#because i definitely won’t finish it if i lose steam halfway

[ferrero13]

Instead of finishing my WIPs, I’m writing an IronStrange AU where Stephen ends up learning magic by trial and error on Everest because he never manages to open a portal back into Kamar-Taj, and accidentally walks into Tony’s dreams for the duration of Civil War. I’m 2.3K words in and have only finished writing their first meeting. The end is nowhere in sight. OTL

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [6]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 6761

Warnings: This part contains smut, Steve is a virgin for obvious reasons, Explicit themes (18+)

The next morning, you meet up with Dr. Erskine first thing to go over the plan for the day, along with Colonel Phillips. The Colonel then calls for a vehicle escort to take you all to where Agent Carter is getting the recruits initiated. The vehicle pulls up just in time for you to see her fist flying into one of the recruit’s face.

You scoff out a laugh, wondering what exactly that guy did to piss her off.

“Agent Carter, I can see that you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good,” Colonel Phillips announces as he approaches the group. He then proceeds to order the soldier the get himself back up.

You stand next to Dr. Erskine and sweep your eyes over the group. You catch Steve’s gaze for a brief moment before he looks straight ahead at attention. You have to glance down at your clipboard to help fight off your smile.

The Colonel begins to pace in front of the recruits and gives his introductory speech. “We are going to win this war because we have the best… men,” he falters when he pauses and glances over at Steve. He turns to shoot Dr. Erskine with a look. The Doctor has to look away to keep his face neutral. “And because they are going to get better,” the Colonel resumes his pacing. “Much better.”

He continues to explain to the men what exactly they have signed up for. An opportunity to become the man that will lead the Allied forces into winning the war. A man who will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers. A man who will personally bring Adolph Hitler to the gates of Hell.

“We will be testing you in just about every aspect you can think of. Strength, endurance, agility, cognition, aptitude... By the end of this week, we will know you better than you know yourselves. You are on the clock from now until we’ve made our decision next Monday. You will follow every single order, explicitly as it is given to you. We tell you to jump, just do it, don’t bother asking how high. We will tell you when to eat. We will tell you when to sleep. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” all of the recruits shout simultaneously.

“Sergeant Duffy, you can take it from here,” the Colonel relinquishes control of the recruits to the Drill Sergeant.

“Alright, men! Step into formation!” He orders. “First up is the ropes course! Ready! March!”

You follow after the group, along with Agent Carter. You take notes on the performance and times of each recruit as they complete the course. You bite your lips and cringe inwardly when Steve barely makes it halfway up the rope wall before losing steam. It breaks your heart to have to check the incomplete box next to his name on the paperwork, but you know if you don’t accurately report what’s happening, it will raise several questions with the others.

This is just the beginning of a very long and challenging week. Every day the men are up before dawn, they have 30 minutes to eat breakfast, then they’re jumping right into the next test. Steve’s differences from the others quickly paint a target on his back. One of the recruits, Hodge, the one that Peggy punched on the first day, seems to have a vendetta against him.

You witness Hodge kicking out one of the posts of the barbed wire crawling course, forcing the wires to collapse directly on top of Steve, pinning him down. Sergeant Duffy was quick to put Steve to blame, but you happily wrote a mark against Hodge on his form. You’d definitely be reporting this back to Erskine.

Steve struggles for a few minutes but is eventually able to work himself loose and crawls out of the remainder of the course. You frown when you notice the back of his uniform is cut in several spots. You’re pretty sure you even saw a flash of red.

Later on, the men are given an hour for lunch. As the rest of the group heads for the mess hall, you watch Steve diverge off to the barracks. You rush to your room to grab your first aid kit. You step back out of the officer quarters at the same time he’s leaving the barracks, dressed in a different uniform. You release a quick whistle to catch his attention before jerking your head to the side to indicate he should follow you.

He looks around to make sure no one else has witnessed the interaction before walking over. You take him around the back of the building before ducking behind a series of large crates. “Vic, what are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” Steve whispers.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” you instruct, kneeling on the ground to open your first aid kit.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine,” he huffs stubbornly.

You fix him with a pointed look. “Steve, the sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we’ll be done, and then the less likely we’ll be caught.”

He stares back for a moment before giving in with a dejected sigh. He looks around once more before ducking behind the creates, too. He starts unbuttoning his uniform and turns around to sit cross-legged with his back toward you. Once the shirt is off, you hiss at the sight of the cuts on his back. Most aren’t too bad, but there’s one going across his right shoulder blade that’s deeper than the rest.

“You and I have very different meanings for the term fine,” you scoff.

“It’s really not that bad. Just hurts when I, you know, move…”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head at him. There’s that stubborn jerk you know and love. Leaning forward, you press your lips to the back of his neck. He turns his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

You smile, “A distraction from the pain.”

He releases a low hum before turning his head back. You disinfect your hands before reaching out to inspect the deeper cut. You prod gently at the skin around the cut. Luckily, it’s not quite as deep as you originally feared and it won’t need stitches.

“This is going to sting,” you warn as you rip open a disinfectant wipe packet. You dab as gently as you can to the cut, but Steve still releases a harsh breath.

“Think I could maybe use another distraction,” he comments, his voice tight.

You oblige with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve cleaned up the cut, you pull out your healing spray from Shuri. “This will feel a little cold at first, but then it will start to numb the pain,” you explain before spraying over the wound. You tape a piece of gauze over the cut to keep it protected before moving onto the smaller cuts.

As the gel begins to take effect, the tension in Steve’s shoulders begins to ease. Your concentration breaks when he releases a long sigh. “Vic, what the hell am I doing here?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“You earned your spot, Steve. Same as the rest of them.”

He scoffs dryly. “But I’m nothing like the rest of them.”

“That’s a good thing!” you insist. “Steve, you know that this isn’t just about who’s tallest, fastest, or strongest. Your strengths are up here,” you tap at his temple. “Find a way to use that to your advantage.”

“Can’t exactly think my way out of a push-up…” He sighs, looking off into the distance. “I’m just so tired.”

You’re not surprised. He’s pushing his body past its limits. “I know,” you scratch comfortingly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “But it’s just a few more days. I know that you can do this.”

The scratch of your nails on his scalp helps to relax him. “Thanks, Vic. It’s nice knowing there’s someone here that’s on my side.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze once again.

“I’m always on your side. Even when you’re being a stubborn jerk.” You smirk humorously.

He chuckles quietly and lets you finish bandaging him up. The rest of the cuts don’t need as much attention, just a quick spray of the healing gel before covering them with a few bandages, so the gel won’t rub off on his uniform.

“Okay, you’re done,” you tell him, so he can put his uniform shirt back on as you pack up your kit and collect the trash.

He slips the shirt over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned as he turns to face you, sitting on his knees. “Can I get one last distraction?”

When you lift your gaze to catch his, he taps a finger to his bottom lip, right where he’s giving you a goofy grin. You match the grin with one of your own before leaning forward on your hands and knees. You tilt your head and press your lips to his. As much as you want to give in to the kiss and spend the whole afternoon with him tucked behind these crates, you know it won’t be long before someone comes looking for the two of you. If you’re caught together it would immediately disqualify Steve from the program, so you keep things short.

Pulling back, you blink your eyes open. Steve’s face looks more relaxed than it has his entire time here. You smile at him encouragingly, “Go show ‘em what you’re made of, Rogers.”

Darting forward, he places one last peck against your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He finishes buttoning up his shirt and stands. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear before reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. You have him go first then wait a minute before stepping out from behind the crates and make your way back to your room to put away your first aid kit.

-

Dr. Erskine grabs you during breakfast the next morning to go over the progress on the recruits so far. While you’re in your meeting with him, the recruits are taken on their endurance run around the entire camp. It will take the full morning to complete the round trip. You can’t help but be worried about Steve, especially since you’re not there to watch out for him.

You step back outside to meet up with the recruits at the same time that they are returning from their run. You feel dread pooling deep in your gut when you see Steve sitting in the back of the escort vehicle. As you hurry your approach, you find that he doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks rather content. Maybe even a little smug.

The vehicle comes to a stop, along with the rest of the recruits. Sergeant Duffy dismisses them to lunch, a rather sour look on his face as he holds a bundled green cloth in his arms. Steve hops out of the back of the truck, confirming your thought that he’s not injured.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches.

“The Sergeant said that if anyone could bring him the flag at the halfway point, they’d get a ride back the rest of the way. I pulled the pins out of the bottom of the flagpole. Once the pole was on the ground, getting the flag was easy.” He shrugs casually.

You and Dr. Erskine share a look, trying to conceal your smiles to not show favoritism in front of the others.

“That is one way to do it,” Dr. Erskine tells him before you both let him continue to the mess hall for lunch.

The two of you then meet up with Agent Carter to get her notes on the recruits after their run.

By the end of the week, Steve has found a few other areas to shine through. Every time you give Dr. Erskine your reports, you can tell that it’s only helping to affirm his feelings on picking Steve for Project Rebirth. You’re currently watching the recruits running through their afternoon exercises, with Agent Carter leading them through a round of push-ups. Your attention is momentarily pulled away from the group when Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips walk up, arguing over Erskine’s apparent choice to pick Steve.

“You don’t win wars with niceness, Doctor,” the Colonel huffs and digs through a weapons create in the back of one of the military trucks. He pulls something out of one of the creates that you can’t quite make out from your position. “You win wars with guts.” In the next second, he tosses the object into the group of recruits. “Grenade!” he shouts and your heart completely stops.

You’re about to dart into the fray as the recruits completely scatter, but then you notice one individual jumping directly onto the grenade. “Get away!” Steve screams, huddling over the explosive device. “Get back!”

Time seems to come to a complete stop as you think that this is the moment you’re going to watch him die. A full second passes, then another. As time seems to start moving once more at a normal pace, you realize that the grenade never went off. Everyone else seems to come to this conclusion at the same time and Steve begins to push himself out of his huddled position.

“It was a dummy grenade,” one of the other soldiers announce and everyone begins to collect themselves. “All clear.”

You find yourself releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Steve looks around in confusion. “Is this a test?” he asks.

You look over to Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips to find the two in a staring match. “He’s still skinny,” the Colonel mutters before walking around the doctor and heads off. Erskine watches his movements, trying to hold back a smile of amusement. Once the Colonel is out of sight, he gives that smile to Steve

-

It’s your last night at Camp Lehigh and you can’t even pretend to fall asleep. You should feel relief, knowing that Steve was successful in getting chosen for Project Rebirth. And a part of you is. But this means that tomorrow is your last day here in this time. Tomorrow is the whole reason you even ventured back into 1943. Tomorrow is your one shot at getting the serum. Tomorrow… you go home.

Unable to stand one more second laying still in your bed, you push yourself up and move the blankets off your legs. Peggy is fast asleep in her own cot, but she’s a light sleeper, so you try not to make too much noise as you slip out of bed. You grab your silk robe to throw over your nightgown once you’ve stepped out of the room. You twist the knob of the door as you carefully pull it shut, so it won’t click. You then walk barefoot out of the Officer Quarters and make your way over to the barracks. As you approach the main door, you pause when it opens on its own.

Dr. Erskine steps out, and he catches you standing there. He chuckles quietly, holding the door open for you. “Don’t keep him up too late.”

An embarrassed smile crosses your face. “I won’t, Doctor.” You slip inside before the door shuts behind you.

Steve is sitting on the side of his cot, with his back toward the door. He looks over his shoulder as you approach, quickly standing to his feet when he sees it’s you. “Vic!”

As soon as he’s within reach, your hands dart out to yank him close. You wrap your arms around his chest and bury your face into his neck, holding him tight. He stiffens at first, before relaxing into your hold.

“Is this my congratulations?” he asks with a gentle laugh.

“This is because you jumped on top of a grenade, like an idiot, and scared me half to death!” You squeeze him a little tighter. “I need to know that you’re okay,” you mumble against the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you feel the comfort of his nearness beginning to seep into you, you lean back and unwrap an arm to hold the side of his face. “This is your congratulations,” you say before placing your lips over his.

His arms tighten around your waist as he kisses back eagerly. “God, I missed having you so close,” he whispers against your lips.

Instead of his words causing you comfort, they hit you with a cold dose of reality. You pull back with a snap, your breath hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking at you with concern.

You feel the pain in your chest like a knife to your heart, and you’re sure it’s plain to see on your face. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you confess.

His eyes become cautious and guarded. “What is it?”

You release a shaky breath, feeling the tears already beginning to well in your eyes. “After the procedure tomorrow… I have to go away.”

“Go away?” he repeats, brows furrowing. “You’re getting reassigned?”

“I-” you start before cutting yourself off. You know you can’t tell him the full truth. He wouldn’t understand. “Yes,” you force out. “I’m getting reassigned.”

His gaze flickers between yours, trying to get a read on anything that you can give him. “Well, where to? Maybe I can get assigned there also.”

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you attempt to fight off your tears. “No, you can’t. It’s something I have to do alone.”

He looks like he still doesn’t understand. “So, what does that mean for us?”

You exhale sharply, looking up as a last-ditch effort to keep the tears from falling. “It means we won’t see each other again.”

“Ever?”

All of your efforts begin to fail when your gaze drops to his once more and you see the look on his face. He looks absolutely heartbroken. You feel that knife in your chest dig a little deeper. “Not for a long time.”

He watches as you begin to fall apart in his arms, but he just can’t accept it. Steve Rogers never gives up on anything. “No, we can find a way to make it work. I’ll talk with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips after the procedure. If it works, they’ll have to say yes, right? And even if they say no, we can still write letters to each other. This doesn’t have to be-”

“Steve,” you cut in. You can’t allow him to get his hopes us. “This is our last night.”

His breaths come in quick like he’s gearing up for a fight, but when he sees the raw pain in your eyes, he knows that now isn’t the time for arguing. Maybe he can change your mind before tomorrow. Maybe he can’t. If this truly is the end… “Then, let’s make the most of it.”

His hands cradle your cheeks before he pulls your face against his. He’s in complete control of this kiss and you are more than happy to submit to him. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you are reveling in it. His hands slip from your cheeks, down your neck, and over your shoulders. He pushes against your robe until it’s falling to the floor.

The two of you stumble over to his cot, not wanting to part, as your hands roam over each other’s bodies. Your hands slip beneath his white SSR t-shirt before they crawl up his stomach. He releases you just long enough to tuck his dog tags inside the shirt before he helps you pull it off. He sits in the middle of the mattress and you crawl to sit on his lap, your nightgown bunching up at your thighs.

You hover over him, hands on his shoulders as you barely skim your lips against his. He stretches his neck up as you tease, trying to get more from you. Your lips split into a grin before your tongue darts out to swipe straight up the middle of his mouth. His hands shake when they grip your hips.

“Have you done this before?” he asks breathlessly.

You stop your movements and pull back to meet his gaze. “I have,” you confirm. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oh, no,” he insists, squeezing your hips a little tighter. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t…” He drops his gaze for a moment.

Your lips spread into a sweet smile and you run your fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze back up. “That doesn’t bother me at all, Steve,” you assure him.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can tell he has more to say, so you wait patiently for him. “Bucky once told me that sometimes women don’t feel pleasure if you don’t do it right.” He pauses, looking at you with concern. “Will you teach me?”

You look at him with so much tender affection, he can feel it in his soul. “Of course.” You settle yourself a little more comfortably over his lap, with your knees framing his hips. “Just start by touching me.”

He glances down at where his hands rest at your hips, then his eyes travel back up the length of your body. “Where?” he questions.

“Everywhere.” Leaning back down, you capture his lips and kiss him fiercely.

His hands seem to take on a life of their own. They trail up your sides, exploring your curves so delicately, one would think you were made a glass. They skim just past the edge of your breasts, not quite brave enough to venture there quite yet. He traces the dip of your collar bone and the bend of your shoulders. As you continue to mold your mouth to his, he uses the touch of his fingers to paint the image of your body in his mind.

His hands then skim down your back, fingers spread wide so as not to miss a single inch. They come to a stop just below the curve of your lower back. Pulling out of your kiss, you breathe heavily as you catch his hooded gaze. Releasing his shoulders, you reach back and grip each of his wrists. Continuing to hold his gaze, you push his hands down even further until they are well and truly settled over the globes of your ass.

Steve’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate completely. He may not realize it yet, but you know your man has a thing for your ass. You grin deviously when you feel his hands squeeze. You rock your hips encouragingly, rubbing up on the erection that’s begun forming in his pants. He grunts in surprise at the sensations running through him and he squeezes your ass again. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so hard.

Wanting to touch even more of you, Steve’s hands glide down your thighs and slip under the hem of your satin nightgown. He moves at a pace slower than a snail as he moves back up your legs. His fingertips brush the curve of your ass once more, and when he expects to feel cloth again, he finds nothing but skin. His lips part in shock. “You’re not wearing underwear…” he realizes.

You can’t help the short giggle that slips out. “No, I’m not,” you confirm.

He swallows thickly, trying to process that information. “Do you do that a lot?” he questions, wondering how many nights you’ve shared a bed together like this.

“Sometimes,” you respond cryptically.

He releases a shaky breath, “Oh God, I’m going to hell for this.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well, then we can go together.”

“Can…” his mouth has gone dry and his voice cracks. He has to clear his throat to try again. “Can I see you?”

“You can if you take off my nightgown,” you grin cheekily.

He fumbles a little, getting the satin material up to your waist. You help him remove the gown and let it fall to the floor. And suddenly Steve has a very naked woman sitting over him. After a quick glance over you, he quickly realizes that he could spend hours looking over your body and would never grow bored. He could explore you as he would an art museum. Looking for every single minuscule little detail within the great masterpiece. Lose himself in the curve of your hip, or the swell of your breasts, or between your thighs.

You notice where his gaze drops to and recognize the curious interest in his eyes. You take one of his hands back in yours and slowly bring it to the junction of your thighs. His fingers slide over your folds and he inhales sharply.

“You’re wet…” he surmises.

“I am,” you confirm with a laugh.

His fingers do a little exploring over the area. “Are women always wet like this?”

“No, not like this. It’s mostly just during arousal. It helps to act as a natural lubricant,” you attempt to explain while he’s got his hands on you.

“Where do I… go in?” he questions, his face flushing. He feels like he’s failing in class. Isn’t there some sort of primal instinct that’s supposed to kick in or something?

You smile in understanding and guide him to where he needs to be. “Just press gently,” you encourage. He does as you’ve instructed and slowly, his finger pushes in. Your lips part and you release the sweetest little mewl as your body welcomes him. “Add a second finger,” you urge, more than ready for the satisfying stretch your body has been craving from the moment of arousal.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone this long without sex. Especially since you’d been on that recon mission with the team for several weeks even before coming to 1943. Your body was begging for a little action. You have a brief flicker of thought on whether or not this is technically considered cheating, but then Steve flicks his fingers experimentally, hitting your g-spot, and all other thought promptly falls straight out of your head.

“Oh, right there! Steve, touch me right there!”

Steve doesn’t know if he should be watching what he’s doing with his hand or if he can just stare at your face. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Neck stretched, lips parted, eyes closed. You’re a picture of pure bliss. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers as your body tries to chase after its first orgasm. Reaching down for his hand once more, you position his thumb over your aching clit.

“Rub that in little circles.” You’re growing more and more breathless the longer he plays with you. The sounds coming out of you are so sweet, Steve can nearly taste the sugar in the air. You try not to be too loud, knowing there’s night patrol walking around the camp and you don’t want to call their attention. “Oh, Steve. That-” your voice drops with a sharp exhale. “That feels so good.”

Your hips stutter against his touch and your breasts heave with every breath. Steve is mesmerized by you. He’s not sure what drives him to do it, be it that instinct finally kicking in, or purely an insatiable need, but he leans forward and takes one of your breasts into his mouth. This must be the correct move because the sound that rips out of you shoots straight to his throbbing cock. Your hands dive into his hair, tugging and gripping at the strands, but also keeping him close and encouraging him.

Steve does his best to divide his attention, keeping his hand moving between your legs while he mouths at your breast. He tries to keep his teeth out of the equation, unsure if that will hurt you. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand reaches back down to grab at your ass once more. He uses that hand as leverage to keep you close and encourage the way you rock into his probing fingers.

“Oh yes! Right there, Steve! Don’t stop!”

He’s not entirely sure which area you’re referring to, so he keeps up with it all. He sucks even harder on your breast, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand between your legs is beginning to grow tired, but he doesn’t dare stop, and he continues to squeeze and push the globe of your ass.

Your voice continues to rise in pitch the closer you get to your peak. “Oh my God! Oh, Steve! Yes! Yes!” And suddenly, your body is tensing above him and your walls spasm around his fingers. Your climax hits you like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. You’re seeing all sorts of colors and swirls behind your closed eyelids. You hold onto him tight, afraid that if you let go, you’ll get whisked away.

He pulls away from your breast, not wanting to miss the sight of your euphoria, but he continues the movement of his hands. His fingers are pushed in deep, stroking at your quivering walls and thumbing at your clit. Your entire body shakes around him. Steve feels like he’s strung so tight that he may just join you with the barest hint of touch to his straining cock.

“Okay, okay,” you ease, gripping at his wrist as your body begins to come down from your high. He’s more than happy to keep going, but you’re going to go nuts from over-sensitivity if he keeps it up. “That was good,” you huff with a breathless laugh, guiding his hand to gently pull out from between your legs. “So good…” you drop your head unceremoniously to his shoulder, needing a second to collect yourself.

He feels your breath fan across his chest, sending tingles in its wake. “I didn’t kill you, right?” he asks jokingly.

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your head back up. “No. You were perfect.” Cupping his face in your hands, you slant your lips over his in a sloppy kiss and start to lean forward until Steve falls back against his pillow. Your mouth drags away from his, over the side of his jaw and down his neck.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asks as your lips ghost down the center of his chest.

You place a kiss just above his belly button before grinning up at him devilishly. “Now I’m going to do you.” Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, popping the top button and dragging down the zipper. In one move, you pull his pants and boxers off his legs, allowing them to join the remainder of your clothes on the floor. Steve’s cock is hard and ready for you, laying against his abdomen. He’s not as thick as you’re used to, but he’s definitely got more length than you were expecting. He’s also got a bit of an upward curve right now that seems to have gone away after the girth built up.

Your gaze flickers up to see that he’s watching you intently for your reaction. You give him just the barest hint of a smirk before you lean down and drag your tongue over him from base to tip. His lips part in a shaky breath and he throws his head back. You swipe over the very end of his tip, getting a taste of the pre-cum that’s dribbling out of his head. You wrap your fingers around his base to hold him steady before you take him into your mouth.

