you, please” he smiled “Never beg for me baby. Just tell me what you want” “I want you. All of you”

—----------------

Dean let out a low groan at your words. Fuck, the power you held over him. “You've got me” He promised, catching your lips again. He felt your hands slip under his shirt, silently asking for more access to him. He broke away from your lips long enough to pull the henley he wore off and toss it across the room.

The way you looked at him was like nothing he'd ever experienced. You let your hands trail across his chest, nails scratching lightly “I've always loved your chest, your arms” your praise of his body unlocked something in him. Fuck he loved it. You leaned up to place a kiss at the hollow of his throat and his eyes fluttered shut at the intimacy of the moment. 

When he opened them your eyes were on him, a small smile on your face “No more running from me?” He smiled “No more running” he reached for your shirt so you arched your back off the bed to help him remove it. He tossed it behind him and looked down at you “You're so damn gorgeous”

He crashed his lips against yours and felt your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He rolled his hips into yours and the moan you let out was better than anything he'd ever heard. 

—-------------

You broke away from Dean's lips your need for air winning in the moment. He kissed down your jaw and to your neck. He pushed your hair back and attacked your neck, kissing and biting the skin there. Your grip on his shoulders tightened “Fuck Dean” 

He moved down your neck, kissing across your clothed chest before looking up at you through those long lashes. He held your eyes as he rolled one breast into his mouth, grazing the sensitive bud with his teeth and enjoying when your breath caught in your throat. His hands slipped under you and you felt the bra give way before he was pulling it off of you and tossing it, giving him full access to your chest. 

“Look at you” he whispered, tongue flicking out to tease at one of your nipples while his fingers of his other hand teased the other. Your fingers slid into his hair, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure coursing through you. 

He bit down on your nipple and when your eyes flew open he smirked “Cmon baby I'm just starting. I want your eyes on me” “So damn bossy” you teased and he winked at you “You must like me being bossy” “I love it” you admitted watching him kiss down your stomach. 

When he got to your jeans he looked up at you “Are you sure about this? About us?” You rolled your eyes and lifted your hips off the bed as you unzipped your jeans and started to shimmy them down your hips. He laughed lightly before you felt his hands cover yours as he helped you rid your legs of your jeans then slid your panties off as well.

—-----------

“Look at my girl” he whispered in awe. “All yours Dean. What are you gonna do with me now that you've got me?” The look he gave you was enough to make your entire body feel like you were on fire. The promises there, the desire, the love.  “Devour you” his voice was somehow deeper than usual, lust driving it down. 

He started at one ankle, kissing up your leg then your thighs stopping just shy of where you wanted him. When you let out a rather pathetic sounding whine he just laughed darkly “I've waited long enough to have you like this, let me enjoy it” 

He moved to the other leg, repeating the process. This time when he got where you wanted him he glanced up at your face before lowering his mouth to you. The first lick was tentative, teasing but when your hips bucked and a moan of his name fell from your lips it was like a switch flipped. He dove in, a perfect mixture of teeth and tongue working you closer and closer to that edge. 

He slipped first one finger then added a second,easily finding that spot inside of you that made your legs begin to shake. When his lips locked around your clit  at the same time his fingers found that spot your eyes rolled back and your vision went white. The pleasure was like nothing you'd ever experienced, waves after waves of it washing over you as Dean pulled two orgasms back to back from you.

—-------------

When you weakly shoved at his shoulders he pulled back,leaving feather light kisses on your inner thighs “What's wrong sweetheart? Too much?” You wanted to glare at him but knew it wouldn't be very believable. “How the fuck did you do that?” He grinned “Guess no other man has ever made you come back to back before?” You shook your head and he laughed “Good”

You shook your head and reached for his shoulders “C'mere” he kissed his way back up to your body and when he got to your lips you could taste yourself on him.  “Your jeans are still on!” You nearly whined and he laughed “Let me fix that” 

—--------------

He stood up and when he moved to unzip his jeans and push them off his hips you stopped him from climbing back onto the bed. You sat up and reached for him. He moved closer and when your hand slipped under the material of his boxers to wrap around his hard cock he swore under his breath. You slid the boxers down his legs and he stepped out of them. 

You'd always figured Dean was well endowed but seeing it, feeling it in your hand was different. You lowered your mouth to the tip, licking around the head to collect the precum then pulling more of him into your mouth. Your hand worked what of him you couldn't fit as you swirled your tongue over the vein running up his shaft. His head fell back with a groan, his fingers went to your hair, pushing it back from your face, holding it back. 

You could feel the tension in his hips so you tapped his hips letting him know it was ok. He gave a tentative thrust of his hips and when you hollow out your cheeks to allow more of him down your throat he moaned “Fuck you're perfect” he gave a few hard thrusts into your mouth and you took it, swallowing around him and feeling him tense. 