“Good God!” he cries out, hips jerking up and his back arching. He grips the bedsheets, his knuckles immediately turning white as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never felt anything like this before and he knows that it’s way too much. “Vic, honey, you gotta stop,” he begs despite the way his body thrusts up into your hot mouth. “I won’t last,” he shakes his head fervently, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up.

Having mercy on him, you release him with a parting lick to the slit on his head. You keep your hand wrapped around him as you sit up on your knees and begin to get yourself into position above him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask for his consent one last time before it becomes too late.

His eyes blink back open and meet yours before he nods. “Yes, I want this,” he confirms. “I want you, Vic.”

You smile sincerely and move to line him up with your entrance. His tip has just barely brushed against your slick folds when he jolts and tightly grips your hip.

“Wait! Wait,” he rushes, making you pause. You’re about to move off of him, but his grip holds you steady. “I’m not wearing a condom,” he tells you in a hurry before you’ll think he’s backing out. “I don’t even have one…”

Your muscles relax as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay. I have birth control.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What is that?”

You realize too late that modern birth control hasn’t been invented yet. “Uhm… well, I have an IUD. It’s like a small device inside me that releases a certain type of hormone that prevents fertilization.”

“Oh,” he states simply, but wonders why he’s never heard of anything like that before. It certainly sounds handy. “And that’s effective?”

“Yes,” you smile in amusement. “So, can I…” you glance down to where you’re still holding him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Go ahead.” His cheeks flare with embarrassment.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “You’re so adorable.”

He winces slightly at that, his cheeks only getting hotter. “Not exactly the words most men want to hear when you’ve got your hands on his penis.”

You laugh again and stroke his length in a comforting gesture. “Well, you’re not most men.” You settle back over him and align his tip against your entrance. “You’re my man.” With that said, you begin to sink down onto him. Your body welcomes every single inch that fills you until he’s pushed in to the hilt.

“Oh wow…” he breathes, hands gripping your hips even tighter.

“You okay?” you ask a little breathlessly, your body thrumming with sexual energy.

“Yeah…” he responds brokenly, trying to hang onto his last shred of control. He’s never felt anything like this before, there aren’t even enough words to describe what he’s feeling. Good is an understatement. Great is way off the mark. Euphoric might be close, but it still seems to fall short.

You give him a second to get used to the feeling of being inside you. Your fingers glide up his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribcage. Sure, this body is smaller than you’re used to, but he’s definitely not as delicate as everyone has been made out to believe. This last week has certainly taught you that much. No matter what got thrown at him and no matter how hard he took a beating, Steve still managed to persevere. He picked himself back up and he kept moving forward. His inner strength somehow manages to shine brighter when he doesn’t have the muscles to back it up. Even though you’d been scared out of your mind when he jumped on that grenade, you’re also so incredibly proud of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, causing your gaze to lift back up to meet his.

“Like what?” you question, wondering what he’s reading off your expression.

“Like I’m the only man in the whole world that matters.”

The love that you feel for him in your heart swells like a balloon. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and brush your nose against his. “Because you are,” your words caress his lips moments before you capture them.

You start to move your hips in slow circles, taking great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you. His hands squeeze your hips before they fall back down to your ass. He uses his grip as leverage to start rocking up into you. His movements are a little sloppy, more of a reaction rather than a coordinated effort. It feels good either way and you have to pull your lips back to release the delighted gasp that’s desperate to escape.

Your hands reach up to grip the metal bar from the bed frame as you find a rhythm to grind down against Steve’s gentle thrusts. His parted lips are swollen and red from your kisses as they release stunted gasps and heady grunts from deep within his chest. His heart is pounding so fast, he thinks it might just burst, but if this is the last thing he ever gets to experience before he dies, it will be well worth it.

“Can I go faster?” you ask with a needy whimper.

Steve thinks he may pass out, but because he’s a sucker for pain, he nods his head fervently. Your grip on the bed frame tightens and the muscles in your thighs quiver as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh shit!” Steve’s eyes roll back as unimaginable pleasure sparks through him. Every time you slam down on his cock it sends a bolt of electricity licking up his spine. He brings his knees up and digs his heels into the mattress, so he can meet you thrust for thrust. Just about every muscle in his body is screaming in protest from this past week of hard training, but he pushes through the pain because the pleasure is way too good to stop now.

Your body pulls him in so deep, he feels like he’s going to fall into you. And maybe, he already has. These last two weeks he’s spent with you have felt like a dream. You dropped into his lap like a fallen angel and every moment since has been pure fantasy. You seem to embody everything he ever hoped he could get out of a partner. You saw him for the man he actually is, not the one you wished he could be. You treated his jagged and broken edges with gentle understanding and care, instead of choosing to throw him out with the trash like so many others had before.

You made him feel like a man capable of giving and receiving love and affection. You weren’t just a flickering candle in the dark. You were a bright, shining beacon, like a lighthouse in a storm. Your light chased away his insecurities and made him believe that he could do the impossible. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life basking in your radiance.

“Steve! Oh my- Oh!” Your back arches and your entire body quakes with the power of the orgasm that crashes through you.

The way you clamp around him has Steve seeing stars. Just a few more quick thrusts and he’s emptying himself into you. Your bodies quiver in tandem as your hold on the bed frame weakens before you collapse against his chest. You’re both sweaty and your skin sticks together, but neither of you seems to mind.

“That…” he starts, in between his heaving breaths. “Was pretty incredible.”

You release a tired giggle and attempt to move at least part of your weight off of him. There’s not much room to go anywhere on the tiny, single-person cot, though. His hands slide up from your ass, to curl around your waist, and he keeps you close. His cock, limp and satiated, slips out from your folds when you shift back, landing with a wet slap against his thigh. You can feel a dribble of his thick cum beginning to leak out from between your legs, but you are entirely too worn-out to do anything about it.

You’re already half asleep by the time Steve tries to coax you up enough to be able to peel back the blanket and sheets on the bed. You tuck your head under his chin and slide a knee between his legs, relishing in the feeling of getting to sleep in his arms one more time. Your sigh of content is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

Part 7

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Alright kiddos, it is time for! The last chapter of the opening arcs / battle trial! Wherein we continue Katsuki's mental breakdown! <3

I’m considering doing some kind of end-of-arc(s) summary / personal thoughts thing after this as a way of sort of compiling my thoughts on the story as a whole so far, as well as just being open to answering your general ideas and open questions / suggestions about the story and characters and whatnot so far (and I guess to come?) So have at it, I want to know what you all think about these first eleven chapters as an introduction to the series / characters / plot / whatnot.

[No. 11 - Bakugou’s Starting Line]

That is… a lot less damage than I thought there was. Like, it still looks pretty bad, but not to the point of ‘it’s going to collapse if someone breathes funny’ bad like I was thinking before. The active explosion of the panels before this probably added to that impression. Also, the building is a LOT smaller than I thought it was?

And speaking of Katsuki’s mental breakdown! He’s just standing there in complete shock while Tenya is comforting a vomiting Ochako, and Izuku is passed out on the floor. Someone points out that the losing team is almost unscathed while the winners are down for the count - they lost the battle but won the war, so to speak. Tsuyu points out that it’s just training though.

(to the tune of ‘Final Countdown’) It’s a mental breakdown~ (kazoo solo)

But in full seriousness, this is the first true moment we see of his worldview being smashed open. Like, he was definitely shaken with Izuku’s actions back with the sludge villain, but Katsuki was just more quiet and sullen. Here? Here he’s just had one of the pillars he built his entire mindset around - that Izuku was weaker than him - torn down as violently as the wall he blasted open. He is not okay with this. He’s sweating, he’s shaking, he’s probably about five seconds from collapsing to his knees and screaming. 

Fortunately, he’s mostly knocked out of his own head by All Might showing up and placing a hand on his shoulder, telling him to head back so he can get graded. Katsuki doesn’t really seem to be listening as All Might goes on about how whether one wins or loses, they can come out ahead by learning from the experience - instead he’s watching as Izuku is taken away on a stretcher by two transpo-bots to the nurse’s office. 

In the monitor room, All Might announces that the VIP of the battle was Tenya, much to said boy’s surprise. Katsuki is looking pretty gloomy and stuck in his head, while Ochako is still struggling with the lingering nausea. Tsuyu asks why the VIP isn’t one of the hero team who won, and All Might asks the class if any if them can guess at his reasoning. 

Momo raises her had and says she does, and then explains that Tenya had best adapted to the scenario. Katsuki’s actions were motivated by a personal grudge, and his use of destructive attacks indoors was foolish. Izuku’s performance suffered from the same faults. And Ochako lost focus halfway through and her final attack was haphazard - if the weapon had been real, the attack would be unthinkable. Tenya, on the other hand, formed an actual counterstrategy, and thought about what the struggle would be like. His only fault was being too slow to react at the end, and the hero team only won because it was a training exercise with exploitable restraints. 

Tenya is touched. Meanwhile, the rest of the class is stunned silent, with All Might shaking because she said it better than he could. He hesitantly adds that Tenya was a bit too stiff, but otherwise she was correct. She huffs and says that they need to start at the bottom and work up - if they don’t cheer each other on, they won’t even become top heroes. Her name is also introduced here, as well as the fact that she’s the number one recommended first year.

How’s Katsuki doing?

Eh… we’ll come back to you in a bit. For now, the other battle trials! Shouto and Shouji (hero team) versus Ojiro and Hagakure (villain team), in a new location. The heroes are both quiet, while Hagakure is getting hyped up and taking off her gloves and boots to go full stealth mode. Ojiro is a bit flustered at that, thinking that it makes sense for someone invisible, but that it feels unethical.

(Which is, I’m guessing, that comment that her ‘hero costume’ is being buck naked, which honestly, I refuse to believe. If the support companies can make a costume for someone who goes impermeable (which, by its own definition, would mean light goes through as well, ergo ‘invisibility’), then she can get one as well. I think she’s just a troll who says the costume is nothing to fluster others - I mean, considering she does like hidden camera shows, and they tend to do those weird stuff to surprise or discomfort people, it would fit in line with her character.)

Anyways, when the hero team is sent in, Shouji is listening in just inside the building with several arm-ears, right before they shift into really concerning-looking mouths to relay information. Shouji tells his partner that one is on the north side of the fourth floor, while the other is on the same floor barefoot - clearly, the invisible one is trying to ambush and capture them. Shouji also gets a title card and an explanation of his quirk, Dupli-arms: he can replicate his own body parts at the tips of his tentacles!

Shouto warns Shouji to get out, since it’s about to ‘get frosty in here’. Their opponents think they’re playing a defensive game, but it means nothing to him. He then proceeds to show off just what he means by ‘frosty’.

Yeah, that’s a bit OP there. Poor Ojiro - and definitely poor Hagakure, who got frozen to the floor with bare feet. Shouto walks in and says to bring it on, but that fighting without the soles of their feet will be painful. All Might and Kirishima are shivering in the monitor room from the cold, with All Might noting that neither Shouto’s ally nor the weapon were harmed when he immobilized the enemy; Kirishima says that he’s too strong. 

Hagakure’s hurting where she’s frozen, and Ojiro is freaked out and not even trying to break out as Shouto walks past and puts his left hand of the weapon, giving his team the win. Shouto apologizes to them as the ice steams away, Ojiro shocked to see how quickly the building is warming up. As Shouto finishes melting the ice, he declares that they are in different leagues - and we get his title card!

Number two recommended first year, quirk Half-Hot, Half-Cold (which I think is supposed to have some greater pun or sound better in Japanese? [Hanrei Hannen] I suppose does roll a bit better, but hmmm…) His right side can freeze things and his left can burn. His range and limits are unknown - what a beast! 

(Katsuki, meanwhile, is biting his lip to keep himself from saying anything - likely another blow to his preconceived belief that he was the strongest right while he’s trying to come back from the last one.)

We get a brief summary of what the other teams did: Sero and Kirishima played villains and defended with Sero’s tape as traps around the room. Tsuyu went along the walls while Tokoyami had his quirk primed to attack. Jirou scouted with her quirk while Kaminari kept a charge prepped in his hand, and Mina threw a ot of acid around, a bit of which burned Aoyama’s cape. 

We transition to the end of the class, with All Might telling everyone well done, and that besides Izuku, there were no serious injuries. He complements their teamwork and says they all did splendidly, considering it was their first exercise. Someone in the class mentions that after Aizawa, a straightforward class that that was almost a letdown. All Might walks away, saying that the teachers are free to have no-nonsense classes if they like, and that he’s off to give Izuku his evaluation, letting them know to get changed out of their costumes and head back to the classroom before he runs off in a hurry. Mineta notes he seems to be in a hurry, but that he’s also so cool.

All Might glances back, seeing Katsuki in the back of the class still in a gloomy state. He thinks about how Katsuki is ‘a bundle of conceit’ and how the most inflated egos are often the most fragile. As a teacher, he needs to give the boy some counseling, but for now, he has to save on his time, due to only having enough strength to get through a single class.

Which, considering All Might’s limit before USJ is three hours, seems a bit weird, so let’s do some math.

The villain teams have five minutes to set up, and the heroes have fifteen to get to the bomb after that - twenty minutes. With five rounds, that’s an even hundred minutes for the exercises, not counting those that ended early. With all the time saved from Shouto’s instant take out and assuming average times for the others, we probably have more like eighty minutes spent on those exercises. Of course, we can then add time for getting to and from the buildings, as well as the assessments of each match and determination of the VIP. So that can probably bumped back up to 100 minutes, maybe closer to 110? Which would just fit within the bounds of a double-class period for Japanese schools (which are fifty minute classes with ten minute breaks in between). 

Japanese classes have four periods before lunch and three after. The ‘canon’ schedule has heroics lessons happen THROUGH lunch period, which makes no sense when they need that energy in order to be able to fight. I am also skeptical of fighting right after lunch, when that makes it more likely for them to throw up if they take a bad hit, ergo, the reasonable time period for these lessons is the last two periods of the day - thus giving the kids about an hour for food to digest and energy to get into their systems.

I think this is also added onto with how Izuku doesn’t freak out after this over missing a class, which makes sense if it was the last one. Plus, well, scheduling the most exhausting and injury-prone class at the end of the day means that anyone who needs to rest a while actually can without missing important things - and that the kids won’t be too tired to pay attention to whichever teachers they would otherwise have afterwards.

...right, my original point. All Might is supposed to have three hours, but gets stressed out after using just two hours here. I can get that maybe it’s three hours total, but holding it for two continuously without chances to ‘unflex’ and rest for a bit might be straining on him still? Or maybe he just spent some time that morning doing hero things and so ran out of time a bit early. 

Anyways, I think I’ll end this off here, since it’s about halfway and we did get through quite a bit. Next time, we finish off the opening arcs of the series, and then I guess I do some Q&A / personal thoughts so far / narrative analysis / whatever? I guess send in questions or thoughts or whatever you guys have, and I’ll answer them after the next post. 

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Training Day

Thanks so much for the amount of love the last post got!I’m sorry it took me so long to post this next one, school and other stuff started to get in the way, so to make up for it I added a surprise arc at the end. I might start doing theses in chunks to save time and fill in any gaps where I don’t post as much because of school. Not so sure yet but it’s just an idea. I hope that if you read this you enjoyed it! I am going to try and post more frequently now that I’m almost caught up with my school work.

Damian: Good morning Tim! I made you breakfast.

Tim: What do you know? Why are you calling me Tim?

Cassandra: Plus three large hot cups of coffee.

Tim: What’s going on? Why are you guys acting so weird?

Cassandra: No reason. Just want to be nice.

Tim: Nope. That’s not it. What did you guys do.

Jason: Done making Tim’s bed! I’m off to steam his suit!

Tim: WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON???

Cassandra, Damian, and Jason: *in unison* We just want to be nice. *all three surround him in a big hug*

Tim: THIS IS SO WEIRD!

Dick: *walks into the breakfast room* Morning Tim! How’s it going?

Tim: NO! ALL OF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! *storms out of the breakfast room*

Dick: What did you do to Tim?

Jason: We have no idea.

Damian: The dude is losing it.

Dick: *gets face to face with Cassandra* Cass, do you have something to say?

Cassandra: We woke up early and decided to be nice to Tim for no reason.

Dick: You guys are evil. Go have your fun.

All three run out of the room.

Jason: TIM LET US LOVE YOU!!!!!!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Hey, Babs doesn’t know your here. I don’t want her to get jealous or something so could you please join the zoom call from another room.

Helena: Sure, I understand, lover.

Dick: No, we aren’t going through that again.

Helena: I make no promises.

Tim: You know you’re going to be in deep shit when Barbara finds out, right?

Dick: I’m in deep shit anyway.

Tim: Very true.

Dick: *begins the zoom call* Hey everyone, so if you can’t tell, Huntress has arrived to help out. Now, to everyone at the manor I created a schedule for when to work out. They should be completed before patrol. For those of you at home, I trust that you made your own.

Barbara: Yep!

Kate: Please, I’ve been training much harder than most of you guys since I was 6.

Harper: Yeah, sorta did. Not able to do much because I’m not at the cave.

Dick: That actually leads me to my next point. Harper I made a schedule for you because Bruce, Alfred, Selina, and I found a way to have Cullen inside the mansion without him finding out who Batman really is. Cullen already knows the alter egos of Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, and Nightwing. Everyone else is a question mark, so we will allow you to enter the mansion. When Cullen is around, we all will have to restrain from talking about our vigilante work. Have everything ready by next week. Once you arrive you’ll have to quarantine in your room for two weeks.

Harper: Awesome!

Dick: Today there has actually been no crime in Gotham City, so far, so we’ll take a day off, but if something comes up, cases will be assigned as they normally are. So everyone, after training, feel free to relax but be ready in case something pops up.

Dick and Jason

Dick: *turns on his training playlist, first song being “Devil in I” from Slipknot*

Jason: You know what, if this is the kind of stuff you have on your playlist, I might actually enjoy training with you!

Dick: I have 357 songs on here.

Jason: Damn!

Dick: What did you expect, I listen to every genre!

Jason: Really! I should actually start listening whenever people talk.

Dick: Remember that next time Bruce yells at you for shooting someone.

Jason: I’m just saying, if I mistake someone’s knee cap for their head, is it really that bad?

Dick: *laughs* Yes!

The two stretch a bit before moving on to pommel horse.

Dick: Figured you’d want to get this out of the way first.

Jason: Fuck you!

Dick: Just think of the music, and not falling.

Jason: *goes for a loop on pommel horse and bangs his legs against the pommels and falls* AHHHHHHH!

Dick: Maybe I should take pommels off first?

Jason: That’s an option? Then yes, please do so!

Dick: *quickly takes of the pommels then goes for a magyar, a triple russian, flare, spindle, press handstand one and a half piro, and flawlessly sticks his dismount*

Jason: Show off.

Duke and Damian

Dick and Jason had been training for an hour and fifteen minutes before Duke and Damian walked in. After stretching, the two began to spar.

Dick: Duke! You made a mistake when choosing your partner.

Jason: Nah! My boy Duke will show Dami who’s the boss.

Duke: I honestly like my chances!

Damian: Good Thomas, your over confidence will be your doom!

The two begin to fight. Damian dives right for Duke, rolling out and uses his momentum to go for a front flip and kick Duke in the chest, however Duke evades Damian’s strike and trips him after Damian lands.  Damian gets back up though, thrashing at Duke. Duke dodges each strike and finally jabs Damian in the gut a few times and kicks him in the chest. That would be the only fight out of the three they had that Duke won. 

Afterwards, Dick began to teach him the basics on both high bar. Duke was able to catch on very quickly and by the end of his training on high bar he was learning how to do kips and flyaways. Dick and Duke also decided to tumble together so Duke could learn the basics and some advanced skills too.

Damian spent the rest of his time trying to out do Jason. When Jason was using 100 lb weights, Damian would use 120′s. When Jason ran 5 miles, Damian ran 6. 

Jason: Dami, you’re going to be extremely sore. Take it easy.

Damian: Easy? *huff* Let me *huff* remind you that *huff* I was also trained *huff* by the League *huff* of Assassins. *runs to the garbage to throw up* I am superior *huff* than all of *huff* you in every way.

Jason: Okay bud. Well, I’m about to spar with Dick.

Damian: I’ll fight Grayson, too. *jogs up to Dick while moaning in pain* *huff* Fight me Grayson. *huff*

Dick: I’m not going to fight you. You look like you’ll pass out.

Damian: I’m *huff* fine.

Dick: Throw a punch at me like you normally would without groaning in pain.

Damian: *starts to punch but his fist his Dick like a soft tap* Ahhhhhh.

Dick: Go rest, take an ice bath, eat a lot of fruits, and drink a lot of water.

Damian: Okay, *huff* but only because *huff* you said so.

Dick and Jason then started to fight and after they concluded, Dick took the trash bag that Damian hurled in and tossed it out. An hour later Duke concluded his workout.

Cassandra and Julia

Cassandra: Woooo! Are you ready?

Julia: Your enthusiasm is a little bit concerning.

Cassandra: Yeah, but just deal with it.

Since she arrived to the mansion Julia has not let herself stop her routine. She has been training as much as she has been since her days in Britain's Special Reconnaissance Regiment. However as soon as she saw Cassandra doing freestanding handstand push-ups while doing an inverted crunch, she knew she had to up her game.

Cassandra just ignored the list Dick gave her for the most part and did the craziest exercises she could think of. When she started strength conditioning, she ran to the still rings and tried to do what she saw Dick doing once. She tried an azarian to an iron cross but immediately fell through the rings. it took her twenty minutes but she finally made it to the iron cross and rolled backwards into a planche. An hour later she finish conditioning and waited for Julia to finish so the two could spar.

Julia: Okay, you ready? *walking over from the treadmill*

Cassandra: More than ready! Lets do this! *she started bouncing on her toes like a boxer*

Cassandra won all three fights within a matter of minutes. Julia almost had a chance in the second one where Cassandra lost her balance, but she reacted too slow as Cassandra regained it and knocked Julia to the floor.

Selina and Helena

Selina focused more on her agility during her cardio workout than anything else. I mean, it’s definitely something that she takes pride in so why wouldn’t she?

Helena: Hey, can I ask you a question? *throwing punches toward Selina*

Selina: Sure! *dodges each strike, jumps off the wall, and dives over Helena’s head*

Helena: What’s the situation between Dick and Barbara? *grabs Selina’s torso and slams her body down*

Selina: Oof. *gets back up from the floor and sits down with Helena* Don’t think of it. Dick is all sad that he has to stay at the mansion without Barbara. I wouldn’t even try to approach Dick about the situation because he’ll act even more weird then when you arrived.

Helena: That explains this morning.

Selina: What happened?