“Fuck baby” he pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, using his thumb to swipe the spit from your chin “That was amazing but I don't plan to come anywhere expect inside of you tonight” 

—-------------

You scooted back up the bed and he climbed between your legs settling himself there. You could feel his cock nudging at your inner thigh, he hesitated “You're sure?” You nearly growled “Dean Winchester. I fucking love you, I want this I want you! Now for the love of everything fuck me already” 

He laughed lightly and in one roll of his hips buried himself inside of you. You gasped at the fullness you felt, the stretch from how long it'd been since you were with someone else and just how big he was. He left a trail of open mouthed kisses across your jaw.

After a moment the stretch gave way so you let your legs fall apart further before hooking them around his waist. He took that as the go ahead and gave a deep roll of his hips, when the answer was your nails biting into his shoulders he placed a searing kiss against your lips before moving to press his forehead against yours. 

There was something so damn intimate about looking into his eyes while he was so damn deep inside of you. “This is real, isn't it?” He asked and you moved one hand from his shoulder to cup his jaw, understanding the underlying question “It's real Dean. You're here with me” 

He turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand “I love you” you moved your hand back to his shoulder and he kiss you, this one wasn't as hungry as others but it made down to your toes tingle and he gave a hard thrust hitting that spot inside of you with the head of his cock.

—--------------

When your back arched up, pressing your breasts into his chest his thrusts started to get harder and deeper. “Please don't stop” you begged, the pleasure building in your stomach threatening to steal your vision yet again. “Wasn't planning on it” he said, pulling your legs up to his shoulders and nearly folding you in half.

The new angle had you practically screaming his name. The knowledge that he was strong enough to manhandle you like you were nothing drove you crazy. His cock was so damn big and the angle meant he was hitting that spot with every damn thrust. The pleasure was so intense it was borderline pain but better than anything you'd ever experienced.

His hips snapped into yours and you could feel how close you were. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles “Let me feel you baby. I'm so damn close but I need to feel you” 

You felt that pleasure burst as your vision went soft around the edges and a hoarse scream of his name fell from your lips. You could feel his thrusts begin to falter so you gripped his shoulders tightly “Fuck Dean, i want to feel you. Please baby” his face was buried in the bend of your neck and when he buried himself inside of you with one final thrusts the feeling of him coming made a smaller orgasm wash over you, causing your walls to clench down around his cock causing a curse of your name to fall from his lips as well.

—-----------------

He gently eased your legs down, rubbing them gently before pulling out of you. You gasped and he smiled almost shyly “Sorry” you grinned at him sleepily “That was everything Dean”

His smile deepened before he placed a tender kiss on your lips “Let me clean you up a bit” he found his shirt and cleaned you up as best as he could before tossing it at the hamper in the corner. 

—-----------

When he climbed back in bed next to you he asked “Do you need anything? Water? Bodypart massaged?” You shook your head and moved over to be laying halfway on his chest “Just need you to hold me” He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. You were almost asleep before a thought occurred to you and you started laughing. 

You looked up to see he was staring at you like you'd grown a second head “Baby are you ok?” You nodded “There's like thirty hunters here that probably heard that”

He grinned “Well at least they clearly know you're mine and I'm yours” you grinned “damn right. Now kiss your girl so we can both get some sleep” “Yes ma'am” he replied pulling you into a kiss.

Tagging those who told me to write it lol @deans-baby-momma @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @daughterofapollo-7 @littlemadamred

[daistea]

Heyyyy! What would it be like if reader is pregnant with Mithrun's child, post story mithrun?

Tw pregnancy / children lol / 

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

Whether the pregnancy is planned or not really depends on you and your relationship.

If you want a child on purpose, it would take some time and patience and convincing to get Mithrun on board. Pre-dungeon he was far too busy doing hot girl stuff to think about starting a family. Post-dungeon he was far too busy trying to stay alive and getting revenge to think about anything else. Post-canon, give him some time. He needs to figure out how to live. Once he’s settled for a bit, he’ll hear you out. 

If you’re a tall-man or some other short lived race, then he’s even more opposed. Not because you’re not good enough to have a baby with, or that he’s afraid of what society will think, but because how they age is so different. It’s a huge challenge. And halflings have difficult lives. It feels a bit cruel. He wouldn’t usually care whether or not he’s cruel, but this is different. This is one of his new purposes in life and he refuses to mess it up. 

However, in the end a child is still a product of love. You just discuss the ethics a lot. Even if you’re a long-lived race, he still takes into consideration the world and your families and how you’re living.

If the baby is unplanned… You break the news to him and he just disappears for a few hours. He was walking through the woods in silence. He made eye contact with a deer that had a fawn. It was a very spiritual moment. 

He returns ready to take on this challenge, exhibiting 2% more enthusiasm and motivation than he does most things. 

Mithrun is already quite protective, but it gets more intense once you’re pregnant. He watches you like a hawk. It’s actually kind of annoying and you have to tell him to chill out (he does not, but he will stop hovering so you don’t get stressed out)

As you get further along, he accompanies you when you leave the house. He prefers to be near in case anything happens, despite how safe Melini is in general. However, if you’re far along then you probably don’t want to be walking around anyway. 

Already, Mithrun is willing to do anything for his partner— as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his or your shared goals. He’s partly willing to do anything because that’s just the nature of his lack of desires. Yet, one of his new desires is to please you, so his willingness is also just for his own enjoyment. (I might develop this idea further sometime, the ensuing issues from complete willingness would be interesting to explore.)

So, it’s two in the morning and you want a very specific snack? Mithrun is already very nonchalantly pulling on his boots and leaving to get it, without you even having to ask. You stop him though because he’s about to go knock on a merchant’s door so they’ll open just for him. But if something is open, he’ll get it. If it’s possible for him to make it himself, he’ll make it. 

On his journeys to retrieve your snacks, though, he gets lost. Many times Melini guard or a friend has shown up at your door with Mithrun in tow like ‘is this yours?’

Mithrun doesn’t hide his emotions, per se, he just doesn’t connect with them enough to display them most of the time. So his anticipation for the baby doesn’t show much. It’s through his actions that you realize how he’s feeling. He touches your belly a lot, waiting for the baby to kick (he is very determined and very focused on the matter) and of course, as I said, he’s determined to give you whatever you need. Sometimes, when he’s kneeling in front of you, touching your belly, he furrows his brows a little in this small expression. It’s as if he’s confused as to why he loves this little baby so much already, when he hasn’t even met them. Parenthood is a very unfamiliar concept to him and he has trouble connecting with the idea, despite his decision to do well. 

He contemplates his own childhood a bit during this time, something he wouldn’t usually bother doing. He approaches the matter objectively, not feeling much of anything about how he grew up. He doesn’t really psychoanalyze himself. But he does make the decision to raise his child a bit differently than how he was raised. 

He becomes a little clingy at this time. Even before the pregnancy, he always found some way to be touching you, but it becomes more pronounced. He’ll have his hand on your stomach a lot, or pull you into his lap and bury his face in your hair. 

Mithrun is very prepared when you’re on outings together. You meet up with the Canaries for dinner or something and you need… Idk what pregnant people need. Napkins? Nausea medicine? Water, obviously, and good shoes. He has snacks too. He nonchalantly reaches into this overstuffed bag and pulls out what you need and the Canaries are like oooooooooo

Fleki asks if they should call him Daddy now. Mithrun doesn’t bother protesting because he knows they’ll do that no matter what he says. 

You and Mithrun are mamá y papá. Fleki and Lycion say they’re your free trial children. Modern au they beg to go to Mcdonalds and you’re like ‘ask your father’ so Mithrun pulls into the Mcdonalds drive through to shut them up. They cheer. He orders a single black coffee and drives away. 

If you get nausea early on in the pregnancy, he doesn’t really know what to do. He’ll hold back your hair if you need it. 

He does some research on what you can and can’t do while pregnant and becomes a know-it-all. 

Mithrun gives girl-dad energy, but he wouldn’t care what gender the baby is in the end. 

He doesn’t really know how to physically handle you. He’s never hurt you or been rough before (unless you wanted that) but he becomes way more gentle. 

If you headcanon that his parents are still alive, I feel like he wouldn’t really care whether they know about the baby or not. They’d probably find out through his brother. 

In fact, he doesn’t tell anyone the news. You and Mithrun visit his brother randomly and there you are, pregnant, months along, and his brother is like …Mithrun? Is your wife.. Pregnant? He just glances at you, then back to him, completely unfazed. Yeah. She is. 

Or his brother visits after the baby is born. He knocks on the door and Mithrun answers with the baby in a little carrier hanging from his chest. He doesn’t even acknowledge it or the fact that his brother had no idea, not unless his brother acknowledges it first. Mithrun’s just casually giving the baby a bottle or toys and his brother is waiting for him to explain why he thought it was a good idea to not inform his family that he was expecting?!

There was no pregnancy announcement. You were just with child one day and the world had no choice but to accept that. 

Modern au, he might have a very simple banner that says ‘it is a baby’ with a few sad, half-blown up balloons taped to the wall. You’re both just awkwardly standing beside it, staring into the camera. He texts this to his family or the Canaries with no caption then proceeds to ignore the ensuing panicked phone calls. 