Helena: I said hey and he replied with “Hey, what’s up, gir......friend, lady. Girl who is a friend and a lady. Saved it.” Then, just for fun, I pinched his ass and he jumped up and screamed. 

Selina: You’re playing with fire, I don’t blame you for pinching his ass though.

Helena: Hold on, it gets better. After that I leaned towards him and he started leaning over the table and asked, what’s wrong lover. He then stepped to the side and said “Nothing, nothing.” and started walking backwards saying “coolcoolcool” until he reached the door.

Selina: Why bother messing with his head?

Helena: Because it’s fun. Plus I still feel like there is something there. 

Selina: Very well. Now that you have that out of your system let’s head to the showers.

Helena: You won’t tell Dick, right?

Selina: What you just told me is between you and Dick. I will not interfere in any way.

Stephanie and Tim

Tim: *walks in tired as hell* Hey Steph. You ready?

Stephanie: Yeah!

Tim: Alright. Cool.

Both Stephanie and Tim go to do their separate training regimes. Tim however, being extremely tired started to move very slow during his workout. Halfway through his work out he stepped out to grab a five hour energy shot and started flying through his conditioning list that Dick made. 

Tim: You ready to spar? *jumping around like a rabbit, then lands sideways, falling to the floor only to get back up*

Stephanie: *looking at Tim like he’s a crackhead* No, I think we should skip the sparring match today.

Tim: No, come on let’s go! *grabs Stephanie's wrist and drags her over to the sparring arena*

Stephanie: Tim your going to hurt yourself. Instead of sparring let’s take a nap.

Tim: Come on, sleeping is for people who have don’t have tragic backstories. Let’s fight!

Tim tries to throw a few quick jabs but Stephanie quickly sweeps Tim’s legs causing him to fall. Stephanie Runs forward pointing her fist at his throat.

Tim: Owww! That’s abuse! You abused myself! Why are you mean?!

Stephanie: Tim, when was the last time you slept?

Tim: Ummmmm........... Tuesday?

Stephanie: Okay, training is over, go let yourself rest.

Tim: Pffft. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. 

Stephanie: Okay. *text Dick* Hey Dick, we have a code yellow.

Dick: *text back* On my way up.

Tim: You know I like to live by the words of the Beastie Boys anyway. No sleep ‘til Brooklyn, and because I have never been to Brooklyn, I am not obligated to sleep.

Stephanie: You have a problem!

Tim: No, *points his finger dramatically at Stephanie*  you have a problem.

Dick: *walks in* Hey Tim, I have a case I want to work on with you.

Tim: *to Stephanie* See, now I can’t sleep.

Dick: We’ll take the Batmobile.

*3 hours later*

Dick: Okay, we just entered Brooklyn. Now go to sleep!

Tim: No fair, you tricked my brain.

Dick: SLEEEEEEEEP!

Tim: NO!

Dick: Why are you staying up all night?

Tim: Because, I don’t want anything to change! *starts sobbing*

Dick: It’s okay, you’re alright. *pulls over to the side of the road*

Tim: No I’m not. Everything is changing and I don’t want it to. I don’t want to fall out of my habits because what about when things get back to normal. Then we have to build those habits again, and what if while we are readjusting someone dies because we weren’t ready. Plus, there is so much stress with helping Bruce keep his company from falling, trying to finish my homework, training, and patrolling the nights where there is more activity. 

Dick: *embraces Tim in his arms* Look change is going to happen whether we like it or not. It’s not what happens that shapes who we are but how we react to the changes that occur in our lives that do. The world is never going to be the same after this pandemic is over, so you could either adapt, or repeat your mistakes. It’s okay to not be okay. You are not alone, you have all of us at the mansion to talk to. Another thing that you have to keep in mind is that people are going to die. We both knew that the moment we signed up, and sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. All we can do is learn from what happened to stop it from happening again. You also need to get some sleep. I know you are under a lot of stress right now, not going to lie, but you have it worse than all of us right now, but how do you expect to save others if you won’t take care of yourself. 

Tim: *starts calming down*

Dick: I’ll talk to Bruce tonight to see if he could cut you some slack. I’ll find a way to help out too now that we aren’t patrolling as much. Just make sure to take care of yourself.

Tim: Okay.

Dick: Smart, toit.

Tim: Stop it Peralta. *begins to laugh*

Dick: *laughs pretty hard* Now get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get back to Gotham.

Tim: Okay. I guess.

Black Mask, Hush, Two-Face, and Jason Bard

The night was very silent as Roman Sionis looked upon Gotham from the building. It was quiet, empty, peaceful, and disturbing. Hush walked into the room, followed by Harvey Dent and Jason Bard.

Black Mask: Congratulations, you found your way here.

Jason Bard: You’re pretty easy to find when you want to be.

Black Mask: Or is it because no one else is on the street other then your snitches.

Jason Bard:......

Hush: You called us here. What do you want?

Black Mask: Look out at the city. Tell me what do you see.

The three men walk forward towards the window.

Two-Face: Fear.

Hush: Silence.

Jason Bard: Caution, and paranoia.

Black Mask: You are all correct, but you missed one thing.

Two-Face: Stop playing games! What do you want us to see?

Black Mask: Opportunity.

[cicinicole-14]

damn okay I have a glass of wine, some chocolate and many many tissues at the ready. Part 5 here we come

welp, good luck! the shitty tiktok I posted earlier went with this part and the last one. anyway. hope u enjoy!

Part Five

The next moments pass by her in a blur. 

She vaguely remembers them through a tear-filled haze. 

Like an out of body experience she’s watching somebody else go through. 

She knows Meredith somehow ushers her into the hospital as Alex yells for any OB, shocking most of the staff of his presence. 

She remembers Carina DeLuca telling her to lie back and for some reason the cold gel just feels numb on her abdomen. 

She hears ringing in her ears and it makes her think all of this is a fluke. That it’s the baby’s heartbeat again and it’s fine. 

But the ringing is just inside her head. 

She can’t bear to look at anyone while Carina is maneuvering the heart doppler around her stomach. She can’t look at Meredith, who’s gripping her hand. She refuses to look at Alex standing in the corner of the room. 

She looks up, staring at the bright, white lights. They’re starting to burn her eyes. Mixing with the stinging tears that are welling in her eyes. Everything is a blur. 

And then Carina is looking at her, sorrow filling her face, and she knows. 

“I was unable to find a fetal heart rate.” 

The words ring in her ears and she pulls herself up, not bothering to wipe the gel off of her stomach before standing up on shaking legs. She feels like she looks like a baby deer on ice but she doesn’t care in the slightest. She’s shaking, but she needs to get out of here. She needs to leave. 

“T-Take me home.” She whispers. Her voice is hoarse and cracking.

Both Meredith and Alex look up at her expectantly, not catching what she said. 

“Take me home.” She says again, more adamantly. 

“Carina is she okay––” Meredith doesn’t get to finish asking her question.

“Take me home!” This time it comes out as a scream. 

And with that, she walks out. 

The ride back to the loft is quiet.

Meredith drives. Alex in the backseat. Jo continuously stares out the window. 

It’s hazy out. Mirroring how she feels in this exact moment. She’s not crying just yet, it’s not raining just yet, but she knows it’s coming. 

She stumbles her way up the steps to the loft and ignores whatever Alex tries saying to her. She ignores the conversation he and Meredith start having as she heads straight to the bathroom and turns on the water. 

Steam envelops the tiny bathroom, instantly. Jo doesn’t even bother shedding her clothes before stepping right under the scalding stream. 

It’s hot, but it’s not hot enough. It’s not hot enough to wash away the pain from today. The pain of losing the only good thing in her life at that very moment. 

A sob wracks through her body, shaking her. She stumbles back against the shower wall and slides down, her knees bent into her chest as the stream showers overhead. 

Her hand rests on her stomach, empty and lifeless, much like how she feels in the exact moment. 

The water eventually runs cold and by that time, Alex is opening the door to their––her bathroom. He crouches down, pulling off her soaked clothes and leaving them in a heap in the shower before turning off the stream. 

She’s shivering and he wraps her in a towel, helping her stand up and guiding her to the bed. 

She lies down, facing away from him and pulling the duvet over her shoulder. 

He shuffles over to the other side of the bed, knowing that whatever he did next would either make her mad or have her ignore him nonetheless. But he pulls back the duvet anyhow, and sinks down onto the mattress, facing her. 

Jo doesn’t know what he’s even doing here. She doesn’t know why he’s lying in her bed, next to her, staring at her, but she can’t seem to care either. She’s numb and it’s all she feels in this very moment. 

“Why are you here?” She finally manages amongst the thoughts swimming in her head. 

Alex’s brows furrow in confusion. “You–You just lost our baby and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says confused. 

“No, I mean why are you in Seattle?” She says frustratingly. “Go home Alex, go back to your kids and Izzie. We don––I don’t need you here anymore, now. There’s nothing here for you.”

He reaches down for her hand but she pulls back, turning away from him, pulling the duvet with her. 

Alex swallows hard, and he knows it’s a calculated risk, but he says his next words carefully, but sternly. “You’re here, Jo.” 

He’s not sure if the statement, the confession, was a good move or not, but it gets her to turn back around and face him, yet a scowl still dons her face. 

“You left.”

“I know.” 

“No, Alex, you left. You left me, you left Seattle. You left your job, your life, your home, without a single word. You lied to me. You didn’t answer. You left us and never looked back for some notion with your ex-wife and children, for some chance to play happy little family. I can’t do that again. I won’t.”

He knows she’s right. He knows she doesn’t deserve that. But he made a mistake. 

“You made a vow, Alex. For better or worse, and you broke that. You broke me. You made me so happy and then you left and wrecked me so bad and I can’t do that again. I don’t know if I’m going to get over that, but I know I’ll never be able to do it again. You were it for me, and you ruined that. There wasn’t ever going to be anyone else for me, Alex, because of how bad you wrecked me. And now, on top of this all, I lost our baby.” 

Alex doesn’t know what exactly to say. He knows he wrecked her. He knows she’s in pain. He knows she’s hurting and grieving for the baby they lost. He knows he messed everything up so completely, that Jo won’t ever be the same again. And he hates himself to know that he’s the reason why she is broken now.

The silence is deafening, and he doesn’t think he can take much more of it. He knows he messed up and he knows he would spend every single day for the rest of his life trying to fix them, trying to show Jo how sorry he is for his mistake. He sits up quietly, pulling the duvet back and standing up. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about anymore. It’s done, Alex.” 

He swallows and knows there’s no other way to say this other than ripping the bandaid right off. “I’m moving back to Seattle. I had already made up my mind before I had even gotten your text about the baby.” He starts out. He sees her demeanor shift slightly, but he still isn’t sure how she’s going to take it. “I’ve been fighting Izzie for custody of the kids, since. Because I left, without looking back, without thinking about anyone but myself and the kids when I should’ve been thinking more clearly. I’m not in love with Izzie. I haven’t been in a real long time. Im in love with you, Jo, my wife. And I’m sorry I messed up. I know nothing I do will ever fix us, but I’d rather see you in the halls at the hospital once in a while, than know that you’re halfway across the country.”

Jo takes a shaky breath. “I want to forgive you, so badly, Alex, but you wrecked me. You tore down every single wall I had and let yourself in and just left me completely broken. So I don’t know how to ever begin to forgive you. And then to top it off, the stress of you being back here caused me to lose the only happiness I had left between us. I lost our baby!” She ends up screaming the last part at him as the hot tears roll down her face. 

Alex isn’t sure how to comfort her but he watches as she slowly sits up on the bed. 

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve lost this baby too.” 

“Jo, no.” He reassures her. “This isn’t your fault. If anything, it definitely is mine, but you know damn well miscarriages just happen sometimes.” 

She nods her head and wipes her cheeks but the tears continue to fall. “That’s not what it feels like Alex. I feel like I’m drowning here. I have my research with Bailey and my surgeries, but that’s it. This baby was my one last hope for happiness.” 

“Jo, you’ll have happiness again. I promise. I know you will. Even if I have to spend every day trying to make you happy. I’ll do it. You’ll be happy again.”

Jo huffs in disbelief, shaking her head as she runs her hand through her hair. “It’s just not fair!” She shouts before wincing, realizing the loud noise wasn’t pleasant. She squeezes her eyes shut and presses the heel of her palms to her temples. 

Alex reaches over, carefully, and lays a hand on Jo’s knee, causing her to look up at him finally. “You need a break.” He says softly. “You need to escape. Come to Kansas with me while I fight for custody of my kids. Just to escape for a little while.” 

Jo laughs. 

“I’m serious.” He states. “You need to take your mind off everything. What better way to do that than in the middle of nowhere, Kansas?” 

Jo looks down at the hand on her knee. “Alex, you can’t just walk back into my life and expect me to let you in again. This isn’t easy for me. You were my everything, and you broke me. I can’t just act like that didn’t happen and go with you to Kansas for god knows how long. I have a job here. I have friends. I don’t have anyone there. I can’t just go.”

Alex nods in understanding. “I just thought it would do you good to get out of Seattle for a while.” 

“Not…not with you.” She says softly, looking away from him. It hurt even now to turn him down. 

“Well, my flight doesn’t leave until Sunday.”

Jo shakes her head. “Alex, I don’t know how I can forgive you. I really don’t care if you stay there or come back to Seattle. We’re over.” She speaks softly, as if she didn’t want to be heard so it wouldn’t really happen. 

“I know.” Alex responds. “I’m just leaving the option open for you.” He says, finally getting up and heading towards the door. 

Jo follows him, watching as he crosses the threshold of the doorway and she pulls it halfway shut as he looks back at her. “Bye, Alex.” She says softly. 

He just nods, turning and walking away.  

ngl, this was one of my fave parts to write so far actually. it was an add on part that I didnt write originally but realized this was what the fic was missing before :) 

[seyaryminamoto]

If you're caught in the shadow then turn around Lost in the darkness, you will be found If you hear my voice, follow the sound 'Cause I'm here to guide you home

Gladiator’s Seventh Anniversary

March 26th swings by once more, and this time I’ve been celebrating this milestone for nearly a whole month :’D We have twenty Gladiator-arcs-themed artworks by now, and here’s our grand finale! A little more grand than every anniversary up to date, I hope!

This particular entry comes in two forms, however! And here’s the second one:

Say hello to the FIRST GLADIATOR ARTWORK VIDEO! :’D

Yeah, it wasn’t always meant to be the first xD I have two other videos in the works, and one of them is at least over halfway done (with rudimentary animation in it too :’D). Still, this occasion demanded it! And so I decided to go for a video this time, hopefully the next videos won’t take too long to finish!

This hasn’t been an easy year for me, despite I’ve certainly written a lot of things I’m reeeally happy about (that you guys will be seeing later this year). Quite often I’ve found myself losing traction, hope, faltering against many obstacles in my life. I’ve made big and small mistakes here and there, and I’ve had low points, even if none quite as low as the one I hit two years ago...

Still, at the end of the day, this story has always had my back in its own way. I’ve been able to find peace by writing it, even in the darkest of moments. Going over all the progress I’ve made with it, and looking ahead at everything that’s yet to come often fills me with the willpower and strength I need to keep going, no matter what. So, after a year of blackouts, water shortages, internet collapses, countless setbacks with my real-life plans and now even a pandemic, Gladiator has always been the safest harbor I can find refuge in when everything else fails.

This big finale is, of course, meant to encapsulate the growth of Sokka and Azula’s relationship throughout the first half of Part 2. At first I had wanted to draw scenes from each arc I had skipped... but that didn’t quite work out as well as that after I revisited a certain movie, which features a BRILLIANT OST, and it had two songs that I’ve now poached outright for Gladiator purposes :’D Strange Sight is a song that really works well for Sokka and Azula in general (from Sokka’s POV), but the bulk of the song really sounds more like it fits these two in Part 1 xD yet the very conclusion of the song changes its tone... and that’s the part that inspired me into making this video/artwork set!

The first scene depicted is Azula’s “blunder”, when she nearly admits she loves Sokka despite not being ready to say it out loud. He is thrilled, but she’s very flustered, so he gives her space while she blushes stubbornly in her Barge’s cabin (?). The second artwork comes from a scene I always wanted to depict in art, even while I was writing it: Azula watching Pohuai Stronghold at a distance while Sokka is enthralled, looking at her (even blurts out she’s beautiful because he’s a goofball like that xD). The third scene comes from their escapade to the healing hot springs, on the same chapter Sokka gives Azula her secret betrothal necklace. The fourth scene is the crazy kiss these two steal in the airship factory, when they lose sight of Ozai’s retinue and make out amidst the factory equipment, steam and whatnot rising around them... because that’s just the stuff they like to do xD The fifth scene is taken from their chaotic anniversary arc, once they had already patched things up and were drying each other’s hair with towels... Azula dried Sokka, his hair was a disaster afterwards and she laughed her ass off while he did his best to take revenge xD the sixth scene depicts a much darker moment, Azula using her gold fire to fight back against Seethus, underground (not sure if it shows, but clutching Sokka’s hand is what allowed her to use gold fire properly in the midst of such a desperate situation. And the seventh scene is meant to portray Azula in that arc too, after she has rebelled against her father and takes off with Sokka, putting more distance between herself and Ozai than ever before...

The final one isn’t really derived from a particular scene of the fic, instead it’s the image I always get of these two when I hear the end of that song. “You’re not alone” is definitely one of the most important things Azula needs and deserves to hear. Though it’s not only for her to hear it... it’s for her to know for sure that it’s true, that she has a partner who will stand by her through thick and thin, to the ends of the world if need be. That no matter how bad things can get, she knows he’s on her side and always will be.

It has taken quiiiite a while to develop their bond and relationship to this extent, but I have to say it has been such a wonderful process for me... as I’ve said in the past, Gladiator’s Part 1 was the story of how they get together, but Part 2 is the story of how things work now that they are together. There’s a strange, general perception of romance storytelling, and it even expands into IRL relationships, I’d say, that suggests, whether intentionally or not, that relationships stop developing, evolving, growing once they’re consummated. I don’t know if the fairytale “they lived happily ever after!” is to blame for that, but personally, I don’t see the point in watching a relationship be built up from the ground only to witness a brief glimpse of how it works before the curtain falls. That’s why Gladiator’s Part 2 has been the exact opposite of that. Both Azula and Sokka had a lot left to grow and develop after Part 1 was finished, their partnership did too, and there’s like a gazillion plotlines, new and old, that will be crucial in building up the biggest, baddest climax of the story so far. Therefore... I’d like to think my point has been made? You CAN tell a story about this side of a couple’s life together. Whether people stick around to read it is another subject, but if you’re working with a couple as dynamic as these two, getting them together is barely the first part of the journey.

I make it no secret that Part 2 is definitely my favorite chunk of the story, especially the chapters that are being published nowadays (and those that will be published in the future), so part of the reason why I went all out here is because I really, REALLY wanted to cherish everything this part of the story embodies for me and, hopefully, for everyone who has read and enjoyed it.

I deeply thank everyone who has stuck it out with me through this journey, no matter if you were here from the first moment or if you’re a newcomer who hasn’t even caught up yet. I’m also really grateful if you don’t know the story at all but still took your time to even drop a like on any of these posts. It has always been scary to be a creator on the Internet, both because of the potential backlash against what you do and, perhaps even worse than that, the indifference of people who don’t really care much about what you create, regardless of how much work you’ve put into it, and how much you’ve grown so you can make new ideas a reality. But there’s people out there, really wonderful people, who have always been supportive of my crazy creative efforts, always sticking by me no matter how difficult it could be (and no matter how long this story gets :’D). I’m far from a perfect content creator, and sometimes I get discouraged by the stupidest things... but when you guys show interest in what I do, when you say how much the story means to you, it never fails to revitalize me and get me going once again.

So this big celebration is for those of you who stick by me, who support me, who encourage me at my lowest and highest alike because you believe in me and the story I’ve been telling for SEVEN YEARS NOW :’D It’s also for those who may yet return to see what mayhem I’ve crafted for these two in the years since they stopped reading. And it’s, without a doubt, for myself... because now I’m certainly far more confident with my art than ever before, and because everything I make for these two gives me all the right feels just when I need them. Finally... it’s for Sokka and Azula, most of all. The two sides of my beloved OTP, who have been by far the most inspiring characters I’ve ever worked with, and who deserve the entire world, as far as I’m concerned. Granted, I’m a jerk and I won’t make things easy for them in the coming years... but we all know they can be stronger and prevail! At least, I hope you all believe that as well as I do xD

So, as always, here’s to you, my supportive readers, to these wonderful protagonists, and to the story that chronicles their many adventures on their way to changing the world, as they always have meant to! Thanks to all of you for your support, and keep an eye out for Gladiator’s next update, dropping tomorrow!

[vgckwb]

ML: Too Much Chapter 5: Sense of Self

Marinette heard a knock on her hatch. Sabine opened it and told her “Marinette. Your friends are here to see you.”

Marinette set down the thing she was making for Cat Noir. “OK mama” Marinette responded. Sabine went back down to the bakery while Alya, Nino, and Adrien entered. “Hey everyone” she said, nervous about how Alya and Nino would react.

“Marinette…” Alya said remorsefully. She clenched her fist. “What were you thinking?!”

“Alya!” Nino said in shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?!” Alya continued. “Why did you pretend everything was alright?!” She lost some of her steam. “I would have helped you. I would have done something more.”

Marinette felt guilty. She walked over to Alya and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry” she said gently.

Alya began to tear up. She hugged Marinette tighter. “Don’t scare me like that again,” she told her. Marinette smiled, though Adrien noticed a little hesitation with that smile.

The two girls let go of each other. “So, uh, how have you been?” Nino asked awkwardly.

“Well, to be honest, a little better,” Marinette said. “But…

“But what?” Nino asked.

Marinette stood there before answering. “I dunno. I’ve just been feeling off.”

“Well yeah. Not eating or sleeping enough will do that” Nino responded. Alya smacked him.

Marinette giggled. “It’s not that. Before that. What caused that.” Everyone looked at her confused. “...I was thinking. What if there comes a point where…”

“Where what?” Alya asked.

“...where we drift apart?” Marinette finished.

Alya seemed confused. “What brought this on?” she asked.

I have an inkling Adrien thought to himself. But I’d doubt she’d tell any of us.

“Well…” Marinette began, “whenever I got offered to do that piece for Mr. Agreste, I got to thinking. My fashion design could turn into a real career.”

“Marientte. That’s a good thing!” Alya said

“Yeah, but…” Marinette began. “Fashion design could take me anywhere. Including places far outside of Paris. What if I don’t get to see you guys once school is over? What if I get so caught up in everything that I forget everything important to me now. I just… I just want to get the most out of my time with everyone…”

“Marinette…” Alya said. She gave her another hug. “I’m planning on becoming a journalist. And I KNOW that could take me all over the place.” She turned her embrace into a double hand-hold. “But I promise you I won’t let you go. And neither would anyone else.”

“She’s right, dudette” Nino chimed in. “We live in the age of cellphones and hyper-advanced computers. There’s no WAY we’re losing touch.”

“But, what if I forget to message you?” Marinette asked.

Alya chuckled. “I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Besides, who says fashion has to actually take you anywhere?” Adrien said. “I mean, my dad is one of the biggest names in fashion, and he rarely leaves his home or office, let alone Paris.” Marinette grinned at that statement.

Alya moved to pick Marinette up. “It’s your life Marinette” she reminded her. “You can do with it what you want. If you don’t want to give us up, we’ll allow it.”

Marinette nervously smiled. “Thanks,” she said. Adrien could tell she still had a forlorn look in her eye, but felt that it’s better not to press the issue. At least, not as Adrien.

Alya put Marinette down. “So, what have you been doing today?” she asked.

“Well…” Marinette said, a little embarrassed, “I mostly just watch some TV while working on a little something for Cat Noir.”

Adrien froze. Alya and Nino were confused. “Um, shouldn’t you not be working on stuff?” Nino asked.

“Yeah, what gives?” Alaya asked.

Marinette sighed. “I’m not working on anything too serious,” she explained. “Normally, it would take me like an hour or two, but it’s been a few hours, and I haven’t even gotten halfway done with it.”

“I see…” Alya said. “Well, I think it’ll be a few hours more before that gets done since we’re here now.”

“Yeah, let’s just do something fun. Just the four of us” Nino said. “Right Adrien?”

Adrien heard his name and kind of pieced it together, while still being somewhat distracted by the fact that he was going to get a gift. “Huh? Oh. Yeah” he said.

“So, what do you want to do now that we’re here?” Alya asked.

Marinette thought about it. “Well, there’s this party game I’ve wanted to try” she said.

“Great!” Alya said. “Let’s set it up.” The group spent the afternoon playing different party games with each other and laughing it up. Marinette felt like she was having a really good time. Probably the best in a while, and definitely since she passed out. It felt nice doing something just for the fun of it.

Eventually though, the afternoon turned to evening, and everyone else had to leave because they had school in the morning. Marinette was on her own again, but she felt a little better about it. Tikki flew out of hiding. “See what happens when you just relax?”

“Yeah” Marinette answered. She sighed. “But still…”

“You’re still worried, aren’t you?” Tikki asked.

“Yeah,” Marinette said. “It’s just hard, you know. There are things that every high school kid can relate to, but as far as I know, very few people know just what I’m going through.”

“It’ll be OK Marinette,” Tikki said.

Marinette sighed. “I just kind of wish something would change soon, you know?” She picked up her gift to Cat Noir and started working on it again.

Unbeknownst to her, that something was getting ready to change. But his kwami was being obstinate. “No.”

“Yes” Adrien snapped back.

“Adrien! NO!” Plagg snapped back.

“Plagg, you saw how concerned she was” Adrien said, making a case. “I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

Plagg sighed. “Fine. But we need to talk afterwards!”

“Very well. Plagg! Claws out!” Adrien said. He changed into Cat Noir and high-tailed it out of his room.

Marinette just finished her gift. “There.” She heard a tapping on her window above. She looked up and saw Cat Noir waiving. Tikki hid. Marinette got embarrassed quickly. She set down his gift and went to open her window. “Cat Noir? What are you doing here?”

“I just came to check up on you,” he answered. “I did see you passed out. I just want to make sure you’re doing alright.”

Marinette was confused, but appreciated the gesture. “Do you do this with everyone you rescue?”

“No, but most people I rescue are helped by Ladybug’s cure” Cat Noir answered back. “It’s rare something like this happens.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Marinette relented. “Um, do you want to come in?”

Cat Noir smiled. “I’d thought you’d never ask.” Marinette went back down through the window and Cat Noir followed her in. He looked around. “I know I’ve been in here a few times, but I gotta say, when it’s not being attacked by an akuma, your room is pretty nice.”

“Um, thanks?” Marinette said, embarrassed. 

Cat Noir turned to face Marinette. “So, how have you been feeling?”

“Oh, well, um…” Marinette was caught a little off guard by the question, despite the fact that that was Cat Noir’s stated reason for coming here. “I feel a little better,” she finally answered. “My parents took me out of school for a week to help collect myself.”

“I see,” Cat Noir said. “Do you find it helpful so far?”

“A little,” she said. She hesitated a little bit. “Hey, um, not to change the subject, but how are you feeling?”

“Me?” Cat Noir answered with confusion.

“Yeah…” Marinette said. “Do you enjoy being Cat Noir?”

Cat Noir decided to play it cool. Or at least, his definition of cool. “Of course” he answered, grin plastered on his face. “Super powers, saving the city, hanging out with my bugaboo. What’s there not to like?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. She then got determined. “Well, I’m sure Ladybug likes all that stuff too, but are you ever worried?”

“About what?” Cat Noir asked.

“Well…” Marinette muttered. “Do you ever worry about what would happen if you had to be Cat Noir all the time? Like, if you had to give up your life to save the city?”

Cat Noir was shocked. Ah. This is what she was worried about. He smiled. “I’m going to be honest.” He sat down. Marinette followed suit. “When I first got these powers, there was nothing I wanted more than to abandon my life and just become Cat Noir.” Marinette was shocked by that answer. “But, as time went on, I found reasons to keep being my civilian self.”

“Oh. I had no idea” Marinette said.

Cat Noir chuckled. “It’s OK.” He looked wistfully at the ceiling. “Besides, I know it will never get to that point.”

“How can you be so sure?” Marinette asked.

Cat Noir looked back at Marinette. “Because I know Ladybug. She always comes up with the right plan at the right time. I know she won’t let it come to that.”

Marinette felt a weird mixture of pride, comfort, embarrassment, and sorrow with that answer. She whispered to herself “Thanks.” She then looked at Cat Noir. She felt nervous. “But what if she can’t?” she asked.

Cat Noir smiled. “I’m sure she can. And even if she can’t right away, I’ll be there to guide her.”

Marinette’s face turned ruby red as her heart skipped a beat. “I see…” she said.

Cat Noir looked around and saw something on the table. “What’s that?” he asked.

Marinette looked over. “Oh. Um.” She got up and retrieved it. “It’s just a little something I made for you. As a thank you for saving me.” She handed it over. Cat Noir took hold of it. “It’s a Ladybug doll. Like the one I have for when I’m babysitting. I know how much you like her, so I thought you might like this.”

Cat Noir was awed by this. He knew he was going to be getting a gift, but he hadn't imagined it would be this magical. He smiled. “Thanks.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t fall into Puppeteer’s hands” Marinette reminded him.

“Of course. Anything for you” Cat Noir said. “Hey, um, would you mind if I stopped over during this time? Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be doing fine on your own, but I just want to be sure.”

Marinette giggled. “I’d like that,” she said.

Cat Noir smiled. “Very well. As you wish.” She grabbed her hand and kissed. It. Mariette was stunned. “Well, I should get going. Seeya.” He jumped out of her room.

Marinette blushed, grabbing her hand. “How can he do that so effortlessly?”

Cat Noir went back to his room and detransformed. “Can you believe it Plagg? She gave me my very own Ladybug doll.  And this one’s soft, so I can cuddle it at night. And she made it just for me. Isn’t it amazing?” He turned and saw that Plagg had a very serious look on his face. “Plagg?”

“Adrien. We need to talk.”

[twoprettyboys]

H⁴ Hair

For @transbillyhargrove ♡

This wasn’t really requested, I just wanted to write it when I saw that one ask on Billy‘s blog. I really hope you like it!

To clear some things up:

1) No, the four of them don’t share a single apartment! Billy and Heather share one & Jason and Steve live together as well. 2) I know Jason’s last name is technically Scott, but I wanted to make it fit, so it’s Hargrove here (which absolutely makes sense considering he’s Billy’s twin and all). 3) I made this more of a modern AU, so I could fit the chat in ^^

"Hey, pretty boy” , Billy lifts a hand to wave at him while Heather comes over to wrap him in a tight hug. When she does, Steve catches sight of the hickey on Heather’s neck and suddenly decides that he doesn’t want to know what they did before he arrived. So he doesn’t ask, just croaks out a: “Morning guys.”

When Steve enters H⁴ Hair at seven in the morning, he’s greeted by an entirely too cheerful Billy and an even happier Heather. For some reason Jason’s nowhere in sight, but Steve decides not to worry about him yet - he’s probably getting coffee or something (except he does worry a little because he has a big fat crush on the guy - so naturally, he constantly thinks about him, especially when he’s late). Instead, he looks over at his other two friends.

He tries not to sound rude or anything, but judging by the looks on both of his friends faces, he doesn’t quite succeed. They know he’s not actually angry, though - they’ve been friends long enough for them to know that Steve’s just not a morning person. So they just smile and start preparing the salon with Steve.

When they’re halfway ready to open the shop, Jason arrives with an apology and a tray full of steaming cups of coffee - which obviously all disappear in the next thirty minutes.

---

Sometime after they open, everyone’s busy. Well, except for Heather - she's waiting for something to do.

Steve’s just finishing up a young woman’s super intricate hairstyle (she’s told him that it’s her mom’s birthday and she wants to look as good as possible) when his phone vibrates in his pocket, letting him know he has a new message. Once he’s done and everything looks perfect, he leaves the woman in Heather’s capable hands to get her make-up done.

He takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it while he steps aside so he’s not in anyones way (it’s almost his lunch break and there are no waiting customers anyway, so he just decides that he’s allowed to do that). The message is from Heather. Steve laughs quietly, because of course she would message him while he's working.

Heater:          aww jason’s making heart eyes at u again

The Hair™:    don’t make me get my hopes up pls… u know i like him :(

Heater:          yea ik dude that’s why i told u! tbh i think u should talk to him

Steve sighs. He knows, alright? He’s aware of the fact that he should tell Jason about his feelings. It’s just.. He’s scared.

Because what if Heather’s wrong? What if Jason doesn’t like him back the way Steve likes him? The way Steve wants Jason to like him? If he got rejected by Jason Hargrove it would hurt way more than anything else. Steve knows that.

Because he wouldn’t just get his heart broken, no - he would also lose his roommate slash best friend in the entire world. And as an added bonus, being around Billy would become super awkward, considering he’s Jason’s twin.. Anyway, Steve’s definitely not ready for that conversation.

Like, absolutely not.

---

Later that day, when it’s only the four of them in the salon cleaning up and putting stuff away, Billy pulls Steve aside. Well, he doesn’t really pull, he hands Steve a stack of boxes and guides him into the backroom. Once they’re there, Billy closes the door and turns to Steve, his face serious (and honestly, if Steve didn’t know better, he would think his friend was about to kiss him or something).

His expression makes Steve feel a little concerned, but he doesn’t say anything and just waits for his friend to speak. When he doesn’t, Steve sighs - internally, of course. “Is everything okay, Bill?”

At that, Billy smiles a bit and nods shortly before his face gets super serious again. “So...Heather told me about your conversation this morning”, he begins. And Steve’s heart stops for a second. How much does Billy know? Would he tell Jason (probably not, but in Steve’s head it’s still a possibility)?

But all of his worries disappear into thin air when he hears Billy’s next words: “I think she’s right, you know? You should really talk to him.”

And.. what?

"Are you fucking with me right now?” Steve just stares at his friend with wide eyes for a second. Because no matter how much he trusts his friend, there’s still a small part of his brain that can’t help but get anxious about things like this - so his thoughts start to spiral again. He kind of expects Billy to burst out laughing, or to say that he was just joking or.. Something, but none of these things happen. Instead, Steve’s pulled into a tight hug.

“I would never, pretty boy. Not with this”, Billy tells him. “Besides, I’ve seen the way Jason looks at you.”

Just as Steve opens his mouth to respond to that, the door to the backroom gets pulled open and Jason’s standing there. He doesn’t comment on the situation they’re in (or rather, the conversation they're having). He just holds his hand out towards Steve and says: “We’re all done cleaning the shop. Let’s go home, yeah?” And well, who is Steve to say no to that?

So he takes Jason’s hand. Together they say their goodbyes to Billy and Heather and leave.

---

As soon as the door to the apartment closes behind them, Steve takes his shoes off and makes a beeline for the couch. Jason does the same thing and basically throws himself onto the couch next to Steve - a little closer than usual. Not that Steve’s complaining or anything, though.

They discuss what they should eat for a few minutes before just ordering pizza. And between making the phone call and turning on the TV Jason slowly gets closer to his roommate until their shoulders and legs are touching. Once they’re comfortable, the pizza arrives. Steve gets it, pays the delivery guy and comes back into the living room with the two boxes. They don’t talk much while they’re eating, one of them makes a comment about the show they’re watching from time to time and that’s it.

When they’re done, though, Steve turns to Jason. It’s now or never.

“Uh, J? I.. kinda have to talk to you.” Jason turns his head to meet Steve’s eyes and smiles while he answers with a quick: “Oh, okay... I actually need to talk to you, too.” And - great, now Steve’s really nervous (not that he wasn’t before, but now it’s twice as bad). He decides to just get it over with, though, takes a single deep breath and then just blurts out: “I have a crush on you.” Not his original plan, but hey - at least now Jason knows.

As soon as Steve realizes what he’s said he blushes a deep red and turns his head away so he doesn’t have to look at Jason. Because what if he does look, only to find rejection written all over Jason’s face..? Steve won’t be able to handle that. Like, not at all.

---

A few seconds pass (in which Steve absolutely freaks out internally), then Steve feels a warm hand under his chin. His head is turned in his roommate’s direction, which basically forces Steve to look at him. He keeps his eyes closed, though. He’s still super fucking nervous and also kinda scared, but he doesn’t let it show (or tries not to, at least). He hesitates for a moment longer. Then he opens his eyes with the intent of saying something, anything, but he doesn’t get a chance to before suddenly.. Jason’s lips are on his.

Wait, what..?

Steve freezes - in shock - and doesn’t react for a few seconds, before his instincts kick in and tell him to kiss back. It’s wonderful - everything Steve’s dreamed of, really. It’s also over way too soon.

But when Jason pulls away and looks at him with a look that’s so gentle.. Steve isn’t sad for long (he pouts anyway). Jason just smirks a little and says: “You know.. That was actually exactly what I was going to tell you.” And then he scoots closer to Steve, puts a blanket over them and intertwines their hands between them on the couch.

And in that moment, Steve honestly feels like he could just explode with happiness any second. Everything’s warm and fuzzy and wonderful, and Jason likes him back.

What more could Steve want?

[nblenasabrewing]

Hi. Recently, I decided to start writing my own fan fiction, and since your one of my favorite fan fiction authors, would you mind answering a few questions.How do you keep your attention on your work? How much time do you spend editing? How do you know when a story is finished? How do you write authentic relationships? How do you create the best emotions you can from your viewers? How do you really wrap it all together?

Hoo boy, okay! Let’s see if I can answer these in a good way...

How do you keep your attention on your work?

That is the hardest thing for every writer. Ask anyone when the last time they touched one of their WIPs was and it could be anywhere from last week to six months ago. There isn’t a one-size-fits all answer, unfortunately. You have to find what’s best for you. When I really want to focus on my writing, I try to emulate what I always did in school -- turned on music or some kind of background noise, closed out everything else, and just... tried to focus. I also have multiple stories with different ideas, genres, universes, etc., so if I go to open one thing and I find I’m not interested in it, I try for something else.

Some people aren’t wired that way, though. Some people need to turn off everything and basically shut themselves in a silent room to focus. And that’s okay! It really depends on what kind of environment you work best in.

Being invested in the story is also good. Don’t force yourself to write something you don’t have any interest in. If nothing’s coming, step back and take a break. Also, motivation! Hype yourself for writing. I’ll usually talk to someone about it and my ideas and get excited before I go in to write. That’s helped stir up long-dead ideas as well.

If you listen to music while you work, have a writing playlist! Something soft that you enjoy, won’t distract you with sudden outbursts of singing, but also you won’t be stopping every other song to skip. That kind of thing really takes you out of the flow.

And mostly, don’t be mad at yourself if you don’t write “enough.” I’ve had days where I wrote 50 words and days where I wrote 3,000. Be kind to yourself. Every word is good.

How much time do you spend editing?

This is a tricky one, because I constantly go back and read what I’ve written before I finish (which isn’t something I recommend). So I kind of passively edit while I’m re-reading, which is one time through. Then when I finish I’ll leave it for a day or two, then go back and change up the doc somehow (background color or font type or font color) to make it different, and the change tricks your brain into paying more attention. Anyway, that’s a second pass-through. Then I’ll one more focused reading, and skim it as I’m uploading it to AO3. So I guess that’s 3-4 times, probably a couple hours all together. And I still miss typos, because I’m not exactly a professional editor, and also it’s hard to work with your own stuff. Some people get Betas (volunteer proofreaders) to help, but I’m very much of the opinion that it’s fanfiction, and it’s meant to be fun. Nothing is fun if you’re too worried about “what if someone judges me for missing commas?”

How do you know when a story is finished?

9 times out of 10, I start a story with a certain scene in mind that I want to write toward -- for example, when I started writing Pieces, it was with the goal of getting Lena’s memory back and her facing Magica. So I wrote with that in mind, and I knew once I hit it, I was going to lose momentum on it.

The times when I write with just an idea and no scenes in mind are... interesting. Those are usually the ideas I lose steam on pretty fast, and I’ll try to revisit later to see if I can find more inspiration.

tl;dr, have a loose guideline or certain points you want to hit, etc. Even if you just start with “I want to write to this one scene”, it’ll keep you going.

How do you write authentic relationships?

This is... a little harder. I don’t do anything special, I just write and try to imitate canon. Webby is a fluffy death machine, Lena is a wanna-cool-disaster-gay teenager, the triplets are basically the Three Scrooges, etc. Not... to brag or anything, but I’ve been told I have a pretty good ability to capture characters’ voices. It’s something that comes from a lot of practice and writing a lot of different characters over the years. Writing their relationships just goes from there. 

Understanding the relationships also helps -- HDL and Webby have a very sibling dynamic, for example, so you’ll want to try and write them as siblings (one of the reasons shipping HDL/Webby just doesn’t work IMO, but anyway), or most of Lena’s relationships are lowkey antagonistic in some kind of way by nature of her personality -- she’s very sarcastic and likes to challenge things. One of my fave dynamics to write is her and Beakley because Lena is sarcastic, and Beakley is dead-ass Britishly dry, so writing the two of them seems like they should clash, but they actually fit together really well as long as you don’t make Lena too mean or Beakley too stiff. Understanding the characters and how they connect with each other really helps with writing their relationships with another.

Then, of course, there are the interactions that haven’t happened and most people wouldn’t think of like Lena and Della, and you can just do whatever the hell you want because there’s zero canon base to work off of. And again, it’s a matter of looking at the characters and understanding how they’ll react. Della is impulsive and a disaster, but she’s also extremely motherly and would probably take one look at Lena and go “this one’s mine now.” Lena, of course, has no interest in having someone “parent” her, but Della is a wildcard in that Lena has no history with her, and Della has no preconceived notions. 

Does any of this make any sense?

How do you create the best emotions you can from your viewers? 

Any emotions I invoke are completely accidental XD Word choice is always helpful, though - words and descriptions can really make a difference. I guess the best way to show that is with an example:

1) “I don’t understand you!” Webby yelled, frustrated. “Why can’t you just talk to me?!”

It’s okay, but not particularly IC -- Webby isn’t really the yelling type, and there isn’t much description. Compared to:

2) “I don’t understand you,” Webby said quietly. Her eyes were on the floor, fingers fiddling with her skirt. She almost sounded disappointed -- far worse than anything else Lena could have imagined. “Did I do something wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?”

More IC -- Webby is boisterous and happy, but she also has some deep insecurities, and Lena’s inability to talk about her feelings probably hits her hard because it seems like Lena doesn’t trust her. She wouldn’t be mad at Lena for that, though -- she’d blame herself.

Also, more scene. Show don’t tell and all that. You see Webby’s insecurities through the way she fidgets, and the way she’s looking at the floor. And you get Lena’s silent reaction -- she’s upset Webby, and she’s lowkey mad at herself for it because she never wants to upset Webby.

How do you really wrap it all together?

I definitely get ten million different ideas when I’m writing something -- like seeing ten million different futures and outcomes. One of my original ideas with Pieces, for example, was to hold off on Webby and Lena meeting and have Magica attack several times before they met. But it wasn’t a sustainable idea, and at the end of the day, it wasn’t what I wanted for the story. I was more going for the idea that Lena would always care for Webby no matter who or what she was -- semi-soulmate-ish except it’s more “Lena’s feelings are always there no matter how messed up her mind is.” So having them meet under more natural circumstances was better.

Basically, know the tone you’re going for with your story, and follow that idea path (instead of veering off and going into the waters of “well what if I did this or this or this or this”). And you can totally change ideas halfway through! Lord knows I have. Just find a way to tie your concepts together

I really hope this helps, and good luck with the writing!

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - 10 (November 2003 - 16 years ago)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language, angst

wc: 5.2k

---------

Shawn hates school, he decides. 

It’s the same thing he decided last year during fall midterms, as well. He tries, perhaps in vain, to remind himself that one day, it’ll be worth it. 

The problem lies in his chronic testing anxiety, which he has no matter the test, no matter the subject. Such an affliction wears on him when it comes time to study. He finds the information elusive, and learning all he needs to know is like trying to catch smoke or lick your own elbow. 

Maya, however, is not similarly afflicted. It’s kind of annoying. 

They’re sat in the library, at Shawn’s favorite corner table, which invites fewer distractions than do the main tables that bigger study groups prefer to occupy. Maya chews her nails while Shawn bites at his pen cap and reads the same confusing sentence about unusual sound waves found in quantum liquids for the fifth time. 

He’s so fucking stupid.

If he doesn’t pass this class, he’ll have to drop his audio engineering major, and he’ll be stuck with Music Theory and Performance, which his parents insist isn’t enough to base a career on. He hears their words in the back of his head, the mantra that goes, we support you, and we love you, and you need a safety net. 

But his safety net is annoying and complicated and doesn’t feel very safe at all. He sighs, jots down the incomprehensible sentence in his notebook and decides he’ll need to meet with a TA before the exam. 