He does not care what you name them as long as it’s not stupid.

Until a name is decided, you both just call them a placeholder name. (“How’s The Bean doing today?” “They’re kicking more than usual.”)

After they’re born, Bean sticks and turns into an affectionate nickname!

Mithrun walks around with the baby strapped to his chest. If you have twins and someone comments on the baby strapped to him, he just turns around and there’s another baby on his back. Yeah he open carries brandishes his son or daughter

Since he’s awake most of the time, I think he’d take over night duty a lot. He might fall asleep with the baby cuddled up in his arms or against his chest. 

He has to be taught how to change a diaper, but he learns quickly and becomes quite fast and proficient at it. 

He does not care if he’s covered in baby drool. He doesn’t get icked out easily. 

He’ll be feeding the baby, and if he needs his hands for something else he’ll just casually stick the spoon in his mouth to free up his hands. Some baby food tastes so bad but he can’t really taste it anyway. 

He can be found holding the baby often, with them usually leaning over his shoulder, held up by one of his hands (when they’re old enough to lift themselves a bit, of course.)

He is very careful with them as a newborn. 

He’s also very prepared at this point as well. He will be the one carrying the huge diaper bag most of the time. 

When they’re born, his first question for you is ‘are you okay?’ (You’re not, you just gave birth, idiot) but once that’s out of the way, his second question is ‘why does our baby look like a lumpy potato?’ as newborns frequently do.

In all, it’s a complicated subject for him. But he eases into the idea and the life, and he tries his best. He’s not the most emotionally present father, he’s imperfect as we all are, but he thinks things through and tries to make decisions that will benefit the growth of the child. He’s willing to make sacrifices. But he still gets very lost when going out to grab milk and your child is like ‘is daddy ever coming home?’ and you’re like sigh. Come on let's go find your father. 

[turtlestm]

the face eiji made here was so painful, it reminded me of another time he made it

so i was rewatching banana fish because i was getting a close online friend to watch it for her first time (this is ur sign to make ur besties suffer too if u havent already :>) and while watching episode 13, i got a better look at this pained expression eiji made..

in this scene, he was having an inner dialogue addressed to ash, where he speaks of the nightmares ash suffers through and how he pretends not to notice them and in this shot we see an example of it. eiji's back is turned to ash so that he can't see eiji's face or tell that he's awake. he then wonders to himself what ash dreamt of that had him so distressed at night. this is pretty cut-and-dry and there's nothing really to discuss here that hasn't been talked about already but i have such great appreciation for this show because the look on eiji's face here reminded me of a different face he made in episode 22:

something atrocious just happened to ash and eiji can tell immediately upon seeing the way he was acting when finally away from the commotion of gunfire. and while eiji hasn't gone through the things ash has gone through, hasn't witnessed them directly or even had knowledge of just how disgusting people could be up until recently, he looks at ash's current state, looks at how shaken up and afraid he is, and he looks so angry.

i know a lot of people (not the majority but definitely some) have a kind of reaction to this scene of frustration towards eiji for not being angry or "showing" his anger. they get mad at him for not saying anything or turning to violence or thinking of vengeance. and i think that reaction, while understandable, is not necessary here and would have ruined the weight of a scene like this, especially in the context of such a graphic crime like rape. even if he did have the reaction those people watching wanted, its not like he can deliver on it at all.

what he felt then was an intense anger, seething quietly but still present, towards the world. towards foxx. towards every adult in ash's life that didn't help or intervene or protect him through the hell ash was going through. and yet it already happened. bloodshed or blind fury wouldn't undo it, all it would do is add to ash's baggage and nobody wants that. realistically, he only had one thing that he could give to ash and it was the one thing ash needed most. he needed all his swaying pieces to be held together and no amount of outrage will ever have the same impact as that moment of silence where eiji held him in his arms.

those same things eiji wonders whether ash dreams of them are the things he witnessed ash walk away from during that moment of vulnerability. his exploitation. if it weren't for the greed of men, ash would not have had those nightmares, and that's why eiji had that same look on his face when hearing ash wake up from one. he knew that no matter what the nightmare was, it had something to do with the way he's either neglected or used and abused by adults all the time

god this show hurts. he probably wanted to do so much more in that moment yet all he could do was hold ash in his arms

[froggiewrites]

Unknown / Nth

Pairing: Shanks x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You don't know if Shanks will still be here tomorrow morning. You don't know if you should be doing this at all. But you can't help but indulge yourself tonight, if only to create another memory you'll yearn for later. Warnings: Smut, Angst (With A Happy Ending), Exes to Lovers/Second Chances, A LOT of Yearning Word Count: 4.4k

You thought you were dreaming, the first moment you saw him in the bar, head thrown back with laughter, a little sake running down his chin and catching the light. You were still convinced as you approached, vision blurred with unshed tears. It was only once he turned around, smile wide and ready, obviously aware of you from the moment you stepped in the room, and said your name that you knew that this was truly and definitively real.