Maya has her knees tucked up into her chest with her Advanced Business Applications notebook balancing on top. It’s almost full -- it’ll be the second notebook she’s filled for this course alone. But Maya writes everything down, it’s how she learns. Her handwriting is atrocious, though, she thinks to herself as she gazes down at it with her thumbnail between her teeth. She’s surprised it’s not better with how often she writes.

Her brain is stuffed full. This week alone she’s had two tests for her business major and one major piece due for her sculpture class for her art major. Double majoring was so not her best idea.

But she manages, she always does. Maya’s a great student. She has school down to an absolute science. Maya knows exactly how to study, it’s one of her best skills. She’s the queen of flashcards and organization and color coding. She thinks that side of her is well balanced by her artistic leanings. 

Shawn doesn’t look to be faring so well. As she chews on her nail and taps the eraser of her pencil against her book, she tilts her head at him affectionately. He’s cute when he’s stressed. It makes her want to drag him back to the stacks to make out. She’s halfway to suggesting it when she sees him heave a defeated sigh and she thinks better of it.

“Do you want a snack? I might order something. Or hunt down a vending machine. What time does the express counter in the Walter building close again? God, I never remember,” she babbles.

Shawn doesn’t look up when she speaks. He’s onto a new, equally as perplexing sentence that has him tugging at the little tuft of curls at the nape of his neck. He shakes his head a little, tries to read the sentence again but she’s asking him something about Walter building or whatever and he’s not sure if what he’s looking at is even English anymore. 

He huffs again, flips to the glossary of his book to scribble a few definitions as he mutters, “Not hungry.” 

He’s too anxious to be hungry. Too pissed at himself for thinking he was smart enough for this ridiculous major. Too pissed at Maya for getting through pages and pages of notes when he’s only finished a few. 

He feels bad, naggingly, in the back of his mind, because it’s not her fault that she’s smart and brilliant and perfect at everything she does. But those things, all of the things that made him fall head over ass for her, are getting on his last fucking nerve today. 

Shawn looks very grumpy. He’s doing the thing where he’s staring at his book and his eyes are moving but she can tell he’s not actually reading. Maybe she should be alarmed by how easily she can read him now -- does this mean she’s definitely staring at him too much? She just likes looking at him. And watching him to know more about him. That’s not weird, right?

She drops her chin to her notebook on her knees and blinks at him with big, sweet eyes. “Baby, don’t think too hard, you’ll explode.”

She giggles, but thinks maybe she’s the only one who’s amused by her stupid humor. Her lips twitch. 

His bad mood is verified when Maya coos her silly joke and all he can do is grip his pen tighter. She even calls him baby, yet his ears don’t burn the way they usually do.

He’s not thinking too hard for no fucking reason. He’s thinking too hard because nothing makes fucking sense. 

She looks around. Maybe he’d like a distraction.

“Hey, when are you gonna be done with that chapter? I think we should go explore the stacks.” She wiggles her eyebrows and sets her notebook aside. 

“Never,” he snaps, because that’s what it feels like. He will never be finished with the chapter because there’s no way he’ll decipher it without some serious tutoring. He drops his pen and feels his stomach clench. She’s trying to be sweet, but it’s annoying. And he hates that, hates being annoyed with her when he’s so-- when he likes her so much. 

But right now, her effortless perfection is more grating than it is sexy, and he suddenly feels suffocated, embarrassed, and in desperate need of a break. But not with her. 

“I need some fresh air,” he says, not acknowledging her suggestion or the coy smirk tugging at her lips that on any other day would drive him crazy. Instead, he flips his book shut and extracts himself from the table, heading for the back-corner exit that leads out to a patio with tables and chairs, offset from the main campus drive. 

Maya’s eyes widen, watching Shawn ignore her and stomp away. She sits there for a second, ignoring the questioning glances around her. She realizes her jaw has dropped open slightly in surprise. She screws it back up, furrows her brow and hops out of her seat, making her way toward the same exit.

He hasn’t gotten far. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and he’s almost made a lap around the patio. She can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. She lets the door slam behind her and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Hey,” she grunts, “Are you ok? You can’t just--”

She sighs and rolls her eyes at herself, at how defensive and nervous she’s feeling.

“You can’t just bolt like that. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She follows him. Of course she does, because along with everything else, she’s perfect at being his girlfriend, too. The door smacks shut, but he doesn’t slow his pacing to look at her. 

It’s a dickish move, but he’s a dickish guy now, he guesses. 

He stops his wandering only to dig the toe of his boot into a crack in the concrete. He doesn’t answer her question, just grinds at the sidewalk and thumbs at the guitar pick in his pocket as she stares at him like he’s grown a second head. 

He finally looks at her, voice surprisingly even when he speaks. 

“I didn’t bolt. I said I needed fresh air. Pretty sure you heard me.” 

Maya narrows her eyes, watching him fidget. She tightens her arms across her chest and stays planted where she is a few feet away from him, but feeling further.

“Yeah, I did hear you,” she snaps, “And now I’m asking you to explain. Why are you acting like this?”

It’s a little alarming. Shawn is very even tempered. He’s an anxious guy, she knows that as well as anyone, but he usually finds a way to burrow further into her to comfort himself, not run away. He’s running away. Why is he running away?

Maya lets her own nervous mind skim through the last few hours, the last few days, looking for something -- did she fuck up? Forget something? Say something insensitive?

If she did, she can’t pick it out. Just last night they were lying in his bed whispering together about nothing, tangling their fingers together, being as sickeningly adorable as always. He’s just being a pill right now.

She doesn’t say it, but Shawn knows like this really means like a huge fucking dick. She sounds pissed, but almost maybe scared, or something, but he still can’t stop himself from lashing out. 

“Can’t I just get some fucking air?” 

It’s sickening, the ease with which he persists in his newfound dickishness. Maybe he’s been a dick all along. He’s beginning to hate himself, wants to give her what she’s rightfully asking for, but he feels an invisible grip around his throat that holds him back from collapsing into her and putting his insecurities on display. Instead it keeps him frustrated and bitter.

He turns before she can answer, her confused gaze weighing a little too heavily on him as defensiveness seeps from his every pore. He decides he doesn’t want to talk to her while he feels like this. Like a brat. He doesn’t want to say any of what he’s been thinking, because he knows how petty it is. He doesn’t want her knowing he’s like that— insecure and envious and resentful and anything else that could make him wholly unattractive to her.

He doesn’t want to lose her when he’s barely had a chance to be with her. It feels like they’ve only just begun. Shawn won’t ruin it.

What was remaining of the warmth in Maya’s expression dries up. Her eyes fall to her feet. She chews on the inside of her bottom lip and sighs.

“You can have whatever you want,” she says coldly, “But if what you really want is to storm out of the library like a little kid in a hissy fit and not tell me what’s wrong, I think that really sucks.”

She feels helpless. She knows this isn’t really about her, whatever it is. But he’s not letting her in. Is he really not going to let her in? She tells him all sorts of stupid shit -- he knows her. He knows everything already, even though they haven’t been together very long. He can’t do this, not now. Not while she’s so invested.

Maya manages to stop her downward spiral. She takes a deep breath and brings her hands up to sift through her hair.

She calls him out. He knew she would. He knew he was inviting it. He doesn’t know how to reply, just feels his chest tighten and his breath catch and thinks, this is it, this is how it ends. 

His fingers find his hair, mirroring her, combing through his curls as they whip in the wind, and he searches for his voice, but can’t find it before he hears Maya’s again. 

“Do you want me to go back inside? Or do you want to talk? I’m not going to make you.”

He takes a moment to register what she’s saying, and when he does, the vicious nerves gnawing at his gut command his response. 

“I want you to stop being so goddamn perfect all the fucking time!” He rails as he turns to face her, a sharp movement on the worn-down heels of his Chelsea boots. 

He hears it after he says it, and he recoils, taking two tumbling steps backward while he shoves both of his hands into his hair, his shoulders pinching into a shrug. His head hangs, and he stares down at the ground, panting, flustered from the outburst, from the utter ridiculousness of his behavior, and from the idea of how his mother would feel if she could see him now. 

Disappointed, to say the least. His eyes sting at the thought. 

Shawn… snaps.

Maya watches him whirl around with a jolt. His voice is hard and strained. She swallows roughly and drops her arms, tucking them into the pockets of her hoodie. Or… his hoodie that she’s wearing.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

She can hear the edge in her voice. She feels it on her skin, too. 

Maya’s voice is a hiss, and it cuts sharp across this little patio, has the hairs on the back of Shawn’s neck standing on end. He cringes, eyes screwing tightly shut as the rest of his useless body freezes in place. 

He’s familiar with the edge in her tone. It’s how she sounds when she’s sad, heart-sick sad, like she did after they watched Titanic together. And it’s his fault she sounds that way now. 

She’s annoying. That’s what he’s saying. He’s saying she’s driving him crazy just by being herself. He thinks she’s perfect and that makes her hard to be around. Impossible, apparently, because he literally got up and walked out of the library. And then she followed him to continue being fucking annoying.

It’s not fair, she thinks as her eyes well up, she hasn’t done anything wrong. But that’s the problem, she guesses. He thinks she’s never done anything wrong and that makes her insufferable. She hangs her head and sniffs.

“I’m fucking--” Shawn chokes on his words, struggling to look at her, scared of what the expression on her face might be as she stands before the asshole who hijacked her boyfriend’s body. He sucks in a deep, steady breath, then manages to open his eyes and lift his heavy head. His unruly curls fall in his face. He brushes them away in time to see Maya’s head drop, forlorn. Rejected.  

He deserves to be broken up with. 

His voice feels swollen with frustrated, anxious tears he’s trying not to shed when he speaks. 

“I’m just not like you,” And I don’t know why you want someone like me. 

He doesn’t say it, but it’s an impossible thought to escape, a fear he’s always had, though he’s never had such a frank confrontation with it until they started studying together. Until his classes started getting harder, and he started feeling stupider. 

He searches for something else to say. 

“I’m not always-- I don’t just get things so easily. And you’re-- you’re so brilliant, Maya--” he begins to scramble, because he doesn’t want to make her cry, but he’s been enough of an asshole to get the job done. “And everything with you seems so effortless, and I know you work hard, but it’s still--” he takes a breath, “I love you for it, but it’s still easier for you, you know? I’m not built like that. I don’t-- I can’t hold a candle to you.” 

Maya was listening, she really was.

She was watching intently, reading his body language, feeling her heart swell in her chest as she realized what this really was about. But then--

I love you… for it.

That’s around the time her big, full brain shorted out. It tripped right over whatever words he said next. It just heard the three that stood out, the ones she’s been trying not to think, trying not to whisper to him while he’s been fucking her for weeks now.

She can only imagine the expression on her face. She must look ridiculous, staring at him like this. But does he even know he said it? Should she pretend he didn’t, maybe wait for him to say it more purposefully? She doesn’t think she can. She doesn’t think her body or her mind will let her.

“You just… wait, I just… Shawn--”

She cuts herself off and takes a breath. “Can we back up for a second? To that thing you just said? And then I can refute the rest of it.”

Shawn doesn’t realize what he’s said until Maya begins to gape at him like a fish. Then, the echo of his voice rings loudly in his own ears and it’s the only thing he can hear-- I love you, I love you, I love you. 

That, this, now-- Now is not the time he wanted to tell her that. And this is absolutely not how he wanted to tell her, particularly not with a “for it” and an open display of insecurity attached. He feels his skin go cold and knows he’s about as white as a sheet right now, like he was the first time he forgot the lyrics to one of his own songs in front of a crowd of strangers. 

“I didn’t--” he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to back up. That’s not how-- he messed it up. He messed up by being an asshole in the library, and now he’s messed up admitting his feelings to her. He rubs at his face, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to find solid footing as the earth falls away beneath him. 

“I’m sorry,” he coughs, hands dropping to his sides, “That was-- that was shitty, I’m fucking-- I’m shitty, see? I’m a jerk who can’t even say that the right way.” 

He smiles, but it feels a little useless. His hand finds the back of his neck. Nervous habit. “But I-- uh, I do. I love you. Not just for being annoyingly perfect. But you know, for everything.” 

Well, she definitely doesn’t have to worry about him finding her insufferable. He loves her. He said it out loud, a couple times in a couple ways. He’s been saying it in nonverbal ways for weeks. She has too. And now it’s out there, even in the midst of… whatever this is.

Maya steps forward. Gently, carefully, she pulls his hand off the back of his neck and holds it in both of hers, cradling it against her lips as she kisses each knuckle lovingly. She blinks up at him with a shy smile.

“I love you too, Shawn.”

And she does, oh god, does she ever. Maya’s never been in love. She used to wonder if she’d recognize it when it finally happened. But like Shawn probably has, she’s been saying it in her head for a while, waiting for the best time to say it out loud. 

He’s right, this isn’t the moment she would’ve picked either. But it’s them, so it’s not perfect. It’s real.

Each gentle kiss she presses to his skin makes it that much harder for him to breathe. And then-- well, then he forgets everything but her. He almost chokes, You do?, but the words get stuck in his throat, superstitiously deciding not to test his luck. If she says she loves him, then she does. His face feels warm.  

At least with whatever else is going on in his head, he doesn’t make her convince him that she loves him. He seems to believe it and it even seems to calm him down a bit. Not much. Not enough that Maya’s comfortable dragging him back to his books, but a little.

She pulls him down onto a bench and keeps holding his hand, stroking the lines of his palms as she studies his face.

“You’re really freaking out about this test, huh?”

Apparently, she loves him, so he can’t be mad at her for hurling them back into reality. His eyes shut and his fingers curl tightly around her small hand. He breathes through his nose, testing the technique the school counselor taught him for when he needs to keep the anxiety at bay. 

He shrugs, giving her hand another squeeze before he looks at her. 

“It’s just-- Hard.” 

He wants to say, and I’ll be fine, it’s good, I was good at this stuff in high school, just need to keep studying, because it saves face when I don’t think I’m good enough doesn’t. But he has to be honest with her. She loves him. And she still hasn’t broken up with him. He’s not sure how he got so lucky. 

“It-- ah, it makes me feel stupid, I guess. Reading the same sentence over and over and not-- It doesn’t click. I don’t know. I thought I would be good at it.” 

“Hey,” she murmurs, holding his gaze, “It’s a hard class. My friend Jackie took it and it was really fucking hard, she had to work all the time just to translate it, it was not easy. But I think it’ll be worth it for you.”

She bites her lip. “I’m not-- I mean, you should do whatever makes you happy, Shawn, but I know how much you love music. I know how much it means to you. So if this class gets you closer to that, I think that’s cool. But if you feel like it’s totally killing you, then nothing is worth that.”

She looks down at their fingers. “You know I got a tutor for the first time last semester when I failed my first Advanced Econ exam? I was so fucking mad. I’ve never needed a tutor before, I saw it as some kind of failing of mine. I’m really glad I did it, though. I needed to. I suck at asking for help when I need it and sometimes I take on way too much and start to drown. I’m not perfect, baby. Neither are you. I’d probably hate you if you were.”

Her nose twitches. She smiles slightly. “But I can show you my secret genius flashcard method. Or I can leave you alone if I’m being too distracting.”

He feels tactless, and immature. She speaks of her failure with such grace that again, he wonders what it is she sees in him, now that she’s close enough to spot all of the cracks and fissures in his otherwise charming facade. 

He smiles at her offer, looks away from her pretty face to lift her knuckles to his mouth and return the kisses she so graciously gave him moments before. He shakes his head slightly, lips twitching as they brush her fingers. 

“You’re definitely always distracting, but not in the bad way,” he murmurs, though he knows it’s not an apology for his behavior. Even saying sorry feels hollow. He doesn’t want to ever act like that again. He doesn’t want to feel like that again, but he worries there’s no amount of medication or therapy to prevent that. Maybe it’s just fundamental. 

A spoken apology is a good place to start, though, and his frantic lament from earlier surely doesn’t count. He swallows, tilting his head to gaze at her from over the tops of her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry for that, back there. My-- How I behaved. That was just.” He shakes his head. “You deserve so much better than that, Lu.” 

He’s beating himself up. Maya can see it happening, right under the surface. It makes her want to cry again but she steadies herself because that won’t be helpful. 

She nods at his apology and sits a little closer to him. “I know that. And I think… I think you deserve better than this, too. You’re punishing yourself for letting yourself be challenged. I don’t think you should.”

Maya says everything right. But she still doesn’t fully get it. She can’t, when he’s barely gone into it. It’s more than the one class, or the complicated as fuck major. It’s the beast of his anxiety that holds him back from her, that makes him irritable and defensive. Even if he gets through this class, he can’t make her a promise that he’ll never feel that way again. 

She shouldn’t have to put up with it. 

Maya pulls her fingers from his and cups his face in both hands. She looks him over, from the tension in his jaw to the look in his eyes. She kisses him slow and sweet, slotting their warm lips together, sighing into him. 

He melts into her kiss, despite his nagging reservations, and finds himself cradling the back of her head with his broad palms. She pulls back, just slightly, before he’s ready to let her go. 

“I think you’re amazing, Shawn. I love loving you.”

Shawn sucks in a gentle breath, his eyes still closed as their noses nudge. 

“I’m kinda messed up, though, Lemon,” he whispers after a moment, fingers curling into her soft hair. “It’s not just this class or-- or the engineering major. It’s me.”

Maya’s heart sinks. This is not a tonight problem. It’s a whole thing, one she’s seen only hints of in him in the weeks they’ve been dating. This is in him and it’s deep and she can’t get it out herself, she can only help him if he wants her to.

Maya doesn’t like stuff she can’t fix herself. But… she loves him.

“Join the club,” she whispers, lifting the corner of her mouth to smile.

She doesn’t say it to belittle his anxiety. She just doesn’t think either of them has the energy to really get into this tonight. 

She just wants to hold him and make him feel better for this, to get him through the next few days before this test. All the rest of it is going to take more, and neither of them have more to give tonight.

“Do you want to walk around for a while? Or go back inside? Or we can take your books to my place and study there without the smell of frat boys everywhere.”

If he wants to send her home so he can study solo, that’s ok too. But she really does want to help.

Maya’s not teasing him. She sounds too earnest, and a little sad. And that makes him feel like shit all over again, because he knows she’s not perfect and putting her up on that pedestal wasn’t ever fair. 

They haven’t gotten to this part properly yet. The part where they lie on the bed and talk about their demons all night because not sharing them is killing them and he thinks she ought to know what she’s getting herself into with him, and she decides he deserves to see a little more of her, of the special pieces she keeps tucked away for only those she really trusts. 

Or at least, that’s how he’s been fantasizing about it. 

This, in the middle of the library during peak study time, was not how he pictured it. But nothing with them has been how he pictured it. Mostly, it’s better. And this feels shittier than his fantasy, but better because it’s real. 

Shawn doesn’t want to study anymore. It’s not worth it, letting the anxiety win and getting less than nothing done. There’s nothing to do about it tonight, no TAs available to meet until tomorrow. Still, his feet twitch as if to carry him back to his books. He doesn’t want that urge to win. 

So he focuses on the way Maya’s smooth hair feels between his fingers, trying to anchor himself in the overwhelming sense of calm she brings. He thinks about his breath across her lips and her gentle voice in his ear and forgets the library, and the books, and everything not Maya. 

“No one’s out here,” he murmurs, pulling away from her and glancing around the empty patio. He looks back to her, brings his thumbs to her cheeks and brushes across her cheekbones affectionately, tips his head and asks, “Is that offer to make out still on the table?” 

Maya grins and goes sweetly pink. She nods, turning her body to face him, leaning into his touch.

“That offer lives on the table for you, pal,” she teases, letting her eyes drift shut as she leans into him, barely skimming her lips across his.

She knows kissing her isn’t going to really help him, not fundamentally, but it’s enough for tonight. It’s what she can do to help him tonight and that’s more than anyone else can do for him, so she can feel good about that. The rest can wait until he’s not run ragged with anxiety and maybe a little fragile.

She tilts her chin and relaxes into him, letting him guide their kiss, wanting to give him what he needs.

Maya always says the cutest things. He wants to tell her, but her lips brush his and remembers the task at hand. Between them, he swings his leg over the bench so he can straddle the marble-topped seat. He’s able to pull her closer to him that way, tucking her snuggly between his thighs as they kiss. 

One of his hands falls to the nape of her neck, the other still firm on the small of her back to keep her pressed against him. He sips at her lips, their noses nudging as the kiss deepens, as Shawn lets himself get wrapped up in her taste and her scent and the way she mews into his mouth when he does something she likes. 

Maya can feel the way the remaining anxiety peels off him. Yes, she thinks, let it all go. She slips needy fingers up his warm neck, tracing the swirling line of curls she finds there. Her other hand sneaks up his leg, resting on the outside of his thigh as he holds her a little closer, kisses her a little more firmly.

Kissing him is her greatest pleasure. When she’s restless at night and he’s at his place, sometimes she’ll curl up into herself, close her eyes and imagine his lips against hers, the sweet noises he makes, the tender way his fingers explore her face, her neck, her shoulders. She’s so intoxicated by it. She craves it more than anything else.

He takes a breath after a few luxurious moments, but only so he can purr in her ear, “I love you, Lu.” 

He laughs at himself after he says it, the tip of his nose brushing along her cheekbone. As his gentle laughter subsides, he sighs, “I think I’m gonna end up saying that a lot. If that’s okay with you.” 

Her lips chase his when he pulls away, her eyes trained on his soft wet mouth. She quirks a smile and gasps at the visceral shiver her body gives at his breath on her ear.

“I’ll let you tell me you love me whenever you want,” she promises with a chuckle, planting little kisses along his cheek and shifting her hand up against his scalp to massage him as they stay heart-stoppingly close like this.

Shawn laughs softly as her lips tease his cheek. He presses his head into her hand, reveling in the gentle way her fingertips comb through his curls. 

“I think that could get annoying. I’ll probably always want to,” he murmurs into the angle of her jaw, sliding his arm more firmly around her waist. 

It doesn’t take long for them to start making out again, and maybe it gets a little too heated for their semi-public spot on the bench. But Maya doesn’t seem to care, just curls herself around him and kisses him like she wants them to fuse together permanently. 

Shawn wouldn’t complain; he kisses her just as eagerly, after all. He’s so fucking in love.

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @desire-to-live @jillian-nd @shawnwyr @curlsofshawn @graysonmendes @tnhmblive @meltingicequeen

[language-of-love]

holding hands with your heart...