You don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing, but your heart sings anyway.

“Long time no see!” His grin doesn’t waver a moment, but you can still see the slight tension in his shoulders, the unease lurking in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to you, not after all this time. You used to know him like the back of your hand, but the man in front of you is practically a stranger. You imagine he feels much the same about you.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You can’t smile as brightly as he does, no matter how excited part of you is to see him again. You’re weighed down by years of grief, of longing, and you’ve never been a good liar. “A lot’s changed.” You glance down at where his arm used to be, the hand that had once held you so tenderly.

He laughs. “Yeah, I guess it has. But not too much.” You don’t know what he’s implying with that, but there’s a weight to the words, a sort of finality to them. “You should sit down. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“I shouldn’t,” she says, already in the chair he gestured to.

He laughs. It’s such a beautiful, familiar sound, something unchanged by the years between the man she used to know and the man who is. “I’ve always been great at convincing you to do the things you shouldn’t, haven’t I?”

You don’t know whether he realizes the gravity of what he’s said. Sometimes everything about him seems so free, so spontaneous, and others it seems like he knows everything that has, can, and will happen, and his hands are the ones making the cogs of the world turn.

But he really had always been so wonderful at convincing you. You had been reluctant to take the next step to lovers. You had told him such, several times, but he had always soothed away your worries with a bubbling laugh that always put you at ease.

I'm afraid of losing you, you had told him.

And he, to his credit, didn't tell you you never could. A calculated risk, he had called it. And I have a good feeling about this one.

You had never been an excellent gambler.

How horrible, to go from friends to lovers to nothing. You didn’t know how to be someone without him. Waking up to an empty bed was one thing, but ordering one drink instead of two, hearing a joke you know he’d love and being unable to share it with him, collecting trinkets just for them to collect dust when you realize you have no one to give them to, it weighs on you. In weaker moments, you can still feel his hands on you, hear his laughter in the wind, see the sparkle of his eyes behind you in the mirror. Haunted by the ghost of all you had and lost.

You never know which to call it: the day you lost him or the day he lost you. It doesn't matter, really, since his warmth left your side all the same, but you can't help but stick on the point anyway. Who took the bigger blow? You had loved him so deeply he had etched himself into your bones down to the marrow, but you would never accuse him of loving you with anything less than his all. Maybe you both lost in the end, a mutually assured destruction that had ended with nothing left of you but scraps.

But you’ve grieved for years, years that are long behind you. In front of you is the man you loved, grinning wildly, leaning in very purposefully to give you a look at his chest and abs under his shirt. He always knew his happy trail drove you wild, and now he does everything he can to ensure you see it. You can’t help but laugh at him. “You aren’t subtle, Shanks.”

“No one’s ever accused me of subtlety. That’s not usually what I’m going for.” His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and you notice lines that weren’t there when you saw him last. You wonder if the joy you brought him helped forge them, or if maybe it was all that came after that made its mark. Is there anything left of you with him?

You move to order a drink for yourself, but before you can speak to the bartender it’s already sat in front of you. Shanks ordered for you before you even approached. “Wow, you sure were confident.”

“Of course I was! How could you ever walk in here and not come and see me?” A slight twitch of his lip, a weakness in his smile, betrays insecurity. He absolutely thought you might have left without a word.

“Maybe I would have gotten nervous and ran. I’ve done that enough in my life.”

“Not to me. You always came to me.” His eyes are soft, filled with an affection that makes you ache.

“Maybe I changed. Maybe I got worse.”

“Not possible. Not you. No matter what the world threw at you, you would never let it break you down.”

“I think you think too much of me.”

“I think maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.” His smile isn’t smug, which is almost worse. He’s being devastatingly genuine, far more than you expected when you sat down. “You never had enough faith in yourself. Has that changed at all?”

You want to lie. God, you want to lie. But staring into his eyes you know you can’t. “No, it hasn’t. It might have gotten worse.”

He sighs softly, and he’s close enough that you can feel the rush of air on your face. “I had a feeling.” He pauses for a moment, before leaning back and taking a swig from his drink. “But tonight isn’t the time to unpack that. We’re two old friends having a drink. We should celebrate!”

It stings more than you expected. “Old friends, huh? That’s what this is?”

“It certainly sounds nicer than calling you the one who got away.”

“I got away?”

“And I never should have let you.” Another sip of his drink. “But really, we should talk about something happier, don’t you think? How’s life been?”