This is the 4th installment of my sweater weather series, fall fics from prompts sent in by my followers. I worked in two prompts for this one, blankets (submitted by @jessx2231) & flannel (submitted by @al-ex-an-d-er-hamiltons). This one’s rated E and has very little plot, outside of tipsy fiances and morning sex. It’s 85 degrees on the 2nd day of summer, so I had to bring the heat. ;) (Rated E, 2700 words, AO3)

🍂

Summer is kicking and screaming like a petulant child who doesn’t want to leave the party, keeping daytime temperatures just high enough to be annoying even as its end is supposed to have come. Autumn, however, is coming in like an overly patient parent, cooling things off as soon as the sun begins to go down, giving relief and a hint of what’s maybe a week or so away. The air tonight is just chilly enough to make David’s customary sweater make sense and Patrick wish for one of his own, thankful for the heat in his cheeks brought on by the copious amounts of wine they’d indulged themselves in at dinner.

He blames Stevie, and Alexis, and even Ted on FaceTime from the Galapagos, as the three of them had regaled the group with all of the times they’d each walked in on or spied David and Patrick making out in the early weeks of their relationship. The embarrassment had been palpable and alcohol had been necessary, especially when Twyla turned up out of nowhere with a story Patrick had never heard, not at all aware that she had seen him and David steaming up the back of the Rose family car out on what they’d thought was a deserted country road, but apparently led to Twyla’s third cousin’s boyfriend’s motor home. What can they say, privacy was a luxury back then and they’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get creative.

Thankfully, times have changed and they have Patrick’s apartment, which David is currently also calling home now that they are engaged. They have plans to find a new place eventually, but for the time being, it’s been a perfect oasis and more than enough.

David leans into Patrick’s side as they continue their short walk home and Patrick almost stumbles, realizing absentmindedly just how tipsy he actually is.

“Somebody’s drunk,” David teases, his syllables drawn out just enough to give away that maybe he’s not faring all that well either.

“If you told me there was a bit of moonshine in the house red at the cafe, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m definitely a little wobbly,” he admits, gripping David’s elbow for balance as they get to the front door of the apartment building.

David closes his arm to trap Patrick’s hand there and shoots him a quick smile, quickly looking back at his feet as they start the slow trek to the third floor. One of them, probably Patrick, loses their balance halfway up and they both stumble into the wall, dissolving into a fit of giggles that doesn’t let up until they’ve reached their front door.

Patrick steps in close, body heavy on David’s against the doorframe as he tries to kiss him, but David’s laughing too hard and Patrick just ends up pressing a smile against his cheek. It hits him just how much fun being in love with David is, how different it’s turned out to be than he’d had the capacity to imagine. He really hopes Rachel has found someone, someone who makes her as happy as he is now. Man, he must be drunk if his thoughts are this all over the place.

As soon as they’re in the door, that thing happens to them both where you’ve been drinking for hours but it’s only when you are in the proximity of a bathroom do you realize just how much you have to pee. David makes it there first, leaving Patrick dancing and half contemplating relieving himself in the kitchen sink. Thankfully, David finishes just before that decision can be fully realized and Patrick takes his turn at the toilet, feeling flushed and out of focus and suddenly regretting that last glass of wine. After washing his hands, he splashes cold water on his face and takes a few deep breaths, quickly grabbing the bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet to take out to David.

He finds him in the kitchen filling a large glass with water and Patrick smiles, loving how in sync they’ve become, how easily they anticipate each other’s moves. Popping open the bottle, he counts out four caplets, handing two to David who takes them with a healthy amount of water. Patrick does the same and they stand there for a minute or two, passing the water back and forth until the glass is empty and David’s hands begin to pull at Patrick’s waist. Patrick sighs contentedly as David’s mouth finds his, kissing him lazily with wine-stained lips.

David tends to get even more tactile the more he drinks, while Patrick gets sleepy, which eventually finds them in their pajamas cuddling under the blankets that have grown in number the colder the evenings have become. Patrick gets hot when he sleeps, so he’s taken to just wearing pajama pants or boxers, while David is wrapped up in warm flannel, black and midnight blue patterned, a gift from Patrick’s parents left for him on the end of Patrick’s childhood bed the first time David had come home with him for a visit. Patrick’s heart still skips a beat seeing David wear them, knowing the love and welcome his mother had obviously been trying to convey with the gift.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” David asks with reddened cheeks, making Patrick realize that he had, in fact, been staring at David with what was probably a seriously lovestruck expression.

Rolling further onto his side, Patrick slides his leg between David’s and rests his forearm on David’s chest so he can smile down at the man he loves.

“Because I love you. Is that okay?”

David bites down on his bottom lip and playfully rolls his eyes, but reaches down to run his fingers along the side of Patrick’s hair, making Patrick arch into his touch like a kitten getting a scratch.

“If you insist, I guess I’ll allow it,” David preens, smile widening as Patrick turns his head and catches his palm with a kiss.

“We really are ridiculous, no wonder our friends made fun of us all night.”

Patrick laughs into David’s palm and turns back to look down at him, nodding in agreement before tucking himself in under David’s chin. Patrick feels a cloud of blankets surround him as David fluffs the cotton and cocoons them both in before his arms come around Patrick’s back to hold him close. David begins to ramble about the mortifying dinner conversation and Patrick does his best to listen, but he can feel himself drifting to sleep and kisses David’s sternum just once before slumber pulls him under.

~~~~~~~

A tiny dribble of toothpaste hits the sink as Patrick smiles at his reflection, having woken up today surprisingly hangover free and feeling like a balloon filled to bursting with happiness. And there’s nothing particularly special about today, which just makes Patrick smile wider. He’s just...happy. He won’t even allow his mind to wander back to a time where even the notion of how he feels now would have been considered fanciful, because all he wants to do is live in this moment, with David, who he can hear padding around the kitchen making his coffee.

Back in the bedroom, he goes to pick up his phone, but stops, deciding he doesn’t really need to check anything, not yet. His fingers reach further back on the shelf to rub along the velvet box next to their wallets, the ring inside the same tone of gold as David’s four engagement rings, just waiting for the day where Patrick will finally put it on. Or, more accurately, when David will slide it onto Patrick’s finger as they promise each other forever.

David is suddenly behind him, the slide of the flannel on his arms soft on Patrick’s bare belly as he pulls Patrick back into his chest and kisses the side of his neck.

“I made you some tea,” he mumbles against Patrick’s skin, raising Patrick’s body temperature a few degrees as each word is spoken. “Ray dropped it by the store the other day. It’s a pumpkin chai that he mentioned you’d enjoyed. His family sent him a fresh batch from home and he wanted you to have some.”

Patrick’s heart constricts a little at Ray’s thoughtfulness. “How sweet of him, I’ll have to swing by his office this week to say thank you.”

“Mmmhmmm…” is all David says in reply as he draws Patrick’s earlobe between his teeth and gives it a playful tug. A shiver of awareness streaks down Patrick’s neck and he leans his body further into David’s, running his right hand down David’s arm towards his wrist. The flannel, soft as it is, is a barrier to Patrick getting hold of David’s skin and he’s suddenly in urgent need of contact. Interlocking his fingers between David’s over his belly, he turns his head, the movement pulling David’s mouth from around Patrick’s ear. It’s not an easy position, but David helps, leaning around Patrick’s shoulder to meet Patrick’s mouth in a wet kiss. Patrick’s already turning in David’s arms before he feels those strong hands urging his hips to shift and soft fingers slide just beneath the back of his sleep pants as he’s dragged up against David’s chest.

It’s a perfect kiss. Mouths hot and active, David’s cupid’s bow slick from Patrick’s tongue and Patrick’s lower lip swelling just slightly as David lets its slide between his teeth. They’re both panting and searching for breath, but stopping the kiss isn’t an option, so they suck in air together before diving back in and stealing the breath they’d both taken right back. Patrick’s entire body feels alive, his fingertips almost numb as he begins to fumble with the buttons of David’s sleep shirt.

Releasing David’s mouth, Patrick buries his face into the side of David’s neck, teeth and tongue worrying the soft skin there as his needs begin to tumble from his mouth.

“You mind waiting for your coffee a bit longer? I really need to get you naked.”

Patrick can feel David’s chuckle vibrate against his lips and he smiles into David’s throat, fingers sliding open another button as he illustrates his point.

“I mean, I was pretty excited to try that new cinnamon roll flavored creamer I bought, but I suppose that can wait.” David punctuates his banter with a firm squeeze of Patrick’s ass inside his pants, pulling a groan up from Patrick’s lungs to go along with his laughter.

He pulls back from kissing David’s throat to press his lips into David’s crooked smile, sliding his palms into David’s open shirt to brush over his nipples. He slips his tongue past David’s lips as his mouth falls open at the sensitive touch, the heat building between them near boiling as the kiss gets serious. As Patrick draws David’s tongue into his mouth, he begins to suck, mimicking exactly what he wants to do with another, more sensitive part of David’s body, as he tugs David’s partially unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders towards his waist. David groans and pulls his mouth free of Patrick’s and Patrick can see the want, his chocolate brown eyes near black as he steps back just a bit and frees himself from his own shirt and leans down to shuck off his flannel sleep pants. Patrick is awestruck for a moment, just taking in his man’s beauty, all long limbs and chest hair, cock swollen with arousal and begging to be tasted.

Before Patrick can drop to his knees, David walks backwards towards the bed, his ringed fingers taking his cock in hand and giving it a squeeze as his knees hit the mattress and he sits. Patrick hooks his fingers into his pants and drops them to the floor, nearly tripping over them in his haste to get to David who has pushed himself back and is spread out like the most delicious of presents just waiting to be savored.

Crawling up over David on the mattress, Patrick’s eyes close of their own volition as sensitive parts of his body brush parts of David’s, making his breath catch at the pleasure and anticipation of what’s to come.

Bringing his nose to the side of David’s, he whispers, “Hi”, before fluttering a soft kiss to David’s lips, too worked up to kiss him with all the passion swirling in his belly as he knows that will bring a premature end what has just barely begun. David’s hands grab at Patrick’s neck as he pulls back in protest, but Patrick just smiles and shakes his head, dropping a quick kiss to David’s jaw before sliding further down. Patrick buries his face into David’s chest, licking and worshipping as he slowly makes his way towards his navel. He loves how the soft wisps of David’s hair tickle his nose as he swirls his tongue along his belly, the taste of David’s skin so familiar, so full of soft, passionate and sometimes frantic memories he plans to build on for a lifetime to come.

David’s hand is suddenly cupping Patrick’s face, his thumb pressing into the corner of Patrick’s mouth as David smiles down at him with pleading, heavy-lidded eyes. Patrick turns his head enough to draw David’s thumb into his mouth, eyes hot on David’s as he runs the flat of his tongue across his skin. David moans and Patrick smiles, letting David’s thumb pull from his mouth as he moves down between David’s legs, his breath going heavy as he finally gets to where he wants to be. As he takes David’s cock into his mouth, he looks up, seeing David’s hand outstretched and waiting to be held. It’s everything he wants and he lifts his fingers, moaning around David at the first brush of the cold metal of his rings against Patrick’s overwarm skin. He takes care of David slowly, burying his nose against his belly as he takes him in as far as he can, swallowing and licking, his free hand working in tandem with his mouth until David comes, Patrick’s name a broken plea as his hips dive into the mattress and his fingernails press crescent moons into the back of Patrick’s hand.

Patrick’s so close from bringing David’s release that he’s desperate for David’s touch, quickly moving their joined hands between his legs as he crawls up the bed to kiss David’s still panting mouth. At the first touch of David’s hand around him, he cries out against David’s lips, the breath in his lungs constricted by emotion and need. He’s spilling into David’s hand mere seconds later, his orgasm so strong his back arches, trapping David’s hand between their bellies before he collapses inelegantly onto David’s chest. David holds him close, not caring about the mess as he wraps him in his arms and draws Patrick into a breathy kiss. As Patrick’s muscles relax, he gives in to the moment, letting the soft urging of David’s lips draw him in, the slide of their tongues a promise of what’s yet to come. He knows immediately that the rest of their day will be spent in this bed, after they both get some caffeine, mapping each other’s skin and making promises their bodies are only able to convey.

David pulls back first and his head falls into the cloud of blankets still piled up beneath him from the night before.

“I’m so glad we have a bed to do this in now,” David’s declares, slightly breathless as he reaches over to the nightstand for a tissue to wipe off his hand.

Patrick chuckles before leaning in to nibble lightly at David’s jaw. “Agreed. I don’t even want to think about what Twyla might have seen that night, because I’m pretty sure…”

Oh, I definitely remember.” David’s hands are on Patrick’s waist suddenly and Patrick finds himself being lifted off David’s chest and moved to the side. Patrick’s eyes widen in confusion at being manhandled, but then David is leaning over and whispering in his ear.

“Get on your stomach. I think you might need a refresher…”

He doesn’t, because that night is permanently tattooed on his brain as life-changing, but he rolls onto his stomach without protest anyway. As David’s lips move from the nape of his neck down towards his spine, Patrick clenches the blanket beneath him into his fists, ready and more than willing to take his reminder.

[occasionalfics]

into you // p. 9

main masterlist | steve masterlist | taglist | ko-fi | playlist | p. 8 | p. 10

Summary: Just as Steve begins to wonder why he’s been sent on a mission well below his pay grade, a mysterious, unscented woman steps in and does his job for him. He’s immediately drawn into her allure, and he needs to know who she is, why she’s on a mission to take out some of the city’s most powerful alphas, and why he can’t get her off his mind.

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE! I’m Jewish but...oh well. I’m feeling bored and generous, so you’ll get this tonight and another ON Christmas (because it’s still before midnight here)! 

I think this whole thing ended up being a/b/o because I was interested in what that meant with Steve in particular. This is probably the chapter that goes the deepest into that little dynamic.

Warnings: NSFW/18+. EXPLICIT CONTENT. Like that’s basically all that it is. With a lil smidgen of plot because this is a series, after all.

Word: 3,556

His next rut hits him unexpectedly.

They’re on his couch, watching a movie with his apartment door locked, the room’s soundproofing turned on so they could enjoy some privacy for this date. They’ve finished dinner, dirty plates littered on the coffee table in front of them.

(Y/N) is curled up against Steve’s side, her lavender and lemon and rosemary smell pulling at something in him insistently. Not the exact way a scent does, but close. And then, like a cork from a stubborn wine bottle - pop! - his skin grows hot to the point that clothes are uncomfortable. The slightest movement from her against him makes him shiver, as if he has a fever. He groans, not meaning to sound half so turned on because, really, he’s frustrated that this is happening now.

They haven’t talked about this yet. He knows they should have, that, really there’s no excuse for them to have completely missed this conversation, but they have.

“Shit,” he mutters.

She stirs, and instantly he’s hard. “Hey,” she says, sitting up and turning to look at him. “You- oh.”

Of course she knows, just like that.

“You sh-should g-go,” he tells her. He goes to stand, but a rolling wave of nausea envelopes him. He crumples in on himself, knowing this rut is even worse than the last. Somehow. Like his body is punishing him for something.

“I’m not leaving you,” she says, her voice far too even for the situation they’re in. She rubs his back, which feels so good he moans. Loudly.

He’s imagined what her touch during a rut would feel like before, but never could have possibly imagined this. She’s so close and she smells so wholesome and fresh, and his body is screaming at him to take her. To hold her, take pleasure from her, fill her up and make little alphas with her.

But this is not what he had planned for this night. It’s not what he had planned for their first rut together, as if it’s something to mark on a calendar and commemorate next year.

“You-” he gets out, wanting to say much more but only being able to force, “have to.” On some level of consciousness, Steve doesn’t want to tell her what to do. He hates that alphas have that kind of sway over the other ranks; all he can do about it is hope his statement isn’t a command to her ears.

Apparently, it isn’t. She does just about the most dangerous thing she possibly can in that moment. She puts one hand on each of his cheeks and meets him halfway between leaning down and sitting to face one another. She gives him a serious look as cramps fill his abdomen.

“I’m. Not. Leaving.” Her tone is so blunt, her eyes wide enough for him to know she’s intentionally separating her words like that.

But if she doesn’t leave, he knows, they’ll do something they’ll regret. They don’t know what the consequences are - if his rut would trigger her heat, despite the suppressants; if he did trigger her heat, then how intense it would get. He has no idea when she had one last, and therefore, no concept of what one would do to her now.

And he can’t force her through that.

Before he can tell her so, her hands leave his face - earning a growl, which she ignores - and grip his biceps. She stands and pulls on his shirt sleeves. Steve has to push himself off the couch to follow her, and she keeps him steady before heading across the apartment slowly. She has to feel the way his shirt is soaking on his back, he thinks.

“Friday,” she calls, like she’s completely moved in and used to throwing around commands at the AI. Even though it doesn’t seem to recognize her voice, the robotic Irish lilt still responds. “Tell Stark or...whoever’s in charge right now that Steve’s gonna be out of commission for a few days. I’ll give updates when I can.”

Steve barely registers Friday’s answer to that. (Y/N) brings him back to his bedroom, makes him sit on the edge of the bed, then moves quickly around him. He focuses on breathing, on biting his lip while his body riots over not being touched, not being satisfied and fulfilled, not having an omega to bring him to the edge of pleasure again and again and aga-

But he does have an omega. She shuts the heavy curtains across his window, then moves into his bathroom. She knows he keeps a cup by the sink, so she fills it with tap water, then brings it into the bedroom and hands it to him.

“Drink up. All of it. Then we’ll get started.”

He can’t tell what’s in her tone. His ears are ringing. His muscles are screaming. But he still does what she tells him to, taking the water down in a few long gulps.

She takes the cup back, puts it on the dresser behind her, then faces Steve. “Listen to me,” she says. It’s not really a command. Her voice is much too soft, much too omega-like for her to be bossing her alpha around. She tilts his chin up with one finger and looks at him with worry and expectation both written all over her face. “I know it’ll be hard to control yourself, but Steve...I need you to go easy on me, okay?”

He shakes his head, sending ridiculous amounts of pain up his neck, making his vision flash. “I-I can’t ask y-you to-”

“I know,” she interrupts him, which he allows because they both know how difficult talking is right now for him. “But it’s okay. I want to help you through this. I just need you to promise you’ll be as gentle as you can be.”

It takes him a few tries, but he nods. He so desperately wants to hold fast to this promise, knowing that, should he lose himself, it could be the end of them.

She lets his chin go, stands a little straighter, and pulls her shirt off over her head. It hits his floor with no extraneous sound at all. “I won’t go into heat tonight,” she tells him quietly. “But once the suppressants are out of my system...I might.”

He remembers the morning after she spent the night in the medical wing, without her medication. Judging by that night, Steve figured it would only take a few hours before this dose wore off. If she didn’t have more with her, there was no telling when or how or for how long she’d fall into this mess with him.

“Yo-you s-sure you w-wanna st-stay?” he asks, clutching his stomach.

She nods, unbuttons her shorts, and lets them fall to the ground next to her shirt. She takes a step toward him, puts her hands on his shoulders, and lowers herself into his lap. Her knees surround his waist, and already he can feel his fever breaking.

“I do, Steve,” she says. “Because right now, you need me. You told me so last time.”

He’d completely forgotten about the weird quasi-astral projection from the last rut up until then. But now her reaction, her lack of running straight out his front door, makes so much more sense.

“Now are you gonna shut up and let me be a good omega, or you wanna keep pushing me away?”

His only response comes in the form of his lips on hers. Her hands slide down from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt, then under the cotton and up, along his scalding torso. Her touch is like ice, like sweet, shady relief on a humid summer day. She doesn’t waste much time before raking her nails along his skin, pushing his shirt up and off of him to join her clothes on the floor.

Steve practices as much restraint as he can manage with his body insisting he ravage her. He pulls the straps of her bra down, letting them fall limp against her arms. He reaches around to her back, but finds there’s no clasp - and maybe he doesn’t have a ton of experience taking these things off, but he’s definitely seen and felt a bra before. He knows the clasp is usually three prongs on the back, he just has to bend the sides to slide the hooks out of their grip and the whole thing should fall off.

Not with this bra, apparently. (Y/N) giggles, igniting a fire in his groin. He forces his eyes to meet hers when she lets go of him, reaching for a little gold bit in the valley between the cups of the bra.

“Am I throwing you off?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

“Yes,” he breathes. “And you’re making it really hard to go slow.”

She pops the gold out of a small loop, and the bra falls off of her like a jacket would. “Quite eloquent now, aren’t you?” she asks, throwing her now unoccupied arms around his neck, pressing her body in close to his.

Closer than they’ve been before. Her body is so much cooler than his that it shouldn’t be possible. He’s surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale hissing of steam forming when hot and cold meet. But he can also feel his body calming down - not entirely, he’s still definitely turned on, but at least to a more reasonable place. Urgency dies down in him, but that doesn’t stop him from holding her to him and turning her over, placing her against his pillows.

He hovers over her, growling softly, protectively, even a little possessively. But that’s the only alpha-like impulse he gives in to, at least consciously. He wishes that this could just be them, not his rut complicating things, but he has no control over that now.

Still, her plea rings in his head. I need you to go easy on me. Promise you’ll be as gentle as you can.

He made a promise to his omega and, God Damnit, he intents to keep that promise. He skips her lips, his mouth pressing light kisses on her jaw, neck, and chest. As he lavs over her bonding gland, he can’t deny that some part of him wishes she did have a scent for him to cling to, to fill his senses and bring him even closer to her.

But he says none of that, doesn’t want to make her feel guilty or like he isn’t appreciative of her laying herself before him now. He continues kissing her, lips gently teasing one nipple while one of his hands does the same to the other. She watches him closely, fingers roaming through his hair, body keening and writhing at the attention her alpha’s giving her.

He only moves on when he’s satisfied with how hard and peaked her breasts are. He leaves one, two, three little kisses down her stomach, then can’t help himself and bites softly into the next spot down. She squeals at that - a noise that seems so far from her that he’s thrown off by the fact she can make it - and laughs. He repeats the whole cycle - kiss, kiss, kiss, bite! - and earns himself a louder noise, slightly lower, between gleeful and sinful.

And that alone sends a wave of arousal down him enough to make him physically hurt. But all he does is breathe harder for a moment, shut his eyes, then collect himself and move on.

She’s suddenly silent when his teeth grip the band of her black panties. He doesn’t know if it’s the dark look he’s giving her, or just her sheer surprise at seeing him pull her clothes off with his mouth, but her expression is full of wonder and adoration and if those things were tangible, he would’ve drowned in them.

After her last article of clothing is on the floor with everything but his pants, he settles between her thighs. He reminds himself he has to go easy on her, to be slow and gentle, so he knows he needs to prepare her for what’s next.

Without breaking eye contact, he rests on his elbows, bringing her knees to his shoulders so her heels hang off and nearly touch his back. They do when he lowers his body toward her, deciding then that he won’t tease - he’s still the one in a rut, after all - but won’t rush, either.

The aroma of her arousal is nothing like the lavender and lemon and rosemary he’s used to. It’s nothing like the ocean and jasmine scent he knows is her true scent. And yet, it’s...the only word in his head as he licks his lips is divine.

When he tells her so, she preens. Practically glows, at least to his own eyes. Where his body was once demanding he take what’s his, it’s changed course, now taking note that his omega thrives on praise. If he only tells her how she affects him, she’ll give him everything.

His tongue reaches out, runs up through her folds before his lips seal around her clit. Her fingers tighten on his hair, and his dig into the softest parts of her thighs. All he can think is that she tastes better than anything he’s ever had on his tongue before, and that he feels immeasurably grateful she’s chosen to stay tonight.

She nearly yells out when he sucks on her bundle of nerves. He feels her toes curl behind him, and he brings one of his hands around to run his pointer finger through her slickened folds. His tongue is focused on her clit while his finger pushes into her tight, wet hole; she cries out, her body rocking below him. He adds a second finger and suddenly she’s mumbling something.

It’s not until his fingers pump in and out of her that her words get louder. “God- Steve,” he hears, “yes! Please- oh, God. Please.”

He presses in on her clit with his tongue and his fingers bend inside her. He finds a fleshy space with the pads of his fingers, and the noise she makes then nearly shakes the whole bed. Her words still spill, faster now; she’s begging him to bring her release, to pull her over the edge with just his mouth and hand.

“C’mon, Doll,” he gets out. “Wanna taste you.”

One last thrust of his fingers pushes her over the threshold and into orgasm. Her hips writhe, and her walls spasm around his hand, her slick almost pouring out of her, onto the bed and down his arm.

His name is the last thing on her lips before she relaxes. He catches her eyes again, pulling his fingers from her slowly before bringing them to his mouth. He laps up all of her that he can find from both of their bodies until all that’s left is a darkened spot on his comforter and wet lip shapes along the backs of her thighs.

She waits until he appears to be done enjoying the taste of her. But the second his guard is down, she pounces, pushing him onto his back so she can remove his remaining clothes. He lifts his hips off the bed to help, and then in one fell swoop, he’s just as bare as she is.

She lays over him, her body against his once more, and brings her lips to his. His hands find her thighs once more, pull them against his sides, and she seems to brace for something that never comes.

(Y/N) pauses, pulls back from the kiss, and stares at Steve with expectation in her eyes. “You gonna just lay there all night?” she asks.

And it clicks for him, that they must have opposite ideas of what should happen next. He knows why, too; it’s expected of the alpha - natural, some might say - to be dominant, in charge. On top. Always.

But it’s not what Steve wants, if it’s not what she wants. His body is already rather spent from the fever earlier, and more than that, he wants to see her. He wants to watch her come apart again.

So he pulls his legs up behind her, bent at the knees, and shrugs. “Wanna try something other alphas don’t like?” he asks.

Her eyes are wide, but not frightened. Not even close. She nods, sitting up, over him instead of the other way around. He can almost see her heart beating faster in her chest, can definitely see the swirl of emotions in her pupils as she pushes back, gently grips his cock in her hand, and crouches to line them up together. His mouth hangs open, breath caught in his throat, as she runs his pink, swollen head through her folds. Her eyes shut when she aligns them with each other, and she gasps as she sinks onto him slowly.

Their breathing is equally uneven by the time she’s fully seated. She takes a moment, but when she’s comfortable, her hips roll over him. It’s as if they were both holding in tension until then; they seem to open to one another, hands gripping the other as they find a rhythm they both like. His grasp on her thighs gives him more control than he let on initially; he’s able to bring her up and down on his length, and the drag of him along her walls is enough to pull long, dark growls from his chest.

Steve listens carefully to her. She tells him to go faster, to give her more, and he responds accordingly. When she tells him it’s too much, he slows, and eventually they find a pace that suits them both. She’s hot and tight around him, and he lets her know in a string of hushed, rushed whispers the closer he gets to his breaking point.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he tells her, “you feel so good- shit!”

She’d been close already - his praise sends her tumbling again as his knot swells. He’s so close, so ready, and feeling the difference between her walls clenching his fingers and his cock does him in. They both yell as they lock together, her nails pressing into his chest so tight he’s sure he’ll bleed. Funny enough, he doesn’t care, just fills her with his cum in hot spurts.

She won’t be able to move very far until his knot goes down, but she needs somewhere to collapse. She chooses to fall against his legs, still bent behind her, then limply pulls his hands to hers. When she’s caught her breath enough to speak, she lets out, “You’re really not like other alphas, are you?” before bringing his fingers to her lips.

He bites his lip, shrugging.

As his skin cools and the sweat dries, he feels himself soften inside her. He knows this isn’t the last time he’ll need her during the rut, but at least for now, he can pull out and adjust them both so they’re tangled together under his blanket. He digs his nose into the sensitive, unmarked part of her neck. Some day - when they’ve had a chance to talk about what marking another will mean and how they want to navigate that - she’ll bear his mark, and he, hers. He hopes. For now, he settles for admiring the faintest smell of the ocean in that little spot.

He sighs, too, a little sad because he suddenly remembers what she told him before she sat on his lap. She’ll go into heat within a day if she doesn’t get more of her medication, and they both know Helen Cho doesn’t feel comfortable prescribing such a heavy dose.

“Promise I’m not pushing you away,” he starts with, immediately regretting it upon the whimper he receives in return. “I just...you should go get more of your suppressants. You shouldn't have to go into a heat because of me.”

She shakes her head, pushing further into him like the movement alone would fuse their bodies together. “I’m not leaving you.”

Steve can’t tell her how much he appreciates the sentiment, even if he knows it’s in her omega nature to want to nurture him. His heart swells with emotion, but he has to insist. It’s not fair for her to put so much of her normal routine on the line for him, regardless of their differing ranks.

“You won’t miss a thing here. Just take one of Tony’s cars, grab what you need, and come back.”

“I won’t,” she says, and he imagines she’d physically put her foot down if they were standing. “I’ll be okay, Steve. I want to stay. I’ll deal with what comes because of that, then deal with the suppressants later.”

She is the single most stubborn omega he’s ever met, and just like Bucky, Steve is far from surprised that he found her (or that she found him, but he’s not worried about the particulars). He gives her a few quiet minutes to change her mind, but all she does is intermittently leave tiny kisses along his jaw.

Eventually, on the brink of exhaustion, Steve suggests, “Fine. How ‘bout, since we took care of that first round, we get some sleep then?”

He’s grateful when she agrees and his body doesn’t rebel.

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[dontshootmespence]

Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

A/N: Let @veroinnumera and I in on your thoughts for our OTP! Fuel us!

Chapter 33

It was far too early in the morning, but Derek was already on edge. Tonight...he was doing this. He was going to ask the woman he loved to marry him. It was actually pretty nauseating. Pulling everyone else out of their morning fogs, Garcia walked into the room clapping excitedly. “Tonight’s the night!” She sing-songed. “Chocolate Thunder, do you have everything ready?”

“Yup. All good to go.”

Hotch’s rare smile emerged as she looked up. “How are you feeling?”

“I definitely want to hurl. I’m pretty positive she’s going to say yes though, so I don’t know why I’m freaking out.”

“Because you’re opening yourself up to rejection. That feeling of vulnerability really sucks,” Spencer said matter-of-factly, barely looking up from his still-steaming cup of coffee. Silence fell around him to the point where he looked up. “What? You weren’t looking for an answer, were you?”

“No, kid.”

Emily moved her hand back, tapping him on the shoulder. “You two are so disgustingly in love. The proposal you have planned is the most adorable thing you’ve ever done in your life. You’re going to be fine.”

                                                            -----

About halfway through the day, Derek gave up on even trying to pretend he was doing paperwork. His head was spinning and he needed to get it on straight before tonight. No way was he letting this be anything less than perfect. She deserved perfect.

There were only two people in the world he knew could help him. One was the woman he planned on proposing to that night, so he couldn’t call her. Instead he picked up the phone and dialed the other: his mama.

The phone rang a few times before her voice came through on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey Mama, it’s Derek. I just...I needed you.” He smiled.

“Is everything alright? Are you hurt? Is Juliet hurt? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I promise. Well, there might be later if she doesn’t say yes. But that’s why I’m calling actually. I-uh-I’m going to propose tonight.”

A joyful peel of laughter cut off any further explanation. He could hear the tears in her voice. “Oh baby I’m so happy for you. She will. I know she will. She’s meant to be family and meant to be your wife.”

Wife. He liked that word. But he had to get to fiancee first. “I’m actually nervous, Mama. Why am I nervous?”

“Because you love her. It’s not so much believing that she’ll say no as putting pressure on yourself to make it the most amazing night of her life thus far,” Fran replied. “How are you doing it?”

For the next few minutes, he regaled her with the details of the proposal, confiding in her that while the basic idea had been his, it wouldn’t have happened without the help of Reid and Garcia. “Those are good ones, that team of yours.”

“Yea, they are,” he said, breathing deeply as he looked at his watch. He needed to get back to work. “I’m feeling better, Mama. Thank you.”

“Any time, my baby boy. As soon as she says yes, I need a phone call, okay?”

“Of course, wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it.”

                                                           -----

Her father’s ring was beginning to burn a hole in Juliet’s pocket. Not literally, that would be a fire hazard, especially in a library. But figuratively it was starting to make her anxious. What was the plan? Was there even a plan? Should there be a plan? Her brain was burning through thoughts left and right. She had no idea what she was doing or how any of this was supposed to work.

All those great romances in cinema always showed the proposals, but not how the fuck anyone ever figured out how to propose. Not helpful. She knew how that part worked, all loving words and happy crying. At least, that was if he said yes. He would say yes. Right?

Of course he would. Anxiety was not going to ruin this for her. She was in love and going to spend the rest of her life with the person that made her feel happier than Juliet had ever thought possible. Derek Morgan would say yes, because he loved her the same way she loved him: with everything they had.

Approaching the door to the home they shared, Juliet noticed something that wasn’t there before. It looked like...paper? She strode up and took it off the door, unfolding it and smiling to herself.

This box is mostly filled with things

That never bring you glee.

Like bills, and junk and other things,

You’d rather never see.

A scavenger hunt.

Today was their one-year anniversary and he’d planned a scavenger hunt. He was truly the most amazing man ever. “Okay, so this obviously means the mailbox,” she muttered to herself. An enormous smile spread across her face as she ran like a kid to a tree on Christmas morning toward the mailbox, opening it to see her favorite lavender candles inside - along with another piece of paper. She read the next clue out loud.

Romance, mystery, fantasy Dive deep inside to look Find the place where you and I lose all our time Getting lost inside our books

Juliet frowned to herself, rereading the paper a few times. There were bookshelves in the living room but they didn’t read there usually. Most of the time they read upstairs, in the bedroom. The bedroom? It was worth a shot.

She headed back to the front door and inside, going up the stairs rather than look around for Derek. He might not even be home yet, he hadn’t texted. Hopefully she wasn’t ruining a surprise. Oops?

Juliet pushed the bedroom door open, ready to start tearing the room apart, only to find a bouquet of gorgeous yellow tulips. She paused for a moment, smiling. If Derek was there she would’ve been hugging him so tight. They were her favorites, and he hadn’t even had to ask to check.

Picking them up, she noticed another little paper taped to the bouquet. She could do this all day. The smile on her face felt like it was plastered there.

Up and down, and up and down you climb these everyday. You've likely seen the clue on these, but passed it anyway.

“What?”

Turning around, she stared out of the room and down the hallway. “I climb the stairs. But I passed the stairs. There wasn’t anything-”

She stopped herself mid-sentence when she a box on the floor with a paper attached. Before she read the next clue, she glanced into the box, assuming she’d find a pair of heels, but of course, Derek knew her too well. High heels weren’t her thing - with a few minor exceptions. Instead, she found a pair of white strappy gladiator sandals. They didn’t go too high on the leg either which was something that always bugged her. Only Amazonian tall women could pull off big-ass gladiator shoes. And women with insanely long legs. She almost forgot about the paper until it crinkled in her hand. “What’s next?” She asked softly.

It seems our clothes just keep returning

to this same machine.

At least they're better than the things

the ancients used to clean.

Laundry room. Juliet grinned, it had to be. After strapping on the shoes, she went the rest of the way down the stairs and headed for the laundry room. She blushed looking over the machines and recalling a few adventures. Later. There would be time for fun later, right now she needed to find the next clue.

After rifling through the shelves, Juliet finally opened the dryer to find another box, larger this time. She peeled back white tissue paper to reveal a simple robin egg blue dress, pulling it out she found an intricately detailed open back. Subtle, but beautiful. She’d always called her style casual and comfy, which it was at times, but Derek knew better than that, which was becoming clear right this very moment.

Luckily, the dress wasn’t too fussy so she was able to get it on without help, though she had grown quite fond of Derek lending a hand and zipping her up. Sometimes though that meant they didn’t get out of the house on time because he’d decide it looked much better off than on.

A bittersweet “aww” reverberated through the room as she realized she was toward the end of her scavenger hunt.

For your final item to begin our anniversary date:

When you're feeling less than fresh there's just one place to go To wash and get all squeaky clean and scrub between each toe.