You want to press the issue, but his eyes are slightly pleading, and you think maybe you have more sway over him than you ever expected, an ability to press onto his weak spots hard enough to hurt. You used to think he was unshakable, invincible, but now you wonder if perhaps long ago he had gifted you a knife that could perfectly slip between his ribs if you so chose, if you ever developed the penchant for cruelty.

So you don’t press. You tell him about your life, how things have been since he left. He listens with rapt attention, holding onto your every word. He doesn’t share much about his own life, but you’re too caught up in the intoxication of his attention to care. It feels so wonderful to have those eyes on you again, if only for a while. It loosens your lips, makes you say things you never thought you’d be willing to admit.

"You know, there were times in my life I was convinced you were an angel. A gift from heaven, just for me."

"What convinced you otherwise?"

"I got to know you."

"Ouch!"

"No, no. It's not...you're just so...human. It's a compliment, I promise." It doesn't come out right, as you stumble over your words like you're sixteen again, every part of you slightly too big, too clumsy, too you. You don't know how to tell him that being him is the best thing a person could be. You could never love an angel the way you loved that man.

“I didn’t think you’d have many compliments left for me.”

You don’t know how to disagree with that. You certainly shouldn’t. But there’s a place in your heart carved out in his shape, and you’ve never been able to fill it with anything else. “I have almost nothing but, really.”

He smiles, wearier this time, tired down to the bone. “You’ve always been too good to me.”

You’ve always been too good for me, so what a pair we make. You don’t let the thought leave your lips, not today. But you suspect he might be able to see it in your face. He’s always been able to look you in the eyes and know exactly what you’re thinking. It’s one of his greatest strengths, and one of the things that tore you apart. You were never on equal footing, the wonderful liar and his woefully honest love. 

“So…anybody else you’ve got nothing but compliments for?”

“That was an awful segue.”

“I’m doing my best.”

You can’t help but laugh. “If you’re asking if I’m with someone, no, I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“I thought we were supposed to keep this to happy topics?”

“So it’s a sad reason.”

“It’s a normal reason!” It’s not, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckles, moving closer once again. He’s been slowly pulling your stools closer together throughout the night, inching his way into your space. With this final push, he allows himself a moment with his arm around your shoulder, so close to familiar, but not quite. He used to hold you with his dominant arm, the one he lost. You wonder if it feels strange to him, too, to be so close to the past, inches away from what was, but unable to fully bridge that gap. His drink sits on the counter, unattended, abandoned in favor of your warmth. “No matter the reason, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I think you know.”

“I think I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh, well how could I ever deny a request from you?” He leans closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “I want you.”

You flush, and suddenly you aren’t a tired pirate, filled with regrets and lost in nostalgia. Instead you’re twenty, and the beautiful boy you’ve been in love with has finally looked at you with all of the longing you thought you were alone in. You’re giddy and terrified and yearning all at once, but you can handle it, because he’s right there to catch you, just like he’s always been. You remember very well what it’s like to love him. You don’t know if you ever stopped. You would tell him, had he not flustered you so thoroughly you can hardly bring yourself to speak.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d still have that effect on you.” He’s grinning, the smugness offset by his obvious boyish glee.

“How could I ever resist?” It comes out barely a whisper, eeks out of your lips before you can stop it.

“Can I do what I do best?”

“What’s that?”

His eyes glance longingly down at your lips as he mutters, “Convince you to do something you shouldn’t.”

Tomorrow, you expect to wake up to cold sheets and an empty bed. Tomorrow you will be left with nothing but a longing for what you could have had, had things been different. Tomorrow you will scream and cry and curse yourself for daring to give yourself a taste of it, knowing this time would be the last. But it is not tomorrow yet, and he looks beautiful in the light, a decade younger and kinder, just like you remember him.

You let him kiss you.

And god, how cruel he was, for kissing you like it mattered. Like he always used to, dragging it out, lips following you even as you pulled away. He always kissed you like it would be your last.

His hand grips your hip tightly, as though he’s terrified you’ll turn to smoke beneath his fingertips, as though the moment he lets you you will slip through his fingers. Your chests press together, your hearts beating loudly, calling to each other through the small amount of space that separates them. A greeting to an old friend.

Your walk to your inn room is frenzied, his hand never leaving you, your lips hardly parting for a moment. You would thank the cover of darkness for maintaining your dignity if you were capable of worrying about anything other than the feeling of his skin beneath your fingers when you slide them beneath his shirt. You hear nothing except for his frantic breath in the small moments you part, the soft sighs that leave him when his hands find another part of your body to refamiliarize himself with.

You barely feel your back hit the bed. It is only when he finally pulls back a moment that you catch your breath and realize where you are. You could still back out. Still allow yourself to go back to the numbness, the grief surrounding you like a blanket, keeping you not comfortable but certainly safe.