“Bathroom!” She squealed happily. When she ran in, she caught a glimpse of the dress. She looked radiant in it. Maybe it was the dress, maybe it was the fact that she was insanely happy right now. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to question this feeling. Quickly, she looked around and her eyes caught a basket of bath products - lavender again. There was a bath bomb, shampoo, conditioner, soap, lotion for when she got out, even a purple towel.

Taking out her phone, she texted Derek. “Are you home, you sneak? I’ve found all your clues.”

She didn’t get a reply, but less than a minute later, Derek peeked his head around the door frame, flashing her a cheesy smile. “You found everything?”

“Yes!” She cried out, jumping into his embrace. “That was so much fun.”

“I have so much more planned,” he winked.

Juliet did a little happy dance as he put her down. “Oh, do tell.”

“Well, I have dinner starting downstairs. It’s a surprise what we’re having. These bath things are for you. Take a bath while I finish cooking. I’m even going to put the towel in the dryer and heat it up for when you get out. Then put on the outfit and I’m going to take the flowers and some of the candles downstairs. I figured you could use one in here.” The unrestrained joy on his face told her he was proud of himself. He should be. This was perfect. She’d remember this forever.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him, lingering there to capture this perfect moment. “Mood lighting. I like it. Okay, my sexy Casanova. I’ll take a bath and I’ll be down in a bit.”

                                                           -----

Half an hour later Juliet was slipping back into the dress and shoes and heading downstairs. She was trying to be quiet, but the house was old and the stair creaked, betraying her. Derek played along though, ignoring her until her hands were over his eyes. “Guess who.” She murmured happily, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Hmmm, I’m terrible at guessing. Give me another hint.” Derek insisted, grinning.

She rolled her eyes, removing her hands and kissing him lightly. “Oh, it’s the woman I’m hopelessly and irrevocably in love with.”

“Hi.” Juliet whispered, unable to help the smile that spread onto her lips. She felt giddy; he made her feel so excited and content.

When they’d visited his family, his mama had cooked some fettuccine alfredo that Juliet had fallen in love with, so after hanging up with her earlier, he texted in desperation for the recipe. Up until then, he honestly had no idea what he was going to cook, just that he was planning to cook. Juliet took a piece of pasta from the bowl, slurping it up and leaving a drop of alfredo sauce on her nose. “I kind of want to do the lady and the tramp thing with the pasta.”

For her, he’d do it. His heart started beating frantically. She looked so stunning. Her smile carefree, her eyes awash with candlelight. Dinner smelled amazing, and in the background of his sense, he could smell the tulips he’d picked up for her. “You look beautiful, Juliet,” he said seriously.

“Thank you, love.” She blushed, looking down at her plate. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

It was now or never. He couldn’t wait until after dinner. He’d throw it up in the process and that was not how he wanted her to remember this proposal. “You know I love you more than anything else in the world, right?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“Of course, I do.”

“When we met, I figured this was a favor I was doing for my cousin. I never expected to meet the love of my life. And I definitely didn’t expect for said woman to assume I was a stripper on first meeting,” he laughed.

Juliet covered her face with her hands, remembering the epitome of foot in mouth that had happened the year before. “To be fair. You would be an amazing stripper.”

Derek chuckled. Even in a moment like this she could make him laugh. This was definitely the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, if she’d have him. “We’ll have to revisit that later. But for right now, I have something else I’d like to do, if that’s alright.”

“Derek?” She asked softly, breath catching in her throat. He was going to say another perfect thing if she let him keep talking. But she couldn’t. This was it, this was the right moment. Slowly Juliet started to reach into her pocket.

“Juliet. Could you look at me for a second?” He murmured. She froze, looking up. He was shaking. She gripped the ring tight. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded but didn’t speak, slowly getting up out of his chair and reaching into his back pocket.

No.

As if it was happening in slow motion, Derek knelt down on the floor, reaching into his pocket where he held a velvet pouch. He dropped it into his hand.

This wasn’t happening.

Yes, it was. “Oh my god,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth as the tears sprang to her eyes. “Derek?”

“Juliet Hunter-Lewis,” he started, grasping her hand, “No one on earth has ever made me feel like you do. I see everything when I look at you. The wedding, the marriage, the family, the growing old together. I’ve never been able to imagine that with anyone, but with you it’s just so natural. If you do me the honor of being my wife, I will spend every day of the rest of our lives making you feel about me the way I feel about you...Will you marry me?”

Tears starting to blur her vision, Juliet found her way out of her chair and knelt down on the floor in front of him, trembling as she pulled her father’s ring out of her pocket. “Only if you say yes too.” She laughed through the tears, smiling at the love of her life.

Derek found himself laughing too as he nodded. “Yes. Yes. A million times yes. Or whatever the biggest number Reid knows is. That’s how many yeses.”

“Then yes!” Juliet exclaimed, holding out her right hand and trying in vain to keep it from shaking. They both knelt there on the ground laughing and crying as Derek slid the ring onto her finger and then she did the same. “This is so beautiful.”

“It’s my mama’s. She gave it to me when we visited.”

That was months ago. “You didn’t ask her for it?”

“No,” he replied. “She just knew. Mother’s intuition, I guess.”

She was going to have to give Fran the longest hug in the entire world next time she saw her. “It’s amazing. She’s amazing. You’re amazing.” Leaning in, she grabbed his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you so much.”

Cradling the back of her head, he pulled her closer, their sweet and chaste kisses turning breathless in the blink of an eye.

“Dinner’s probably getting cold,” she laughed.

He didn’t care. “We do have a microwave.”

Something told her dinner was going to have to wait.

@virgoswlw​​ @crimeshowtrash​ @literallyprentissstwin​ @jazz91121 @tommyhollandd​ @spencer-puppies-and-stuff​ @fl0werb0nes18​ @stunudo​ @spencerthepipecleaner​ @theofficeofsupremegenius​ @ultrarebelheart​ @lookwhatyoumademequeue​ @lukeassmanalvez​ @mentallydatingspencerreid​ @nobravery​ @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler​ @remember-me-forever-silent-angel​ @original-criminal-fanfics​ @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars​ @wonderboygenius​ @naturallytom​ @imagines-for-criminal-minds​ @acespence​ @sweater-vest-reid​ @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid​ @sam-carter-in-training​ @parker-hopper @spencerwreid​ @ssahotchner​ @profiler-in-training​ @were-skye​ @trollitis​ @heyboywonder​ @ficrecswithcassie​ @janiedreams88@gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid​ @tippy06​ @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart​ @ssaunitchief​ @xxm3xxj​ @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo​

[m-yien]

IT’S US, WE, AND OURSELVES // IM JAEBUM

10. things you said that made me feel like shit

Pairing: jaebum x female character Genre: romance, angst Rating: none Word Count: 1512 Author’s note: this was requested by the lovely @jingogi, thank you once again! 💕💕💕 

Things you said prompts+ feel free to send me a request if you want one from the list (got7 and bts only) 

You’re not sure why, but it seems like December is the month of the year where every workplace has loads and loads of deadlines. Perhaps, it’s because of the holidays or the nearing end of the year and all must be finished and completed before the new one comes. It’s hectic and challenging but, it’s not causing you any problems though. After all, if you’re not going to do and accomplish it by now, then when? Once this is done, you’re mindset will be somewhere else. Holiday break is nearing and you’re more than determined you’re going to spend it without any complications.

Especially, if it’s going to be with the people that you love and cherish the most.

“Do you think we should visit your parents first before we go on with our plans?” You ask the preoccupied man in front of his computer, definitely working on something.

The two of you just had dinner and he’s already busy. It’s nothing new. From time to time, you ask him questions softly so that he wouldn’t be distracted. He’s a hardworking man and he doesn’t allow anything to come his way and disrupt his focus.

“I’m fine with anything,” he finally replies after a minute or two of silence. He doesn’t even move his eyes from the screen.

“Alright, let’s go on this weekend then,” you finalized, not having any second thoughts. “We can shop tomorrow, right?”

“Oh babe, we can’t go this weekend. I still need to work.”

“Jaebum. Are you serious right now? You just told me last night, only last night, before we went to bed that today is your last day,” you remind him, voice beginning to grow angry. “And now you suddenly can’t go and visit your parents this weekend? One moment, you’re fine with anything and the next it’s the opposite.”

Jaebum’s jaw clenches, a sign that he’s getting upset. But, do you care? Of course not. If anyone should be upset, it should be you. You two have already moved discussing your holiday plans countless of times already. And now that you two have some actual free time, he’s the one who’s purposely making more time for something else.

“I know and I remember what I said last night. But, something important came up and it’s badly needed to be finished this week,” he explains, trying to keep the situation calm despite his stern tone.

You roll your eyes, standing up from your chair. “Do whatever you want.”

Jaebum also stands up and grabs your arm. “Are we really going to fight about this right now?”

You pull away from his hold and cross your arms together, giving him a glare. “I don’t know, Jaebum. Do we even have the time to fight about anything at all?”

He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it in frustration. You know that he’s angry by now. You’re not arguing with him to rile him up. It’s absolutely nothing like that. You’re just standing your ground for him to see your point. It’s better than just letting him have his way all the time. With the three years that you have been with him, you’re more than aware of his stubbornness. And, with those three years, you have managed to be stubborn as well.

“Y/N,” he begs, taking hold of your hands. “This is important to me. If I ace this, the pay would be enough for the both of us. You won’t need to work anymore.”

“What?” You hiss, tearing yourself away from him. “You have got to be kidding me. Jaebum, this is not about the income. This is about spending time with me, your friends, and your family. And now, you’re telling me that I won’t need to work anymore? Because of the pay off that this project will give which is actually causing us to fight?”

“Stop, taking this the wrong way. Just stop. What I’m trying to say is that we can spend more time together if I’m the only one to work instead,” he asserts, but it’s not convincing you. “Babe, your job is not as fulfilling as you thought it was, right? So come on, let’s just not fight about this.”

Not as fulfilling as you thought it was? His words echoes inside your head and you feel like nothing but shit. Your brows twitch, anger clouding your vision.

“You know what, Jaebum? I love my job be it fulfilling or not. But, you don’t seem to know that since you just said it’s not. So, if you’re going to act all mighty to me, enjoy spending the holidays at your workplace.”

Jaebum has always been an inspiration. You always seek him for strength whenever things get tough because it’s nature for him to be strong and determined with almost everything. You admire him because he’s disciplined and responsible. Somehow, Jaebum doesn’t allow himself to have flaws. And honestly, that is his flaw; he doesn’t allow himself to fail.

You’re hurt by his words and it’s difficult to just let it go. Maybe he didn’t mean to say those or maybe he did. This could be stress coming from work or whatever and you completely understand. You just wish that Jaebum could set those aside for a little while and let himself lose. You wish he could see that there’s more to having a huge amount of paycheck and that is being present in the moment where he needs to be.

Tonight, you sleep alone.

Morning arrived and your first instinct was to snake your arm around someone’s body when you remember that no one was beside you for the night that passed. You take in a deep breath before opening your eyes. Even though you slept for a total of eight hours, you still feel empty and tired. It’s going to be a long day and a mug of coffee is your only aid.

The apartment is quiet as you step out of the bedroom. Jaebum must have left already. You’re disappointed, but not surprised. You ignore your dismay and stride towards the kitchen and do what you initially intended to do.

You grab the kettle near the kitchen sink, filled it with some water, and positioned it on the stove. You have a coffee-maker machine, but you prefer making your coffee from scratch. Proceeding to grab your mug next, you were suddenly greeted by an already steaming warm coffee on the table that you weren’t able to take notice when you entered the kitchen.

You turned off the stove and walked to the table. There’s a note beside the mug:

“Hey. I made you coffee, but we ran out of bread. I’ll just buy some and I’ll be back soon. x Jaebum”

“So, now he prepares me coffee?” You scoff, but smile at the same time. Jaebum never fails to make your heart flutter and you don’t know if you should hate him because of it. One sip from the mug and you almost forget that you’re mad at him. He always knew how to make your coffee.

Halfway through your mug, you hear the front door open. You lean your back on the chair while crossing your arms as you wait for his appearance. When he does show up, he gives you his dinosaur grin, holding a bag of freshly baked bread.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What? You thought bread and coffee would suffice enough for me to forgive you?”

Jaebum shoulders slumps. “Babe,” he whines and moves closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

He can be a marshmallow sometimes. But, nope. You’re going to make him suffer. “Anyway, thanks for the effort,” you say, voice cold. You take your stand from the chair and walk to the sink.

You hear the soft tud of the bag on the table, making you smirk. Maybe, he has given up. Or maybe not, because a pair of strong arms suddenly encircled your waist from behind, startling you.

“I’m sorry I disrespected you,” he whispers against your neck. “I’m sorry I forgot to let you be your own person when all this time you’ve been allowing me to be my true self.”

You love Jaebum and for three years, he has been nothing but a vital part of your life. You know him just like knowing the back of your hand. You exhale and turn yourself around to face him. His head was hanging down low, showing his humility.

“I love you Jaebum.” Your arms find their way to his neck, forehead leaning close to his. “I’m sorry you have to work twice as hard than you used to because you felt like you needed to support me. But, hey, here’s the thing. We can support each other. We can compromise. We’re pretty much experts on doing that despite our stubbornness, don’t you think?”

Jaebum chuckles and keeps his hold onto you tight. “I agree and yes, I love you too.”

“Good,” you affirm, giving him a kiss. “Now come on, those breads aren’t going eat themselves.”

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 31 - The Death In All Things

Chapter Synopsis: With tensions running high between Yang and Emerald, Team ENMY stands on the verge of disbandment. And to make matters worse, the moment in which Mercury must fulfill the assassination contract on Qrow Branwen approaches.

Series Synopsis : Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, yesterday’s enemies are today’s friends(?). Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four comprise Team Enemy.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

The Death In All Things

.

The door opens

At the foot of the second star

At first morning’s light.

.

.

It was 2 a.m. in one of Haven Academy’s underground engineering rooms.

Yang flicked off a sheet of sweat from her forehead and fanned the inside of her tank top. She perched herself on a nearby workbench with a huff. The mechanic gloves she wore were peeled off and tossed to the floor unceremoniously.

They had been at it all night and were beginning to tire. But any fatigue instantly disappeared on seeing the first successful test of Mercury’s new footwear.

The young man landed before her, almost losing his balance in the process. High pitch hisses steamed from his legs, signaling the over-taxation of his prosthetics. Translucent images behind his ankles faded like mirages.

“Drains the hell out of my Aura,” Mercury panted.

“The Dust consumption rate’s no joke either.” Yang tossed him a water bottle and grabbed the tablet beside her to analyze the readings. “Emerald’s gonna have something to say about the cost of fueling them.”

“That bad?”

“You’ll practically be bleeding our wallets every time you use it.”

“That won’t be fun to explain. Still--” He looked about the numerous training dummies and target shields obliterated on the walls and floor. “—can’t argue with results.”

“Think it’ll be enough to handle whatever you guys are going up against?”

Mercury whipped his neck so fast to Yang, it almost flew off.

“Relax, I’m done asking what you guys are up to,” Yang said sadly. “…Will it be enough?”

“…D’nno.”

“Must be a tough mark if you’re still not sure after this.”

“Oh, yeah. The toughest.”

The scroll in Yang’s pocket sounded with a ring. She took it, replied to the text, and hopped off the workbench.

“Perfect timing to finish up here. Gonna jet out for a bit.” She grabbed the leather jacket draped on a nearby chair and flung it over her shoulders.

As she was slipping her arms through the sleeves, Mercury called out,

“I still haven’t come up with a good name, yet.”

“Um, okay? That’s up to you. They’re yours, after all.”

“I thought about calling it the Talarion, but it feels like it’s missing something. You co-developed it.”

“…Strider,” Yang answered after a moment. “A cocky name suits you.”

“The Talarion Strider. It can grow on me.”

“Good. Now that that’s taken care of.”

As Yang was about to leave again—

“Hey.”

“Yeah, Merc?”

“This beef between you and Em…” Mercury paused awkwardly. “It’ll even out. Somehow. Probably.”

“Are you…legitimately trying to console me, right now?”

“No. I’m not. It’s just annoying and tense whenever you two are in the same room.”

“Hah! You are! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody. I’d hate to ruin that aloof douchebag reputation you’ve made for yourself.”

“…Yeah, whatever.”

“You know you love me.” Yang snickered.

As she made ready to leave again, her hand stopped on the doorknob. “Hey, Merc?”

“Hm?”

“You and I are good, right?”

“…Yeah, Yang.” He scratched his head and hid his face. “We’re spades.”

“At least there’s that.”

And after giving a two-finger salute, Yang was gone.

Mercury hopped on a chair, and disconnected his leg. Fingers traced the edges of his prosthetic. The shape of the calves and ankles were elegantly curved. Its anatomy more natural than its previous version.

“Yeah…” he whispered with a sense of lament.

“All spades.”

.

* * * * *

.

Although Mistral possessed its own night life, Yang found herself walking down one of its quieter streets.

Impressive office buildings, stores, and cafes lined the sides of the road. All of them closed, outside operating hours. Even the streetlights shone a bit dim, adding to the scene’s tranquil ambience.

But just off the sidewalk, a few sounds of life could be heard. The swift clanking of pots and pans broke the silence. The smell of something hot and delicious played with Yang’s nostrils.

And there, she saw a humble ramen cart parked just out of the way. Its delicate light shone on the empty street, like a lone firefly.

To Yang, it was almost something out of a ghost story or fairytale. Her stomach growled, as she had little to eat since working on Mercury’s Talarion.

I think I saw a horror movie like this once.

Am I gonna get eaten if I go?

Just then, a hand poked out from the cart’s curtains and motioned her to it.

Totally, not a foreboding sign, the girl chuckled to herself.

Yang made her way to the cart and sat at the counter only long enough to seat four customers at a time. The one who waved her in was positioned at the other end. A Grimm mask sitting on the table between them.

Yang picked it up and held it in front of her face.

“Hey, mom.”

“Yang.”

Raven slurped a mouthful of noodles, before tipping a huge gulp of ice coffee to wash it down. At her elbows, rows of gyoza and skewered side dishes awaited to be eaten. Empty bowls and plates stacked up around her.

“You…have an appetite,” Yang commented.

Without responding, Raven looked to the owner of the cart. “Master, another bowl. One for her too.”

The old man smiled wordlessly and prepared orders for them both.

Raven noted the slight redness around Yang’s eyes.

“Been crying, have you?”

“It-It’s just a little something that happened,” Yang said embarrassingly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Is that so?”

“You going to tell me that I shouldn’t be such a cry baby or something?”

“Not at all,” Raven stripped a barbecue skewer of all its meat. “Dogs shed their fur… dragons lose their scales…*Gulp*—And birds molt their feathers to replace them with new ones. Having the crap kicked out of you again and again,” she grinned. “It’s something only young people can grow from.” She gave a silent laugh at remembering the words Temujin once said to her. “I kind of envy that, but I’m also glad I don’t have to do something that foolish anymore.”

“For someone, who hates the idea of being my mom, you sure can dish out the parental lectures when you want.”

“It’s the least I can do. That, and… you’re a good daughter.”

The simple words of praise struck a cord in Yang’s chest. Like a thin string being plucked on an instrument. It was cuttingly sharp.

“A daughter too good for the likes of me,” Raven continued. “I gave it some thought and it’d be ridiculous at this point not to meet you halfway.”

“Okay…Hehe…” Yang smiled to herself, hiding her expression in the bowl of noodles before her.

Without a word to each other, the mother and daughter enjoyed the warm moment unfolding between them.

After getting through some more food, Raven resumed.

“So, I got a few good guesses on why you asked to meet me. You want to know about your new powers, but also, about the Branwen Family history and the Prime Minister.”

“Why do I feel like you know about my meeting with Azure and Vermillion?”

“Because the world is a nightmare, where things are rarely ever private, and you’re actually starting to understand that.”

“Your spies tell you how much I hate politics and how I think they’re stupid too?”

“There are definitely more productive ways to waste time than arguing and conniving.”

They both sighed simultaneously.

“So?”

“So.”

“…How much do you trust this Argent guy? Is he, like, legit and everything?”

“He better be. He’s going to be your new stepfather.”

“WHAT?!” Yang jumped out of her chair.

“That was a joke.”

“I can’t believe you can say that with a straight face.” She sat down again.

“Settle down. Still a bit naïve, aren’t you? Well, to answer your question, you really shouldn’t be taking my word for it. Form your own opinion.”

Yang finished her first bowl, and begun working on a second.

“That’s lame. But I do know I should only believe what I think myself. How about this? Instead of telling me why I should trust him, how about you tell me, why you trust him?”

“Touché,” Raven conceded. “Argent has skeletons like anybody else, but at the end of the day, he truly wants what’s best for Mistral, and even Remnant as a whole. He and I also share mutual goals and mutual enemies. If nothing else, I can trust in that. His methods can run a little rough and gray, but the results he attains outweigh the cons. Also, I’m not exactly in a position to judge the moral ambiguities of another person.”

“Victory using the Grimm, shaking hands with the White Fang to bolster Mistral’s military.”

“I could be biased on the topic. Considering it was personally me and him, who forged the alliance.”

“And Adam Taurus.”

“No coalition of the willing is perfect. And before you ask—No, Adam isn’t around. There’s a meeting between some of Vale and Atlas’s leadership about possibly forming an alliance. Little Adam’s on assignment to sabotage it.”

“It’s like you’re constantly trying to keep us continents apart.”

“Imagine that. But he is apt at these kinds of under-handed jobs. They’re his specialty.”

“And he works for Argent too.”

“…Not exactly,” Raven tensed. “But back to what I was saying. One of the mutual goals Argent and I share is the equality for the Faunus population. On that, he’s held up his end of the deal. That alone, would be enough for me to ally with him.”

“I heard he was doing it to gain support in an untapped population.”

“I’m sure that’s the argument a lot of nobles are using. But the people either know the truth or they don’t care. They support his establishment of equal rights either way. Even regular, Human citizens are starting to back the movement.”

“Really? That’s kind of hard to believe.”

Raven nodded. “A lot of them see this as the gateway to getting rid of the caste system. It serves their own interest, but it’s not like the administration is in any position to refuse free help. Citizens middle and lower class have finally found a common cause to unite behind—something that’s never happened in the whole of Mistral’s history.”

“Reform is nice, but…”

“Yes?”

“Is this really the time? The Kingdom is at war, so dividing the nation doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”

Raven showed a slightly impressed grin. “A keen observation. Argent and I have been keeping a close eye on the situation with the help of other involved parties. We’ve been fortunate there haven’t been any major issues so far.”

Yang’s thoughts went briefly to Inna, Neo, and Blake.

“That’s good. If anything comes out of this war, at least one of them is better rights for the Faunus.”

“Agreed. I’ve been fighting that cause for so long…” Raven angrily drained another extra-large bowl and stacked it on a teetering tower. “Well, it’s still going to get harder before it gets easier.”

Yang couldn’t help but start counting the number of empty dishes.

“Are you stress eating?”

“It’s become a habit. Also, someone very dear to me once said I should stuff my face as much as I can in-between battles. They had a pretty hearty appetite too, come to think of it.”

“Who?”

“…A sly old bat,” Raven muttered with fondness.

Her mother set her chopsticks down and thought for a moment. “This is as good a time as any. I might not get a chance to tell you this a second time around.”

“Totally, not foreboding at all.”

“You were the one who wanted to learn more about me, correct? Why I left you and why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s the reason you joined Team ENMY. Now you get your answers.” Raven stood from her chair and left a stack of bills on the table. “If you’re ready for them, that is.”

Yang downed the last of her soup and followed her mother to the streets outside.

“I’m ready.”

Raven drew her sword and cut open a portal into the air.

“You won’t think so in a few seconds.”

.

* * * * *

.

After stepping through Raven’s portal, Yang reappeared in a land she never witnessed before. At the same time, there was an odd sense of familiarity that accompanied the atmosphere.

The scenery laid before her was that of a perpetually incomplete world. Dirt and rock underneath her feet flowed like rivers. The sun in the sky hung at different intervals every time she blinked. Trees flush with leaves were nothing but branches the next. It seemed the world itself was crumbling, but also renovating itself in an endless cycle.

There was no warmth or cold, or wind, but a vacuum. Like the space itself drew from Yang’s spirit. Her body lacking a certain sense of realness and tangibility.

In her panic, she saw that she recognized her surroundings.

It was a bizarre version of her home in Patch.

“Breathe, Yang,” Raven spoke from behind her.

The woman’s appearance seemed normal for the most part, but Yang couldn’t shake the inkling that something was off. The red in Raven’s eyes felt more hauntingly bloodthirsty. Her voice was an echo of thought rather than sound. And the sword at her waist emanated a mist as thick as tar. Something seemed to dwell in it, but was too vague and obscure to comprehend.

Yang blinked, and for a second, caught a glimpse of a demonic bird in place of her mother.

“Breathe,” Raven repeated. “Think of a memory. One that you can remember the finest details of.”

Yang grasped her chest and tamed her nerves. She did what her mother instructed, and thought of the day she left for Beacon.

The sky went blue and the sun stopped moving. A slight breeze bent the grass and ushered the clouds. It was warm. The temperature suddenly existed, where there previously was none.

Her surroundings became a perfect replica to the moment in her memories.

“This—This isn’t actually home, is it?”

“No, and you should take care to remember that,” Raven answered. Her form completely normal now.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“Yes, but then you would have misunderstood, and it would’ve been harder to convince you this wasn’t real.”

“Okay… *Whew*” Yang exhaled. “Where are we, then?”

“A lot of people have different names for it: Limbo, The Fold, Wonderland, The Crossroads.” Raven mused bitterly, “But the most credible source called it the Never Never Realm. The world where everything never was and will be. What a headache.”

Yang looked through the window of her room. The image shifted from a vacant one, to the memory of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo recruiting her. But then went empty again at a thought.

“Whatever I think about here, just happens?” she asked.

“Something like that. This plane is supposed to be a place where the past and future overlap, where things that exist, were supposed to exist, and are about to exist, exist at the same time.”

Yang repeated the words silently, when an idea occurred to her.

After a short pause, she closed her eyes, and then she looked down to her right…

Her flesh and bone fingers wriggled to greet her. Yang could feel the lines in her palm, the roughness of her calluses and her knuckles. It was too real.

“Yang,” Raven’s voice cut through.

“I know. You don’t have to tell me.” She blinked and it was her fake prosthetic again. “This place is really trippy.”

“And that isn’t the half of it.”

“What do you mean? What exactly is this place?”

Raven sighed. “I don’t know much about it myself. But I do know what it does.”

Suddenly, Yang’s eyes strained as they locked with Raven’s. She could see the cracks of light clearer than she had ever before. She also understood on an instinctual level what the vibrant scars were now.

It was probably something akin to a soul.

“This Never Never Realm is the source of all Magic and Semblance. Just think about it a little. It’s a place where things can be created at a thought. Events can happen that never actually happened, miracles and tragedies. Abilities that are normally impossible, can be performed here.”

“So, it’s like…your imagination?”

Raven frowned.

“If we’re going for the fluffed version, sure. It’s your imagination.”

“But how is this the source of Magic and Semblances? Okay, you’re saying whatever happens here is…everything. How does that affect our world?”

“You can bring some things from this world into the real one.”

“How?”

But as she asked, Yang’s mind already found the answer. Her hands dug into her pockets and pulled out a few crystal shards.

“Dust…”

Raven nodded. “Not only Dust, but Bane and Aura are what fuel our strength and abilities. Abilities that come in the form of Semblances. Understand?”

“I thought they were just energy sources.”

“More than that, they’re catalysts. You could even call them keys that open the door to this place.”

“Okay…this is crazy.”

“Also, you should never stay here for too long, or you’ll go crazy. You can imagine why.”

“So, what? If you had enough Dust, Bane, and Aura, you could summon something insanely huge from this world, or perform a miracle?”

“In theory, but it’s obviously not as easy as that. People have tried, of course. I’m sure you’ve learned about that in school.”

“They either blew up or disappeared entirely.”

“Like I said, I don’t know everything about this world. The rules here are annoyingly abstract. And just so, you know,” Raven added with a tone of warning. “There are exist certain individuals in Remnant, who can bring out some really scary things from this world. Some good, but most are bad.”

“Haha! Awesome,” Yang replied sarcastically. “By the way, is there a way to turn this off?” She pointed to her eyes. “This place is dialing my Semblance to a thousand. I feel like I’m seeing too much. These cracks of light in people’s bodies and…things. It’s too bright and it’s kind of uncomfortable to see. Like I’m looking at people with x-ray vision.”

“Cracks of light?”

“Yeah, my Semblance. I thought you knew.”

“Huh, must be a slight difference. Sounds like it works the same way.”

“Um.”

“When we return to the real world, the effects will lessen. But you should know now, once the Semblance is awakened, there’s no stopping it from becoming stronger.”

“You make it sound a lot worse than it actually is.”

“…”

“…Is it worse than it actually is?”

There was a definite shift in Raven’s demeanor.

Up to now, her tone was casual. Likened to a teacher lecturing a student on a school subject. But this was different. The graveness in her expression and the air around her was malleable. Perhaps, further enhanced by the effects of this world.

“What…is my Semblance?”

With deep regret, Raven mustered the resolve to answer Yang properly.

“Our family calls it the Reaper Semblance. In short, it’s the ability to see the Death In All Things. Almost every one of the Branwen line has it. Me, Qrow—and now, you.”

The words sent chills through Yang’s insides. She realized why her mother would, from time to time, have this piercing glare about her. Like the woman saw through her entire being and pinpointed where she was weakest—where she was most vulnerable. A feeling of dread over a naked blade pressed softly against the most sensitive parts of her skin.

Raven was in actuality seeing the death in Yang’s life.

“That’s…disturbing.”

“Now, you understand why I initially didn’t want you to come with me. There was a chance it would have laid dormant, but…”

“But, what?”

“When I met you after your fight with Adam, I saw you were already awakening it.”

Yang thought back to when her eyes first lost their purple hue and stayed red all the time. It was probably then, when the Semblance started to manifest.

She grimaced, as she observed the scars that seemed to spark with energy.

“I thought it was something more…beautiful.”

“I see.” Raven cupped her chin in thought. “I don’t know how it looks to you now, but it changes as time goes on. When I was younger, I only saw black and red dots. Now, they’re these scars and gashes carved on the surface.”

“And if you attack those places?”

She nodded with Yang’s line of thinking.

“They die,” Raven answered in a dark tone. “That’s the nature of the Reaper’s Semblance. It’s the same for you, right?”

“Yeah... If I attack it, it feels like I’m hurting something really fragile.”

“As the power matures, you’ll begin to see the flaws in more detail. You’ll know how they die, how their corpses will look like, and even predict a timeline for their death, in some cases.”

“That’s—!“

“Ever wonder why I’m so jolly all the time and why Qrow drinks so much?”

Yang lapsed into silence.

She couldn’t fathom what it would be like to constantly see the death in those around her. To always know the best way to hurt them. To see friends and family walking around like living corpses.

Then, the words of Masa echoed in the back of Yang’s mind. Her Semblance was a reflection of herself. If Death was one of those facets, then what did that that mean? She was trying so hard to find who she was and her place in the world.

And the answer given to her was…this.

Just as she was falling into a depression, she heard Raven speak.

“I’m sorry, Yang.”

The sudden apology shocked her. And then, what shocked her even more, was the feeling of her mother’s arms around her head.

“Seeing what we can see—it’s a curse. My parents weren’t around to help me work through it, but I’m glad I can do this for you. If this is the sole thing I can provide as a mother, I can be content with that.”

“…It’s not the only thing you’ve given me. And I don’t want it to be the last,” Yang said softly.

“Right… There’s still a few more things I can impart.”

“…”

“I still haven’t given you a redeeming use for this cursed Semblance. Specifically, an enemy to use it on with nothing held back.”

“An enemy?”

Raven brushed her daughter’s hair and looked down at her with an expression that was both sorrowful and furious.

Yang,

The name of thy enemy is Salem.