Your fingers find the bottom of your shirt, throwing it to the side carelessly. Your fingers struggle with the clasp of your bra for a moment, frantic to get it off, to feel his fingers and mouth on your chest again after years of dreaming of them. You look up to see him shirtless, having fought a panicked battle with fabric of his own. He’s staring at you, mouth agape, his look something resembling wonder. He’s not simply admiring you, or doing something as disconnecting, glorifying, as worship. He’s simply adoring you, taking in the sight of you and tucking it away in his heart, treating you as something to be remembered. Something he will carry with him for the rest of his life if he has the choice.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember you.” His voice is hardly a whisper, the words feeling almost like a confession of something more.

“So are you,” you murmur, moving slowly to run your fingers across his abdomen. He’s still built sturdily, and you can feel his muscles tense slightly underneath your fingers.

“I’ve dreamed of this. So, so many times.” He comes closer, his next words nearly directly against your lips. “I might have seen you more in my dreams than I ever did in reality. You’ve haunted me.” With that he kisses you again, tenderly, like an apology. There isn’t a heat or urgency like there was before, only affection and longing. You can feel in every movement of his mouth and tongue how he has wanted you, waited for you.

He slides onto the bed, pulling you onto his lap, pressing your bare chests together with his arm wrapped around your waist. His mouth moves to your neck, nipping gently, trying to find a spot he could once find in an instant. It takes him only a moment before he finds your sweet spot, making you moan softly. When you do, he lets out a soft groan. “God, I’ve missed that sound.”

You grind down slightly on his lap, making him let out a soft surprised noise of his own. You can’t help the giggle that comes out of you, girlish and joyous. “And I’ve missed that sound.” You grind down again, electricity shooting up your spine. “And that feeling.”

“Oh yeah? Haven’t felt that a lot since…” He trails off.

“They haven’t been you.” The weight of the words don’t hit you until they’re already out, but they don’t shatter the fragile bubble you two have found yourself in. All they do is make him give you a lovesick grin that threatens to rip your heart from your chest.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Another nip at your neck, and a callused hand sliding up your torso to your chest. “I’d give anything for it to have been me.”

“It’s you now.” It’s always been you.

“So it is. I’ll make sure you never forget tonight.” His mouth moves lower, his tongue and teeth lightly grazing over your nipples, making you grab his shoulders to ground yourself as a shiver works its way up your spine. His mouth is on one breast, his hand on the other, and he takes his sweet time working you up. He’s determined to appreciate you with all of the time he’s been granted, ensure that you know how much he’s savoring this moment. It’s only once you’re panting, hips jerking lightly without permission, that he eases up his attacks and starts working his way to the main event.

He lifts you slightly, just enough to slide your pants and panties off in one go. “Show off,” you mutter, no fire behind it.

“Only for you.” What should be a cheeky grin is too softened by the mood, turning to something sickly sweet. He taps your thigh lightly, an indication to stay elevated, and starts to unbuckle his pants before your hands reach out to stop him.

“Let me.” You wish your voice weren’t so desperate, but you’ve been dreaming of this moment for years, and you want so badly to live it how you’ve always wanted to.

He chuckles. “Of course, dear.”

Your hands make quick work of his belt as it’s flung to the side, but you take your time slowly working off his pants. The tent in his boxers is huge, almost bigger than you remember, but you don’t take long to stare at it. You save that for when you finally slide off his underwear, exposing his cock to your hungry eyes. It’s exactly as you remember, long and veiny and twitching with want. You slowly reach a hand to it, wrapping your fist around it, then the other, pumping slowly and appreciating the weight in your hand. He lets out a soft groan, head falling forward, eyes falling closed, allowing for you to admire his body without fear of embarrassment.

You seize the moment you can, eyes scraping over every inch of him, updating him in your memory, adding every new wrinkle, scar, every part of him that’s new to you. You never thought he could grow more beautiful, more perfect, more him, but somehow he managed. There’s more hair on his chest now, more scars on his legs, more evidence of the hard life you knew he led as an emperor. You’re determined to memorize every inch, so now at least when you dream of him it will be him as he is instead of as he was.

He makes a strangled noise when you lean down to take him in your mouth, to see if his taste has changed as well. You’re pleased to know it hasn’t, as you slowly move up and down his shaft as your hands continue to work him. The weight of him in your mouth is almost comforting in its familiarity, something between you two that has remained wholly and truly unchanged. His moans grow deeper when one of your hands moves to his balls and his hips lurch forward slightly. You remove your mouth just to take one final long lick up his cock, one that once again causes him to shiver and groan.

He makes a quiet noise somewhere between disappointment and relief when you fully remove your hands and mouth from him and begin to straddle him again. “I really didn’t want to finish before the main event. I don’t have the stamina I used to.”

You laugh at him. “You liar. One, you’re not even forty, you shouldn’t act like an old man. Second, you’ve only gotten stronger since then. No way in hell have you lost any endurance.”

“Me, lie to you?” He places a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Never!”

“So you admit you’re weaker than you used to be? An unpracticed lover?”

“Well…maybe I was lying this one time.” He leans forward to kiss you again, a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. He reaches down to align himself with your entrance before he begins to thrust in slowly and carefully. His hand moves to your hip, resting there as you both quietly moan at the feeling of you stretching him out.

He leans your foreheads together when he finally bottoms out, both of you panting quietly and getting used to the feeling. It’s blissful, to finally be filled so perfectly after thinking about it for so very long. You fit together perfectly, two puzzle pieces made for each other.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you mewl.

“Of course.” With that he easily grips your hip to help you ride him, rutting up into you as you come down. The sound of skin slapping makes you feel light headed, leaning your head forward to rest in Shanks’ neck. The room feels burning hot, but despite the heat radiating off of his skin, you need to feel every inch of him. You feel as though you’ll float away if you don’t ground yourself here, with him, perfectly intertwined in a way you could never be with anybody else.

“I’ve missed this,” he gasps out as he hits particularly deep, making you cry out. “You feel so wonderful, sweetheart. So perfect.”

You try to respond, but he hits your sweet spot again, so you can only let out a choked cry against his neck. He presses his nose into your hair, and you can feel him smile against you. “That’s right, just like that. Let me hear it.”

And so you do. You don’t hold back a single sound, crying out for him louder and louder until you’re sure the entire inn can hear. You can’t bring yourself to care. You can feel the heat rising, the pulsing spreading through you, and you don’t give a damn about anything other than the man beneath and inside of you.

“So close, almost there.” Another thrust, another cry, and you are teetering on the edge, ready to let yourself fall.

“Let it out, sweetheart. Cum with me.” You tighten around him as you feel your release fly through you and Shanks’ pulse inside of you. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, ensuring you take every last drop of him as deep inside as you can. When you come back to yourself, he’s running his fingers lightly through your hair, pressing loving kisses to the top of your head. “That was perfect.”

You can’t help your smile. You nuzzle against his neck, and his hand drops from your head to your back, pulling you closer. You both lay for what feels like hours, Shanks soft inside of you, as both of you refuse to move and shatter the moment.

Eventually, Shanks pulls out, cum slowly starting to leak out of you, as he gently shifts you both so he’s laying on his back with you on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady like a drum, pounding in his chest. You’d missed that sound.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You only remember waking up still feeling warm and safe, and the quiet confusion that comes with it. You were sure he would be back on his ship by now, halfway to a new island, a new adventure, and someone else to share his bed with. Someone with less baggage, or at least some that can be left by the door. Instead he’s here, in this bed, staring down at you with a tenderness that could bring you to tears if you let it.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He brushes your hair lightly from his face.

“Does that make you Prince Charming?”

He laughs. “God no. I’m the handsome and roguish pirate that’s here to steal his princess away.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“Hm?”

“Steal me away? Is that your plan?” You try to keep the hope out of your voice.

"We're leaving tomorrow. You could..." He trails off, an uncharacteristic hesitation. You never used to do this to him, make him lose his sure footing. You don't know how to feel about changing from home to unsteady ground, somewhere he has to tread carefully lest he fall right through. He doesn't finish his question, doesn't get brave enough to risk it. Instead he looks at you with wide, pleading eyes that beg for a return to something you can't even fully remember the feeling of.

I can't, you want to say.

"I don't know," your mouth betrays, vulnerability seeping through. He's always been good at that, striping someone down to their center, exposing the softness they desperately try to hide.

"I don't know either," he mutters. "But I'd... I'd like it if you did. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. Not if you don’t want to.” His hand is gentle as it caresses your cheek. You close your eyes and lean in, soaking up the feeling. You want to. You want to so badly you could scream. But there’s a terror inside of you, a part of you where the wound he left never closed. You don’t know if you can risk tearing the rest of it open again. You don’t know if you’ll survive it.

His voice goes soft again, saying the one word that brings down your defenses instantly. “Please. Please come with me. I can’t lose you again.”

You know he could still hurt you. Could still rip you open in an instant if you let him, expose your soft insides and destroy every part of you you managed to keep safe the first time. You know this intimately. But somehow it doesn’t sway you as much as his quiet desperation, his admittance that perhaps you could do the very same to him, and he would let you.

“You don’t have to.”

“You mean…”

“I’ll go with you.”

His smile rivals the sun. “You won’t regret it.”

You might. But you can’t quite bring yourself to care.

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